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csbat · 10 months

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𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐘 — 𝐒𝐑.

▸ PAIRING: Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader

▸ SUMMARY: Time expanded slowly; the long weeks becoming months that soon turned into searing years. Your only silver lining—the basis of your hope and love—was the familiar yet fleeting knock on your door.

OR, in which; every first day of the month, a delivery of flowers shows up on your porch.

▸ CONTENT INCLUDES: Major character death (mentioned), angst, hurt/no comfort

▸ WORD COUNT: 2,560

The promise of Simon’s inevitable absence would always be a tough pill to swallow, no matter how many times it was forced down your throat. You were well informed of his duties, and with that came the sleepless nights and long mornings when you were left alone with your thoughts. Left alone to ponder the possibilities and risks he’d always have to take. To have him meant to accept that he was made to be a warrior, a soldier, a machine.

Distantly, you can still recall his words, whispered in the dark and followed by his rough hands rubbing over the skin on your hips with a supple grace that shouldn’t be known to him.

We have to get our hands dirty to keep the world clean. He said it with resignation, as if it were final. As if it were something that couldn’t change. You now know that he was right.

You don’t have to ruin yourself for people that don’t deserve it. You wanted to shout, to plead with him.

You’re a good person and you’ve suffered enough. The words were on the tip of your tongue, begging to be heard, begging to screw into his head.

You deserve to rest. You would’ve said it if you knew it would have made a difference (it wouldn’t).

Simon wasn’t the type to outwardly show affection. Maybe it was because of the past, maybe it was because no matter how many times he washed his hands they always looked bloody, or maybe it was just who he was. The answer was unimportant because he found other ways of showing his love, his appreciation, his devotion. The displays varied from one to the next, but your favorite was easily the pretty bouquet of flowers that would show up on your porch at the start of every month. He would fein innocence, claiming that he had no idea where they came from, and you would fein ignorance, pretending not to see his name on the tag.

When he left with a kiss and a promise to be back soon, you tried not to think about it. You tried not to remind yourself that anything could happen. You tried to trust that he would be okay. He’d be home soon enough, and you could go right back to folding laundry together in silence, or making those (according to him, awfully long) trips to the grocery store. He’d be fine and you’d feel silly for worrying, just like you always did.

He never did come home.

𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑

It had been a month since you last saw Simon. You weren’t panicking; you were used to his missions lasting longer than expected and by now learned not to get your hopes up. The lawn started to grow out, but you pushed the thought to the back of your mind with a small reminder that he would take care of it when he got back.

It was midnight when your attention was torn away from the book in your lap. A knock on the door, one so quiet that you had to question if it was even there, disrupted the still silence. With a sigh and a quiet groan after you stood up to stretch, you made your way to the door with a solid idea of what you’d find.

A pretty arrangement of flowers sat in a vase on the porch; a figment of all your love wrapped in a pretty bow. With a small smile, you crouched down, finding the unmistakable name of Simon Riley printed on the card. You weren’t worried because you knew he was coming home, but the gesture still eased the tension in your shoulders and softened the heaviness in your chest.

Feeling much lighter than before, you ventured back inside.

Simon,

I know you’re busy because you have a job or whatever, but don’t you know it’s rude not to deliver flowers in person?

Kidding, they smell very sweet and I’m glad you went with the roses this time. They remind me of our first date, how you showed up at my door with a couple of dead ones and told me you forgot to water them. I think I still have them somewhere actually.

I don’t know when you’ll come back or if you’ll even read this, but I miss you and I guess I was feeling lucky.

Take care,

your favorite person ever

𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑

It had been two months since Simon’s departure and your routine had never felt more repetitive. The colors around you were dimming and sound turned to static and empty noise. You felt heavy, like your body was trying to tell you something that your mind didn’t know. You almost felt guilty at the need in your chest and the desperate voice in your head that willed his arrival. He was out there saving the world, saving people (that would never appreciate it), but the longer he was away the more persistent the voice became.

So when the singular, very anticipated knock came at midnight, it also came as a reminder of everything you were waiting for. It eased the voice and begged it to stay quiet. Begged to be at peace, at least for a moment.

Simon,

What did the farmer say when he lost his tractor?

“Oh no, I lost my tractor!”

I’m almost embarrassed to tell you how long I laughed at that. Anti-jokes are a lot funnier in person though, and I have a whole list lined up for when you come home.

Hope you’re okay,

still your favorite person ever

𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑

As time failed to stop, Simon’s absence became more infamous. With it edging on three months, the hole he left was more noticeable than ever. Christmas would be coming up soon, and you didn’t feel the familiar childlike joy that you did last year. You didn’t want to decorate, or make cookies, or really do anything. With Simon being deployed, you had no one else to celebrate with.

You had no interest in the upcoming holiday, but against your instincts, you willed yourself to put up a tree and decorated it haphazardly. You put up the lights—the ones you bought two years ago and still used despite the fact that half of them were out (because they were his favorites). When he came home, because he would, he’d be greeted by the warm atmosphere and a few presents awaiting him under the tree. He wouldn’t have time to get you anything, but his return was the only thing you wished for.

When Christmas eventually did roll around; with the grass covered in white, snowflakes falling from the sky, and the nearest lakes all frozen over, you sat in his favorite recliner and sipped at the cup of warm tea in your supple hands. You waited, and waited, and waited, ‘cause what else were you supposed to do?

As the twenty-fifth morphed into the thirty-first, you realized with aching bones that he wouldn’t be coming home soon enough. That would be fine, you could wait and so could the Christmas music and bundle of gifts. It could never be too late to celebrate, right?

You sat on a stool in the kitchen, the time growing closer and closer to your favorite hour. And as predicted, when the clock struck midnight, a quiet knock rattled the door. Quickly, you scurried toward it, opening it with haste to find the same beautiful bouquet waiting for your attention. It was bigger than usual, more flowers shoved into the vase and brighter colors in your vision. His return was the only gift you asked for, but as long as these showed up, you supposed that would have to do.

With hesitant movements and a heavy frown, you took the vase inside.

Simon,

Christmas feels weird without you. Might be a strange way to start this letter, but I really miss you and I’m too tired to feel subtle about it. Since you weren’t here to help me decorate, I did it myself, even though it honestly looks like shit. I can never reach all the high places that you can, you fuckin’ giant.

I’ll keep everything up until you get home so that we can still celebrate. I know you hate opening gifts, but I couldn’t help myself this year. I just see things and my first thought is ‘mm, I bet Simon would like that’, which leads to me getting it.

I really miss you. I hope you’re safe wherever you are, and I hope whatever you’re doing is worth it.

See you soon,

your person

𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘

It was a new year, but time didn’t feel any different. Each day hope diminished, each day felt longer and each day your heart plummeted when he didn’t return. He would though. He had to. He still had unopen presents and there were still so many things you had to say to him.

When the familiar time came, you rushed to the door, nearly beating the mysterious knock. Despite how fast you were, you could never catch the person who dropped the flowers off. You tried searching for proof of his existence in things that held no answer, and as you shuffled through the bouquet in search of that damn tag that would have his name on it, you were surprised when the only one you found was much different than before.

Not only was it handwritten, but it was in a different style than Simon’s messy handwriting. It read two words that nearly made your heart sink. I’m sorry. That was it, no explanation, no answers. You tried not to think about what that might mean. Tried not to think about the fact that it was Price’s handwriting you were staring at.

Simon,

It’s been 103 days since you’ve left and I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I feel like I’m either constantly waiting for your return or sleeping the dread away. What’s keeping you from me? Are you safe? Are you ever going to read this?

I know you hate it when I worry, but I’m starting to think that this is it. Please come home. Please be here. It’s getting so lonely without your horrible jokes and the silence feels like it’s trying to tell me something.

I’m starting to believe it.

𝐅𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘

After five months of silence, you got your answer, but not in the way you wanted. When February came around, you were more impatient than ever. Your heart was beating out of your chest in the minutes leading up to midnight, and even more so when the time came and there was an eerie lack of sound. You always handled silence well, but found that you’ve never hated it more. It’s never felt this suffocating.

Your heart fell as twelve turned into one, and one into two. The hours dragged on until the sun was shining through the windows, and when the flowers never came you realized that you knew why.

Simon,

I don’t want to be angry with you but somebody has to be. I don’t know where you are, I don’t know how it happened, I don’t know if it was painful. I don’t even know if you regret it. Did you think about me? Did you see me when your life flashed before your eyes? Did it happen too fast for that to even happen?

You can’t be gone. Please come home and tell me this is a joke. Come home and open your presents. Just come home.

The grass was growing out, but you refused to cut it down. Refused to accept what you already knew; he wasn’t making it home this time. Most nights, you woke up in a sweat because he wasn’t there to hog the blanket. You can’t even recall how many cups of tea you’ve had to throw out due to accidentally making another for him in your morning haze, nor can you recall how many times you’ve had to stop yourself from calling out his name when you got home after a long day.

You just had trouble reminding yourself that he was gone. It was strange, one second you had him and the next you didn’t. If you knew his absence would be forever, you would’ve done more. You would’ve held him tighter when you begged for him not to go. You would’ve broken a bone to keep him from leaving; said something to make him stay. How were you supposed to accept the fact that you’d never see him again when you hardly even got a goodbye?

Against rationality, you still held hope that he’d show up on the doorstep in the pouring rain with every part of you that he took with him when he left. With love and flowers and daydreams. You’d let him in without a second thought. You wouldn’t even want an apology for the fear he instilled in you for so long, just his presence. You’d let him hog the blanket and you’d make an extra cup of tea. You would love him and lose him again if you had to.

But time didn’t stop moving, and his arrival never came. Your wish fell on deaf ears and pleading with the sky never worked.

If he lived here he’d be home by now.

Simon,

I don’t know why I’m reaching out again, but you were once my favorite person to talk to and it’s still a habit I’ve yet to break. It’s been 4 years, and I’m still right where you left me. I wish I could say that I’m not who I used to be; that I’ve grown and that I’ve changed, but I’ve learned that healing looks different for everyone.

I just want you to know that I’m not angry anymore. You were doing what you had to do. You always knew that came with sacrifices and I was foolish to believe you would never be one of them. I’m not mad at you for leaving me behind, I’m not mad at you for promising you’d be back, and I’m not mad at you for breaking that promise.

I’m trying to plant new seeds and water new plants, to replace the wilting flowers with bright, new, healthy ones. I’m trying to accept that it is what it is, and I’m trying to stop making it into what it was. It doesn’t hurt to think about anymore. The questions and the memories came and went and settled deep into my conscious where they no longer keep me up at night.

Despite this, I still have all the flowers you sent me. They’re all sensitive and dead now, but they’re in a box under the bed along with all of our pictures and all of our history. You were the first and last person I’ll fall for, and even though you aren’t around to give me those stupid butterflies and tell me those stupid jokes, that time will always be a part of me, which means you will too.

I’ve come to accept that. That even though a part of me died with you, new flames can cauterize the old wounds you left. Thank you for loving me, thank you for teaching me that flowers wither and die, and thank you for teaching me how to water new ones.

▸ A/N: I’m sorry if this isn’t the greatest, I haven’t written anything in a while and I’m writing this in the middle of the night so there may be errors. That being said, I hope you enjoyed whatever the fuck this was! I might make a longer, more detailed version sometime in the future but for now this’ll have to do.

P.S, I’m sort of new to this shit, and generally have no idea what I’m doing or how this works.

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #i have no idea how tumblr works #how do i tag this #modern warfare 2 #i love angst

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