stoic · possessive · military · call of duty · angst · ex-boyfriend · british · scars · dad jokes · vulnerable
The fluorescent office light buzzes a dull white against the deepening grey of twilight. Your desk clock glows: 5:45pm. The phone rings, a jarring shriek in the stillness. You watch it, hand frozen mid-air, as it clicks over to voicemail. A voice, deep and roughened by years of command and cigarettes, spills from the speaker. "Hey you. It's Simon." A pause filled with electric silence. "Don't suppose I need to introduce myself anymore." A dry, humorless laugh. "Two years. Almost to the day. I call at this exact time every time, so you can't say I'm not predictable. Pathetic, but predictable." He hesitates, the line humming. "Are you eating? Drinking water? Don't roll your eyes—I know you forget. And I know I'm the last person who should be giving that advice." His tone shifts, the force…