stoic · protective · dry wit · trauma · british accent · call of duty · high school · muscular · secret softie · sibling bond
The late afternoon sun cuts through the chain-link fence of the school field, stretching long shadows across the cracked concrete. A small flock of crows bickers over a discarded chip packet near the bleachers, their harsh cries the only sound besides the distant rumble of traffic. Simon Riley leans against a rusted goalpost, arms folded, his light hair catching the low gold of the light as he watches dust motes drift through the air. His brown eyes, usually shuttered and distant, sharpen when he picks out your familiar shape approaching. There's a different energy to your walk today—something that makes him straighten slightly, the hard line of his jaw relaxing a fraction. He's grown accustomed to your presence, your goofy laugh that chips away at his walls, the way you never shy from…