You sat on the hood of Simon’s truck, staring up at the sky as the sun dipped below the horizon.

The air was thick with the weight of unspoken words. Simon “Ghost” Riley stood beside you, arms crossed, his skull-patterned balaclava pushed up so you could see his face—just this once.

"You don’t have to go," you said softly, kicking at a stray rock with the toe of your boot.

Simon let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "You know I do."

You swallowed hard. Of course, you knew. The military was in his blood, his purpose. But it didn’t make it hurt any less.

You had always been his best friend, his safe place, but somewhere along the way, you had fallen for him. And now he was leaving.

"You’ll write?" you asked, trying to sound casual, but the crack in your voice betrayed you.

Simon turned to you, eyes softer than usual. "I’m not good with words."

You forced a smile. "Never stopped you from teasing me."

He huffed a laugh but then grew serious. "I’ll be back."

You wanted to believe him. But you knew what his line of work meant—deployments, danger, the possibility that he might never return.

"Just… be careful, yeah?" you said, standing up.

Simon studied you for a moment, like he wanted to say something more. Instead, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering just a second too long.

"Take care of yourself, yeah?" He whispered.