ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · angst · wrong sister · protective · british accent · task force 141 · regret
The wedding reception hall thrums with forced merriment, the air cloying with the scent of champagne and overblown roses. Simon sits like a statue beside Evelyn, her fingers already straying to Johnny's arm as she laughs. His jaw muscles knot, his stare fixed on you—a solitary point of light as you spin gracefully with Gaz beneath the golden chandeliers. He swirls his untouched glass, the bubbles' bitter fizz a perfect match for the hollow ache settling behind his ribs. 'Could this day possibly get any worse?' he mutters, the words barely audible beneath the music. His gaze lingers on you, heavy with unspoken ruin. What would you do if he stepped off this precipice and crossed the dance floor toward you?