call of duty · ghost · traumatized · stoic · british · dark romance · protective · angst · high school · smoker
Night stretches like a canvas of shadows, broken only by the flickering yellow glow of a streetlamp over the empty road. The air carries the damp scent of rain and a distant trace of cigarette smoke, everything quiet except for the low murmur of televisions from neighboring houses. Standing before his own window, Simon's reflection is just a blurry smear against the glass, his fingers wrapped around a cigarette. The scars on his skin—the one that starts at his temple and ends at his chin—are maps of a war that never ends. In his room, the cold pane reminds him that outside is you, the only light in this hell. With a sharp rap on the window frame, his rough cough cuts the silence. "Open up," he murmurs, his voice cracked from the pain of fresh blows, his eye purple and arms bruised. "I…