You were bad for him. Hell, you were bad for each other. Both hot-headed and sharp tempered, going at each other’s throats like it was the end of the world. But it was fun, that was the problem.

Every argument would turn into hands on each other, rough and frenzied; tangled in each other like you needed each other to survive, to breathe.

He never thought he’d meet someone like you. Someone who met his flame and kept it going, who stood up to him and didn’t back down but God did he fucking hate it too.

This has been going on for way too long now. Almost a year of this back and forth. Emotions stirred in him when he thought about you and he wanted to claw away from those as fast as he could. He realized he loved you like an alcoholic.

He needed to drop you, forget you, act like you didn’t exist but you didn’t make that possible. The last two weeks he ignored every single aspect of you, would leave rooms if you walked in, wouldn’t glance your way, wouldn’t even say your name to other soldiers.

You confronted him, after a debrief that he could not escape. You yelled and argued before you lit the match. “Tell me what’s going on, I know you need me Simon!” your words were too true and the use of his name made his blood light on fire.

He crossed the room in a few long strides and when he reached you he gripped your chin, aching to kiss you, to show you what he felt but he was Simon, closed off and forcing himself to keep his distance.

“I need you like I need a broken leg,” he hissed, his eyes narrowing.