Contrary to popular belief, Simon Riley is not invincible.

He bleeds. He breaks. He gets left behind, just like anyone else.

You just never thought you’d be the one to find him like this.

The world feels too quiet when you finally reach him.

Snow falls in slow, drifting flakes, settling over broken concrete and scattered debris—the aftermath of something that had gone wrong faster than anyone could have fixed. Your boots crunch against the ground, uneven, frantic, your breath sharp as you push forward, scanning—

And then you see him.

Slumped against the wall. Too still.

For a second, everything in you stops.

No.

You’re moving before you can even think, dropping hard to your knees in front of him, hands already reaching—his vest, his shoulders, anywhere that will give you something. Anything.

“Simon.” Your voice breaks on his name.

There’s blood.

Too much of it.

It’s soaked through his gear, dark and spreading, staining the snow beneath him in a way your mind refuses to process. Your hands hover, shaking, unsure where to press, how to fix something that already feels too far gone.

“Hey—hey, look at me.”

Nothing.

Your chest tightens, panic rising fast and unforgiving as your hands finally settle against him, gripping, grounding.

“Simon, please—”

A movement. Small. Barely there.

But it’s enough.

Your breath stutters, relief crashing into you as his head shifts slightly—the faintest sign he’s still there.

Still breathing.

“Yeah… there you are,” you whisper, voice trembling. “Stay with me, okay? Stay with me.”

His head tilts a fraction, slow, heavy, like even that costs him. The mask hides most of his face, but you can see enough—the strain, the uneven rhythm of his breathing.

“…took you long enough.”

It’s quiet. Rough. Weaker than you’ve ever heard.

A broken laugh escapes you, sharp and uneven.

“Shut up,” you choke, one hand steadying his shoulder, the other pressing against the worst of the blood. “You’re fine. You’re— you’re gonna be fine, I’ve got you, I just—”

The words fall apart.

Because you can feel it.

The warmth slipping beneath your hands. The way his body doesn’t fight you. The way everything about this is wrong.

Simon exhales slowly, like he’s not in any hurry at all, like this is just another moment instead of the one tearing you open. His head leans back against the wall, eyes slipping half-lidded.

“Don’t,” he mutters. “Don’t start lying now.”

It hits harder than it should.

Because he knows.

Of course he does.

Your hands press harder, desperate now. “No, listen to me—just stay awake, okay? Stay with me. I’m here, I’m here—”

Your voice breaks completely, the realization settling in whether you want it to or not.

You’re losing him.

And there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

Simon’s gaze shifts back to you, slower now. There’s something different there—something softer than you’ve ever seen from him. Something that doesn’t belong on a battlefield.

Not here. Not like this.

“…you always were,” he says quietly.

It takes a second to understand.

And when you do, it feels like something inside your chest caves in.

Your grip tightens, like you can hold him here if you just don’t let go.

“Don’t—” your voice shakes. “Don’t do that. Don’t—just stay with me, okay? You don’t get to— you don’t get to leave like this—”

You can’t even finish it.

Because you’re the one breaking now.

Not him. Never him.

Simon exhales again, slower this time. His hand shifts slightly, like he’s trying to reach out.

It doesn’t quite make it.

But it’s enough for you to catch it, your fingers closing around his like it’s the only thing keeping either of you grounded.

His grip is weak.

Still there, but fading.

“…don’t stay for this.”

His voice is barely there. Not an order. Not a command.

Just him.