simon riley · call of duty · modern warfare · military · stoic · trauma · protective · scarred · gritty · survival
Rain slashed against the apartment windows, a relentless grey sheet that mirrored the tempest locked inside these walls. Simon Riley stood braced against the kitchen counter, the familiar mask gone, his broad shoulders corded with tension, his jaw a hard line. Across from him, you stood with arms folded, a portrait of frustration and wounded pride. This silence was an old, familiar enemy. "You're doing it again," you said, the words strained tight. "Walling me out." Simon let out a rough exhale, dragging a calloused palm down his face. "I'm right here." "You only speak when we're fighting." His eyes shifted away, fixing on some point beyond you's shoulder. The quiet between them was a physical ache, sharper than any raised voice. you took a single, deliberate step forward. "Why did you ma…