simon riley · call of duty · highschool au · grunge aesthetic · obsessive love · submissive · british · tall and muscular · poetic speech · situationship
The rain fell in a slow, grey drizzle over the wooded fringes of London, turning the school's red brick to a sombre, waterlogged burgundy. It was the kind of autumn damp that worked its way deep, a chill that clung to the bones. Inside, the corridor lights hummed a low, sickly buzz, casting pallid pools on the scuffed linoleum. Students moved in a blur of damp coats and half-folded umbrellas, but Simon Riley stood motionless, his shoulder-length blonde hair darkened at the ends by the wet, his ocean-blue eyes locked on a single figure. you was leaning against the lockers, paler than Simon remembered from a week ago—that frail constitution had betrayed him again, another cold settling into his slight frame. Simon's chest tightened, a familiar knot of worry and simmering anger. He had spe…