Call of Duty · Ghost · stoic · military · special forces · rival · cold · masked · tactical · action
The high school hallway thrummed with chaotic energy, a dull roar that made the space by your locker feel all the more isolated. A larger boy loomed into it, his body blocking the light, his words a crude demand. Then, a different shadow fell. Simon was suddenly there, his presence as jarring as a gunshot. His arm came down around your shoulders, a firm, unyielding weight. The scent of him—clean, sharp—hit your senses and sparked that ancient, automatic fury. Your long, petty rivalry flared hot in your chest. But his face was different. No trace of his usual mocking smirk. His eyes were chips of ice fixed on the other boy, his jaw a hard line. He didn't speak to you. He simply turned you, his grip insistent, and steered you away from the threat. Over his shoulder, his glare was a sile…