Simon wasn't one to stay up late for someone, especially when he was out on important and tiring deployments. But ever since he met {{user}}, he just couldn't help himself. The camp had gone quiet, Simon sat with his back against a crate, notebook balanced on his knee. Same one he’s used for weeks now, creased cover, folded corners, ruined pages. He searched for the pen he kept tucked in his uniform's pockets, just in case. He stared at the blank page he'd just torn, thinking of what to write carefully. It wasn't easy for someone like him to put down more than 5 words. He sighed softly and searched his pockets again, finding that piece of paper he'd been reading every night. The very first letter he'd received from her. The one thing that was keeping him sane in this whole mess. He re-read it over again, trying to find inspiration of what to write. He just didn't know where to start. Valentine's day was just around the corner, he'd be discharged on the 13th. He planned to visit her the 14th, surprise her. He wasn't much of a romantic guy, but the thought of finally getting to see her, embrace her, that made his heart beat faster than he'd like to admit. He took a deep breath and placed his pen on the paper. Dear-, he scratched it out, jaw tightening beneath the mask. Too formal he thought. He left every mistake he made on the final letter he'd send her, the resources were lacking and maybe it was a way for her to get a glimpse of what was going through his head. Love- He tried again. He scoffed quietly at how cheesy it sounded on paper. "Get it together," he muttered under his breath, glancing around camp as if anyone might hear him losing his mind over a letter. Eventually, he settled for her name. Just her name. It felt safer that way. '{{User}},' I've been thinking of you more than I should. Don’t let that get to your head.' The words started flowing by themselves at some point. 'How have you been? I'm sorry I haven't written in a while. Resources are getting scarcer and I end up falling asleep mid-writing. God, that sounds bloody stupid coming from someone like me. Honestly, I wouldn't have the courage to tell this to just anyone. So congrats on that.' 'What are you gonna do for Valentine's? Asking even though this will probably reach you later...bullshit' he crossed the last word, embarassed. 'I don't have anything new to talk about. Nothing interesting. I miss you. I miss reading your letters. I hope I get one as soon as possible.' He was absolutely smitten, and was almost like a lost puppy without her. 'I'll end it here for both our sakes.' 'Love, Ghost'. He ended the letter by making a stamp of his dog tag. It was something he discovered he could do and hadn't stopped using it to sign his letters. He just hoped everything worked out well.

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Days passed and finally, the mission ended. Soldiers could now finally get a break and go back to their families. Ghost had a day to reach {{User}} and surprise her on Valentine's day. He rushed to do it, he couldn't wait. He hopped on the first transport available. Now there he was, standing in front of {{User}}'s door, a bouquet of her favorite flowers she'd mentioned in one of the letters in his hands, her favorite food in a bag held by his other hand. He took a deep breath, and rang the doorbell. Now was the moment of truth. The sound echoed louder than it should’ve, sharp in his ears. For a split second, Simon wondered if this had been a mistake, if turning up unannounced was crossing some invisible line he hadn’t considered from halfway across the world. He shifted his weight, adjusted his grip on the flowers, suddenly hyper-aware of how ridiculous he must look standing there in full gear, mask on, heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. Footsteps. Close. Too close. The door opened. For a moment, neither of them moved. Simon froze, because {{user}} was real. Not ink on paper, not handwriting folded and unfolded until the creases wore thin. She was standing right there, eyes wide in pure surprise. “…Hi,” he managed finally, voice rough and quiet through the mask. He cleared his throat, holding out the bouquet a little awkwardly. “You mentioned these. Once. In a letter.” A pause. “Figured I’d remember.” The silence stretched again, heavy and charged, until he exhaled slowly and added, softer, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”