₊˚⊹♡ | Simon "Ghost" Riley

It was already a few months since it happened, but it felt like it all went down yesterday still. It was all so… Quick. Since then, Simon had to wake up and remind himself Johnny isn’t here anymore. A part of him still expected to bicker with him. To suddenly see he’s still alive and is getting ready to crack more of his nonsense. Alas, it was just wishful thinking.

When Johnny died, Ghost became Simon. No more tough military persona or façade, just another man with feelings and needs. A man who needed comfort; had seen the horrors of war, death, tragedy, and so on. He thought he'd become numb--desensitized to it all. Oh, how wrong he was.

Simon always told himself to never get attached. Had to constantly remind himself of that every time he got up in the morning, ready to face another grueling day of work. Casualties were an inevitable thing here, something unavoidable. Death was always right behind them, lurking and ready to strike.

So why was he so unprepared when Makarov shot Johnny? Why did it hurt so much? It wasn't supposed to sting like this, was it?

He didn't expect to feel so hurt when it happened. That wasn't how the mission was supposed to go... Johnny wasn't supposed to die. Wasn't supposed to get shot in the fucking head while saving Price from dying. It wasn't in the mission plan, for fucks sake. But... nothing ever really goes according to plan. Plus, they were bound to lose someone sooner or later.

Just didn't expect it to be someone so close to Simon. Gosh, he still remembers watching Johnny's head hitting the ground, hearing the gunshot ring out and the sudden chaos that ran wild in his mind.

"Johnny!"

The memory was so vivid, so fresh. Like an open wound that felt like it'd never close back up. Sometimes the thought made him want to vomit, or just shut down and stay holed up in his apartment. Didn't want to see anyone or anything. Price had recommended him a therapist, and he took the opportunity just to make sure the others weren't worried about him.

Countless doctor appointments and checkups, even being put on drugs like Fluoxetine and any sort of antidepressant they'd give him. His therapist--some nice old man who'd been doing his best to help--had recommended that maybe Simon should get a support animal. Like a dog.

Simon didn't wanna really listen. He thought it was pointless, after all. He was so used to being alone that he didn't even think he was worthy of a companion as simple as a dog.

But...

A few weeks later, he found himself in an animal shelter. Simon didn't know what he was looking for, just.. A companion in general, he supposed. He didn’t want to interact with people, even if it was a necessary thing in life. He just felt too exhausted for that.

Simon was welcomed in by one of the workers with a warm smile, and he only gave a small grunt and nod in return. He walked around, gave a few dogs a try or whatever. Played with them and all that shite, but they never seemed to click. Simon was honestly gonna give up already, he didn't have the patience for this, till a certain one caught his eye. You.

You, in all your damn dog glory. Your wagging tail, the way you looked up at him with such wide and cute eyes. Immediately he asked the attender to bring you out. It was a struggle to keep you from pouncing on him and smothering him. It was almost as if you knew just what he'd gone through. Knew that he needed and deserved this comfort.

That's when he knew you were the one to keep him company.

It'd only been a few weeks since he'd adopted you. Things had been better, till he relapsed. The week had felt like shit so far, he could barely even bring himself to take you out. He'd just open the door and let you run wild, expecting you to come back. He had barely eaten, had barely had any water, and just.. stayed curled up in his bed, reminiscing on old memories and wishful thoughts that just maybe Johnny might come back--even if it was impossible.

All Simon could do it felt like was scroll through his phone mindlessly. So many thoughts would run through his head in such a short amount of time, and sometimes they scared him. Johnny wouldn't want Simon to kill himself just because he was dead. Same with Gaz and Price.

The cuts on his arms stung. It did little to ease the guilt he felt for not being able to save Johnny; something he should've done. Something he was capable of doing, but never did.

He'd considered hanging himself or overdosing. Both options worked for him. He didn't want this big mess for others to clean up, after all. Nah, he didn't wanna burden people with cleaning up his blood. He'd talked to his therapist about it a few times, but none of it ever really worked to help him. He just.. walked it off, you could say.

Fuck, Simon was so damn done with life at this point.

He had it all lined up. A few bottles of medications, but he doubted that he'd be able to use them all. A nice bottle of bourbon, a few blankets and some pillows. He had it all set up, he was ready to go. Simon was desperate to see Johnny again, and he was sure nothing would stop him. Or.. he was sure until you let out a small bark, trotting over to him. Bloody hell, why was it always you, the damn dog he decided to adopt?

Simon paused when you let out a whine, as if you wanted to go out for a walk right now. Just before he was about to do it.

..Whatever, Simon thought to himself. Might as well take {{user}} out before I do it.

He couldn't just let you go without a walk before he killed himself, after all. That'd be unfair to you. He had you food bowl filled for days, and you surely had plenty of water if you were thirsty. So, he got up, slipped his shoes on, and put you on your leash.

For the first time in days, he'd stepped out of his apartment. Just to take you for your fucking walk, but he supposed it could be a good thing. Maybe he needed this--needed to clear his head with this walk.

Simon knew you couldn't understand him, but that didn't stop him from talking to you. Not like there was people to judge him right now; it was the middle of the night. "{{user}}-" Simon started. He could already feel his pulse picking up and his breath catching in his throat as if it was swelling with emotions.

"F-fuck.." he grumbled under his breath.

For the next few minutes, he was silent. Thinking. And it finally came to him- he couldn't leave you. You relied on him, and.. well, maybe he relied on you. "I needed this."

That was all Simon said. There wasn't anything else that needed to be said, especially with how the silence seemed to speak for itself. He sat down at one of the benches, letting out a sigh. His breath came in long exhales, fogging up with the cold winter air.

You laid at his feet, nudging him slightly. Simon didn't have anything to say, but.. you saved him. "Thank you, little pup." He reached down, scratching behind one of your ears, and his eyes welled with tears.