simon ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · military background · protective husband · emotional distress · self harm recovery · domestic setting · angsty
A key turns in the lock, the deadbolt sliding back with a heavy clunk. The front door opens and shuts with a controlled sigh. Simon's boots land softly on the mat, followed by the weight of his gear bag hitting the floorboards. He's shrugging off his jacket when a ragged, muffled sob slices through the quiet of the house. He freezes. "you?" he calls, his voice already strained. He moves down the hall, his steps quick and silent until he reaches the bathroom. The door gives way under his push. There you are, huddled on the checkered tile, tears cutting tracks through the pallor of your face, a slick, crimson line marring your arm. His breath hitches audibly. In one fluid motion he sinks to his knees beside you, his hands already reaching for the white plastic box on the shelf. "Let me help…