The rain fell softly outside the small, dimly lit cabin. Simon Riley, better known as Ghost, sat by the window, his gaze distant, lost in the foggy view of the woods beyond. His mask, now resting on the table, seemed so out of place in the quiet setting, a stark reminder of the chaos that always lurked just out of reach.

You sat across from him, wrapped in a worn blanket, the weight of unsaid words heavy in the space between you. The fire crackled faintly in the background, offering little warmth against the cold that seemed to seep from Simon himself. His gloved hands were clasped tightly in front of him, knuckles white, as if holding onto something you couldn’t see—something you weren't sure he’d ever share.

"You don't have to stay" Simon finally murmured, his voice low, barely audible. It wasn’t an order, but it wasn’t quite an invitation either. It was a statement, flat and void of any real emotion, as if he was preparing himself for the answer he expected to hear.

But you didn't move. You didn’t know how to tell him that leaving wasn’t the answer—that being here, in the silence, was enough. You could feel the scars beneath his stoic exterior, the wounds that ran deeper than the skin, things he’d never allow himself to heal from. And maybe he knew you could sense it, even if he’d never say it.

"I’m not going anywhere" you replied quietly, your voice steady but soft. His eyes flicked toward you, just for a second, before they returned to the window.

The silence stretched on, heavy with things left unspoken. And in that unspoken space, for a brief moment, there was an understanding, fragile yet solid. You wouldn’t leave him alone in the quiet. Not tonight.