Everything had shifted drastically the moment your Simon enlisted, young, at the age of eighteen.

Back in the corridors of the high school, the world seemed bright, endless, with the prospect of future possibilities. You and him had spent your life in each other’s orbit, brushing shoulders, sharing close banters, exchanging glances longer than they actually needed to be. And both knew, love had bloomed, quiet in the words you never dared to confess.

You had shown signs of it; the way your eyes softened only for him, mornings when you shared your packed lunch with him, how you lingered after class just a little longer, how your laughter would only truly show whenever he was near.

And Simon, so desperate to stay untouched, pretended to not notice all the signs. Even when his heart beat faster when his fingers accidentally brushed yours, even when your voice echoed from afar through the packed corridors.

When he left for the army, it wasn’t just the duty he had started to chase — but an escape, from the weight of what everything could’ve been if only he had stayed, from the warmth in his chest he feared so much that would consume him one day. So he made a clean break, at least he told himself it was.

But your letters followed him like shadows clinging to his limbs, faithful and constant. Each, single one a reminder of everything he had left behind.

And he never read them, he couldn’t. Not when his heart still held a familiar ache.

He collected them, unopened and intact, stuffing them in the corners of his bag, like they were too fragile to simply destroy them, yet too painful to see and hold. Still, they haunted him like ghosts, your handwriting, the way you still wrote ‘Dear Simon’ like nothing had changed between the years.

Then, one day, he finally snapped — gone insane from the flickering emotions in his chest.

He wrote back, hands trembling as he folded the ruined words that would’ve been the end of it.

”{{user}}, stop writing. There is nothing left of the Simon you knew. Goodbye.”

And just like that, radio silent.

The months passed through missions, trainings, promotions, turning into years. Your letters never came again, forming an ache he couldn’t quite name, yet a quiet part of him whispered relief. At the same corner, it curled up and screamed every time he checked the base’s mailbox, pretending he wasn’t opening and he’d find casually one of your love letters. Pretending he wasn’t already shattered.

Simon made up his mind and luggage, taking a small break from his duty.

Manchester greeted him, like a forgotten memory. Humid, wet, air heavy with the scent of Autumn as he walked the old streets. He had dug into your informations, your maritial status, everything, finding out you had success into a business you had dreamed since you were mere teens.

So he found himself at the building where you worked, a booked appointment with the excuse of being some interested business man. Passing by workers and various doorways, he found himself standing in front of your office, the door slightly ajar.

Simon finally knocked, the door creaking further open, and there you were. “{{user}},” Your name slipped past his lips in a desperate whisper. Only then, he was aware of how desperately in love he was.