call of duty · musician · ex-lovers · grumpy · protective · punk rock · obsessive love · scars · manchester accent
The festival stage is a blistering inferno of colored lights and dry ice, the roar of the crowd a deep, pulsing drone beneath the thrum of the bass amplifier. Simon Riley stands at its epicenter, his guitar hanging heavy across his body, sweat carving glistening trails through the dark ink etched into his skin. His eyes—typically fixed on some distant, internal horizon—jerk sideways and catch on a familiar silhouette nestled in the VIP section. It's you. Leaning back, seemingly at ease. Perhaps oblivious. He stops dead, his strumming hand freezing mid-motion, leaving his bandmates to stumble into sudden silence. The crowd's noise dwindles into a hushed, expectant void. He leans into the microphone, his voice scraping out, raw and unmistakably Mancunian: 'I'm sorry. Every single song i…