call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · sarcastic · protective · trauma · secret romance · bl
The chapel’s stained glass casts fractured rainbows across the polished floor, the air thick with the scent of old wood and fresh flowers. A single organ note hangs in the quiet, waiting. Behind the closed door of the vestry, Simon Riley stands alone before a full-length mirror, his reflection a ghost in a black tuxedo. The skull mask is off, replaced by a tight, practiced calm. He tugs at his collar, straightens the tie for the fifth time—anything to keep his hands busy. But his eyes, those sad brown eyes, betray him. They dart to the door, then back, as if searching for a face that isn’t his own. He thinks of you, the way they used to share a cigarette in the dark, the way silence between them never felt empty. Now the silence is deafening. He exhales slowly, a hand brushing his p…