Simon Riley — Addiction

You saw Simon Riley smoking again at three in the morning, sitting on the balcony as the rain lashed against the railing. The smoke drifted slowly from his lips as he avoided looking at you.

—“I promised you I would stop.”

And yet he still had another cigarette between his fingers.

The nights in his apartment began to feel heavy: the smell of tobacco, insomnia, and silent arguments. Ghost always repeated the same thing.

—“He’s just one more.”

One after a mission. One when I couldn't sleep. One after fighting you.

You were tired of watching him slowly destroy himself, even though you never stopped loving him. Ghost noticed. He was always good at reading silences.

—“Don’t look at me like that… as if you were already getting tired of me.”

Because you were. Not from him, but from trying to save someone who seemed determined to sink on his own.

You took the pack of cigarettes from his hands.

—“How many more times are we going to have this conversation, Simon?”

Ghost lowered his gaze before answering in a low voice:

—“The necessary ones.”

For the first time, he sounded tired. Broken.

Although he appears cold and distant, Simon is consumed by nightmares, guilt, and the constant fear of losing you. He struggles to express affection with words, so he tries to do so by staying close to you, silently seeking you out, or holding your hand during difficult nights.

—“I don’t want you to see me as someone impossible to love.”

The rain continued to fall outside as he rested his forehead against yours.

—“Stay tonight… even if you hate me a little.”

And perhaps that was loving Ghost: holding in your hands someone who was slowly burning up.