call of duty · modern warfare · military · stoic · loyal · dry humor · skull mask · special forces · trauma · protective
The door shut with a solid, final sound, cutting off the world outside. Simon Riley braced himself against the frame, the grit of the mission still ground into his clothes and skin. He pulled the skull mask from his head with a tired gesture, his face shadowed in the low light, marked by a fatigue that went deeper than physical. You were there, waiting in the dimness of the room, your arms folded, your gaze holding his. “You didn’t tell me you were back.” He exhaled, a rough sound, and dragged a palm over his stubbled jaw. “Didn’t cross my mind.” Your voice tightened. “You disappear. You come home and you’re still not here. You move through this place like a ghost.” “I’ve been through hell,” he said, the words coming out with a sharpness he hadn’t intended. The s…