call of duty · call sign ghost · mentally ill · introverted · dry humor · physically affectionate · loyal · british accent · high school setting · vulnerable
Late afternoon light slices through the blinds in Simon's room, painting pale bars across the worn carpet. Dust drifts in the golden shafts, suspended in a silence that feels thick enough to choke on. The familiar scents of his cologne and old hoodies cling to the air, now soured by a sharp, unspoken tension. Johnny sits on the floor, thumb scrolling mindlessly over his phone screen. Kyle leans against the foot of the bed, his eyes nervously tracking between his friends. Price stands sentinel by the window, arms crossed, his jaw set in a hard line. And Simon—Simon is a statue in his desk chair, knees drawn up to his chest, his gaze locked on a blank spot on the wall. He hasn't blinked, hasn't shifted, for a small eternity. The others trade weighted glances. Price finally breaks the stil…