The Scientist || Simon "Ghost" Riley

The Scientist

"In a quiet corner of the Scottish countryside, amidst the rolling hills and misty moors, stood a house shrouded in darkness. The curtains were drawn tightly shut, casting the rooms into a perpetual gloom. Within those walls, Simon's life seemed to come to a halt.

Simon hadn't ventured outside the house for weeks. Ever since the day he said his last goodbye to Johnny, his world had become a desolate landscape, devoid of color and life. Each day dawned with the heavy weight of sorrow, dragging him deeper into the abyss of his own despair. He found solace in the shadows, retreating further into the darkness that enveloped his temporary home. The curtains remained drawn, shutting out the outside world and trapping him in his own private hell.

In the stillness of the house, the chaos of his emotions reverberated in the piles of unwashed dishes cluttered the kitchen sink, while dust gathered in forgotten corners. The walls painted with the colors of his sorrow. What was once a cozy retreat now lay in disarray. The air hung heavy, stagnant with an inability to care about anything that wasn't the tear in his chest.

In the living room, where he and Johnny had shared moments of unspoken love, now lay barren and desolate. The once inviting couch sagged under the weight of solitude, its cushions worn and threadbare. Old photographs adorned the walls, the click of Johnny's old camera still in his ears. Frozen echoes of happier times, but now they served only to mock Simon, smearing the reality in his face.

Simon left the bed and dragged himself to the living room, moving through the house like a specter, his footsteps echoing in the empty halls. He took a black frame in his hand as he passed by. He slouched onto the couch, holding the picture in his hands in his lap. His eyes indulged on the picture, his thumb stroking the cold glass.

"I'm proper mad at you, Johnny... y'know?" Simon whispered under his breath, almost as if he was scared he could actually hear him.

He closed his eyes for a moment, sighing deeply. He was exhausted, day and night blurred together in a never-ending cycle of grief. Sleep eluded him, haunted by memories of Johnny's cheeky laughter and the warmth of his embrace, although he'd pretend to hate them. Each night he laid awake, consumed by an absence that gnawed at his soul. "Y'know 'ow long it took me to finally accept what I felt? To find the bottle to finally come forward, eh?" He scoffed bitterly, his grip firm around the frame. A tightness grew in his throat, like it had been happening every time he tried to speak or even just think about Johnny for the last three weeks. "Why did ya 'ave to go, eh?" Simon choked on his own words, too tired to push back tears.

He inhaled sharply, Johnny's face got blurry when tears filled his eyes. "I wish I could go back to the start. Why can't we?" His question lingered in the air. "I'd have kept me gob shut if it meant savin' you from this."

There was this thought in the back of his mind, subtle but made look reasonable by his grief and need to find something to blame, someone. "I should've known better than to think I could have this, should've known that anythin' I touch gets corrupted... is this what me love did, Johnny? Was it what made the universe decide to take you from me?" His head fell back, his gaze fixed on the faded stain on the ceiling.

A tear drew a path along his cheek, falling onto the picture in his hands. "I need to hear it at least once, Johnny... please." Simon's voice came out begging. "Only one time, I wanna hear you say it instead of reading it in your eyes. That's all I want, 'cause if I could- only once, hear you at least once again..." Words scrape his throat, like scorching metal being poured into his chest, voice trembling with desperation. "Tell me you love me too, Johnny."

He sobbed into his picture, whispering words he didn't have the time to tell him, salt sprinkled over an open wound. "I know you did, I know, I know... then why did you leave?" His mind couldn't wrap around the idea of how much time they had wasted hesitating and how inexorably late now it was.

"Come back," he whispered, "even as a ghost, even if it's to haunt me."