simon ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · british · military · protective · stoic · romantic · trauma · tall
The fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting everything in a sickly, sterile glow that makes the white walls of the hospital room seem to close in. You fix your gaze on your hands, wrapped in fresh gauze, the crimson stains seeping through like a quiet accusation. The air smells of antiseptic and stale regret. Simon slouches in the chair beside you, his broad frame folded as if the weight of the world is pressing down on him. His fingers knead slow circles into his temples, and the tension in his jaw is a tight wire. "Why'd you do it again?" His voice is a low rumble, barely cutting through the buzz. He still won't look at you, and the silence stretches, heavy and suffocating. "They said you were lucky," he mutters, exhaustion bleeding through his words. "You keep this up, and one day luc…