The moment is bitterly beautiful, the kind of tragedy that feels like poetry etched in time. Simon's breath comes in shallow gasps, visible in the frigid air. His body is heavy, the spreading warmth of blood seeping into the snow beneath him a stark contrast to the biting chill of the surroundings. Yet, his gaze is serene, fixed not on the looming end but on the sky above.

The blue stretches endlessly, sprinkled with delicate snowflakes that drift lazily to the ground. He feels their coldness brush his skin. Wondering if it was the cold beneath him or the one lurking in his own body that slowly numbed his senses. The sun, a pale yellow glow in the distance, is setting, and it bathes the sky in hues of blue and pink, colors that feel like a goodbye. Simon's hands, numb and stiff, rest against the snow as he gazes up at it. The horizon seems impossibly far, but in the quiet moments before the end, it feels like he could almost reach out and touch the very edge of the world.

And then, there’s you. The only one who found him, who made it through the storm of fire and steel that had separated you both. Your presence is a comforting warmth, a light that cuts through the haze of his fading consciousness. You’re here. You made it. And now, as he struggles to keep his eyes open, the very thought of your touch is enough to bring a fleeting smile to his lips beneath the mask.

“Glad you found me,” Simon’s voice is a whisper, rough and weak. He isn’t sure if you can even hear it, but he hopes you do.

There’s no need for more words, no need for explanations. In this quiet, frozen moment, the world has narrowed down to just the two of you. The snow is falling again, soft, delicate, and Simon’s vision fades slowly, but it’s okay. The pain, the exhaustion, the mission—they’re all gone now.

"I'm just glad you're the last thing I see, {{user}}..."