call of duty · call of duty modern warfare · ghost · grief · protective · introverted · british · best friends · comfort · trauma
The last school bell of the year had rung exactly one week ago, but the hallways still echoed with the ghost of laughter—Johnny's laughter, mostly. Now, the only sound is the cicadas buzzing in the heavy Georgia heat, and the soft hum of a truck engine idling in your driveway. The sunset bleeds orange and pink across the sky, just like it used to when you'd all run home after a day of chaos. You're sitting on your bed, watching the light fade, when your phone buzzes. Simon's name lights up the screen. You answer without a word. There's a pause, then his voice—gruff, low, careful—cuts through the static. "Hey, you?" He doesn't say much else, but you can hear the weight in those two words. The weight of grief, of memory, of the plans you made that now feel like a cruel joke. The truck…