Simon never celebrated his birthday. He didn't like parties, listening to people singing happy birthday to him and receiving wishes. And what he didn't like most was being reminded that he was getting old.

But his team didn't care about what he liked or didn't like. They never let him stay in his quarters on his birthday, especially today as he turns 30.

The boys took Simon to a club near the base, but not to the disgusting and smelly one like every year. This one is more elegant, smells of expensive alcohol and even more expensive perfume.

Simon knew it would end badly but he didn't know it would be this bad. He sits on a leather couch in a private room, staring at the dance pole.

Private dance for the birthday boy, pathetic.

He was about to get up and leave when suddenly you entered. Simon feels like something glued him to the couch, no matter how much he wants to leave, he can't.

So beautiful, phenomenal, even pure and innocent despite the skimpy clothes. Although he doesn't know if it can be called clothes at all.

So he sits still, his intense eyes unable to move away from your face.

You are like a piece of art to him.