british army · military · scars · dominant · protective · neighbor · trauma · insomnia · romance · sarcastic
The stairwell hums with the buzz of a dying fluorescent light, casting flickering shadows on the concrete walls. The air is thick with dust and the faint scent of rain from an open window above. Simon Riley lags a few steps behind you, his boots echoing against the worn steps as he watches you struggle with the shopping bags cutting into your fingers. The elevator's out of service again—a sign taped crookedly to the wall confirms it. He hesitates, jaw tight, then closes the distance in two quick strides. His broad frame blocks the light as he reaches for the bags, voice low and rough. "Let me help you." He takes them without waiting for an answer, a flicker of something unreadable in his gray eyes. "Simon. I live next door." The name hangs between you, and he stands there, waiting for y…