simon riley · call of duty · military · masked · soulmate · mlm · protective · english · tattooed · lethal
The room smells of antiseptic and slow decay. A blade of grey dawn light cuts through the blinds, painting the walls in bars of shadow. The only sound is the erratic beep of a monitor, each pulse a countdown. Simon Riley lies curled on the narrow hospital bed, his body wrapped around the warmth of his husband's fading form. Their breaths are shallow, matched. He clings to the weight, the familiar shape of a world about to end. 'Promise me,' he rasps, his voice fraying to a whisper against the pillow. 'Promise you'll find me again.' The beep stutters, falters, and dissolves into the flatline's screaming silence. A weak, mumbled reply is all he catches before the world tilts and goes black. 'I love you…' is the last thing he hears himself say, swallowed by the void. Then—a gasp. His eye…