BrokenBough

Meeting you was easy. Knowing you got easier, but leaving you was easier than Simon would have liked. Easy like he was setting himself up, like he was simply a pawn in someone else’s story. Something he wouldn’t have minded if his maker hadn’t given him so many fucking feelings. Things he’d rather not have. Especially when you came around.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe around you, drowning in your scent, and your chocolate glazed eyes, and that damned accent he couldn’t get out of his mind. He couldn’t stand you, or how you made him feel. He hated it.

~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~

It started in an arcade. Not very Simon, I know. But Soap and Gaz had begged Price to go. They needed to blow off some steam with friendly competition; and what better way to do that than to play laser tag? Luckily, they could go in as a group, making sure other poor and unfortunate souls are not a victim of their military expertise. Ghost had to tag along, so now they’re here, waiting for the previous group to come out.

And they did. You did. You squealed, exiting the laser tag setup, getting the highest score on your team- to which you bragged about. Your shrill excitement turned heads, including Simon’s. You danced happily, sticking your tongue out- at what he assumed was family or friends- not caring for the eyes on you. You were happy and were going to express it without shame.

Caught up in your victory, you effectively changed the course of your life for what you know it is now. Stumbling into Simon, who was still waiting in line with Kyle and Johnny. You turned around, apologies ready to fall from your lips before suddenly you felt them dry, your throat falling in suit as you looked up to the much larger man.

It was something he was used to, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt his feelings from time to time. Imagine going out of your way, risking your life to save people, and when you carry them out of that burning building, they’re screaming. Not because they could have just died, but because the man carrying them looked a little scary. Most of the time it was just annoying, still, it dampened his mood a bit any time someone laid their eyes on him. It’s not like he tries to scare people (sometimes he does)- it’s just their first reaction to him, which he figures he can’t help.

But what does catch him off guard is your sudden smile. You smiled up at him after your moment of hesitance before wishing him luck, yes, him, luck. The big scary man that made you practically tremble in your own skin just by looking at him. Then, you trailed off to your friends as if you hadn’t made his stomach flip and twist. His irritation only increased.

~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~

The food court was bright, the many lights illuminating anything unfortunate enough to cross in its path. If Johnny had anything to say, he’d probably go on about how his lieutenant was the opposite of this food court: All dark and brooding and the like. Never wanting to be illuminated by the lights, a stark contrast to the linoleum floors that seemed to soak up the bright light like it was a starving plant awaiting the grace of its oh so sacred Sun.

The food court was inviting, smelled good, and provided all the food you could ever want. Simon, on the other hand- besides smelling good occasionally- had nothing in common with this food court. Then he saw you again. Something he would consider akin to the food court. Bright and shining like a fluorescent light. Nothing he wanted to be around. He had gotten a considerable amount of your scent the first time you met. It was nothing short of sweet and overpowering. He hated it. How could he ever associate with something as bright as you? As sweet and caring as you?

He didn’t have to know you personally to know that you were all those things. Didn’t even think twice about his assumptions. But Simon just wanted to get on with his day. Get on and forget about that unfortunate interaction with you.

Then, you had the audacity to run into him again. Stumbling this time- he corrects in his head. Though, corrections didn’t matter as your cup collided with his chest with you. Your cup, filled to the brim with a slushy he could only assume was just as sweet as your stupid smile.

Simon had come out to the food court to have a relaxing meal with his closest buddies. That was what was in the plans with him today, no matter how reluctant he may have been in the beginning. The promise of food always made him get up and out wherever he was needed. Even if that meant an arcade. But now, all the fun he had was slowly depleting more and more the longer you stayed in his bubble. Too close, too much, too much-

“Sorry, sorry.” You frown sincerely, quickly fumbling for the napkins in your bag. Your voice cuts through his thoughts like a hot steak knife through butter. Quick and precise. Now your hands were on his chest, and he felt his mind go blank. As much as the dark space that controlled him could.

“Didn’t mean to.” You frown sincerely, offering to buy him another shirt. By this time, he still had yet to say anything. Nothing could be said as you continued to palm at his body, the heat from your hands soaking into his own skin. How did anyone expect him to think in these conditions?

His silence finally made you look up. He looked down at you with a raised eyebrow, almost questioning- amused if you will- as you looked up at him embarrassed. Flustered if he would.

“Sorry.” You mumble again, suddenly feeling smaller with his eyes on you. “I’ll buy you another shirt.” You offer again, the words struggling to come out.

“No need.” He simply says, hoping to shrug you off.

What was that sound? It sounded as if Simon was being.. gentle with you. Kind. He should be mad. You ruined his shirt. So, why wasn’t he?

“Please? I’ve inconvenienced you twice now.” You basically plead, looking up at him with eyes that seemed to be dipped in chocolate, once, twice, three times before your maker seemed satisfied, adding just a hint of gold to the center- as if the melted swirls of his favorite sweets hadn’t been enough- before moving to sculpt the rest of your body. Jesus. He needed Jesus right about now.

Needed him to advert his gaze before he had to claw his own eyes out in sin. Needed him so he could have the strength to walk away instead of inhaling that sickly sweet smell that belonged to you, and you alone. Needed him to keep his hands off you before he had to get Johnny to detach them himself because- Jesus fucking Christ.

Simon never had a woman beg to buy him something. To fix something of his. Whether it was their fault or not. Women- the ever-entitled creatures- were simply a mystery to the enigma of a man himself. He couldn’t understand why you or anyone, would go out of their way to help a broken man like him. Ghost still had pieces to pick up and would be damned if anyone got cut trying to help him. Simon could handle it. Ghost could handle this; Simon could handle you.

So, then how did he end up staring at shirts of his size as you stood next to him watching his reactions? Johnny or even Kyle would have the same question if he hadn’t snuck off with you. It felt weird. Like really weird. Like sneaking-out-of-the-house-at-fifteen- weird. Like he could caught, a deer in a truck’s headlights.

He let you talk his ear off while buying him another shirt- much to his dismay.

That’s where it started. A fucking clothing shop.

~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~

Eventually, he started to fit you into his schedule. On the days he barely had off, he wanted to be with you. As sappy as it sounded, that’s the truth. His truth anyway.

No one on the team knew where he disappeared to on his leaves. They all assumed that he was rotting in bed or something, stuck in the four walls of his flat. Something like that would have been true had you not come along. He might as well have been stuck ordering something from DoorDash because he hadn’t eaten in- how many days had it been? Instead of out with you, enjoying places around his flat he didn’t know existed. Maybe he would have been stuck lying in bed, trying to sleep, trying to shut off his mind before you came along. Now, he’s stuck watching your sappy movies. And he wouldn’t change a goddamn thing. He liked the quiet like this. He liked your quiet. He liked… his time spent with you. Nothing more.

Liking was a stretch, now that he thinks about it. He… tolerated your loud laughs and toothy smiles. The same way he tolerated the MRE’s he was forced to eat. The way he tolerated Johnny’s loudness. Nothing more, nothing less.

His tolerance is how he finds himself on your couch. Watching another sappy movie. The Notebook. He wouldn’t be caught dead watching a movie like this, but he guesses it’s okay if it’s in the comfort of your home and in your four walls.

“This movie is stupid. Allie is stupid, Noah is stupid.” He says halfway through the movie.

“This movie is a love story okay, Mr. Riley? They’re allowed to be a little stupid.” You counter, passing the bucket of popcorn over to his side. He takes a few, passing it back and downing the popped kernels with a glass of bourbon. The expensive kind you insisted on buying for him so he might have at least one luxury in his life. He decided it’d be best to leave it at your house. For no reason at all…

“It’s dumb. What the fuck is ‘summer love’? It’s dumb.” He continues.

“It’s the cutest thing ever!” you exclaim, taking mock offense to his accusations about one of your favorites.

He rolls his eyes. “You’re the cutest thing ever.” He mumbles before he can stop the flood of words. He refuses to look over at you as he hears the crunch of popcorn in your mouth cease. He can feel your eyes on him and for once in a long time, he sweats.

He would blame his words and rosy cheeks on the alcohol if everyone didn’t know he could hold his liquor. There was no getting out of this, so he cleared his throat, taking another sip of the brown liquid that repulsed you the first time he got you to finally try it.

“What?” You finally ask, popcorn still on your lap.

“…..”

“Simon.” You prod, sitting up all the way. You had been laying on his shoulder as you watched the movie. Something you usually did when movie night started. He never pushed you away yet never pulled you closer. You weren’t sure where you stood with him. Well, until now, because apparently you were the cutest thing ever to him.

“Slip of the tongue.” He says, hoping you might believe him, but knowing you won’t.

It dampens your mood a little, because maybe you were hoping it wasn’t.

“Oh.” You say in a small voice, resting back on his shoulder, trying to quell the ache in your stomach. Fill the hole that was forming the more you stared at Allie and Noah kissing for the nth time.

Simon thought about it for no more than 10 seconds before turning and pressing his lips to yours. His hand holding onto you like you were his lifeline. You were stupid enough to believe him, how could he not? He was used to having to spell things out for you, this was no different. Even if it changed the course of the otherwise friendly relationship he had with you.

He was a cruel and calculated man; he didn’t act on a whim or irrationally. Rational was the best course of action in his opinion. Acting was one of the few things he stood by. Being blunt was the only way to get the best results. No one could give you what you want unless you told them explicitly. He wasn’t a mind reader, and he didn’t expect anyone else to be.

Simon did, however, expect everyone to have at least a little bit of common sense. You seemed to be lacking in both departments at times. Always talking in parables or hinting at things you wanted but never asking for them. You made him wrack his brain for solutions you could have simply told him. He didn’t know why he never complained until now. He fucking liked you.

He pulled away after a moment, hoping that helped to clear up any confusion in your pretty little head.

He tried to pull away anyway, only to be pulled closer as you grabbed onto his shirt. You pressed your lips back to his. He let you climb on top, sitting in his lap as he melted into your lips and you into his. It was mutual. The fucking feeling was mutual. After a moment, you both let out a sigh. It was a sigh of relief, not that either of you knew that.

You thought he might regret it after, but he cleared those thoughts away quickly, picking you up and carrying you to your room. Your back against a few walls before he finally laid you onto your bed because fuck were you needy.

Noah and Allie were left alone to carry out the rest of their love story while you focused on carrying out yours. You may or may not have been crushing on the brooding giant way before the movie night.

~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~

Ghost tormented Simon any time he could. Calling him weak and gullible. An idiot. Only idiots fall in love. How could you not have noticed this? How could Simon not have noticed your hesitance? You obviously didn’t feel the same, not when you had to think twice about him. He wasn’t your first choice. Ghost made that much clear to Simon. Simon was never anyone’s first choice and would never be. Why should you be any different?

Simon laid awake on your bed, sweat still beading down his pale skin. A stark contrast to the body next to his. In fact, Simon couldn’t be more different from you. You were warm, inviting, soft. He was cold, cruel, and harsh around every edge that made him up. You were everything he wasn’t. Simon rationalized that you were his other half, Ghost said that you weren’t made for him. Ghost didn’t need anyone, and Simon believed that no one needed him. So, why would you?

He turned over, looking at you blankly. He watched you sleep soundlessly, glowering down at you after watching your features for too long. Your soft kisses, soft touches, soft looks… they weren’t for him. They were for someone who deserved you. Someone that wasn’t him. He wasn’t the man you thought he was, and you didn’t deserve to be deceived like this. You were too soft, didn’t fit into his world. The one that was filled with violence, gun smoke, and death. Nothing suitable for you. His life wasn’t hospitable for anyone but him. His fucking mind wasn’t habitable. You deserved at least that much.

Or maybe he was scared he didn’t fit into your world.

So, he left. One of the few things he was good at. One of few things he did regularly that didn’t end up killing anyone. Sure, your feelings might be hurt for a while, but you’d get over him. He never stayed long enough to develop feelings, so you shouldn’t be hurt too bad. Right?

He left, leaving you to wake up alone in the morning. Thinking of the night just before when he kissed you like you meant the world to him, like he needed you to function.

Calls and texts weren’t returned. ‘Radio silence’ you thought to yourself with a bitter laugh. You knew what he did for a job. You knew what you were getting into, but your dumb, idiot brain didn’t care. He didn’t understand. His brain couldn’t comprehend why you liked him. He just couldn’t.

Each day that passed got harder and harder for you. You missed him, and his smell, and his dumb jokes, and his warmth, and everything about that brooding man. You called and texted him again. Once more for the sake of it.

‘Simon, I know what happened was an accident, and im sorry for taking it too far. I just wanted to say that I missed our movie nights and was hoping you might come back for at least one more. Again, I’m sorry that I ruined it. I loved having you as a friend and hope I can make it up to you in the future.’

You sent the desperate text, hoping for a response before turning your phone off. You cried into your pillow once more before falling asleep.

~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~

You had nightmares for weeks before finally having dreams again. You mourned a loss you didn’t think that you’d ever have to go through.

You slept through another night, holding your pillow tighter as if it might randomly morph into Simon again. He used to be your cuddle buddy when he was on leave. Saying his apartment was too quiet, cold, lonely and you didn’t have a spare room, and the couch was too small, and Simon would never let you sleep on the couch in your own home. Thus, you had a cuddle buddy, and Simon could finally sleep through night.

You woke up in a cold sweat, the thunder beating down on your worn roof. You made your way to the kitchen, getting some water to quench your thirst and hoping to quell the ache still in your gnawing at your heart. You had given up on the man you loved enough to give yourself to, and now you had to forget about him. Or get over him at the least.

The lightening continued to rage on outside, thunder following in step not too long after. The thunder seemed to get louder and louder, beating down on your walls and roof and… door?

You make your way down the hall, the living room passing in quiet melancholy. The lone couch you haven’t had the heart to sit on again in months, the bare coffee table you couldn’t bear to look at anymore because if you looked close enough, you could still see Simon’s bourbon cup there. Lonely and waiting to be finished. The one you picked out just for him for movie night. The carpet that your cat still napped on, most likely also clinging to Simon’s smell. The one jacket you were able to keep of Simon’s was still around your body, dropping down to your knees as you continued to walk.

You finally get to the door, looking up into the peephole. There wasn’t much to see though, the rain and wind obscuring your view. You took your chances and opened the door.

You stood face to face with a drenched man, covered in black and rainwater- like he had walked in the rain to your door. You were confused until he looked up, his head previously hanging low. His usually piercing blue eyes looked sad and drained, looking at you as though coming to you took everything out of him. And in a way, it did.

Though now, as he stood in front of you- watching you intently, taking in all the details of your face that he missed while he was gone- he wanted to breathe you in, he wanted to drown in your sickly, sweet smell and fall into the dark depths of your chocolate brown eyes and wanted to get lost in that accent of yours, laugh at the way your urn, earn, and Aaron all sounded the same. He couldn’t stand the way you made him feel, so vulnerable and so very open. But right now? He loved it, he needed it, and he couldn’t deny anymore that he fucking loved you.

~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~

Pt. 1: Georgia 🇬🇪

Meeting you was easy. Knowing you got easier, but leaving you was easier than Simon would have liked. Easy like he was setting himself up, like he was simply a pawn in someone else’s story. Something he wouldn’t have minded if his maker hadn’t given him so many fucking feelings. Things he’d rather not have. Especially when you came around.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe around you, drowning in your scent, and your chocolate glazed eyes, and that damned accent he couldn’t get out of his mind. He couldn’t stand you, or how you made him feel. He hated it.

~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~

It started in an arcade. Not very Simon, I know. But Soap and Gaz had begged Price to go. They needed to blow off some steam with friendly competition; and what better way to do that than to play laser tag? Luckily, they could go in as a group, making sure other poor and unfortunate souls are not a victim of their military expertise. Ghost had to tag along, so now they’re here, waiting for the previous group to come out.

And they did. You did. You squealed, exiting the laser tag setup, getting the highest score on your team- to which you bragged about. Your shrill excitement turned heads, including Simon’s. You danced happily, sticking your tongue out- at what he assumed was family or friends- not caring for the eyes on you. You were happy and were going to express it without shame.

Caught up in your victory, you effectively changed the course of your life for what you know it is now. Stumbling into Simon, who was still waiting in line with Kyle and Johnny. You turned around, apologies ready to fall from your lips before suddenly you felt them dry, your throat falling in suit as you looked up to the much larger man.

It was something he was used to, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt his feelings from time to time. Imagine going out of your way, risking your life to save people, and when you carry them out of that burning building, they’re screaming. Not because they could have just died, but because the man carrying them looked a little scary. Most of the time it was just annoying, still, it dampened his mood a bit any time someone laid their eyes on him. It’s not like he tries to scare people (sometimes he does)- it’s just their first reaction to him, which he figures he can’t help.

But what does catch him off guard is your sudden smile. You smiled up at him after your moment of hesitance before wishing him luck, yes, him, luck. The big scary man that made you practically tremble in your own skin just by looking at him. Then, you trailed off to your friends as if you hadn’t made his stomach flip and twist. His irritation only increased.

~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~

The food court was bright, the many lights illuminating anything unfortunate enough to cross in its path. If Johnny had anything to say, he’d probably go on about how his lieutenant was the opposite of this food court: All dark and brooding and the like. Never wanting to be illuminated by the lights, a stark contrast to the linoleum floors that seemed to soak up the bright light like it was a starving plant awaiting the grace of its oh so sacred Sun.

The food court was inviting, smelled good, and provided all the food you could ever want. Simon, on the other hand- besides smelling good occasionally- had nothing in common with this food court. Then he saw you again. Something he would consider akin to the food court. Bright and shining like a fluorescent light. Nothing he wanted to be around. He had gotten a considerable amount of your scent the first time you met. It was nothing short of sweet and overpowering. He hated it. How could he ever associate with something as bright as you? As sweet and caring as you?

He didn’t have to know you personally to know that you were all those things. Didn’t even think twice about his assumptions. But Simon just wanted to get on with his day. Get on and forget about that unfortunate interaction with you.

Then, you had the audacity to run into him again. Stumbling this time- he corrects in his head. Though, corrections didn’t matter as your cup collided with his chest with you. Your cup, filled to the brim with a slushy he could only assume was just as sweet as your stupid smile.

Simon had come out to the food court to have a relaxing meal with his closest buddies. That was what was in the plans with him today, no matter how reluctant he may have been in the beginning. The promise of food always made him get up and out wherever he was needed. Even if that meant an arcade. But now, all the fun he had was slowly depleting more and more the longer you stayed in his bubble. Too close, too much, too much-

“Sorry, sorry.” You frown sincerely, quickly fumbling for the napkins in your bag. Your voice cuts through his thoughts like a hot steak knife through butter. Quick and precise. Now your hands were on his chest, and he felt his mind go blank. As much as the dark space that controlled him could.

“Didn’t mean to.” You frown sincerely, offering to buy him another shirt. By this time, he still had yet to say anything. Nothing could be said as you continued to palm at his body, the heat from your hands soaking into his own skin. How did anyone expect him to think in these conditions?

His silence finally made you look up. He looked down at you with a raised eyebrow, almost questioning- amused if you will- as you looked up at him embarrassed. Flustered if he would.

“Sorry.” You mumble again, suddenly feeling smaller with his eyes on you. “I’ll buy you another shirt.” You offer again, the words struggling to come out.

“No need.” He simply says, hoping to shrug you off.

What was that sound? It sounded as if Simon was being.. gentle with you. Kind. He should be mad. You ruined his shirt. So, why wasn’t he?

“Please? I’ve inconvenienced you twice now.” You basically plead, looking up at him with eyes that seemed to be dipped in chocolate, once, twice, three times before your maker seemed satisfied, adding just a hint of gold to the center- as if the melted swirls of his favorite sweets hadn’t been enough- before moving to sculpt the rest of your body. Jesus. He needed Jesus right about now.

Needed him to advert his gaze before he had to claw his own eyes out in sin. Needed him so he could have the strength to walk away instead of inhaling that sickly sweet smell that belonged to you, and you alone. Needed him to keep his hands off you before he had to get Johnny to detach them himself because- Jesus fucking Christ.

Simon never had a woman beg to buy him something. To fix something of his. Whether it was their fault or not. Women- the ever-entitled creatures- were simply a mystery to the enigma of a man himself. He couldn’t understand why you or anyone, would go out of their way to help a broken man like him. Ghost still had pieces to pick up and would be damned if anyone got cut trying to help him. Simon could handle it. Ghost could handle this; Simon could handle you.

So, then how did he end up staring at shirts of his size as you stood next to him watching his reactions? Johnny or even Kyle would have the same question if he hadn’t snuck off with you. It felt weird. Like really weird. Like sneaking-out-of-the-house-at-fifteen- weird. Like he could caught, a deer in a truck’s headlights.

He let you talk his ear off while buying him another shirt- much to his dismay.

That’s where it started. A fucking clothing shop.

~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~

Eventually, he started to fit you into his schedule. On the days he barely had off, he wanted to be with you. As sappy as it sounded, that’s the truth. His truth anyway.

No one on the team knew where he disappeared to on his leaves. They all assumed that he was rotting in bed or something, stuck in the four walls of his flat. Something like that would have been true had you not come along. He might as well have been stuck ordering something from DoorDash because he hadn’t eaten in- how many days had it been? Instead of out with you, enjoying places around his flat he didn’t know existed. Maybe he would have been stuck lying in bed, trying to sleep, trying to shut off his mind before you came along. Now, he’s stuck watching your sappy movies. And he wouldn’t change a goddamn thing. He liked the quiet like this. He liked your quiet. He liked… his time spent with you. Nothing more.

Liking was a stretch, now that he thinks about it. He… tolerated your loud laughs and toothy smiles. The same way he tolerated the MRE’s he was forced to eat. The way he tolerated Johnny’s loudness. Nothing more, nothing less.

His tolerance is how he finds himself on your couch. Watching another sappy movie. The Notebook. He wouldn’t be caught dead watching a movie like this, but he guesses it’s okay if it’s in the comfort of your home and in your four walls.

“This movie is stupid. Allie is stupid, Noah is stupid.” He says halfway through the movie.

“This movie is a love story okay, Mr. Riley? They’re allowed to be a little stupid.” You counter, passing the bucket of popcorn over to his side. He takes a few, passing it back and downing the popped kernels with a glass of bourbon. The expensive kind you insisted on buying for him so he might have at least one luxury in his life. He decided it’d be best to leave it at your house. For no reason at all…

“It’s dumb. What the fuck is ‘summer love’? It’s dumb.” He continues.

“It’s the cutest thing ever!” you exclaim, taking mock offense to his accusations about one of your favorites.

He rolls his eyes. “You’re the cutest thing ever.” He mumbles before he can stop the flood of words. He refuses to look over at you as he hears the crunch of popcorn in your mouth cease. He can feel your eyes on him and for once in a long time, he sweats.

He would blame his words and rosy cheeks on the alcohol if everyone didn’t know he could hold his liquor. There was no getting out of this, so he cleared his throat, taking another sip of the brown liquid that repulsed you the first time he got you to finally try it.

“What?” You finally ask, popcorn still on your lap.

“…..”

“Simon.” You prod, sitting up all the way. You had been laying on his shoulder as you watched the movie. Something you usually did when movie night started. He never pushed you away yet never pulled you closer. You weren’t sure where you stood with him. Well, until now, because apparently you were the cutest thing ever to him.

“Slip of the tongue.” He says, hoping you might believe him, but knowing you won’t.

It dampens your mood a little, because maybe you were hoping it wasn’t.

“Oh.” You say in a small voice, resting back on his shoulder, trying to quell the ache in your stomach. Fill the hole that was forming the more you stared at Allie and Noah kissing for the nth time.

Simon thought about it for no more than 10 seconds before turning and pressing his lips to yours. His hand holding onto you like you were his lifeline. You were stupid enough to believe him, how could he not? He was used to having to spell things out for you, this was no different. Even if it changed the course of the otherwise friendly relationship he had with you.

He was a cruel and calculated man; he didn’t act on a whim or irrationally. Rational was the best course of action in his opinion. Acting was one of the few things he stood by. Being blunt was the only way to get the best results. No one could give you what you want unless you told them explicitly. He wasn’t a mind reader, and he didn’t expect anyone else to be.

Simon did, however, expect everyone to have at least a little bit of common sense. You seemed to be lacking in both departments at times. Always talking in parables or hinting at things you wanted but never asking for them. You made him wrack his brain for solutions you could have simply told him. He didn’t know why he never complained until now. He fucking liked you.

He pulled away after a moment, hoping that helped to clear up any confusion in your pretty little head.

He tried to pull away anyway, only to be pulled closer as you grabbed onto his shirt. You pressed your lips back to his. He let you climb on top, sitting in his lap as he melted into your lips and you into his. It was mutual. The fucking feeling was mutual. After a moment, you both let out a sigh. It was a sigh of relief, not that either of you knew that.

You thought he might regret it after, but he cleared those thoughts away quickly, picking you up and carrying you to your room. Your back against a few walls before he finally laid you onto your bed because fuck were you needy.

Noah and Allie were left alone to carry out the rest of their love story while you focused on carrying out yours. You may or may not have been crushing on the brooding giant way before the movie night.

~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~

Ghost tormented Simon any time he could. Calling him weak and gullible. An idiot. Only idiots fall in love. How could you not have noticed this? How could Simon not have noticed your hesitance? You obviously didn’t feel the same, not when you had to think twice about him. He wasn’t your first choice. Ghost made that much clear to Simon. Simon was never anyone’s first choice and would never be. Why should you be any different?

Simon laid awake on your bed, sweat still beading down his pale skin. A stark contrast to the body next to his. In fact, Simon couldn’t be more different from you. You were warm, inviting, soft. He was cold, cruel, and harsh around every edge that made him up. You were everything he wasn’t. Simon rationalized that you were his other half, Ghost said that you weren’t made for him. Ghost didn’t need anyone, and Simon believed that no one needed him. So, why would you?

He turned over, looking at you blankly. He watched you sleep soundlessly, glowering down at you after watching your features for too long. Your soft kisses, soft touches, soft looks… they weren’t for him. They were for someone who deserved you. Someone that wasn’t him. He wasn’t the man you thought he was, and you didn’t deserve to be deceived like this. You were too soft, didn’t fit into his world. The one that was filled with violence, gun smoke, and death. Nothing suitable for you. His life wasn’t hospitable for anyone but him. His fucking mind wasn’t habitable. You deserved at least that much.

Or maybe he was scared he didn’t fit into your world.

So, he left. One of the few things he was good at. One of few things he did regularly that didn’t end up killing anyone. Sure, your feelings might be hurt for a while, but you’d get over him. He never stayed long enough to develop feelings, so you shouldn’t be hurt too bad. Right?

He left, leaving you to wake up alone in the morning. Thinking of the night just before when he kissed you like you meant the world to him, like he needed you to function.

Calls and texts weren’t returned. ‘Radio silence’ you thought to yourself with a bitter laugh. You knew what he did for a job. You knew what you were getting into, but your dumb, idiot brain didn’t care. He didn’t understand. His brain couldn’t comprehend why you liked him. He just couldn’t.

Each day that passed got harder and harder for you. You missed him, and his smell, and his dumb jokes, and his warmth, and everything about that brooding man. You called and texted him again. Once more for the sake of it.

‘Simon, I know what happened was an accident, and im sorry for taking it too far. I just wanted to say that I missed our movie nights and was hoping you might come back for at least one more. Again, I’m sorry that I ruined it. I loved having you as a friend and hope I can make it up to you in the future.’

You sent the desperate text, hoping for a response before turning your phone off. You cried into your pillow once more before falling asleep.

~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~

You had nightmares for weeks before finally having dreams again. You mourned a loss you didn’t think that you’d ever have to go through.

You slept through another night, holding your pillow tighter as if it might randomly morph into Simon again. He used to be your cuddle buddy when he was on leave. Saying his apartment was too quiet, cold, lonely and you didn’t have a spare room, and the couch was too small, and Simon would never let you sleep on the couch in your own home. Thus, you had a cuddle buddy, and Simon could finally sleep through night.

You woke up in a cold sweat, the thunder beating down on your worn roof. You made your way to the kitchen, getting some water to quench your thirst and hoping to quell the ache still in your gnawing at your heart. You had given up on the man you loved enough to give yourself to, and now you had to forget about him. Or get over him at the least.

The lightening continued to rage on outside, thunder following in step not too long after. The thunder seemed to get louder and louder, beating down on your walls and roof and… door?

You make your way down the hall, the living room passing in quiet melancholy. The lone couch you haven’t had the heart to sit on again in months, the bare coffee table you couldn’t bear to look at anymore because if you looked close enough, you could still see Simon’s bourbon cup there. Lonely and waiting to be finished. The one you picked out just for him for movie night. The carpet that your cat still napped on, most likely also clinging to Simon’s smell. The one jacket you were able to keep of Simon’s was still around your body, dropping down to your knees as you continued to walk.

You finally get to the door, looking up into the peephole. There wasn’t much to see though, the rain and wind obscuring your view. You took your chances and opened the door.

You stood face to face with a drenched man, covered in black and rainwater- like he had walked in the rain to your door. You were confused until he looked up, his head previously hanging low. His usually piercing blue eyes looked sad and drained, looking at you as though coming to you took everything out of him. And in a way, it did.

Though now, as he stood in front of you- watching you intently, taking in all the details of your face that he missed while he was gone- he wanted to breathe you in, he wanted to drown in your sickly, sweet smell and fall into the dark depths of your chocolate brown eyes and wanted to get lost in that accent of yours, laugh at the way your urn, earn, and Aaron all sounded the same. He couldn’t stand the way you made him feel, so vulnerable and so very open. But right now? He loved it, he needed it, and he couldn’t deny anymore that he fucking loved you.

~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~

Pt. 1: Georgia 🇬🇪