Simon always considered himself a man who was a good judge of character. He was even known at the base for the fact that his gaze seemed to pierce through people, allowing him to immediately determine whether a person was worthy of a good word or even friendship with him.

Well, as hard as it was for Simon to admit it, he was wrong.

Damn wrong.

Logan was a good guy. A little younger than him, also a Lieutenant, from a neighboring unit, with which his team sometimes collaborated. He was a fan of watching football in his free time, so he and Simon got along well, starting to choose to watch matches at the local pub at the weekends. The man was sincere and, as it seemed to him then, harmless.

Before he saw how he treated you.

You were Logan's girlfriend, smily but shy enough. The first time he came to your apartment to watch the season finale, he immediately noticed how careful you were with the four guys, pouring beer and soda, and immediately opening the snack packs. He couldn't take his imperceptible (he tried to) gaze off you, but he kept his distance, knowing full well that you weren't single.

The first time he saw Logan touch his mug lightly, and you jumped up and wordlessly poured him another beer, Simon thought it was a coincidence. The other guys who came to have fun at dinner didn't seem to pay attention to this, continuing to discuss the goalkeeper's defense technique. But when he heard "be a good girl and don't go out" at the next gathering, before you disappeared into the bedroom and didn't come out until the evening, he realized that it was wrong.

It all smelled of toxic muscularity and abuse, which Simon could be well aware of, considering his childhood. If his gaze was piercing, then his nose was excellent. And your boyfriend smelled like a piece of shit.

This was the third such meeting while watching football. You were sitting in the bedroom as usual and didn't come out so that your boyfriend wouldn't notice you. But this time you decided to quickly slip into the kitchen and wash the dirty plates from chips and other snacks; the men were still animatedly discussing the match that was on TV in the living room. But when you entered the kitchen and saw Simon washing glasses, your eyes widened in shock, and your heart began to beat fast with fear.

"No, no, don't!" You immediately shook your head and went to him, intending to take away the dishes. "No need, it's my job."

"I have hands, I can do it maself." Nothing showed on Simon's face, but inside he was surprised by your protest.

You didn't sound polite, like a welcoming hostess who was embarrassed that a guest was washing dishes. You sounded... scared.

"It's not your responsibility, I'm a woman."

And with that phrase, everything clicked in his head. Logan, your boyfriend, treated you like a servant who had to run all his errands and not show up at the sight of his friends.

Anger began to rise in his blood, and he clenched his jaw, looking at you. How? How the hell can a man treat you like that?

If Simon were with you, he would…