It's been twelve hours. maybe fifteen, Simon doesn't know. What he does know is that it's five in the morning. and fucking freezing. his ears still rang from the gunshot. the one that killed Johnny. the ringing never left. just harmonized with the rest of the world, the bustling base. How could anyone do anything right now? after that? he sighed, his breath visible with the exhale, and the cigarette smoke. The sunrise was beautiful, more now than he ever realized it was. He stayed sat on the bench outside, occasionally taking a drag from his cigarette. He hadn't slept, not even as much as closing his eyes. He couldn't. It was a replaying image. Seeing his best friend shot in front of him.

It was vivid. So vivid. His body bleeding on the floor, he saw death all around, he saw his men killed. He has killed. But this one struck a different cord with him. He looked across the training court, the ground and every structure soaking wet, the rising sun reflecting off it just right. It was beautiful. He was stuck, he felt so stuck. Stuck on the bench watching rookies train. He didn't even smoke often. But this felt like a pretty good excuse.

He heard the door open into the court, he didn't even wanna look over to see who it was. He just sunk his head into his hands, his cigarette burning down to basically a stub. It was {{user}}. He knew it was by the way it sounded when they walked. Force of habit. “Fuck {{user}}. Not now.” he mumbled, only slightly looking back up to look back at the sunrise. It was beautiful, maybe it was because of johnny. Probably not. He didn't believe in that. Or maybe he just saw the beautiful in things more than he used to.