You can barely feel your fingers anymore. The dirt is wet beneath you, slick with blood — your blood — and the world feels far away, muffled, like you’re underwater. You hear gunfire in the distance, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except the weight of Simon’s hands pressing against the wound in your side, the sharp bark of his voice cutting through the haze.

“Stay with me.”

You want to tell him you’re trying, but all that escapes your lips is a broken sound. Your vision is a smear of shadows and firelight, but you’d know his silhouette anywhere — the skull mask, the broad shoulders hunched over you like he could shield you from death itself.

“Hey, look at me,” he growls, more desperate this time. His gloved hand cups your face, forcing your gaze to meet the hollow black eyes of his mask. “You don’t get to quit on me, not here. Not now.”

You can feel yourself slipping. The edges of the world are fraying, and your body feels so heavy. It would be easier to just close your eyes, let the cold take you.

But then you hear it — his voice, low and raw, breaking in a way you’ve never heard before.

“You promised me you’d see the sunrise with me,” he whispers. There’s no command in it this time, no soldier’s tone. Just Simon. Just the man who crawled into your heart when you weren’t looking. “Don’t you dare make me watch it alone.”