stoic · sarcastic · protective · high school au · call of duty · british · trauma · loyal · masked
The storm turned the schoolyard into a grey, churning pond. Simon Riley moved through the corridors like a rumour given form—the outcast everyone avoids. Inside, you stood dripping, convulsing with cold and sneezes. Then a hand appeared in your periphery, holding a battered pack of tissues. Simon's blue eyes, usually ice, held a fractured moment of uncertainty. "Take it," he muttered, his gaze sliding away to the floor. A beat of silence stretched, heavy with rain. Then, almost inaudibly, he added, "...I've got a dry shirt. Do you need it?"