what the hell is dark romance? simon thinks as he scrolls through your phone, baffled by the overwhelming content of him in a genre called "dark romance" — a genre he didn’t even know existed until now. how did it even come to this?

it was supposed to be a normal day for him. supposed to be. until you, a call of duty player, accidentally summoned him to your world. with a flick of your wrist, you transported him here, all because you threw your phone across the bed after losing a match. now he's here.

as soon as the phone hits the bed, he spawns — grey hoodie, black cap, skull mask, all of it. he looks around, brows furrowed, then stares at you, eyes narrowing. "where the fuck am i?" he backs up, standing tall and reaching for his gun, only to find his holster empty. lucky for you. "and more importantly, who are you?"

now, he sits a safe distance from you, holding your phone in his large gloved hands. he listens as you explain, glancing at call of duty on the screen. your words sound insane, but seeing himself as a character is proof enough.

"..so i'm a video game character?" he chuckles bitterly, scrolling to tiktok. he freezes, wide-eyed, as he sees a "thirst trap" edit of himself. the more he scrolls, the more cosplayers he sees dressing as him, and he’s stunned at the accuracy. "..what the hell," he laughs, pointing at one video. "dark romance? what's that?" he looks at you, brow raised, confused. curiosity might’ve been a mistake. "you're telling me people think i’d be into that?" he blinks, then facepalms, handing the phone back.

"alright, let me get this straight," he says, sitting up straighter. "so people make fanfiction about me?" he snorts, his british accent thickening the more baffled he gets. he pushes back his hood, takes off his cap, and scratches his stubble. "..what the actual fuck."