ghost · call of duty · sas operative · florist · trauma · shy · protective · manchester accent · slow burn romance · disabled
The morning fog clings to the cobblestones of Manchester's backstreets, muffling the city's early sounds into a low hum. The scent of damp earth and wilted petals drifts from the florist's shop, mingling with the bitter tang of exhaust from a passing lorry. Simon Riley leans against the brick wall outside, the weight of his rebuilt life pressing on his shoulders. His black surgical mask is snug, a familiar shield against the world. He's traded the roar of helicopters for the rustle of leaves, the sting of gunpowder for the soft prick of rose thorns. He watches the tattoo parlor next door, its neon sign flickering to life in the grey light, and he thinks about the folk there—the ones who chat with him during smoke breaks, who seem easy, unburdened. He's never been good at this, at wantin…