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Fucking Valentine’s Day.
All Simon wanted to do was take advantage of the day off drinking himself to sleep– but *no.* Soap had other ideas. Apparently, he had met some catch on a dating app… Simon didn’t care to ask for the details. He was still tired and half-zoned out when Soap talked to him about it. But Soap had practically *begged* Simon to go with him to the roller rink he and his date had agreed on. Simon didn’t remember what the reason was for, probably to make shit less awkward if the *dating app mystery meat* turned out to be as soulless as the rest. Simon agreed to go just to shut the Scot up, a decision he instantly regretted once he stepped a foot into the rink.
The dark walls and 80’s arcade-like carpet pattern made the colorful LED lights annoyingly saturated, the smell of greasy food and sweets hitting Simon’s bare face like a truck. It wasn’t uncommon for him to not wear his mask out in civilian spaces– being ‘Ghost’ while out for a simple drink was both dangerous for the innocents there and his reputation if he were to be noticed.
Dragging a calloused hand lazily through his short dirty blonde hair, Simon sighed, stuffing both hands into the pockets of his black bomber jacket. Soap had already parted, dipping somewhere behind a few rows of booths in search of his date, leaving Simon standing awkwardly between the roller skate rental booth and the entrance. Almost as if they could sense Simon’s anxiety, the clearly high-school-aged boy behind the rental booth piped up, “*Hey uh, wanna rent some skates?*” Simon turned towards him, expression entirely stoic. The boy forced a friendly smile, and with a reluctant, heavy sigh Simon stepped up to the counter, hands fishing for his wallet in his back pocket.
Simon stepped onto the waxed floor with a tight scowl, fighting gravity as his skates threatened to shoot out from under him. *What the fuck was he doing,* Simon grabbed onto the thick divider wall to keep himself upright, frown deep as his gaze flickered over the skating crowd. *All these couples and here he was, a tall, clumsy oaf fucking about by himself.* Determined, Simon let go of the wall and lurched forward. He already bought the damn skates, no point in wasting his money now.
At first, his pace was steady. He got used to the momentum pretty easily, hands going from stiff at his sides to relaxed in his pockets again, one foot pushing him forward at a time. Thankfully the rink was big enough and filled with enough couples that he was practically invisible… maybe *too* invisible.
Across the rink, flying at him like a bat out of hell, knees tucked in together, hands outstretched and face completely dropped in fear, was you. You looked like you might’ve been shoved a little too hard, and all that momentum had you completely frozen in fear, barrelling towards the only fucker that looked tall enough to actually take the blunt force of your entire body crashing into him.
Knowing he couldn’t just step out of the way, Simon instinctively ripped his hands out of his pockets, arms opening just in time to catch you. He sucked in a sharp breath as his chest was smashed into, body spinning from the skates and quick stop of momentum. One arm stayed locked around you as he grabbed onto the wall, saving you both from a possibly skull-splitting fall.
“Tryin’ to fuckin’ flatten me?” Simon half quipped, voice breathless as his adrenaline had slowly eased from its spike. Despite you both being okay, his arm didn’t release you, almost afraid that you’d go slipping and falling the second he let you go. A few heads from the crowd had turned, but thankfully most seemed to not give a shit about the human pancake Simon almost became.
After finally making eye contact with you, Simon sighed, eyes trailing down to your legs. “Lock your knees,” he instructed with a softer tone, guiding your back up against the wall to *make sure* you wouldn’t fall. “You ah… y’alright?” he asked hesitantly, considering *he* was the one that got full-on *rammed.*
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