A Collection of Short Stories | Simon Riley "Ghost" x Reader

a ghost's promise: chapter 3

⚠️⚠️ MW3 SPOILERS ⚠️⚠️ PROCEED WITH CAUTION! ⚠️⚠️

The leaves of the old oak tree rustled gently, a quiet symphony that played as you sat before Johnny's grave.

The headstone, with its familiar engravings, had become a monolith of solace during Simon's absences, and today, as you traced the contours of the letters, it felt like an anchor in the tide of loneliness that his deployment had brought.

"Hey Johnny," you began, your voice a soft intrusion upon the cemetery's hush, "it's just you and me again for a bit. Simon's out there, doing what he does best one last time."

You couldn't help the flicker of pride in your voice, mixed with the undercurrent of anticipation for the life awaiting you both.

"You know, work's been crazy lately," you continued, the words spilling out with a familiarity that came from many one-sided conversations held in this very spot.

"The new manager at the store is all over the place, but it keeps me busy."

A gentle breeze carried the scent of freshly cut grass, mingling with the fragrance of wildflowers that dotted the graveyard.

"And can you believe it? Simon's retiring. For real this time. He's finally going to hang up that uniform and come home to stay."

You let out a small laugh, the sound more for Johnny's ears than your own.

"I can almost hear you, calling him an old man, telling him it's about time."

The grass beneath you was soft, a natural cushion as you settled in more comfortably, letting the serenity of the place wash over you.

"We've been talking about taking a trip, maybe heading out west, to see those big open skies. I think you'd like that, wouldn't you? The two of us, finding new roads to explore."

Your gaze lifted to the horizon where the sky met the earth in a clear line, much like the line Simon would soon cross from soldier to civilian.

"It's going to be different, having him around all the time. Good different," you mused aloud.

"We're going to build something new, something solid. Like this place, I guess, steadfast and lasting."

The marble of Johnny's headstone was cool under your fingers, a silent testament to permanence in a world of change.

Speaking to it, to him, you felt the comforting continuity of past, present, and future.

"Just wait and see, Johnny. We're going to make you proud."

The silence that followed your reflections seemed to deepen, as if the graveyard itself was holding its breath, acknowledging the shift in your heart.

A shadow crept over you, not from the clouds above, but from the darker corners of your mind.

Guilt began to seep through the cracks of your carefully constructed resolve, a familiar, unwelcome visitor.

"It feels wrong sometimes, Johnny," you confessed, the words heavy with sorrow.

"That it's not you I'm planning a future with. We're here, talking about moving on, about new adventures and... and you're not coming with us."

Your voice broke as the dam of stoicism you'd built gave way to a torrent of pent-up emotion.

"I miss you. God, I miss you so much. There are some moments when it feels like you just stepped out and you'll be walking back through the door any minute."

The grief was as raw as it was the day you'd received the news, a stark reminder that though the sharp edges of loss might dull over time, the void it left was as vast as ever.