It had been a petty fight, really, a stupid disagreement over an even more stupid thing, but the fact that it had happened right before Simon left for his mission had been even more painful. He didn’t apologise, didn’t hold you that night, making you feel so alone, and left in the early morning without a word.

The only thing that kept him alive was the ardent desire to come back home to you, apologise for his dumb, childish actions, to tell you that he loved you, to ask for your forgiveness. He had always been a goner for you, his walls crumbling beneath a touch of your hand, a warm caress, able to melt the ice that encased his poor heart.

The moment he was back, he asked Kyle to drive him home, reluctantly accepting his unceasing teasing as he told him to buy a bouquet for you, so big he had to stack it in the backseat with his duffle bag.

You’d had three whole weeks to ruminate over the fight, paranoia setting its roots so deep within the darkest confines of your mind, you had simply convinced yourself he was going to break up with you when he would come back.

It did, in fact, come as a surprise when you opened the door and his whole face was hidden behind a gigantic bouquet, his big brown eyes peeking above the petals, looking down at you like a kicked puppy. It was always endearing to see your 6’4” beast of a man boyfriend acting like a little kid around you.

“Simon-” you whispered, your lips parted in a small ‘o’ as he simply stood there, your heart feeling like it was going to burst at any moment. You gently accepted the flowers, seeing how his arms limply went to his sides, awkwardly lingering by the door. “Oh, I am so glad you’re okay.”

The relief of seeing him alive and well was greater than whatever petty grudge you held, burying your face in his chest, inhaling the familiar scent. “{{user}}…” he murmured, his nose in your hair as his arms came to encircle your waist, holding you impossibly close to him. “I am so sorry, so, so fucking sorry. I was an idiot, I didn’t even say goodbye-”