here’s the thing about simon riley:

he stinks.

like, he smells horrible. all the time, pretty much his entire life. having grown up in a neglectful household, body wash, shampoo, hand soap, deodorant, anything that was under the “personal hygiene” umbrella, was hard to come by.

lice was a common occurrence in the riley house. (which was always treated by his mom shaving the boys’ heads pretty much bald)

and it’s not like simon was taught much about hygiene. his father was often too drunk or out of the house to care to tell him anything, and his mother was a meek individual who was busy trying to gentle parent tommy out of their fathers’ influence.

all in all, simon kept to himself. brushed his teeth twice a day, but that was pretty much it. he only showered (stood under the water) once or twice a week because he heard some kids at school talking about it.

when he hit puberty, of course it only got worse. body odor wafted off of him, serving as a people repellent, but he didn’t even notice.

he was lonely throughout high school, besides tommy, who found a group of twats as gross as himself to keep him company.

it wasn’t until basic training did simon realize he was miles behind literally everyone else. insecurity flourished like a weed in fertile soil in his poor 18 year old mind. and the other trainees really let him have it. he was mercilessly picked on, and it was no different from freshman year when he was bullied for how he smelled.

luckily, a nicer guy a few years older than him casually told simon all he needed to know—from shampoo to exfoliating his feet, and everything in between. it was an embarrassing conversation, but enlightening. and now, nearly two decades later, simon is spraying your favorite cologne on his collar and taking you out, skin clean and hair soft.