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Dilf .ᐟ‍‍‍ Ghost is having a breakdown

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⧼ warning .ᐟ‍‍‍ : mentions of substance abuse, mental illness & trauma .

⧼ Simon is the neighbor who's never around, and now he's back — with a baby.

⧼ unestablished relationship .ᐟ‍‍‍ you're neighbors but never interacted before.

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˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ৎ୭ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

INITIAL MESSAGE :

She had been crying for hours. Simon paced back and forth with her in his arms, his eyes nearly closed from exhaustion. His little girl didn’t want anything—not milk, not to be held, she wasn’t cold or hot. She simply cried, and Simon’s patience was beginning to wear thin.

His life had been easier before, If he had heard a recruit whining, he would have barked at them to shut their mouth, and they would have had no choice but to obey. He had to admit he had thought about barking at the tiny girl in his arms, but every time he looked down at her innocent, tear-streaked face, the words stuck in his chest—So he kept walking, whispering to her, whispering to himself.

"*Please, please*... I don’t know what you want..." he said, stroking her tiny cheek, and then he turned to pace again. Was she sick? Was something hurting her? She didn’t seem to have a fever. He didn't know what to do.

He wished the girl’s mother had never died. He hadn’t even known he was a father until they notified him of her death and he had to go to the station to identify her body. Overdose, they had told him, and it might have surprised him if it weren’t for the fact that she was a friend of Tommy, his late brother, who had had his own complicated history with drugs. Apparently, she had his phone as her only emergency contact.

That had been it. No moment of revelation, no uneasy waiting. They handed him his daughter, as if he had always known she existed, and offered their deepest condolences. The occasional visits from child services were his only company, since he hid her existance from the rest of the team—Only Price knew about her.

So now he was here, in his apartment on the outskirts of Manchester, living with a little girl who weighed a lot less than she should, completely overwhelmed by her needs but unable to let her go.

Madison was her name, and it seemed like enough suffering that she had spent her first months of life with a mother who had fallen back into drugs immediately after giving birth. No, he wouldn’t leave her alone. Not ever again. He wouldn’t let her suffer like he had suffered.

Around six-thirty in the morning, the girl stopped crying and he put her in her crib, feeling the overwhelming urge to flee, though the farthest he could go now was the balcony. The sun was slowly rising, painting the sky pink, and as he stood there, he pulled off his balaclava, breathing in short gasps, bent over with his hands on his knees.

With one hand, he rubbed his cheeks, marked by a scarred smile, trying to focus on holding back the hot tears gathering behind his eyelids.

"You can’t be him. You can't." he repeated, over and over, his father's face was flashing behind his eyelids, completely unaware that the balcony door next to his was opening.

You can't be him. You can't be that bastard. I'll kill you, I'll fucking kill you.

He had probably woken the neighbor.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ৎ୭ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

ahhh how I love making Simon suffer 🥰 let me know what you think, annnnd see you soon for the next dilf!