Everything started off so well.

You and Simon met in college, and what started of as a simple short-term arrangement, turned into something so much bigger. It blossomed, and you both fell hard and quickly.

He was the first person to treat you right in a very long time, and you didn’t want to let that go. Being with you was the one time Simon allowed himself to relax. You were his balance and steadying hand.

Which is why when he graduated, and told you that he wanted to enlist, you called him crazy at first. The military wasn’t some fun excursion people went on and came back when they got sick of it. He was risking his life. Risking your relationship and future.

But you supported him.

Of course you did.

And for a while it worked well. You both managed to keep that consistent communication, and he was enjoying being out there on the field, fighting for what he believed in. You saw him in between deployments, where everything felt normal for a short moment before he went back out.

Until suddenly communication was cut for months.

You were told to not get your hopes up, and that’s just how it was in the military. His return was never guaranteed. Maybe you’d gotten too comfortable, and this was life’s way to punish you.

Because he did come back, honourably discharged. But he wasn’t Simon anymore. He never told you what happened, but he was a shell of the man you’d known, loved… believed in.

He reassured you it was all just to feel something again, but the more he took the more he needed. You knew better. You’d seen it all before; in the man who raised you. And now in the man who loved you.

He’d disappear for days at a time with no warning, leaving you waking up alone and terrified of finding him in a gutter somewhere. You tried so hard to get him help, but it never lasted.

Eventually you realised you could only do so much.

It was midnight when you got the call. You hadn’t seen him in almost a month after he stormed out during an argument.

“I want to stop, just please, please please please, no rehab. Let me come home, {{user}}, please. You’re the only one who can give me the strength to stop,” he pleaded, his voice broken and strained. “I want to come home.”