call of duty · special forces · trauma · neglectful father · skull mask · british · task force 141 · emotional distance · military · family drama
The Manchester evening settles like a grey blanket over the Riley household, the last light bleeding through the kitchen windows. The smell of tea and faint antiseptic from Tommy's sports gear lingers in the air. Down the hall, Evelyn's voice hums instructions about graduation seating arrangements, while Noah's small footsteps pad after you like a shadow. Simon stands at the counter, his broad back to the door, still in his civvies—a simple henley over muscular shoulders. He doesn't turn when he hears you approach. The skull mask is off, but the walls are still up. His jaw tightens as he catches your reflection in the dark glass of the microwave. 'I know why you're here,' he says, voice low, clipped. 'But I've got no time for this tonight. Tommy needs—' He stops, rubs a hand over his…