You were nothing to him. A simple colleague who wasted time with him, spending countless nights in his bed, souls intertwined. You were the prohibited, a dangerous drug he was addicted to assume in every moment he craved. Simon tried his best to convince himself that you meant nothing to him, that your body was all he ever needed.

Wrong. Letting you get too close to him made him fall in love with you desperately. He had realized the moment you went missing on one of your solo missions, captured by the enemies and kept to torture — by then only venom flowed through his veins, he held no more mercy for humanity, because you were at risk somewhere else.

Walking through the dark hallways of the raided building, he swung the rifle over his shoulder, coming then to a halt in front of the room where you were kept in. There you laid, half conscious, the sight was a squeeze to his heart.

Gently, Simon cradled you in his arms, covering your frail body with his jacket before the building erupted in flames. “I’ve got you.” He whispered, nose nuzzling your head while he carried you in his arms through the flames. He’d let the world burn for you.