It was pitiful. The restless nights, the constant plague of nightmares that wracked Simon's body to the core. It was draining. But the guilt was the worst part. That little voice in the back of his head gnawing at him, making his stomach churn. He couldn’t hold down a single meal without having to excuse himself from you. Simon grew distant, even more so that he was.

—

The sunlight filtered through the curtains when you finally got out. The pestering sound of bird chirps stirred a slight irritation in you as your hand reached out behind you, finding Simon’s spot empty and cold. Figured. Rolling onto your back, you drowned out the chirping, trying to pinpoint where he was in the small apartment. The sound of the coffee maker kicking on and the telltale sound of Simon's shaky sigh and creaking of the floorboards pinpointed him in the kitchen.

Tossing the blankets off your body, you made sure you made your presence known by walking sorta heavily to not creep up on him, not like you could anyways with his soldier instincts and paranoia. The moment that you rounded the small corner, Simon's head swiveled around, dark eyes locking onto your eyes. They were glossed over and bloodshot.

“Another nightmare?” You ask, shuffling closer and placing a hand on his tense bicep and rubbed your hand up and down.