Cw/tags for this chapter: 18+, depression, ptsd, grumpy x sunshine, Simon Riley! neighbour
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Simon's life was plain and boring. He had permanently sunken bags under his eyes to prove it.
His apartment was cheap and shitty, just enough to live in. To eat, sleep and shit. It was not pretty. His closet was empty, a few black shirts he'd wash in rotation and wear for a few days, then exchange. The walls of his house were plain chipped white, no pictures of family or even empty frames. Miserable. Not to mention the weather reflected that mood entirely.
Days dragged by once he left base and was forced to live in that place he wouldnt call home. He remembered home vaguely from childhood, even if a little rough and traumatic.
Most nights were sleepless, flashes of grenades and the booms of distant warfare echoed in his mind. Ptsd. Simon knew he suffered from it, but what was there to do? There was no way in thishell would he seek therapy.
Here, in this hell, he was Simon Riley, not Ghost. No matter how much he'd rather hide and go on missions constantly just to fill in the time, Price insisted he have leave every once in a while. So unfortunately, the last thing he could cling to was his mask.
Didn't matter where he went, in his limited area where he roamed, there was the apartment complex, the 24 hour convenience store, the graveyard and the beach, the mask stayed on. He's seen the beach once, got a shoe full of sand before going back on his run, never went back, it felt too good for someone like him.
Maybe Simon looks like a weirdo wearing a skull print mask everywhere he goes, which is only occasional, but really does he care? No.
Hes living on barely edible food too. Takeaway, frozen dinners, scrambled eggs for breakfast and lunch. His kitchen doesnt even have saltand pepper because at this point, he doesn't even care about taste, just nutrients.
The habit of military was drilled into his bones so deeply, every morning he made his bed, cleaned his guns, eat something then go for his first run of the day. His house was eternally silent, he never spoke a word and his footsteps were careful despite solitude.
Life was grey, is what I'm trying to say. It was unbearably dull and crawling along slower than a dead slug.
Simon never considered dating, the thought never even glimpsed his mind. He's never had a real girlfriend before, but he's definitely had hookups before. Every woman has moaned and mewled his name, saying how good he is, but hes never truly believed them, because its never felt that way for himself.
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Today, it was raining. Not unusual.
It was around 11 pm, and from Simon's window he watched, dazed and hungry, but he refused to eat. He had skipped a kilometer off his run this morning, because he was tired. He was gaining weight, becoming lazy. How pathetic.
The raindrops bounced off the deck and onto his window, before trailing down the glass and collecting near the crack at the bottom, seeping into the apartment. Shitty thing.
He had the urge to reach out his hand and feel the rain patter against his skin. He stood and went to the door, opening it. The wind rushed past Simon, and he stepped outside.
His head snapped towards the side when he saw movement, and there, on a bench was her. In a soaked hoodie and messy winded hair, staring off mesmerized by the rain.
Beautiful, it what he thought, even when she wasn't in the best state.
"Isn't it gorgeous?" She whispered, sensing his presence.
"Its normal." He replied, looking off the railing.
"Just cause its normal doesn't mean its not beautiful." She'd murmur, standing slowly and reaching out her hand into the rain. He watched, almost jealous that she was doing it before him.
"You live here?" She'd ask, turning her head to look at him.
He waited a moment to speak more "you're going to get sick." He gestured vaguely to the hoodie she wore, sticking to her arms.
She watched him for a few moments before stepping closer, looking at his masked face.
"Do you always wear that?"
There it is. That question. The one everyone asks or tries not to.
"Yes, ma'am." He replies firmly.
"Ma'am? Do I look that old?" She asks, a soft blush appears on her cheeks even in the cold. Maybe it is the cold, definitely isn't a result of him, that's for sure.
Simon huffed quietly, just barely reaching what could be called a laugh.
“Didn’t say that,” he muttered, shifting his weight. “Habit.”
She tilted her head, studying him like he was something unusual, probably because he is. Most people either avoided him or stared too long. She did neither. Just… looked with a certain curiosity.
“Well,” she said after a moment, stepping even closer until the rain misted them, “I’m not a ‘ma’am.’ ”
Another pause. The rain filled the silence, steady, like static between two radio signals trying to connect to the same frequency.
"You should probably go inside, you'll freeze your ass off." He says, gesturing to the apartment next to his.
"You said the weather was normal, not like I'm gonna get hypothermia." She says casually with a cheeky grin, slowly coming closer and wrapping her arms around her middle. Her words are hypocritical when visually she's consumed by shivers.
"You're weird." He says with a roll of his eyes.
"Takes one to know one." She shoots back.
Bizarre but exciting, he thinks.
"Fine." She murmurs, slowly stepping past him and entering his apartment. He quickly follows, almost panicked by how bold she suddenly is, entering his space.
Simon stiffened slightly as she crossed the threshold. No one came in here. No one saw this place. It wasn’t meant to be seen.
Where he finds her, standing with her arms still around herself, gazing down nervously at the floor. Like she regrets being so invasive.
Shes instinctive, but gets nervous after, waiting to see if her actions are wrong. He reads her quickly.
"Not what I meant by going inside." He says gently but firmly, letting his hands rest at his sides despite literally wanting to strangle this woman.
She didn’t comment on the the sterile, almost suffocating emptiness. Or the lack of anything associated to life living in these chipped walls
Not miserable, depressing or empty.
"Do you have a towel, so I don't get sick.?" Her hands move over her soaked hoodie sleeves, and droplets drip onto the cold floor. His eye twitches and he moves quickly, grabbing a towel from the bathroom and tosses it to her.
"Are you always this.. quiet? Or is it just me.." she murmurs, self consciousness slipping into her voice.
"Just not used to people here.." he murmurs, still quiet as he watches her dry off.
"Lucky me then." He hears her chuckle nervously.
He waits, with that stillness that only military officers could carry when they're out of their comfort zone. She wasn't supposed to be here, yet, she dragged her gaze over every inch of the plain living room like it was meant to be studied. And she slowly grew the courage to walk around, to stand at the curtains and pull them back to look outside at the storm.
"Its still beautiful, you know." She whispers as she holds her gaze on the racing drops of rain running down the window. They shimmer crystal reflections over her face.. not normal, beautiful..
"Its still normal." He replies despite his thoughts.
"Maybe you're the problem. You see something and say its normal like it has no right to be anything else. To be beautiful too."
"Maybe i am the problem." He replies, taking his cold eyes off her and looking back to the door.
"I didnt mean it like that-.." she stammers, walking from the window to him and grabbing his wrist. He flinches, and yanks his hand away.
"I meant you should look at things.. differently.. you should look for things that are beautiful and call them what they are."
He stares down at her, his brows knit together and eyes harden to ice.
"..I already think something ordinary is beautiful." He grumbles, heading to the door and opening it. It unleashes wild rain on the deck outside, and he lowers his head somberly, letting her make the decision he is laying out.
She stands there, suddenly anxious and regretful of her words. Did she hit a nerve? She slowly approaches the open door, holding her hands in front of her, and gently holds out the towel she used.
"Can I ask what it is.?" She asks, hesitantly bringing her eyes up to meet his.
He clenches his jaw before taking the towel, thinking his words out carefully.
"..you.. are beyond beautiful." His gruff voice is surprisingly smooth admitting the words, and he slowly reaches for her hand. This time, they both let it happen.
She flushes, his admission unexpected, and squeezes his hand.
"Whats your name?" He asks, stepping into the doorway to shield the rain from her.
"Meredith." She replies softly, even her face seems to glow a little.
"Well, Meredith, I think you are a beautiful woman with a beautiful name.. I'd gladly let you come inside again if you're feeling a little too normal one night and want your whole world shattered." He says it in his thick brogue.
She stares at him, then slowly raises her palm to reach for his mask, she comes within inches of touching the fabric before he takes her hand and holds it there mid-air.
"I'll ring the bell." She whispers, then pulls away, and strolls out of the apartment.
He stands there, almost flustered after that encounter. It was the most intimate one hes had in probably years, even one night stands aren't as personal as what had just happened.
He closes the door after a minute and goes to get ready for bed.
Hours later, Simon's still awake, and cannot physically sleep because his mind is playing tricks on him. Why does he keep thinking of how her delicate skin touched his, how she looked at him with those pretty eyes, or spoke beautiful words. He decides to take a couple melatonin pills and lays back, staring at the ceiling.
The walls are warped in shadows, crawling and creeping until slowly his mind settles, his eyes grow heavy and with the mask still on his face, he closes his eyes. Slowly, he allows forced exhaustion to grab hold and.. he sleeps..
