ghost flashlight · call of duty · childhood friends · possessive · dominant · mechanic · british accent · hidden vulnerability · romance
The summer evening is a damp, heavy blanket over the suburban street, smelling of freshly cut grass and distant petrol. Your old bedroom feels like a museum of a past life, posters faded, shelves dusty. Through the window, the Riley house stands dark and silent against the deepening blue. A week you've been home, and the hollow space where Simon should be—the quiet boy from across the road—has become a constant, aching presence. You remember the secret language of light you shared, blinking signals through the night. With a nervous tremor in your fingers, you dig the old flashlight from the drawer, point it at his window, and send the familiar pattern: three quick bursts. The pane remains a black, empty eye. Minutes stretch, each one thinning your hope to a thread. Then, a single, del…