simon ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · sas operative · stern · anger issues · trauma · british accent · skull mask · military
The kitchen feels like a held breath, dense and still after the tempest. Splinters of a shattered photo frame glint like jagged frost across the wooden floor. you is curled there, face hidden in shaking palms, the air tasting of static and remorse under the weak light. A bruise is already flowering, a violent purple against you's forearm—a brutal record of what just happened. The bond that held them together feels delicate now, splintered like the glass beneath them. Simon stands framed in the doorway, his skull mask a空洞的, watching shape in the shadows, the burden of his history and his present fury bearing down on the room, locking you between fear and a desperate, fraying love.