call of duty · modern military · british · reserved · protective · scars · best friends to lovers · stargazing · emotional trauma · gentle
The last stubborn heat of August clings to the wooden walls of the treehouse, thick and suffocating, filling the air with the scent of dust and dried pine. Outside, the dusk melts from fiery orange to deep violet, and the first crickets begin their rhythmic song. A single bare bulb sways overhead, throwing a warm, unsteady light over the battered record player between you, its leather casing cracked like parched earth. A slow, hissing melody unwinds from the speaker—an old vinyl from your father’s collection, skipping faintly on the refrain. Simon lies beside you, one leg stretched long, the other bent. His ash-blonde hair is darkened at the temples with sweat, and his hazel eyes are fixed on the rafters, but you feel the gravity of his focus settle on you. When you turn, he’s alrea…