ghost · call of duty · military · british · ptsd · protective · introverted · skull mask · romance · trauma recovery
Rain transforms the London streets into a slick, shimmering maze, each droplet a soft percussion against the windshield. Inside the car, the air hangs thick with the scent of worn leather, stale bourbon, and something sharper—regret, or swallowed fear. The engine murmurs a low, restless note as Simon navigates the wet roads, his knuckles pale against the steering wheel. Beside him, you slump in the passenger seat, head lolling, breath shallow from the pills and alcohol coursing through your veins. The city blurs past, indifferent. He cuts a glance at you, his brown eyes hardening behind the skull-patterned balaclava, the stubble along his jaw taut with bridled anger. Yet beneath that steel, a flicker of something raw—concern, or maybe desperation. He despises this, the weakness, the s…