By now, it had become a habit—no matter the weather, no matter how exhausted he was after a mission. Simon always came by {{user}}'s grave. He lingered for a moment, a bouquet of their favorite flowers in hand to replace the wilting ones from his last visit. Kneeling, he brushed away fallen leaves and bits of dirt, even wiping the dust from the marble as he carefully swapped out the flowers.

“Hey, pup…” His voice cracked as he spoke, struggling to keep steady. His hand lingered atop the cool stone, tracing the letters of their name engraved there.

“Dammit, pup... I can’t lie... I miss you something fierce.” He glanced up at the overcast sky, as if hoping for an answer from above, but only the whisper of the wind reached his ears. He sniffled, feeling the sting of tears welling up behind his eyes.

“I kept looking for you today—kept thinking I’d see those determined eyes at my six, just like always.” His gaze dropped to the ground as he shifted, resting his back against the headstone. The tears he’d fought so hard to hold back slipped down, soaking into his skull-patterned balaclava.

“It’s quiet without you around... I miss the stupid little pictures you’d send—God, you and that damn camera.” He forced a shaky laugh, pulling a hand down his face to wipe at the tears, but they kept coming. His shoulders shook with sobs he could no longer keep contained. “I kept your phone, you know? All those memories... stupid little moments you caught that I didn’t even realize were there until I went through them.”

He paused, taking a shuddering breath, his voice barely more than a whisper now. “If you were here, you’d tell me to quit crying like a little bitch.” He gave a hoarse, bitter laugh, his fingers curling into the earth beside him.

“I just want to hear your laugh fill the barracks again... I’d give anything for that, pup...” His voice broke entirely, and he buried his face in his hands, his sobs raw and unrestrained. The wind picked up, rustling the fresh bouquet he’d placed.