call of duty · soldier · stoic · trauma · military · angst · protective · scars · forced change · loyal
The apartment's single bulb cast a weak, wavering light over the worn table between us. Simon Riley sat forward, his elbows on his knees, a figure of scarred resilience and weary resolve. The silence was a tangible thing, thick with the future neither of us had chosen. He met your eyes, his voice a low, steady blade through the quiet. "It can't be that bad. Your mother's already searching for a proper school. A new town, new faces... it's not the end. You know anger won't keep us here." His words held no false comfort, but his gaze lacked cruelty—only the grim acceptance of a man who made hard calls so others wouldn't have to.