blood on my shirt, rose in my hand - exiIes (2024)

"It's not like I'm ugly, right? I thought about it. If I'm ugly, so that's why it doesn't work out." you sip your favorite wine, looking right at your best friend, who has been listening for the past hour your ramblings about dating.

"You're fuckin' stupid, but not ugly, pet."

He's the best friend in the world – you can say this, meaning it with your whole heart. In fact, he's the best friend everyone probably wished to have, at least in your mind. Not only here for you, but loyal, you can tell him basically anything. He wouldn't say a thing, even if someone was nagging, and he was mostly a good adviser; all the qualities you looked for in a best friend, right?

And he was brutally honest, like right now, but you don't mind it. Simon Riley had this thing, and even if sometimes you were almost offended at his bluntness (like this one time, when he told you you're a crying mess and you act... worse than a toddler), you mostly appreciated it. Your other friends couldn't compare to his honesty, this man was not the one to lick your ass.

Or, so you thought.

"Excuse me?" you raise your eyebrow, laughing, while shaking your head. "You should, I don't know, tell me I'm amazing and they don't deserve me. Or so." you joke; it causes him to roll his eyes.

"That's what I told you. Different words, but the same thingy."

"Right."

It sometimes sucks for you that Simon isn't a girl. He has this unbelieveably annoying guy thing, where he just can't be delusional with you, and he can't just mourn over some hot guy. His way of thinking is... on the other level, he totally skips the mourn part, the part that is pathetic; he's just saying things like "move on" and "there's a lot of them anyway". Again, you love it, but you really wish you could cry about guy being so pretty that it hurts, without him rolling his eyes.

Yet, when you're more in mad mood than mourning one, his attiude is just perfect. He's the one to encourage you to scream, he even brought you a few times to rage room when you needed to smash a few things, not to mention the attiude he was setting you in. Powerful, not giving a shit about a "piece of a man that doesn't deserve you".

Simon sighs. "You're worryin' too much. Really that desperate?"

You huff, as you sink more into the plushy couch in your apartment. "I'm not desperate. It's just..." you take a few seconds to think "being love starved."

"Sex starved, you mean."

"Love starved." you send him a look.

"Mhm. You fancy plushies, hugs, and all shite like this?"

"You're so fucking British, it hurts" you laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, I want something like this. Someone to hold me, someone that cares about me and I know it. Sex comes in package, of course, but it's just... ugh, I want a man" you groaned.

You feel as pathetic as ever, when Simon doesn't respond – because how exactly should he? He wasn't vocal about things like this, he usually just nod his head, and there it was, another topic. A miracle it was that he was already listening to your date rambling, not cutting it off because he was uncomfortable or something.

Dreams about your love life... more girly conversation.

Mostly – you know guys who loved talking about it, obviously, and you adore it pretty much, especially when you can know their perspective on some things, but... Riley wasn't really one of them. He had "simple hookups" as he said one day, when you asked him about doing double-dates. It wasn't even an option, he just liked to ocassionally fuck and that's all.

So you stopped trying a few months ago for a double-date. Instead, you focused more on finding a man that would meet your expectations at least in the middle, and that was exhausting, to be honest. Tinder dates were just a disaster after disaster – if it wasn't some catfish, a guy that wanted to marry you and have kids after two weeks of writing, it was most definitely a guy with a desire to bang you quickly.

Romance was dead these days, you noticed. That wouldn't keep you away from trying to find someone, though. Patience was a key in things like these.

"Maybe you will set me up with one your friends? It wouldn't suck. You know them." you think out loud.

"Definitely too much wine f'you." Simon takes your glass, and pours all of the liquid to his mouth, swallowing it like it was some kind of juice, not alcohol. "You don't want a guy from military in your life. Trust me."

There's some sternness to his tone, at which you raise your eyebrow. It was just a funny comment from your side, nothing else – you know by the heart that this man doesn't like the idea of connecting his two worlds. "I know, Simon. Just joking, right?"

You place a hand on his. It's a comedic, yet, heartwarming view, when you see the size difference.

"And, you're pretty cool for a military guy."

He huffs. It seems like pretty cool offends him, but he doesn't say it out loud, so it can be only your imagination working. "You met me before I enlisted. 's different."

"How different?"

"You knew me before military."

He doesn't give you another answer that night, nor the continuation of this one – he brushes you off, like you are some kind of bug that is disturbing him, and brings up another topic, about his deployment. He asks if you can watch his apartment when he's gone, take care of it; it's stupid, Simon knows that you will always agree, but it's the need of asking you anyway.

And, he likes coming home, where he can smell your perfume, where he can see that you made some changes. You tend to do that a lot, mostly buying stuff to his apartment. "It looks worse than room in the hospital" you always say, when he cocks his eyebrow with amusement. He doesn't say that, but he finds it really adorable that you care so much, to make his space... cozier, even if he's not really attached to it. Mostly, it's for your comfort when you come to visit him, and that happens a lot; not like he minds it. Anyone else would be banned from his apartment, but you? Oh God, you wouldn't be, not in the milion years.

You could probably be the worst ever to him; call him names, punch, anything, and he would still be your Simon. It's what he was used to, to being by your side, no matter what time, no matter if you were in the good mood or not; your presence was everything to him.

Not like he'd ever confess that, but it is what you know, silently.

Yet, you are so good to him. Always sending him letters or texting him when he is on deployment. A couple of times, you sent him little things too, if he forgot something, photos included too, but new ones; mostly you captured views, but you were here once or twice. His happiness may not be that visible to outsiders, but his heart is full every time.

"My girl", he'd tell boys when they saw a polaroid of you, swiftly tucking it into his vest because no one was allowed to see it more than three seconds.

Often, Gaz joked if you are actually his girl even if you're not dating, but it sounded so bizzare to Ghost. How would you not be his? Thirteen years of friendship counted as something beyond being only his best friend, no? At least in his mind it was like this. He was used to you dating briefly other guys, but it lasted maybe a few months top. Nothing serious, probably his hookups were more meaningful than your relationships.

So you can easily imagine his confusion, when your mutual friends tell him big news about your new object of interest; someone that he doesn't even know yet, but he's not really his fan on the beggining.

It was just a month of being away.

His eyes are on you now; you are embarrassed, looking anywhere but at him. You don't even speak, you just wave your hand in dismissive manner, trying to change the topic because you don't really want to talk about it. Not in the presence of your best friend, at least.

It works for everyone but Simon, and you know it by the way he looks at you, processing what he just heard. Changing a topic, sudden talkativeness from your side is like buying time in that, time precious to think what to say to your best friend later on.

Because you know for a fact that he'll ask. He always does, and now he has a reason.

You have your reasons why you haven't told him. "It's nothing serious. That's why I didn't tell you." your voice is a little more silent than usual, but he can hear it anyway. You two are taking a walk to your apartment with no one around; and it's awkward one.

Simon seems like he doesn't want to say anything about your poor choice of men. It worries you; he always wanted somehow to make fun of you or make comment. Now, it's just a nod, like he gets it, but you know it's not it. He doesn't get it.

But you don't know what it is.

"C'mon!" you nudge him, and when it doesn't seem to affect him, you stand right in front of him. A little wobbly because of alcohol, your vision isn't so great too, but it makes him stop in his tracks. "Say something."

"Somethin'" he grumbles, and you can't help but roll your eyes. "What? Told me-"

"-I know what I told you!" you cup his face in your hands. Your head is a bit hazy, but the intensions are clear; making him talk and soft. It always works, so you have a lot of hope. "He's a good guy, but I want to meet him a bit closer to be... certain about him, you know? You've heard me whining about boys a bit too much."

"You can tell me everything." he muses, and you can't help but smile at that. Of course – of course you can tell him everything. You never doubted it for a second, and you think of yourself as stupid, doubting that he wouldn't want to hear about it. "Ill be the judge of that, though. Good guy thing."

"I can't be trusted?" you tease, and when he lets out a low chuckle, you grin even more. It's like a reward after him being his grumpy self.

"No." he shakes his head. "You don't know what is good for you. But that's why I'm here."

Under the influence of alcohol, you didn't pay too much of attention to his words; probably you wouldn't pay attention to it even if he'd say this when you are sober. Simon as your protector – it's so natural, you don't even need to think about it as something weird. It's just the way things are for thirteen years, everyone knows this.

Your friends, who were a bit reluctant on the beggining, but two parties later, when he joined the competition of drinking on time and wasn't drunk at all, he won over their hearts.

It was tougher with your parents, when you were in highschool. A little distanced at first, they constantly asked where were his parents (which, you told them, was rude asking, especially to his face), telling you how much of a bad news he could be for you. Suggestion of him ruining your future was the worst, you never thought of him this way; that discussion caused you to give them the silent treatment for a few days.

Apparently after that, suggesting that Simon is around you too much, clinging to your side and giving you "weird glances", they stopped the narrative, admitting that the boy might be damaged, but not broken. You still felt like they're judging their every move, but seeing that he had pretty good life plan, seeing that he thought about military and went here actually? Hell, they completely stopped being suspicious in any means.

Riley just had this thing of charming people, even if they didn't like him in the beggining. He had everything under his finger, trying to keep things under control – it was like that... pretty much since the beggining of his life. You met him when he was an adult, but he always liked to keep things under control; people, things that he cared about. What belonged to him was sacred, untouchable for anyone else.

The possessiveness started in his early childhood with toys, when he absolutely despised everyone who just wanted to touch his things, to lay their dirty, filthy fingers here. In early classes, it was considered just rude.

When he was older though, he started fighting for various things. Knowing he has the advantage, he used his legs, fists, when he had to, and no one was looking, besides the actual victim. He wasn't stupid; he knew how troublesome the public can be, he also knew the power of manipulation a bit too well to get caught so easily. Wasn't the plan, getting caught; it once happened, but because he wanted to; he even broke his own nose, making it like the other guy did it, just to get what he needed. The reputation of kid who was broken in the childhood, so he's just not opening on others was... suitable, for him. No one could suspect anything, especially when the kid just happened to be "attacked" by one of the popular ones, right?

The idea of power was something that Simon truly desired from the beggining; maybe it has something to do with the lack of his parents in his life, being transferred from one foster family to another. Maybe it's just him being a little fucked up – who knows.

What mattered, was the fact he had you. You, so sweet, so considerate to be by his side, to be protected by him, to be the person who "opened" because of her. Little did you know, he opened just because he wanted to be closer to you, not those fuckers you hang out with.

If you knew his past, you would have another reasons in mind, why he showed up to meet your potential new boyfriend. Jealousy, posessiveness, power complex, him being a control freak who can't give you to anyone he personally doesn't trust – if ever, considering you were his precious best friend. He isn't willing to share.

You aren't really aware of him being this crazy. You think of his flaws, and you see someone that has been damaged, someone that you can and will help, if he just asks for it – or if you'll see he needs it. So, naturally, you help, and grin the widest you can, when you see him in the door. He shows completely unexpected. It doesn't take you long to wrap your hands around his neck, tight, as you hug him.

Happy as always because you can see your friend, happy as ever because moments like these means a lot to you. When he's deployed, you can't even see him, so you're taking all in when he's right in front of you.

"Hope 'm not interruptin'." he murmurs into your hair, as his head is practically buried in them; he has to bend down a little to be at your level, but it's something he enjoys. The power.

"Never." you say immediately, not even hesitating in your statement. "Actually, you found a pretty good moment."

"That I did, eh?" his eyebrow arches, as he straightens up.

"As always. Nick's here, you have to meet him."

You know you had promised Nick a night alone for you two in your apartment – but given your friendship with Simon, being alone has to wait. It's not like you're rushing somewhere, and you personally think that him, meeting your best friend of thirteen years, is much more intimate than whatever he planned.

So, you grab his hand to drag him deeper into your apartment, just to see your date's confused face, a bottle of wine in his left hand, corkscrew in his right. Partially turned off lights are making atmosphere sensual at least. That was a plan before Simon's arrival, to make your surroundings good enough for the date, but instead of that, they are adding mystery to the appearance of your best friend, who's not only tall as hell, but he's basically blending with the darkness a little too well.

Like he would actually belong to the darkness. It's a thought you quickly brush off since you have better things to do, but you still have it in the back of your mind for later.

"Simon, that's Nick. Nick, that's Simon." you smiled, your eyes darting between men; Simon took the initiative to shake his hand with your date.

The way you introduced them to each other, seems to have an impact on boys. Simon grows even bigger, the fact you spoke to him first, like he was more important. He seems to intimidate the guy all the way, while Nick is just looking at him with curious, yet, reserved expression; hands are shaked nonetheless, though.

But, maybe that's your mind playing tricks on you, and you see things that aren't really here. You take it as a possibility too, when you swiftly switch sides, to take wine from your date.

"I told you about him." you say, when open a bottle of alcohol – they both reply with "I know", and you are realizing that you didn't quite adress to who are you talking to. It doesn't matter anyway, considering they both know so little about the other man.

You hand them a glass of wine, and for almost an hour you try to make them talk with each other; in your head, it's not a hard task. In your head, it was supposed to take a few minutes of small-talk, something to break the ice, and the conversation would catch the right flow without your interventions.

Well, seems it's not like you thought it would be.

Topics are flying like crazy, indeed, but they are from you. You refer to football, volleyball, cars, things that you have no interest in talking, you don't know much about it either. It's things that men usually like, but if one is talking, the other is just listening, and you can't really think of something more to make them talk.

To be honest, you're a little tired too. Too tired to play their babysitter, so after third glass of wine, thoughts a little cloudy from alcohol, you get up from the sofa.

"I'm gonna... go to bed. You two have fun, right? Just close the door." you murmur, taking little steps towards your room. They are following you immediately; like puppies, and you can't really decide if it's more irritating you, or amusing.

"Do you need any help?" Nick asks, and you smile politely. "I can stay."

"There's really no need for this." you shake your head. Nick sighs, completely defeated probably (who wouldn't be in his place?) and right after this, he heads to the door.

Simon's not following his steps. Instead, he's cleaning around, while you do your skincare in your bathroom after changing to your comfortable pyjamas. You even manage to hide that cute lingerie back that you've picked out for tonight with certain intention. If things would go the right way.

What was funny in this whole situation, things didn't even end up badly. It just all went the way you didn't even predicted.

"I told Nick that I don't need help." you lean against the doorframe, observing how careful your best friend washes the dishes; like it's some kind of ritual, like he just has to wash them in hand, even if you have a dishwasher.

"Nick, yes. Not me." he shrugs, his gaze crossing with yours. "'m a bit different than him, don't you think?"

You just roll your eyes at that; it's not like he doesn't have a point, but he knows what you mean. He's playing with you on purpose, just to get you riled up, like always. "So?"

"So what?"

"What's your opinion?"

"On what?"

You groan, as you cover your face with your hands for a moment – in situations like this one, you wonder how you've become friends with him. And how it lasted thirteen years and counting. "On Nick."

Simon hums, taking his moment to think; he takes a few steps in your direction, making your heart race. You always wait for his opnion, it matters to you like no one else's, especially if it's about men. He's a man, and not only that, you trust him a lot if it comes to people, he has seen things you couldn't even think about. He was, is, and will be, your compass.

Is it a bit bold to trust him? Maybe.

"He's... alright."

"Alright?"

"Alright, but not alright enough for you, pet."

"Listen, maybe he needs to-" your voice catches in your throat, when Riley lifts your chin delicately with his two fingers. You're too close to him for your comfort, but God, it feels good.

"'m tellin' you. He's not even bold enough to talk with your best friend, how much of a coward he is?" his low tone makes you question things. You wouldn't think of Nick this way, not when Simon surprised him and he had to adjust to a new situation – in theory, you had a date that transformed to "let me introduce you to my best friend of thirteen years". Who wouldn't be mad and bamboozled?

"It's not boldness, you surprised him." you murmur, clearing your throat slowly, while he still has your chin. He caresses it softly, like a treasure he's afraid to lose. "Besides. You didn't help him too, you know."

"Can't really see where that's my problem." he shrugs, looking right into your eyes. It feels like he's burning a hole in them, to convince you to his statement.

"You just have to be around him more. You'll change your mind." it's a desperate try to give Nick a chance, but you really don't want Simon to be against him. It would complicate your life, and you don't really want that while you have other things to worry about.

"Maybe. Maybe not. 'st be careful, pet. He's not really worth the game." he kisses the top of your head; there's something soothing in this, as well in his hand that is on the small of your back right now. "Go to sleep, it was a long day. Gonna close the door."

Oh, yes. He also has the spare keys to your aparment, just in case. In case you will forget them, in case you will lose them, or when you need him to take care of your plants when you're away. Everything usually dies under the hand of Simon Riley, but surprisingly, your plants are okay.

The question is, is he just good with plants, or is it because they're yours?

"For fuck's sake, just pick up" you whisper to yourself, anxious.

You feel like you want to cry, punch someone or both. Before this, it felt like these situations happens only in movies, where the main character is being followed and the story focuses on this. All of it felt like a movie, or situation that you wouldn't experience ever because where would you be followed? Your only directions were home, work, Simon's apartment and various stores, visited during the day.

Dumb thinking, but the thought of someone following you was far away.

Now, you're a whole ass mess, thinking if someone's gonna kill you or not. Balancing between well-lighted sidewalk, where everyone can see you, and the sketchy alleys, dark, potentially dangerous, but that was the place where you maybe would lose the guy. Or, a girl, you don't know.

All you know, someone's following you. It's not a coincidence that stranger is on your tail for almost thirty minutes right now, and every time you turn, you see that posture in the darkness. Theoretically, it looks like no one is behind you, but if you squint your eyes, you see.

You have a lot of questions: why this certain someone is after you, is it really a coincidence, you're in danger, or maybe this person needs help or wants to talk to you? Choices are endless, and every single one of them is more or less possible, but you don't want to risk anything.

Better safe than sorry, they say, and they are completely right.

Paranoia gets the best of you in the moment you hit with hour hip a metal bin; you jump a little just from the sound, scared. You're a mess to react like that to a simple sound, but that's the sad result of being followed.

What you need, right now, is Simon. You could reach out to anyone else, but he was your emergency contact in everything – someone who would move the moon, if it was bothering you enough, he told you this once. Maybe that's why you always clinged to him like a moth to a flame, if you needed someone to trust your life with. The fact he was working for the military only added positives to the picture.

Important thing to add, he defended you once. You don't really remember the details, your head succesfully wiped the traumatic experience, but he beat up the guy that tried to mug you once. Not only that, he literally sent him to hospital with broken nose and dislocated jaw, just to coo at you few seconds later, when you were a crying mess with slightly ripped clothes.

The duality of the man was funny, but also, on the other hand, soothing, so you can't really blame yourself when your first instinct is to call Simon Riley not anyone else. Not even to your date, Nick, you have met him for a fourth date, it was getting more and more serious.

In any other situation, you could feel bad, but you know your best friend is the best. No one reaches his level.

Your eyes are burning, which makes you even more nervous – it feels like you can cry any second, and there's no time for that. You just need to arrive to your apartment, not breakdown; which is hard enough. Fog surroundes you from every way possible, making it hard to see in the light, not even talking about darkness, where you are scared to look. Anyone could jump at you right now, really.

You can't hear a sound behind yourself, nor see the figure moving in the shadows, which is hard to believe for you; did you just lose that stranger? You're the only one surrounded by fog, almost tip-toeing to your apartment, which for the outsider can seem funny enough. If situation would be any different, maybe you'd laugh too, but right now, you want to be in your apartment. Doors shut, locked with all the windows covered, under your blanket, watching a romcom or anything that could ease your mind.

In order to do that, you have to go to your apartment a bit faster.

Which, happens, right in the moment where you can hear someone running behind you. The feeling of total fear and disquietude echoes in your mind because what you can really do? You can't let your anxiety take control of your body, you'll be fucked if you'd stop right now.

Your breath becomes ragged, and options are limited considering the footsteps growing louder and louder.

It becomes a primal situation, when you start running too. Prey and its hunter, playing who will reach their goal first. Cruel – because someone will end up being disappointed.

You pray to God in that moment. Not that you're a firm believer, you don't even practice that much, but in moments like this, you choose God to feel a bit bolder. Maybe he should tell you to fuck yourself, you got what you wished for and all, but it's better to be a sinner who reaches out to him than someone who is evil and still goes to church, right? Besides, he's the one who forgives everyone. He should forgive you for being this way.

Again, you pray that you will be heard.

You also curse in your mind that you've never really took under consideration Simon's propositions about morning runs to build your stamina up. It's not even a mile of running, and you're feeling exhausted, but the stranger seems like he's only starting.

Things could be different it you would run with him – maybe you would be by your home right now, locking doors behind you, safe and sound. Instead, you're thinking if he's gonna kill you or not.

You feel like you're going to scream the moment he's closer; that sound catches in your throat though, the moment he runs past you. A man, probably in his early forties, dressed in sweats. He's probably doing his night exercise and you took him as...

"Fuck" you laugh to yourself, shaking your head with disbelief.

It's hard not to feel like you are the problem in your situation; so, you try to tell yourself you're not you're losing your mind. Sometimes it happens – mistaking someone's intentions, isn't it? Or, you are completely right and it wasn't that stranger, just someone else.

There's no way to calm your nerves right now, it doesn't even help when you're outside of the apartment, searching for keys. It doesn't help to see Simon being right here, right now, right in front of you.

"So many calls. Something happened?" he asks, and you go mad in just a second. His tone is careless, like you would've call him in the past multiple times about little things.

"Something happened." your tone, full of bitter, seems like a surprise to him; his head tilts, and you somehow get even more riled up; at him, being right in front of your door. "Why you couldn't pick up?"

"Sorry. Happens, but I'm here now, so..."

"–happens?" you laugh, interrupting him. "Someone was following me, when I was going back to my apartment from Nick's. I called you, and you wouldn't pick up, and right now..." you stop, as your throat goes sore.

It's a mess going on in your head right now.

"–maybe it was you?"

Simon's eyebrows are furrowing. "I was who?"

"Maybe you were the one who was following me." the accusation falls out from your mouth, swift and full of hurt, like a bullet. Simon takes a step back, laughing dryly, while you repricoate your words in your mind.

"The fuck you are sayin'?" his words are full of disbelief.

"You're not answering my calls, apparently busy. You're under my apartment all out sudden after those calls, even if you don't know why I called you, and the stranger following me disappears right in the moment, I..."

"You're bein' fuckin' unreasonable." he shakes his head, looking at you. "You know I would never hurt you, I would never even try to make you uncomfortable, not even talkin' about stalking."

"And you came here, instead of calling me back?" you ask, hesitantly. It's getting to you, the dumbness of this situation, this paranoia of accusing your best friend just like that, just because it would fit, not knowing how it probably hurts him.

"Because my phone is dead." he tosses it to you – you try to light the screen up by pressing the button, but it doesn't work. "You called me twenty times, so I came as soon as I could. Had to cut the meetin' anyway." Simon mutters.

You can't imagine how dumb you look. Dumb and full of regret because you threw accusations to one person you seek comfort in, and he cares enough to explain it to you, instead of leaving, offended. You think, if you were in his place, you'd probably leave; the realisation falls on you.

"I'm so sorry." you whisper, ashamed. "I'm so sorry, Si. It's just... fuck, it was almost thirty minutes of that motherfucker being behind me, and... and... fuck." you laugh again, but this time, to cover your feelings about the whole situation. You really don't want to melt right in front of him after you've just accused him of being the mysterious follower.

Simon sees through you, as always. It seems like he puts his emotions aside, when his massive arms are taking you in his embrace, his chin resting atop of your head. He says nothing, he is just there while you're a babbling mess about how scary that experience was, how you probably won't come back on your own at night, or without a car.

"What kind of a man wouldn't drive you to your place?" he questions, while his hand makes circles on your back. "He shouldn't even let you leave his apartment without makin' sure you're in your home, safe."

"I told him I'll handle it." you try to justify Nick's behavior, but he has none of it. He barks a mean laugh, and shakes his head.

"I would keep you safe." he emphasises, and you have absolutely nothing to say to disagree with him because somehow, you know it's true. Riley wouldn't even think of letting you go on your own, not to mention to walk on your own to your apartment. It feels bad when he drops fault on your date just like that, but he's probably scared, and he has some sense in his talk.

At least, you think.

"'m gonna stay tonight."

And, he stays. Except, it's not just for tonight, he stays for whole two weeks, he's your personal chauffeur, as he likes to say it, when you think you pretty much are taking advantage of him being a literal angel.

It's good that he stays; because if he's not in your house, if he has to leave even for a few hours, no matter if you're at work or not, you have constant paranoia. You come back home, and feel that something is different, but you can't quite put puzzles together, until you see your things on different places than they've been for years. Simon can't do things like that for obvious reasons, but also because he leaves before you, and comes back home even later than you; so with a knife, you always inspect rooms.

You can't quite put together how dependable you've became on him over those two weeks. Always here, always beside him on the couch, your head resting against his shoulder, his arm around you. It's the sense of comfort you find in him, it's the sense of safety that he gives you, so you aren't as scared in your home as you were before his arrival. You even sleep in the same bed with him, his large frame covering all of you protectively, like he's afraid to let you go. Everything is okay with that in your mind.

When you tell him about your doubts, about feeling like someone invades your personal space, he suggest to install cameras in your house – at least in areas you want to have them installed, so you'd feel better. You don't need to hear this twice, you need to have something that will either confirm your paranoia, or tell you someone's messing with your head on purpose.

You spend on checking the cameras way too much time in your work; so much, that you know you even work less, but it's nothing compared to the feeling that you've lost a safe place. Nothing happens over the next week, so you decide it's the best time to meet with Nick, who's still in the picture – to your surprise, even Simon encourages you to meet with him, when you tell him how you're still texting. It's not a mystery that he feels bad for letting you go alone after dark, given last events; he promises that he will make it up to you, his last fuck-up. Feels like he's honest, feels like it's a good break from routine, where you're just obsessing over that one situation all over again.

You need something like this, so you put your best effort to your look, hair, makeup. Everything to look a little better than a scared, twenty-something you are right now, too pale for your own liking. Nick picks you up, driving you to his apartment, while you tell him about your day at work and how Janice from finances is getting on your nerves – "what a bitch" coming out from his mouth makes you smile.

When you arrive, you see that he thought of everything, which is a nice surprise when you take off your coat with his assistance. Something is cooking in the oven, you can smell it, and the table is nicely decorated with candles and silverware, obviously catching your eye. Somehow, you note in your mind how everything looks, just to sum everything up in the end. "See if he's worth your while" as Simon adviced, while he was observing you getting ready. Even if it was somehow overprotective, it was smart, so with a nod, you told him you're gonna do it.

To see if he was worth your while.

He's really sweet, dinner is just a pure success. He makes you laugh, he grabs your hand multiple time, and he definitely doesn't keep himself from physical affection like the last time, which is a good sign. Nick's a good cook too, you can't stop asking him about sharing one or two cooking secrets since you just have to do some of the things at home. It's an endless game of teasing when he tells you he's gonna tell you one step for one kiss.

Alcohol in your system tells you it's a good reason to start kissing him, to have some informations about those delicious dishes. All of it turns to full-makeout session, while you straddle his lap, and he picks you up swiftly, like his life is depending on it. You don't even know when his lips are on your neck, and your shirt lands on the floor of his bedroom. Totally clouded, you're just playing like Nick is, telling yourself you need this pleasure, you need to be with someone because your fingers and vibrator isn't enough, and he's so gentle, it hurts.

"You're... so fucking sweet" he groans in your ear, while his hand goes south. He doesn't even get to cross the line of your jeans, as your phone calls, and he lets out a irritated huff.

"Check it" you mutter, your fingers playing with his hair in the meantime. His laugh, literally a second later, makes your eyebrow furrow. "Who is it?"

"Riley." it all you need to crawl from Nick and pick it up.

You seem to sober up the moment you realize it's your best friend. He tells you you he's sorry because he's interrupting your date, but he had to only hear your voice. In other situations, it would surely make you melt, he wasn't the type to admit things like this one so easily. Now, it's not melting, but it's sending chills down your spine while you imagine why he has to hear your voice.

"I'm coming, give me five minutes, m'kay?" you know that tone from Simon. He sounds so casual, but in the same time, something is wrong, surely. You can't ignore it, not when he basically asks for help.

Everyone who knows him even a little, knows that he doesn't ask to come over, to talk with him; hell, he doesn't even talks about his problems. The fact he called you in the night hours is disturbing your thoughts enough to completely ditch your plans and start putting on the shirt, despite the other guy who's clearly protesting.

Maybe it's even a sign. You felt weird from the moment you walked into that apartment, even if everything seemed good, something wasn't quite right, just like in your apartment. There was only Nick's eyes on you, but you felt like an additional pair was somewhere, too.

It's crazy enough because who would've?, it's sixth floor, but you couldn't brush off the feeling.

"Are you really gonna go? Just because someone called?" Nick asks, groaning; he even grabs your wrist, which makes you upset. Who even is he to do things like this? You want to go, you go. Simple as that.

"It's not someone. He really needs me." you try to reason with him, as you fix your shirt right in front of the wall mirror. After all, you can't go to Simon like that.

"Or he's just fucking bored. Come on, he's a guy, he probably just wants to jump on your bones and call it a day."

"Hey! We're best friends for thirteen years" you point at him, throwing your coat on your arms. "I know we had plans, but tomorrow is a day too, right? And I'm gonna" you kiss his cheek "make it up to you. Alright?"

He somehow agrees, but you know he's not really a fan of your best friend; it seems like he's sort of a competition for him, which you can understand, but... at the same time, it's your best friend. Thirteen years comes before anything, he's family, he will always be here by your side – you hope so, at least. It doesn't mean you're in romantic relationship with Simon just because you sleep in the same bed, or he's in your apartment more than he's in his.

He's just protective. He's here to pick you up, when Nick follows you outside with a fake smile on his face, when Simon greets him in his low tone. It's more than clear they're not gonna be friends no matter what, so you try to ignore their faces, when they literally look like they're gonna kill each other. You say goodnight to your date, kissing him once again, and you enter your best friend's car.

"Everything's okay?" you ask, quietly, when he's driving around the town, instead of taking a route to your apartment. It's his way of coping, you learned over the years, so it's not even surprising anymore; at least, you have some informations.

"Yeah." he replies, his hand landing on your upper thigh. You don't even realize how close it is to the zipper of your jeans, your hand just lands on his.

"Simon..."

"Everything's okay because you're here." he doesn't give you a chance to go with your monologue; he melts you in spot, and you can't help but smile a little. You can't even be mad about him interrupting your date, not when he's honest. "Had a nightmare. The usuals, y'know. Callin' you was... a right choice."

Nightmare. You know they are flooding him, coming in tsunami waves, always unexpected – no matter if the day was good or not, there was no pattern to see when they'd come. You can only look at him with apologethic look on your face, telling him he can talk about it whenever he wants to you.

He usually doesn't, and this time is no different than the last. You're silently doing your skin care with him, just to lay down in your bed with him after the whole process. He spoons you from the back, content, Simon falls asleep before you. You think you did a right thing, soothing his nerves like that, packing some of that emotional baggage on your back, even if he really didn't say a thing.

The doubts come a little later, though; doubts if you've played your cards right, when Nick has weird accidents on your dates, or, more likely, he completely misses them. First two times were acceptable with him missing it because he had to stay longer at work, or he was sick.

Next times thought, next times were weirder. You were supposed to meet him in a restaurant, but it ended up in having a problem with car – slashed tires, he said. Odd enough, considering that he lived in the heart of the city and it was midday, but you accepted this since he got there, just two hours later.

Thing is, the next time you were supposed to meet, his car battery was stolen. Completely stolen, he said that he has no idea how this happened on guarded parking lot, but he's sorry that he's not gonna be there on unofficial three month anniversary.

"No one steals car batteries these days." Simon huffs, rolling his eyes. "Not on guarded parking lot, where someone could be caught, pet."

"Maybe it's..."

"He seems like a fuckin' liar, lovie." he says the thing that you personally think, but you don't really want the realisation to sink in.You start to like Nick more than you've let on earlier, and now it looks like he's lying to you. What's worse in this situation, your best friend thinks the way you are thinking, and he's usually not wrong.

So, you just decide to doze off to your favorite movie, on couch with Simon beside you, thinking maybe it's just a small accident and it won't happen again.

To your displeasure, accidents seem to stick to your date like a moth to a flame. He gets mugged, once, he stays at work longer because he got reported as a bad employee, not to mention several problems with his car that were happening like an Egyptian plague at least. He was constantly irritated by it, too, and he took that anger at you once – he instantly regretted it – but the bad taste lingers on your tongue every time you have to reply to him.

Your friends thought it is weird too; either someone really hated him so much to make him miserable, or he was poor in making excuses because how many times could someone get so unlucky? You can't agree more, knowing that not only Simon sees it all, but also the others.

It only adds to block him and ignore him part, but when Nick reaches out again, pleading to meet with you, even on a double date, you agree. Of course you do, you're not as assertive as you'd like to be, and a double date sounds good for you, and for Simon. You think he needs some stress relief after coming back from deployment.

It's obvious you won't let him forget that he was neglecting your relationship, but you do want to meet with him at some point. To see if he's still more charming in person than in text, to see if the chemistry is still here, before you will dump him completely and go back to your "fuck men" phase that seemed to be never-ending.

You really wanted something to work out eventually.

Simon sits next to you, when you arrive to the restaurant. It suits everyone – his date is right in front of him, and Nick is right in front of you too, with bashful expression on his face. He apologizes even before waiter comes with the menu, and you're just smiling a bit, telling him it's good that you see him now, as you try to forget his latest mistakes.

There's chit-chats every now and then about work, what was happening over the last few weeks; it would be easier to tell what topic wasn't mentioned here, everyone is taking a part in the discussion. Your date throws a few compliments your way too, telling you how the blue dress suits you, and how it's his favorite color because your eyes are popping out. Maybe if he wouldn't fuck up earlier, you'd swoon, but right now, you try not to roll your eyes with annoyance. You swallow every comment though with a polite expression.

Your attention is on your best friend and his date, too. It's cute to see someone absolutely so interested in Simon, but at some point, you can't help but feel a sting of jealousy in this. Like she shouldn't even look at him this way because he's yours, which is ironic enough. You're not anything more than friends, not to add, you've dragged him here, told him it was gonna be fun.

The only person to blame is you. It's not like she's stealing something, she's just looking and trying to get to know him more, it's not a crime; especially when he seems mutually interested.

He seems to read your thoughts, when his hand lands on your exposed thigh, and he gives it a short, almost reasurring squeeze under the table. You smile under your nose, and continue the conversation with everyone like nothing happened.

Food arrives, and with it, conversation changes a bit – to be exact, Nick changes the sound of it, as he starts talking about vacations together. What's surprising, not only with you, with Simon and Lisa, which catches their attention immediately.

"This way, everyone gets a company." he says, proud with his idea. "And it's just two hotel rooms, so it won't be that complicated to fit somewhere."

"Do you have an idea where?" you ask. Second later, you feel Simon's fingers creeping up at your inner thigh; a coincidence, you think. Something that he does unconciously, without thinking because when you peek at him, his eyes are on Nick.

Nick smiles broadly at that question. "Thailand. Or somewhere warm, really, depends on our liking." he replies.

Simon hums. "Warm, you say."

"Yeah. You have ideas? Since you're in military, you've probably been to various places."

"'s true, mhm. Let's see" he stops, his head tilting, like he's really thinking over this question. You don't know anymore if it's his process of thinking, accident or deliberate moves, but when the tip of his fingers touches the hem of your panties, you're sold. He's slow, like he doesn't want to do anything more, but when he's making little circles, it takes all in you not to make a sound. You can't expose him like that, you can't expose yourself like that. "I'd pick Sydney, if I'm bein' honest. Beautiful, beautiful views."

"Sydney." Nick repeats, nodding his head, like he gets Simon's idea, like he gets where it's coming from. In the same moment, you sip your wine with half lidded eyes, trying to compose yourself, when Riley's thick fingers are slipping under the lace material. "What do you think?"

It's a question for you. A question, where everyone smiles, even him, when he knows what he does to you; and it's bad. You shouldn't even allow him that, but somehow, it feels too right to stop, even if it seems cruel and mean. "I think... I think it's an awesome idea" you breathe out, seeming like you're just excited with the idea, so that's why you gasp.

The truth is a little different since he toys your clit so slowly, with such care, like he was actually in love with it.

You can't say a word, for your and his sake.

Conversation about vacations continues, but you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, telling them to update you when you'll come back; you're no use for being there, hot and bothered. Not when they could see anything suspicious in your behavior, not an option.

It's no use for bathroom, when Simon slides six minutes after your arrival here; you feel like your cheeks are automatically heating up when he comes closer, so slow. He knows what he's doing, and he's not ashamed of it at all.

"Something's wrong?" he asks, and you want to almost laugh at his tone. His voice is low, rumbling in your ears, when he places a hand on your shoulder.

You turn around to face him. "Everything's wrong. You shouldn't... do, this."

"Do what?" Simon's voice drops an octave. "Do what, pet? Come to women's bathroom? Maybe I shouldn't, but 's too bad." he says with humor, when he doesn't hear your answer right away.

You gulp. "It's not okay with him. Not okay with your date either." it's the rest of strength of will you have in yourself right now; you physically can't tell him anything else without kissing him.

"What's not okay" he takes another step, your chest bumping against his "is buyin' you with vacations. Real jackass move" he whispers right to your ear, his hand slowly moving south. So sweetly, like you're a porcelain that he's afraid to break, like a porcelain that he needs to absorb with time. "Besides, thought you liked that?"

"I just want to give him one more chance so-"

"So what?" he hushes you, his hand under your lingerie again. This time, he's definitely more straight forward. He slips his two fingers in your pussy, without warning, and it brings out a squeal from you. "I'll take care of you, pet."

And, oh, he indeed takes care of you. Slowly at first, but making an eye contact with you the whole time his fingers are moving, talking how he's preparing you nice and warm, just for him. It makes you feral enough to forget about everything and everyone, when your lips attack his, and he deepens the kiss, his hand on the back of your neck.

He barks a laugh, when you messily unzip his pants, but says nothing about it. Your hands are as quick to slide his boxers too, as you're too eager to wait for him to do it. In your head, there's still a bit of doubt, if you should do this. Disrespectful to both of your dates, to your friendship, long time friendship. Are thirteen years worth the ecstacy? Anything could happen, and you'd rather die than lose a friend like a Simon, a friend that you can always count on.

A friend, who knows all of your secrets, and you think you know some of his too.

You forget about this in a second he thrusts into you, and your fingers are clasping at the back of his muscles, now neatly in a dress shirt. This, this is worth it, the feeling of being full, the sound of Simon's moan, when you tighten around him.

It's the first situation where he talks so much, too. You can't quite put together what he's saying, you're too focused on the movement of his hips, but you catch a whole palette of words. Pretty, good girl, know what i'm doin', things like you wouldn't even imagine Simon saying.

Sounds that you make, definitely with more intensivity right now, interrupts his monologue.

"Sssh, you don't want him to hear you, do you?" he taunts; you don't know why, but it arouses him, the fact that your date could hear what you're doing with your "best friend". Someone that was, theoretically speaking, only a companion, not a real entertaiment; the feeling was doing something for him, you could feel.

He tried to shush you, but in the same time, he knows you won't be obedient to that. It's not even an option, to be quiet, when he tries his hardest to make you let out a little whimper or anything really, to show that he is the best.

He likes the thought of giving you punishment for not keeping quiet as well. Just to "teach you a lesson"; he knows you will forget it the second he's gonna give it to you. Unfortunately for you.

Or is it unfortunately, though? You seem to like everything he gives you. You also take everything he gives you, obediently, trying to imprint this moment in your memory, so it's gonna be here with you.

You gnaw at his shoulder, trying to muffle the moan coming from your mouth. It's hard – but that's life, yeah? Full of challenges, even if your "hardest challenge" requires you to just keep quiet, when Simon rearannges your guts, and his lips are on the side of your neck. He clearly tries to keep himself quiet too, which, in any other situation, would made you laugh.

How ironic it is?

In one moment, you want him to be happy with other girl, and in another, you let him fuck you stupid in the bathroom of some fancy restaurant, on a double date, pretending to feel bad about the whole situation.

Pretending because your legs are around his waist a bit too tight.

Pretending because it's a bit too good in his arms, your front against his.

Not really wingwoman of you, but oh well. You're only a human.

Born to do mistakes, such as fucking your best friend on a double date with your boyfriend.

"Fuck" Simon growls, his forehead against your shoulder. His hands grips your ass firmer, like his life depends on this choice. "You're really fuckin' filthy, ain't you, pet? So fucking wet, and 'm not even your date for the night."

"Simon-" you squirm, when he slows down; you're so close and it feels like he doesn't want to give you this soon. Not so easily, at least: you're at his mercy, silently crying his name, in hope he will listen to your pleas.

"Tell me. 's better isn't it?"

You're definitely too dumb to answer this, when instead of replying, you move your hips too, just to bring you closer to your high.

"Feels better" he tugs at your hair, looking right into your eyes "than it would with him, right? He can't even fuck you."

Only a hushed whimper comes out from your mouth – the rest of sentence is unable to come out, just because of his deep thrusts. Apparently it's all he needs, that he didn't even touch you.

Mean, but arousing in a way.

"Ain't that sad, love." he whispers, like it's his personal achievement; and then, it all snaps, when your answer hitches in your throat because you can't let out a word.

For a moment, you even forget where you are. Your focus goes to his arms, lips all over your neck, while he rides out his orgasm, whispering to you... hell, you don't even know what he is whispering. You don't really care either; the sex high has you in its claws, while your eyes are shut, and your hands are circling softly at Simon's back, where a few seconds later, your fingernails were making a bloody mess.

Maybe you would apologize for that, but you forget it right in the moment when your gaze crosses his. He's not ashamed at all that he had sex with you in the women's bathroom. He looks... proud.

"So pretty." he murmurs, smooching your cheeks. You don't even want to check how your makeup looks; you just know for a fact that your lipstick is smeared, probably your mascara as well. He cleans your and his mess with a couple of tissues, a shit-eating grin on his lips. You never saw this face of your friend, never expected him to have one like this one, too.

The fact that some of your foundation is on Simon's nose adds to the whole picture of being a literal mess. The embarrassment floods all over you, but when you are pulling your panties up, it's too late for regrets, when everything was just a pure bliss.

He stands behind you, when you are trying to fix everything, almost in mocking way, giving you a reminder what happened a few minutes ago. You're on the verge of absolutely despising him for that or telling him it's hot, and drag him onto another round; you decide it's for the better to be silent, at least for now.

It's hard to brush off a feeling that everyone around you knows what happpened, when you sit back at your place, an awkward smile on your lips. You ask what you missed, and food is barely hot when you eat it, while Nick and Lisa are explaining everything about vacations, telling a funny story about a waiter that brought your food.

Your date can't stop looking at Simon, too, which just raises your suspicion of you smelling like a bathroom sex. Riley isn't touched by this, winning every eye to eye battle with him, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes, no matter what the conversation is about. He doesn't hide that he has a hand on your leg anymore; he even brings your chair closer. A clear demonstration of power, and you have nothing to say in this matter.

"He's a dumb lad, not good enough for you." Simon coos right in your ear, when you arrive to your apartment with him after two hours. It seems like a tag end with you and Nick, but your best friend can't let you think of that. Miss him, if there is anything to miss. "'s why I am here, pet. To help you out."

"Help me out?" you look at him, your eyebrow arched in question. He laughs, as he forces you to take a few steps back, your back hitting the big window in your apartment; he's dangerously close, and your body heats up again.

"Make you forget." he says, and even if you want to tell him there's nothing to forget because he wasn't that meaningful, you can't, taken aback how easily it is for him to kneel right in front of you, hiking your dress again this evening.

"Simon-"

He doesn't even react, completely ignoring you. He kisses your inner thighs multiple times, just to suck on your clit, and you think you're gonna come just from this experience only. Your head spins, and you're in another world; you learn it's gonna be one of many feelings associated with Simon Riley.

You learn some things in the next two months.

Firstly, Simon Riley is extremely touch starved man. It wasn't so clear before, but when you've started sleeping together with him, allowing him to bury his cock in you every now and then, he's a different man. Grabbing your ass from behind, even if it's just for a second, pulling you to kiss by your neck. He drives with his one hand only if he can, just so his other hand would be at your thigh, and when you're watching movies, you have to lie at him, so he will massage your boobs like a stress balls.

You still learn how not to shriek every time he does it unexpectedly, and, truth to be told, he does it a lot.

Secondly, Nick was a coward. Or, an insecure one, you couldn't really decide when he told you that in order to have a relationship with him, you have to limit contacts with Simon. You didn't even try to talk him out of it; your best friend wrote a text for you, just to drag you to bed again, which you happily agreed to. At this point, you're pretty addicted of having his head between your thighs the majority of the time.

The whole situation with Nick becomes overwhelming the moment he doesn't stop calling. Trying to make up his mistake, and you're close to forgive him, when you agree to meet him for a talk. Your ex-date insist it would change your mind on some things, and you're more than curious, when you're in the cafe you've both agreed on meeting in. He has exactly an hour because after that, you're going back to your apartment to doll yourself up for Simon's arrival.

First official date. You can't help but smile, given it had to be a thirteen years of your friendship to have something sparkle between you two, but you're glad it finally did. You wouldn't imagine someone better in the place of your boyfriend.

The thing is, Nick doesn't show up, even after an hour of waiting. You try to call him, but his phone is dead silent, as always as you needed him, what irritates you enough to go back to your apartment to get ready. Your boyfriend was right; he's a lost cause, not worth your while. Besides, what he could possibly tell you that could change your mind? On what things? He couldn't probably have something revelant enough to catch your attention.

Talks of a lunatic, you think to yourself, getting ready for your date; the final touch is finding a pair of earrings, and you're deciding to go with the ones that Simon gave you a month ago. "A good start of a new chapter" he said, while he gave you white earrings, with black crystals in the back. A symbol, he'd murmur against your lips.

A symbol that you will understand later. You took it as a sweet gift, yin-yan type of thing with being the complete opposites, yet attracted and complementing each other perfectly.

When you look outside, the darkness is already present. It's beautiful in some way, but still scary, thinking how easy can someone hide in it; possible danger, possible attacker. Many things are covered by darkness that aren't really revealed ever.

And if they are...

Doorbell snaps you from your thoughts.

"Attagirl." he smirks, as you open your door, revealing yourself in your black, tight dress. He looks absolutely adored with the view, as he hold a bouquet of red roses in his hand. Ridicilously big bouquet, looking still small in his hands. He hands it out to you, a soft look in his eyes. "Knew it'll fit you."

"You seem to always know what's the best for me." you laugh, even if it's not technically a joke; he really is aware of it, when he nods his head, his eyes still on you. "You look handsome."

It's another thing he's aware of. Black suit on him, paired with white dress shirt that definitely highlights his muscles, makes you want to stay at home with him, even if you know that's not possible. You've waited like crazy for him to come back from deployment and have this first date with Simon.

"For you." he hums, letting you kiss his cheek, to leave here a red smudge of your lipstick which he doesn't even bother to wipe off. "Shall we?"

When he drives, you update him about situation with Nick. Telling him how he made you mad, you almost forget how you didn't send a message to him, and you should to end it all. So, you type it out, while you listen to Simon, telling you it was a bad idea anyway; it's a quick, clear message, how he shouldn't contact you anymore, how you are gonna block his message since he was acting like a kid.

The light comes out from the back of your boyfriend's car, which gets your attention right away. Your eyebrows furrow.

"You got a text?" you ask hesitantly. Simon's attention is at the road, but he glances at you once, giving you a quick nod.

"Probably. Ignore it, pet, work's calling, probably. It's only two of us tonight." he says, and you almost believe it.

Almost. Almost because you remember your doubts from months earlier, but knowing how Simon reacted, you only smile; your eyes are still on him, though. Observing, lingering on him, as you try to find something.

You seem to find it, spotting a few of maroon dots at the end of his sleeve. Weird enough, considering his shirt is crystal white.

Might it be blood? It always can be light playing with you, your paranoia, but before you know, you are dialing Nick's number.

You tell yourself you're crazy. You shouldn't doubt your boyfriend like that, nor suspect him of anything, but you just want to ease your mind. He wouldn't do anything to hurt you, you know that. You're sure of that.

Your world collapses the moment when the mysterious phone lights up again, and Simon looks at you fully, his attention completely on you, not on the road. His face is calm, though, and his hand squeezes your thigh again, just like all of the times where you were stressed.

All of these times, it worked. All of these times, you always smiled to him at the small gesture.

Right now, you want to scream.

blood on my shirt, rose in my hand - exiIes (2024)
Top Articles
Latest Posts
Recommended Articles
Article information

Author: Lilliana Bartoletti

Last Updated:

Views: 6702

Rating: 4.2 / 5 (73 voted)

Reviews: 88% of readers found this page helpful

Author information

Name: Lilliana Bartoletti

Birthday: 1999-11-18

Address: 58866 Tricia Spurs, North Melvinberg, HI 91346-3774

Phone: +50616620367928

Job: Real-Estate Liaison

Hobby: Graffiti, Astronomy, Handball, Magic, Origami, Fashion, Foreign language learning

Introduction: My name is Lilliana Bartoletti, I am a adventurous, pleasant, shiny, beautiful, handsome, zealous, tasty person who loves writing and wants to share my knowledge and understanding with you.