While on duty Simon carried little things that reminded him of you; polaroids that he’d often switch out in his helmet, thin ribbon that he’d tie around his wrist which is never visible due to him wearing gloves, and the silliest trinkets he knows you love. So he loves them too.

Anytime before a mission, he’d sit in the humvee gazing at your photo and bringing it to his balaclava. Giving it a ‘kiss’. He treated it like a talisman before safely tucking it back in his helmet. Currently, he’s been on duty for almost 20 months and would return home in four months.

He’d often get teased by his recruits, asking their lieutenant Ghost, why he never smiles. And even though he always wore the balaclava, they’d never see the outer corners of his eyes, wrinkle nor did ever see his eyes glistening with joy. They always remained deadpan, they were duller than the moon.

Simon would always reply, ‘There’s nothing here to make me smile’ because you weren’t there. FaceTiming wasn’t the same as being face to face- yet Simon only preserved the warmest smiles for you, only a side, you got to see. And no one else had access to that privilege.

Only a month left till he comes home- till you received an emergency call. Simon had been gravely injured on a mission, you got the next flight possible. When you arrived, you were escorted to Simon’s room. His platoon could be seen standing outside his room with worried gazes.

You could see that he was bandaged, and hooked up to machines. Keeping track of his vitals, and even in his weaken state his eyes glistened like child who just received every gift he wanted from his Christmas list. A weak but warm smile plastered on lips when he saw you.

“I must have done something heroic to be blessed with the presence of royalty.” He joked in a strained whisper, he tried laughing at his own joke but only groaned in pain.