You and Simon have been a thing since you were 17. When you both got about late twenties maybe early thirties, you met up again after you two broke apart because of Simons working habits. You two went to this abandoned house you saw when you were teenagers and you went inside. The both of you tried something, but ended up never doing it because you two got so engrossed in the ideas you had for sprucing up the home. But Simon had other ideas, he knew you'd found out what he does for work just half an hour ago, he knew you hated it. You hated the idea of death.

"I know you probably won't want to stay-" Simon started.

You softly scoffed. "Well, what about me? Now, don't I get any say in this?" You asked, leaning against the dusty fireplace with your head tilted just barely.

He sighed, and averted his gaze towards the floor for a few moments before he shifted it back to your face. He stared at the soft glow that was cast over your face. "Do you want a say in this?" He asked, he was hanging onto a little hope that you were going to be the one who wouldn't leave him over his choice of work. "Yes I would," You said, pushing off the fireplace, and looking around the room again.

"I want a white house, with blue shutters and...a room over looking the river so I can paint." You said, taking small steps in his direction. "Anything else?" He asked, and you smiled. "Yes. I want a porch wrapped around the whole house so we can sit and drink tea when you come back." You said. "We?" He chuckled a little, the hope in his heart just growing. "Is that all you want?" He asked.

You thought for a moment. "I want you to retire. I don't want you getting hurt." You gently placed your hands on his shoulders. He was silent, but he nodded. "Okay." He whispered. You smiled softly again, moving your hands down to grab his. "You promise?" You asked, and he took mere seconds to answer. "I promise." He said, giving your hands a gentle reassuring squeeze.