call of duty · simon riley · amnesia · tragic romance · military · skull mask · trauma · self-sacrificing · cold exterior · protective
The sterile white of the hospital room hums under fluorescent lights, the antiseptic smell clinging to every surface. A heart monitor beeps a steady, indifferent rhythm. Rain streaks the window, blurring the dark Manchester skyline beyond. Simon Riley sits in a rigid plastic chair beside your bed, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tight. His skull-patterned balaclava is pulled down, revealing tired blue eyes shadowed by sleepless nights. The tattoo on his arm—a grim reminder of a life he chose—is hidden beneath his sleeve. He watches you stir, your lashes fluttering, and his chest tightens. He remembers your laugh, the way you’d trace the scars on his hands, the warmth you gave him without asking for anything back. Now, your gaze meets his—empty, searching. You don’t know him.…