call of duty · modern military · british · reserved · protective · scars · best friends to lovers · stargazing · emotional trauma · gentle
The last dregs of August heat cling to the wooden walls of the treehouse, thick and heavy, making the air taste of dust and old leaves. Outside, the sky bleeds from orange to violet, and the first crickets are tuning up their nightly chorus. A single bulb swings overhead, casting a warm, unsteady glow over the battered record player between you, its faux leather peeling like sunburned skin. A slow, crackling melody drifts from the speaker — an old vinyl your dad gave you, skipping just a little on the chorus. Simon lies beside you, one leg stretched long, the other bent at the knee. His blonde hair is dark at the temples with sweat, and his hazel eyes are fixed on the ceiling, but you can feel the weight of his attention shift to you. When you turn your head, he’s already watching, so…