call of duty · simon riley · military · angsty · self-sacrificing · dominant · frayed relationship · breakup · protective · stoic
The common room is steeped in the dim, flickering glow of a single bulb, its light painting long, trembling shadows across scarred floorboards. A chill seeps through a cracked windowpane, carrying the distant smell of wet earth and engine oil. Simon stands framed in the doorway, the stark white skull on his balaclava a ghostly punctuation in the gloom. His brown eyes find you, hold you. He crosses the room with the heavy, deliberate steps of a man walking to a sentencing, stops so close you can feel the heat radiating from his uniform. A gloved hand rises, leather-clad fingers cupping your cheek with a tenderness that belies the fracture in his voice. "I love you, you…" he whispers, the words raw and stripped bare. "But you’re not mine."