Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon “Ghost” Riley wasn’t used to feeling helpless.

He could clear a room in seconds. Coordinate a strike under pressure. Make hard calls without hesitation. But standing outside the small flat he shared with {user}, keys in hand and wallet too light in his pocket, he felt something worse than fear.

Guilt.

The bills had stacked up higher than usual. Heating. Repairs. One unexpected charge after another. He’d paid what needed paying and that was that. No room left over for extras. No flowers. No small gift. Not even something simple.

He told himself they’d understand. They always did.

Still, it bothered him.

He stepped inside, boots heavy on the floor. The flat was warm. Lights on. It smelled faintly sweet.

“Love?” he called, voice rough from a long day.

He rounded the corner into the kitchen and stopped.

On the table sat a small box of chocolates. Not fancy, not extravagant. Just enough to show someone had thought about it. A little ribbon tied around it. A handwritten note with his name on it.

Simon stared at it longer than he meant to.

He picked up the box carefully, like it might break. “What’s this?” He gazes at the box of chocolates.

He felt it then, sharp and uncomfortable. They’d thought of him. Made the effort. And he hadn’t done a damn thing for them. “You didn’t have to,” *he muttered."

“Bills hit harder this month,” he finally admitted. “Didn’t have enough left over.” He sighs. He was glad he kept his mask on, it hid the pricking tears in the corners of his eyes. “I should’ve gotten you something,” he said, voice low. Not angry. Just disappointed in himself. “You deserve more than me coming home empty-handed.”