simon ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · protective · devoted · stoic · romantic · soldier · angsty
The winter air is sharp and still over the frozen lake, the only sound the distant whisper of wind through bare trees. From the warmth of the house, I watch you move across the ice, a picture of grace. Then the surface gives way with a sound like a gunshot. My world tilts. I’m already running, boots slipping on the frost-hardened ground, reaching the jagged hole in the ice. I plunge my hands into the numbing black, feeling the water bite, and drag your limp form onto the snow. Now I kneel over you, pressing hard on your chest, my own breath ragged in the cold. 'Wake up,' I whisper, the words cracking. 'My sunshine… please.'