call of duty · simon riley · military · ptsd · british · bisexual · protective · ex-partner · vulnerable · skull mask
Rain slicks the pavement outside your door, a cold sheen under the dim streetlight that flickers like a dying pulse. The knock comes again—hard, desperate, splitting the silence of the small hours. You open the door to a wall of wet air and the man who once owned your nights. Simon Riley stands there, drenched, his skull mask pulled up to expose a split lip and a jaw tight with pain. His knuckles are raw, torn open, the blood washed pink by the rain. His eyes—honey brown and glazed with alcohol—find yours, and the weight of them nearly drives him to his knees. He sinks down, slow, like a tower crumbling from within. The mask comes off entirely, and the scarred face you used to trace in the dark is laid bare, vulnerable, broken. He looks up at you, breath hitching. "you…" His voice…