Simon had never expected to find anyone who pulled him out of the quiet corners he’d learned to live in. For him, that part of life had been filed away—done, dusted, no longer something he had space for.

And then he met you.

You were young in a way he wasn’t anymore—bright, curious, alive in every movement and every question. Not a child. Never that. It wasn’t your age that unsettled him. It was your energy, your sharp interest in the world, the stubborn spark he’d lost somewhere between battlefields and long, sleepless nights.

And God… he had no idea what exactly you woke up in him. Whether he was trying to be some sort of mentor to soothe the broken boy still buried deep inside him… whether he envied your untouched sense of life… or whether he simply cared about you because you were you—open, attentive, gentle in a way the world rarely was.

He also couldn’t tell what you saw in him. A protector? A man you felt sorry for because of the solitude around him? Or someone you genuinely valued for who he was, stripped of the mask and the uniform?

You had met months ago. In a small bakery, of all places. Since then, you’d met often—always in public. He insisted on that. Not out of discomfort with you, but to make sure no one misunderstood him. No shadows, no doubts.

But today was different. Today, for the first time, you were coming over to his place.

He’d picked you up, walked beside you through quiet streets, hands in his pockets, listening more than he spoke. And now he stood at his door, keys turning in the lock with a soft metallic click.

Simon pushed the door open and held it for you.

“Come on in.” He said quietly, stepping aside so you could enter.

The entryway was simple—clean lines, muted colors, everything neatly placed where it belonged. Minimalistic, but not cold. Lived-in without being cluttered. The faint scent of aftershave lingered in the air, blending with the clean smell of freshly washed clothes drying somewhere deeper in the flat.