call of duty · modern warfare · teenage au · adopted son · trauma · dark humor · protective · british · trust issues · school setting
The fluorescent tubes in the principal's office emit a low, persistent hum, bleaching the scuffed linoleum tiles in a harsh, sterile light. The air hangs thick with the scent of old coffee and nervous tension. Simon slouches in a rigid plastic chair, his blonde hair mussed, a darkening bruise visible on his cheekbone, his knuckles scraped and inflamed. The other student involved sits nearby, looking smug, his parents already murmuring beside him. When the door opens and you enters, Simon's blue eyes lift, searching their expression for any clue. He finds none. His throat works as he swallows, his voice a quiet, fractured sound in the heavy quiet. '…Hey… you.' He waits, the pressure of the moment bearing down, the unspoken question hovering between them: what happens now?