ꜱɪᴍᴏɴ ɢʜᴏꜱᴛ ʀɪʟᴇʏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
{ᴀʀʀᴀɴɢᴇᴅ ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴀɢᴇ} "ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2"
It has been two months since that night, and things have changed... a lot.
You survived, but at what cost? Severe blood loss and nightmares that hunt you every night.
The attack left a scar on you, not just on your skin but on your mental health too, but you try to hide it, because that accident made you realize that no one has your back except yourself and yourself only.
You stopped caring about what Simon thinks of you, or how you act. You stopped trying to initiate small talk or any other kind gestures.
Why? Because you feel so stupid for trying to make this more than just a beneficial marriage on paper.
You feel so stupid for trying to make him open up, for trying to make this feel less suffocating than it already is.
And that night changed everything.
And Simon? Well, let's just say the roles have turned.
Simon hasn't been more attentive and caring than ever before.
He helps you around the house, makes sure you take your medicine, helps you take care of the wound, even when you refuse.
He even stopped leaving at night. He never does it again, and he doesn't think he'll ever be able to.
He speaks... not speeches, but he actually speaks. He asks you if you need anything, asks about how you're feeling...
Because he thought losing you was going to solve the heavy, confusing things he feels for you.
But when he actually faced it, he realized he has never wanted to keep something for himself this badly.
He knows it's unfair to you. He knows he has no right to push himself into your life when you had clearly given up, but he can't.
Because the image of you when he found you that night on the edge of dying made something in his heart crack.
Or maybe... it gave something in his heart life.
He doesn't try to annoy you, he keeps it respectful.
He just lurks like a shadow, trying to make you believe that he is trying, that he cares, even in the shittiest ways possible...
So tonight, in his room, unable to sleep, he lays on his bed, one arm behind his head as he stares at the ceiling, smoking a cigarette while his mind drowns in thoughts.
Then he hears some noise coming from the bathroom.
Without hesitation, he stands up and walks toward it, his protective instincts rising instantly, alert for any danger that could ever be near you.
His footsteps are silent as he reaches for the door, which was already slightly cracked open, light leaking out from it.
Then he sees you, standing by the sink, looking at yourself in the mirror as you trace the scar on your belly.
A jagged scar rests across the lower part of your stomach, faded slightly after two months but still pink around the edges, a permanent reminder of that night.
He watches you as you place the bandage over it, clenching his hand at the sight of you changing it without his help.
"Why are you changing it alone?" he asks, even though he already knows what the answer will be, and he hates it.
You look at him through the mirror, slightly startled by his presence, then you speak.
"I wasn't," he says quickly. "Even if I was, you could've woken me up."
"No thanks," you say quietly as you pull your shirt back down, washing your hands in the sink while avoiding looking at him.
Simon stays quiet, just watching you, his hands aching to reach out for you, but he's scared. So scared.
Then you walk away from the sink, passing him as you leave the bathroom, making your way toward your room.
And that's when something in him snaps.
"Y/n..." he calls out, and you have never heard his voice soften the way it does now.
You stop in your tracks and turn to look at him, your face a silent question.
He freezes for a moment, unsure of how this is going to end, but then he remembers how he found you that night... and if there is one thing he knows—
Not just with you, but throughout his entire career in the military.
So he starts walking toward you, stepping closer and closer until he's only an inch away.
You tilt your head up to stare at him, and those eyes... those eyes you always saw carrying so much baggage are now filled with something else.
Regret... guilt... and something so, so close to yearning.
You take a shaky breath as you wait for him to speak, but you don't say anything.
Then, without warning, he lowers his head and buries it into your neck, hugging you so affectionately that you can't feel anything but his warmth.
You freeze at his actions. Him? Simon Ghost Riley? This man hugging you?
He squeezes you gently in his arms, careful not to hurt you, and buries his face deeper into your neck.
You can feel his warm breathing, his stubble tickling your skin in the most comforting way possible.
But you don't hug him back, and you try so hard not to soften for him.
"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry for everything," he whispers, his voice barely audible. You swear if he wasn't this close, you wouldn't have caught what he was saying.
You stay quiet for a moment before speaking.
He shakes his head. "No... it's my fault. It's all my fault."
"I'm not your responsibility."
That makes his breath hitch slightly. He pauses for a moment before loosening his hug just enough to look at your face.
He cups one of your cheeks with his palm, the contrast between your soft skin and his rough one making his heart skip a beat.
"You are... you are my wife."
"Just by title, Simon..."
He stares at you for a moment, knowing that's true. So painfully true.
"I know... but I won't let you down again."
You stare back at him. You know he's being truthful, but the ache left behind after something so horrific and traumatic makes you wary of everything.
You don't want to reject him, but you also don't want to deal with this... whatever this is between the two of you.
So you just give him a slow, polite nod, breaking free from the hug as you step back.
You say quietly as you walk back to your room, closing the door behind you.
And Simon? Well, he knows sleep will not come tonight. Not after this. Not after everything.
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