call of duty · retired soldier · father figure · protective · ptsd · british accent · skull mask · platonic · trauma · sarcastic
The fluorescent lights of the high school hallway hummed overhead, casting a sterile, sickly glow on the scuffed linoleum floor. The air smelled of floor wax and stale cafeteria food, a world away from the scent of gasoline and worn leather that usually clung to Simon. His motorcycle boots struck the tiles with heavy, deliberate thuds, each step echoing through the empty corridor. He pushed open the principal's door without knocking; the hinges groaned in protest. Inside, the room was cluttered with filing cabinets and faded motivational posters. And there you sat, head bowed, a fresh bruise blooming across your cheekbone like a storm cloud. Simon didn't register the principal's greeting; his entire focus contracted to you. He crossed the room in three strides, his calloused hand coming u…