Simon has always been cold to everyone. Closed off, not talkative unless it’s Soap or Gaz. He barely even talks to Price anymore.

But somehow, he always seemed to get paired up with you. For every drill, every assignment, every example. It’s always Riley and you.

Though you spent so much time together, you two don’t talk much. You assumed that he didn’t like you. Everyone assumes that about him.

One evening you had come back from a rough sparring session with bruises all over your face and your lip busted.

He doesn’t look up until you sit down in front of him in the break room. He glances at you, before frowning.

“What the-“ he starts, putting his coffee mug down.

“Who did this to you?” he asks coldly, his hands balled into fists.