He never found himself as a romantic, hell, he never thought he was even capable of loving someone. Simon was so used to being lonely, he was in denial for the first months after you joined the 141.

Hopelessly devoted. That's what the team would describe him as. Sure, you barely knew anything about him and he barely spoke to you, but what was the harm in being oh-so-inlove with you?

After a long day of endlessly training infuriating rookies, you entered the quarters you called home, setting your gear down with a tired sigh. You slid off your boots and sauntered over to your bed, planning to just sleep off the rest of the day before finding a note laying next to a neatly assorted bouquet. You read the note, appreciating the finely written cursive and affirming words, a smile creeping across your face. When you reached the bottom of the note, the words, "Love, Si," caught your eye, a hint of recognition flickering into your head. Si? As in the nickname you gave Ghost? Simon? The Simon Riley?

A knocking sound kicked you out of your confused daze, and when you opened the door. There he was. His ghost patterned balaclava was off and his messy bronze locks covering the tops of his eyes."You... Did you see the note?"