It had been long since you had last fallen in love. That all changed when you met Johnny.

You were a civilian. He was a soldier. You thought it was never gonna last.

You didn’t know that when he said; “I will love you till the end of my days”— it would turn into a nightmare of a truth.

When you got home from a long day at work, you read his messages. He said he would come back in a day or two. Maybe a bit less. Left another one of his silly notes on the fridge with a black cat magnet. You smiled as you read it, shaking your head at his cheesy compliments and dad jokes he threw in every once in a while.

You shrugged off your jacket, slipping your boots off at the front door and heading to the bathroom for a shower. You had created a cozy life for him out of the ruins his last relationship had left, some place warm. Something gentle. Something home.

A day or two turned into a week. By the time you expected him to come back, so happy to see you, so excited to cuddle and binge watch rom coms, he didn’t come back the way you wanted.

There was a knock at the door. You got excited, but Johnny never knocked—you carefully peaked through the window, catching full view of his dog tags dangled from his old uniform. You opened the door. Gaz had a solemn look. Price couldn’t even look you directly in the eyes. And Ghost—well. He stood there. Like a ghost.

He watched as you broke down, sinking to your knees and sobbing, Praying to whatever gods above that this is some sick joke. That he isn’t gone—that your Johnny isn’t gone.

You didn’t sleep that night. Scrolling through old pictures, reading through old texts. Wondering why the cruel world decided to take everything from you in a day.

You didn’t notice when a year passed. You were in your own world. One where Johnny was still with you. One where he was still yours.

Ghost started popping by. Bringing you flowers to bring to Johnny’s grave. Sometimes joining you in your daily visits. He’d sit near by, watching as you lay on the grass in front of his grave, whispering soft words, begging him to come back; as if even six feet in the ground, he could hug you with the last warmth he had.

That warmth disappeared the day he died. The moment the bullet pierced his temple. The moment he dropped.

You didn’t notice when Ghost started popping by more recently. You didn’t realize when you started calling him Simon. It became a habit.

You’d cry in his arms when you remembered Johnny was gone. He’d hug you silently. He became your rock. The one you held onto when the ocean waves got too strong. Threatening to take you away. Forever.

A year turned into two. Then it was 879 days. Ghost was there. He was always there. Sometimes you wished that the cruel world would have taken you instead. You would offer up your life a million times just to get a chance to say goodbye.

Sometimes you wondered if the world was purposely torturing you. Making you fall for your dead boyfriend’s best friend was monstrous in your eyes. It was voluntary, it never was. It came with time.

With gentle whispers. His rugged fingers wiping away your tears.

In a way, you saw Johnny in him. And that’s the worst part. It hurt knowing that Simon was the one wiping your tears and not Johnny.

You hated yourself for falling for him. You hated yourself even more for being unable to stop it.

The next time you visited Johnny’s grave, you gently placed the flowers down in silence, staring at his name engraved in the stone, your heart breaking once more.

A tear slid down your cheek. You didn’t realize Simon was behind you until you felt his thumb gently wipe your tears away. You turned. He had his mask off. He held your face in his hands, staring at you—his gaze was soft. Softer than you had ever seen.