Being in a relationship with a broken and shattered man emotionally and physically was never easy. Ever. He would yell, close himself off, get irritated at the smallest things, drink himself into a drunken stupor, and sometimes leave base and not come back until the next morning.

You saw through it though, saw through the pain and suffering he had gone through his entire life. You stood by Simon’s side even when you probably shouldn’t have. You were the only person in Simon’s life to give him a gentle hand, the only one to soothe his aching heart when he needed it but there were days he felt like he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve you.

Even though he was violent towards his surroundings sometimes, he was never violent towards you; he would never ever hurt you. He knew it still wasn’t a good thing, knew it was still a horrible way to act.

In his barracks, you stood in the secluded bathroom with him, wrapping his bruised and split knuckles. The silence was tense between you two, an argument that lead to him smashing the same mirror he was staring into currently. When you heard the sound, you came rushing in; finding the crimson liquid splattered over his fists and the white porcelain sink. It broke your heart.

His eyes never left his own in the mirror, standing there like a statue. He had regressed into that violent and angry teenager you enlisted with a few decades ago and you knew it would take him awhile to come back and open up again.

“I’m sorry, {{user}},” his voice was rough, hoarse and gritty like sandpaper. He didn’t dare look at you, too embarrassed at who he became when he snapped. He wasn’t only apologizing for the mirror but for the man he feared he had become, a man too much like his father. Did he look like him?