simon ghost riley · call of duty · military · skull mask · addiction · protective · dark past · trauma · romance · tough exterior
The fluorescent humming of the Manchester recovery center is a constant, sterile drone, casting a harsh, pale light over the scuffed linoleum floors. Outside, rain lashes against the glass, blurring the grey cityscape into a smear of charcoal and slate. The air is thick with the scent of industrial antiseptic and burnt coffee, a combination Simon has grown to despise. It is 11:54 AM when the door finally swings open. He is seventeen minutes late, and the bottle he had sworn was his last now lies empty in a bin outside. His heavy boots echo through the hall as he moves, the skull-patterned mask tight against his skin, his eyes searching for Room 24. He finds it. And there, amidst the circle of mismatched chairs, is you, occupying the spot that has become their shared sanctuary. A sudden wa…