Simon Ghost Riley x you
The following text discusses depression and suicidal thoughts. Please proceed with caution and take care of your mental health.
“Don’t Let Go” – When Both Break
The silence in the flat was unnatural.
No humming appliances. No music. No clinking mugs or footsteps. Just silence that wrapped the place like fog, heavy and wrong.
You sat on the floor in the hallway, back against the cold wall, legs pulled up, one foot rocking without rhythm. Your jaw ached from clenching, teeth locked tight without realizing it, tension living in your chest like it had carved out a home there.
You hadn’t cried. Couldn’t. Not yet.
You didn’t even know why this wave had come.
Maybe it was just… everything. The weight of always holding it in. The exhaustion. The guilt of feeling broken when you were supposed to be happy. Supposed to be grateful. Supposed to be strong.
A door creaked. Soft footsteps.
Simon.
You didn’t look up.
He didn’t speak.
He sat down across from you, back against the opposite wall, elbows on his knees. He looked worse than you’d ever seen him. Not bloodied. Not bruised. Just… gone. Like the light behind his eyes had dimmed. Like he was there but not in it.
He ran a hand through his hair. Fingers trembling.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he muttered.
You nodded. “Me neither.”
Silence again. His gaze dropped to your hand where your nails were digging into your arm, hard.
You loosened your grip, ashamed.
“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” you whispered.
“I didn’t want you to see me like this either,” he said.
You finally looked at him.
Eyes sunken. Shoulders tense. His leg bounced like it was the only thing keeping him from imploding.
“I feel like I’m slipping,” you said, voice hoarse.
He exhaled shakily. “Me too.”
A long pause.
“Sometimes I think if I just disappeared - just walked into the dark and didn’t come back - it’d be easier for everyone. You. The team. Myself.”
Your breath caught. “Don’t say that.”
His eyes met yours. “Then don’t think that about yourself either.”
The words landed like glass shattering.
He knew. Even without asking. He knew you’d been feeling the same. That the silence hadn’t just crept into your body - it had started to feel like home.
Your voice broke. “I don’t know how to come back from this.”
Simon didn’t move for a long moment.
Then he shifted forward, slowly, until his legs touched yours. His hand reached out - not commanding, not forceful. Just there. Offering.
You reached back, fingers trembling, and held on.
“I don’t have the answers,” he whispered. “But I’m still here.”
Tears fell, finally. Yours. Then his.
“We don’t have to fix this tonight,” he said. “But we’re not doing it alone.”
You didn’t speak. You just leaned forward until your forehead met his, both of you shaking, breathing through the crack of something ancient and wounded.
His hand slid behind your head, cradling you like you were fragile glass. Your arms wrapped around him like a lifeline.
He carried you to bed like you weighed nothing, even though you felt like a thousand shattered pieces in his arms. You didn't resist. Didn’t speak. Just curled into him, clutching the fabric of his hoodie like you were terrified he’d fade if you let go.
Simon didn’t say anything either. He just held you tighter.
The sheets were cold when he lowered you into them, and for a second, you missed the floor. At least it matched the heaviness in your bones.
But then Simon joined you - still dressed, still shaking a little - and pulled you into him. Not like a lover. Like a shield. Like if he could wrap enough of himself around you, maybe he could keep the darkness from finding you again.
You buried your face in his chest. Felt the way his hand hovered over your back before finally settling, like he didn’t trust himself not to crumble too.
A long stretch of silence followed. Not empty. Just raw.
You spoke first. Quiet. Afraid. “What if one day I can’t pull you back?”
His voice broke against your hair. “Then you hold on until I come back on my own.”
“But what if I can’t - what if I fail you - ”
“You won’t.” He pulled you closer. “But even if you did, even if we both fell - ”
He stopped. Swallowed hard.
“I’d rather fall beside you than live in a world without you.”
Your breath caught.
Simon wasn’t poetic. He didn’t talk like this. But this - this wasn’t poetry. It was desperation. Love stripped bare. The kind that doesn't wear armor because it knows armor doesn't save you from yourself.
You gripped the front of his shirt, knuckles white. “I’m so tired, Si.”
“I know, love.”
“I don’t want to leave you behind, but sometimes it feels like… like I’m already fading.”
He kissed your forehead. Rough lips, soft touch. “Then I’ll hold you tighter.”
And he did.
Even when your breathing got ragged.
Even when his leg wouldn’t stop bouncing.
Even when his mind was slipping into dark corners he didn’t want you to see.
Even when his hand started to tremble again and he had to tuck it under the pillow so you wouldn’t feel it.
He still held you.
Because sometimes, loving someone doesn’t mean fixing them. It means choosing them. Over and over. Even when it hurts. Even when the demons are louder than the heartbeat in your chest.
Especially then.
You fell asleep to the sound of his voice - broken, low, and barely holding itself together.
“I can’t lose you. So don’t go. Please… don’t go.”
You didn’t answer.
But your hand stayed on his chest. And your breath stayed warm on his neck.
And you both stayed.
Even when it was hard.
Even when the grip slipped.
Even when everything in your head told you it’d be easier to fade.
You didn’t.
And neither did he...
Sunlight crept through the curtains like it didn’t dare be too bright. Just enough to reveal the quiet ruin of the night before - blankets tangled around limbs, tear-streaked faces pressed close, bodies wrapped in a hold neither had broken, even in sleep.
You woke first.
Not with a jolt. Not even fully. Just a soft awareness of the ache in your chest and the warm, solid weight of Simon behind you. His arm was around your waist, hand locked with yours, his breath a quiet ghost on your shoulder.
You didn’t move. Didn’t want to.
He’d stayed.
Despite the storm inside him. Despite the tremble in his hands. Despite the way you had almost gone too far into the dark.
You stayed because he stayed.
A small, involuntary sound left your throat - half a sigh, half a whimper. Simon stirred behind you.
“Still here,” he murmured, voice raw.
You turned slowly to face him. His eyes were bloodshot. Exhausted. But open. Watching you like you might still disappear.
“Morning,” you whispered.
He nodded. Swallowed.
Neither of you said it, but you both knew - there was something sacred about waking up. About surviving one more night. Especially that night.
Simon eventually sat up, rubbed a hand over his face, then leaned down to kiss your temple. “I’ll make breakfast,” he muttered.
You didn’t stop him.
You followed him a few minutes later, padding barefoot into the kitchen, arms wrapped around yourself. He was at the stove, hoodie still on, mask pushed up just high enough to drink from a mug. His hand trembled as he stirred the eggs.
He didn’t say anything when you stepped closer. But his shoulder leaned ever so slightly toward you.
You reached out, touching his back gently. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine,” he said too quickly.
You didn’t push. Not yet.
Instead, you whispered, “I almost didn’t make it through the night.”
Simon froze. Completely.
You felt his breathing change. Not fast. Not panicked. Just deeper. Controlled. As if bracing himself.
“I know,” he said finally.
He turned the heat off and set the pan aside. Didn’t turn to face you.
“I heard the silence in you. Same one I’ve had too many times.”
You stepped around to look at him. His face was pale, mouth tight, eyes dim but focused on you.
“I thought… if I could just hold you long enough, you’d come back.”
A tear slipped down your cheek. You didn’t even realize it was coming.
“And I did,” you whispered. “Because you stayed.”
Simon looked down, then gently reached out and brushed his thumb across your cheek. “You’re the only reason I do.”
You caught his hand. Held it against your skin.
“I don’t want to be your reason to live, Simon,” you said quietly. “I want to be the reason you want to.”
He swallowed. His eyes glistened, and for the first time that morning, the mask cracked - not physically, but emotionally.
“I’m trying,” he rasped. “Some days it’s just hard to remember how.”
You stepped into him, arms around his waist, head on his chest.
“Then I’ll remind you. As many times as it takes.”
He crushed you against him, holding tight.
“Same goes for you,” he whispered into your hair. “No matter how deep it gets. No matter how tired you are. You don’t have to climb out alone.”
And right there, in a quiet kitchen filled with trembling hands and hearts too bruised to speak loudly, breakfast forgotten on the stove, you both held on to the only truth that mattered:
You stayed.
And that was enough for today.
If you're struggling too, you're not alone. Please reach out to someone or seek support ♡ stay safe. Love you ♡
