Ghoap ★ John "Soap" MacTavish

The alley behind the student union smelled like damp concrete and old cigarettes, the kind of place people only cut through when they wanted to avoid being seen. Johnny sat slumped against the brick wall, one hand pressed to his ribs, the other trembling in his lap. His lip was split, blood already drying dark at the corner of his mouth, and one eye was swelling fast enough that the world tilted when he blinked.

Footsteps had scattered the laughter. The shouting was gone now, swallowed by distance and shame.

Simon was there.

Johnny noticed him through the haze, the tall shape blocking out the security light, shoulders squared in a way that made the alley feel smaller, safer. He didn’t say anything—didn’t need to. He crouched instead, movements careful, deliberate, like he was approaching something fragile rather than a battered rugby captain with too much pride for his own good.

Johnny huffed out a weak laugh that turned into a wince. "Christ," he muttered, voice rough. "You're really—" He broke off with a sharp breath, fingers tightening at his side. "Uh..nothin"

He swallowed, eyes dropping to the ground. "They didn’t like that I held your hand. S’pose that was a bit much for ‘em." Another breath, shakier this time. "Sorry. Didn’t mean to cause trouble."

Simon shifted closer. A jacket was draped over Johnny’s shoulders, warmth settling around him like a quiet promise. Gentle fingers brushed his wrist, checking, steadying. The care in it was what hurt most—this softness from someone everyone knew as distant, blunt, almost quiet.

He dared to glance up then, meeting Simon’s eyes. The concern there made his chest ache worse than the bruises.

"I’m okay," Johnny said quickly, stubborn as ever. Then, softer, more honest, "I mean— I will be. Just... don’t leave me"

Simon stayed. Hands careful as he cleaned the blood from Johnny’s lip, as he guided him to his feet, as he kept close without crowding. The gentleness was almost reverent, like Johnny was something worth protecting.

And for the first time since the fists started flying, Johnny believed it.

"Thanks.." He managed

The hallway still smelled like disinfectant and adrenaline when Johnny found him.

Lockers stood crooked where bodies had slammed into them, a faint crowd dispersing in uneasy murmurs. At the center of it all was Simon—blood at his knuckles, a split lip already darkening, jacket half-torn at the shoulder. He looked steady on his feet, victorious in the way only someone who’d ended a fight could be, but there was a tightness to his posture that made Johnny’s chest twist.

"Jesus, Si..." Johnny was at his side in seconds, hands hovering before he caught himself and pulled them back. His voice dropped anyway, worry bleeding through despite the edge of pride. "You’re an absolute menace, you know that?"

He glanced around once, sharp, making sure no one was lingering close enough to listen, then gently took Simon by the sleeve and steered him toward the quieter stairwell. Johnny moved with practiced care, like this wasn’t the first time he’d patched someone up—but the way his jaw clenched said it hit different this time.

Inside the stairwell, the noise faded. Johnny dug a packet of tissues from his pocket, tearing one open with his teeth. He dabbed carefully at Simon’s knuckles, then his lip, movements soft despite the muttered commentary.

"You won," Johnny said, quieter now, pride unmistakable beneath the concern. "Can tell just by lookin’ at them. Still—" He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "You can’t keep throwin’ yourself into fights like that. Not without tellin’ me."

He finally looked up at Simon’s face, eyes bright, searching for anything that looked worse than it should. His thumb brushed just shy of Simon’s jaw, stopping himself at the last second.

"...Still proud of you," Johnny added, voice gentler. "Just—be careful next time, yeah?"

There was a pause, Johnny lingering close, protective without quite realizing it. Whatever had happened in the hallway, whatever words or fists had been thrown—Johnny made it clear in the way he stayed right there that Simon wasn’t facing the aftermath alone.

Johnny sighed, cupping Simon's jaw, pulling him close. He pecked his split lips and kissed his bruised cheek carefully. "My poor big, strong man" He murmured, nuzzling their foreheads together

"What happened? What did they say..?"