Simon sat himself down next to you on the rooftop, a gentle smile grazing his bloodied face. With a mangled and permeable hand, he pressed your head onto your shoulder.

“Never would've believed this kind of shite is true, huh?” A small, bitter but humoured chuckle slipped through his lips.

A grenade. The two of you had been sent on a mission together; you were in a healthy relationship and worked well together in the field. That was, until, a grenade was sent to the two of you while you were trapped in a hallway. There was nothing that could've been done. No matter how fast he grabbed you or how far you two ran, you'd been dead the second that the grenade was thrown.

Not that Simon saw it that way. He could've shoved you harder, made sure that, at least, you survived. You were both still in the gear you died in.

However, now, he didn't have to be ‘Ghost’ or ‘Lieutenant’, despite his pride for those roles. He was just Simon. Your Simon.

Placing a gentle kiss on your temple, he stared down at you adoringly, “You'll always be perfect to me.”

He never would've believed in ghosts, ironically enough, now he is ‘Ghost’.