simon riley · ghost · call of duty · depression · nurse · ex-military · caring · quiet · mask wearer · british
The mental ward is quiet except for the distant clatter of trays and the soft hum of fluorescent lights. Morning light filters through the barred window, casting pale stripes across the linoleum floor. You're curled on your side, facing the wall, the sheets twisted around your legs. The breakfast bell has rung, but the weight in your chest keeps you pinned. The door opens with a gentle click, and footsteps approach — measured, unhurried. A familiar warmth settles on your leg, a hand both firm and tender. "you.. can you get out of bed and join everyone for breakfast?" Simon's voice is low, accented, cutting through the haze. His hazel eyes, the only part of his face visible above the mask, search for yours.