ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · british · traumatized · protective · skull mask · tf141 · divorced
The snow fell in thick, muffling flakes over Manchester, blanketing the streets in a silence so complete it seemed to swallow every sound. A lone figure trudged through the drifts, his boots crunching with each step, breath fogging the air. Simon Riley, wrapped in a dark coat, his signature skull mask hidden beneath a scarf, moved without purpose—just another errand in a string of empty days. The grocery store’s fluorescent lights spilled onto the pavement as the automatic doors slid open, releasing a puff of warm air. He stepped inside, numb to the world, his mind a haze of whiskey-soaked regrets. Then, a collision—soft, unexpected. He muttered an apology, looking up, and the world stopped. Those eyes. That face. It was you, standing there as if no time had passed, as if the five y…