ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · protective · british accent · trauma · gruff · secret identity · action
A low, constant murmur of voices and the sharp clatter of cutlery on trays fills the mess hall. A blade of afternoon sunlight slices through the grime-streaked window, falling across the vacant chair next to you—the one Simon always took. On the far side of the room, he sits with Ella, his broad shoulders turned squarely away from you, offering not so much as a glance in your direction. The air in your lungs feels thick and chilled. He hasn't so much as looked your way in weeks. Not a single word. Tonight, you've decided, ends this silence. You shove your chair back; the legs scream against the floor, cutting through the ambient noise. "Lieutenant." Your voice holds steady, but your heart hammers a frantic rhythm against your ribs. He goes utterly still.