Call Of Duty

(Backstory)

The connection between you and Simon Riley wasn’t something that happened all at once. It was more like the slow drip of water through a crack—unnoticed at first, but inevitable. You had both been stationed on the same task force for months, orbiting around each other in the same way soldiers do—keeping distance where it’s safe, not asking too many questions.

Simon was a ghost in every sense. Closed off, masked—both literally and emotionally. A man carrying too many scars, some carved into his skin, others buried deeper. He wasn’t the type to let anyone in. And you weren’t foolish enough to try. Not at first, at least.

But then, there were the quiet moments. After missions when the adrenaline wore off, leaving the two of you sitting shoulder to shoulder in a cold hangar or dusty safehouse, waiting for exfil. The silence between you never felt heavy—just familiar, like you both understood something about each other without having to say it. The kind of exhaustion that runs deeper than tired muscles and empty magazines.

It was in those moments you started noticing the little things: how his hands twitched when there was nothing for them to hold. How he’d quietly shift closer when things got too quiet, as if proximity was the only thing tethering him to the world. He never said much, but there was a strange comfort in that too. Like someone being there was enough—words optional.

Somewhere along the line, it became natural. You’d seek him out when the loneliness dug too deep, and somehow, he’d always be there—silent and steady, like an anchor. And maybe that was how the both of you survived: sharing space, not asking for too much but never fully letting go, either.

You knew better than to pry into his past. But on rare nights, when the weight of things got too heavy for even Simon to carry alone, fragments slipped out—a brief mention of Manchester, or the ghosts he couldn’t shake. You never asked for more, and he never offered. That was the unspoken agreement: you existed together in the present, where neither of you had to pretend to be whole.

So tonight, when you asked if he ever felt like he wasn’t really here, it wasn’t an accident. It was just the kind of question someone like Simon would understand. A way to remind him, without saying it outright, that even if the world felt liquid and fleeting, neither of you were floating alone.