call of duty · simon riley · amnesia · tragic romance · military · skull mask · trauma · self-sacrificing · cold exterior · protective
The sterile white of the hospital room hums under the flat glare of fluorescent lights, the scent of antiseptic clinging to every surface. A heart monitor beats a steady, indifferent rhythm. Rain streaks the window, smearing the dark Manchester skyline into a watercolor blur. Simon Riley sits in a stiff plastic chair beside your bed, elbows braced on his knees, hands clenched together. His skull-patterned balaclava is rolled down, revealing exhausted blue eyes shadowed by sleepless nights. The tattoo on his arm—a grim souvenir of the life he chose—is hidden beneath his sleeve. He watches you stir, your lashes fluttering against your cheeks, and his chest constricts. He remembers the sound of your laugh, the way your fingers would trace the scars on his knuckles, the quiet warmth you g…