Sitting in the base’s cafeteria, Simon's eyes fixed on a half-empty tray of food in front of him, though he wasn’t paying it any real attention. The room around him buzzed with the usual hum of soldiers chatting and clattering silverware, but it was all a distant noise to him. His mind was elsewhere. It had been for days now. Maybe even weeks.
You were all he thought about lately, living in his head rent-free, taking up every spare moment of his attention. He didn’t understand how it had happened, how you had managed to slip past the walls he’d built so carefully over the years. He had never let anyone get that close. He didn’t know how. Yet, here he was, constantly replaying your smile, your laugh, the way you’d glance at him when you thought he wasn’t looking.
"For so long I’ve waited, so long that I almost became just a stoic statue fit for nobody…”
The words of Sleep Token’s Rain echoed in his mind, the lyrics almost a perfect reflection of his own internal struggle. He had waited so long, so long that he wasn’t sure if he was even capable of feeling what he used to, if he could still let someone in. All these years of isolation, of keeping people at a distance, had made him like stone. A statue. Unmoving. Detached. And wasn’t that easier? Wasn’t that safer?
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, trying to shake the thoughts. He was good at running and had always been good at it. Running from emotions, from connections, from anything that made him feel vulnerable. But with you, it was different. You were different.
And that scared him more than anything.
"I don’t wanna get in your way," he muttered under his breath, barely audible even to himself. He had spent so long staying out of people’s lives, staying in the shadows, that he didn’t know how to be a part of something real. And what if he did get in your way? What if letting you in meant dragging you into the darkness he carried with him? Could he really do that to you?
He was afraid. Afraid to admit it. Afraid of what it meant to feel again.
But the problem was, no matter how much he tried to run from it, you were always there.
You entered the cafeteria, your usual uniform hugging your frame, blending you into the sea of soldiers, yet somehow, you stood out more than anyone else in the room. To Simon "Ghost" Riley, you were more than just another soldier. You were the most beautiful human being he had ever come across in his life. He wasn’t just looking at you; he was memorizing every detail, every curve, every nuance of how you moved.
He swallowed hard, keeping his face composed despite the turmoil raging inside him.
"But I finally think I could say," he thought, his mind syncing with the soft lyrics of the song drifting through the speakers, "that the vicious cycle was over."
It had been. Before you came into his life, he had been trapped in a loop, cold, distant, emotionally detached. It was how he survived, how he managed to make it through the years without letting anyone get close enough to hurt him. But now, as he watched you glide through the room, something inside him shifted.
You turned, your eyes scanning the room until they landed on him. And when your gaze met his, time seemed to stop. His heart skipped a beat, and for the briefest moment, everything else faded away, the noise of the cafeteria, the responsibilities, the weight of his past. It was just you and him.
"The moment you smiled at me..." he thought, his heart clenching in his chest. That smile, so simple yet so full of warmth, hit him harder than anything he had ever faced in the field. It wasn’t just that you were beautiful, though you were. It was that your smile reached a part of him he hadn’t realized was still capable of feeling.
You walked over, tray in hand, your movements graceful yet casual, as though the weight of Ghost’s intense gaze hadn’t affected you at all. But inside, he felt as if the world had tilted slightly off its axis.
"Hey," you greeted softly, sliding into the seat across from him, your voice pulling him back to the present.
Ghost nodded, trying to maintain his usual calm exterior, but his mind was still racing. He had been so used to being numb that this sudden rush of emotion, of feeling, was almost too much to handle. But at the same time, he couldn’t deny how good it felt.
He wasn’t running anymore. Not from you. And that terrified him as much as it thrilled him.
The soft melody of Sleep Token’s Rain floated through the cafeteria, perfectly timed as the next verse spilt into the air.
"And just like the rain, you cast the dust into nothing and washed out the salt from my hands…"
The lyrics hit Simon like a wave, resonating deep inside his chest. He hadn’t realized how much he had been holding on to the weight of his past until now. You were like the rain, coming into his life so unexpectedly, cleansing him of all the grit and grime that had built up over the years, the burdens he had carried, the memories he had buried.
You didn’t just make things easier; you made them feel possible again.
He looked at you, really looked at you, as the words echoed in his mind. There you were, sitting right across from him, smiling as if nothing in the world could weigh you down. How was it that someone like you, someone so full of life, had managed to break through the walls he had spent years building? You hadn’t forced your way in. You hadn’t tried. You just… were. And that was enough.
The moment your eyes met his again, something clicked in his chest. For the first time, he didn’t feel like running. He didn’t feel like hiding. You had this quiet power over him, one that didn’t demand anything but instead gently coaxed him out of the darkness he had grown so accustomed to.
"Simon?" you asked softly, noticing the way he was looking at you.
He blinked, realizing he had been staring a little too long. Clearing his throat, he averted his gaze briefly before meeting your eyes once more. There was no point in pretending anymore. You had already seen through him.
"Thank you," he muttered, the words gruff but sincere.
"For what?" you asked, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.
"For… this," he gestured vaguely, as if trying to encompass everything that had shifted in him since you had walked into his life. "For being here. For… you."
You tilted your head slightly, eyes softening as you leaned forward just a little. "I didn’t do anything special, Simon. I’m just here."
"Exactly," he replied, his voice low but steady. "And that’s enough."
The rain outside began to fall harder, drumming against the windows of the base, but inside, all Simon could focus on was you. The song's lyrics played in the background, but they felt like they were made for this moment, for you and him.
He didn’t know how to say what he was feeling. Words had never been his strength. But as he looked at you, he realized he didn’t have to say anything at all. You already knew. You had always known.
And somehow, without even trying, you had washed away the parts of him that he thought were too broken to fix.
"So touch me again, I feel my shadow dissolving, will you cleanse me with pleasure?"
The lyrics seemed to fill the air between you and Simon, as though the song itself was speaking for the feelings he struggled to put into words. The steady beat of the rain outside mingled with the music, creating a rhythm that mirrored the quiet intensity of the moment.
Simon’s hand rested inches from yours on the table, a subtle gesture, but in his world, it was monumental. His fingers twitched slightly, as if he were hesitating, unsure if he should reach out. You glanced down at his hand and felt the tension between you grow. He was so close, yet there was still a small distance left for him to close.
Then, without a word, his hand moved. His rough, calloused fingers brushed against yours, tentatively at first, as though he was afraid of what the touch might mean. But when you didn’t pull away, when you instead turned your hand to meet his, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
Your fingers slowly intertwined with his, and the simple contact sent a wave of warmth coursing through him. It was more than just physical touch. It was trust, vulnerability, and a promise that neither of you had spoken aloud yet. He had spent so long keeping everyone at arm’s length, but here he was, letting you in without a second thought.
Simon’s thumb brushed over your knuckles, almost absentmindedly, as if he was trying to memorize the feel of your skin beneath his. His gaze stayed locked on your joined hands, the weight of what was happening sinking in. This, this connection felt so foreign to him, and yet, it was the most real thing he had experienced in years.
You glanced up at him, your breath catching slightly at the intensity in his eyes. He wasn’t Ghost right now, not in this moment. He was Simon. The man behind the mask. The one who had buried himself in darkness for so long he had almost forgotten what the light felt like.
"Simon…" you whispered softly, the weight of his name grounding the moment even more.
His eyes flicked up to meet yours, and there was something raw, almost fragile, in his expression. "I don’t know how to do this," he admitted, his voice barely audible over the rain outside. "But I want to try."
You smiled, squeezing his hand gently. "You don’t have to know everything right now. We’ll figure it out together."
A flicker of relief crossed his face, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Simon allowed himself to relax, just a little. There were no missions, no threats, no masks to wear. Just the two of you, sitting in the quiet of the cafeteria, hands intertwined as the rain fell outside.
"It's that chemical cut that I can get down with, up like the moon and out like the hounds…"
The song continued to play in the background, its lyrics almost matching the intensity that was building between you and Simon. It felt like there was something chemical, something almost dangerous about the connection you shared, a spark that ignited the moment you touched. That tension had been there for weeks, simmering beneath the surface, but now, it was undeniable. There was something about this moment about you that made Simon feel like he was standing on the edge of something both exhilarating and terrifying.
"A dangerous disposition," the lyrics whispered through the speakers, "somehow refracted in light, reflected in sound…"
He wasn’t good with words, and certainly not with feelings, but the song seemed to speak for him, articulating what he could not. You were the light, breaking through the darkness that had been his constant companion for years. It was as though you had cast a new reflection on his world, one that he wasn’t used to seeing but couldn’t look away from.
Simon’s thumb traced over the back of your hand slowly, his eyes lingering on the way your fingers were now intertwined. He didn’t know how something so simple could feel so powerful, so life-altering. You didn’t have to say anything. Your presence alone spoke volumes.
And for the first time, Simon didn’t feel the urge to pull away. He wasn’t running, wasn’t hiding behind his mask. He was here, in this moment, with you.
"You make things feel different," Simon said, his voice low and gruff. His eyes lifted from your joined hands to meet yours, a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze. "Like… it’s not just me against everything anymore."
Your heart swelled at his words, knowing how difficult it must’ve been for him to admit that. You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, offering him the silent promise that he wasn’t alone. Not anymore.
"I’m coiled up like a venomous serpent, tangled in your tranc, and I’m certain, you’ve got your hooks in me…"
The lyrics wrapped around Simon's thoughts like a reflection of the very thing he was feeling. He felt coiled, wound up tight, his emotions like a venomous serpent inside him, hissing and thrashing in confusion. But you, with just a look, a touch, had tamed that serpent. There was no escaping it now.
He was tangled in your presence, caught in your pull, and for the first time, he didn’t want to break free. He was certain you had your hooks in him. Not in a painful way, but in a way that made him feel anchored, like he had something real to hold onto for once in his life.
Simon looked at you again, and something inside him shifted. It was like watching the last of his defences crack and crumble under the weight of what he felt for you. His pulse quickened, the tension between you thick in the air.
"I can’t… stop thinking about you," he finally admitted, his voice rough, almost strained. "It’s like… I’m caught up in something I don’t know how to handle."
Your breath hitched at his words, knowing that for someone like Simon Riley to say something so vulnerable, it must’ve taken a monumental amount of courage.
"You don’t have to handle it alone, Simon," you whispered, leaning in closer, your face now inches from his. "You can let me in."
His gaze darkened, not with anger, but with intensity, an intensity that made your heart race. "I’m not good at this," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I don’t want to keep running."
He leaned closer, the space between you all but disappearing. The air felt electric, as if every inch of his body was pulled toward you, every nerve alight with need and something deeper, something he hadn’t let himself feel in years.
His hand moved, cupping your cheek with surprising gentleness, his thumb brushing against your skin as he drew even closer. His breath mingled with yours, and for a heartbeat, everything seemed to hang in the balance.
And then, without hesitation, Simon closed the gap, pressing his lips to yours.
The kiss was slow at first, tentative, as if he were testing the waters. But then the intensity built, like a storm breaking free after being held back for too long. His other hand found the back of your neck, pulling you in closer as he deepened the kiss, pouring everything he couldn’t say into that single moment.
You felt it, his fear, his desire, the weight of his emotions, and you kissed him back with the same intensity, your fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt, grounding yourself in the reality of him.
It wasn’t just a kiss. It was an unravelling, a moment where the walls he had built came crashing down, and for the first time, Simon let himself be vulnerable, let himself feel.
When he finally pulled back, breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed, as if he needed a moment to process what had just happened.
"You’ve got your hooks in me," he whispered, voice hoarse but full of something new, something that felt like hope. "And I’m not letting go."
"Nobody can say for certain, if maybe it’s all just a game,
When I open my eyes to the future, I can hear you say my name..."
The song played on, its haunting melody threading through the silence that lingered between you and Simon after that kiss, the moment still heavy with unspoken words. His breath was warm against your skin, his forehead resting gently against yours, as though he needed the closeness just to believe this was real.
You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. In that moment, the entire world seemed to slow down. Simon’s gaze was more open than you had ever seen it, stripped bare of the armour he always carried. It was as if he had been hiding not only from the world but from himself for so long, and now, in this brief, fragile space, he was letting himself be seen.
His eyes, dark and intense, held something deeper than the mask he usually wore. There were thousands of dreams swimming behind them, thousands of hopes that he had buried beneath layers of pain and duty. You could see it, the part of him that longed for more than just survival. The part of him that wanted something real, something worth holding onto. And you wanted to reach it. You wanted to read every unspoken thought, every hidden desire, to understand the man behind the shadows.
"Simon," you whispered, your voice soft, filled with the gravity of everything you felt in that moment. "I see you."
His eyes widened just a fraction, as if those three words had struck deeper than anything else you could have said. You saw him, not Ghost, not the soldier, not the mask, but him. The man who had lived through hell, who had lost so much, who had never allowed anyone to come close enough to truly know him.
For a moment, Simon said nothing, just stared into your eyes as if searching for something, some truth, some reassurance that this wasn’t fleeting, that it wasn’t just a dream. His grip on your hand tightened slightly, and you could feel the tension, the uncertainty still lingering.
"How do you do that?" he finally asked, his voice a low rumble. "How do you… make everything seem so different?"
You smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "Because you’re not as lost as you think you are."
He exhaled sharply, like your words had hit a raw nerve, but instead of retreating, he stayed. He stayed with you in the moment, allowing himself to be vulnerable in a way that he had never allowed before.
"I don’t know if I can give you what you deserve," Simon said, his voice heavy with doubt, but his eyes never left yours. "But I want to try. With you."
The rain outside began to fall harder, the sound of it mingling with the song still playing in the background. It was as if the world itself was offering its own promise, a cleansing, a renewal.
You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, a reassurance that you were there, that you weren’t going anywhere. When you pulled back, you kept your forehead against his, your eyes locked.
"I’ll take whatever you can give, Simon," you whispered. "As long as it’s real."
And in that moment, it was. Everything was real, his emotions, your connection, the bond that had slowly formed between you over time. It was raw and imperfect, but it was real.
He didn’t have to say anything more. The way his hand gently cupped your cheek, the way his eyes softened as he looked at you, that was enough. You had reached him. You had touched the part of him that no one else had been able to reach, and for the first time, he wasn’t afraid to let you in.
The rain outside continued to fall, washing away everything that had once stood between you. And for the first time, Simon Riley allowed himself to hope.
