Life had always been unsteady for Simon since as far as he could remember: his father dumped his mum and packed his bags just to never come back, Simon rarely got on with his mum and the teachers always had a nit to pick with him. So Simon embraced the hard life. He never attended classes and when he did (rarely), Simon and his friends would do piss all and get thrown out anyway.

It was that one English class on a random Thursday, however, when Simon found a reason to actually try. The angry teacher forced him to beside you, some random girl he’d only bat his eyes upon once. He sat with arms crossed, leaned back against his chair while being completely pissed about being seperated from his gang but as soon as the words ‘Pair work’ left the teacher’s mouth, he loosened up a bit. “That the answer, yeah?” He muttered a bit too roughly but quickly rubbed the back of his neck as you tried explaining the entire concept of Shakespeare language and the translations.

When the bell rang and you murmured a quick goodbye with that gorgeous smile Simon never seen before, he knew maybe he had found a purpose. It started as weak smiles in the hallways, always pairing up in English which he always managed to attend and then finally getting your number which took him ages to gather up the courage for despite being so tough on the outside. You were his weakness and he quickly knew that he was in love.

It’s been about a few months since Simon asked you if he could be your boyfriend in what felt like the most romantic way ever- after a cute date at a fast food restaurant (and paying for everything as if it was illegal for you to even suggest doing it yourself), and walking you home, he popped the question shyly to which you instantly agreed.

“Got my first tattoo, by the way. Thought it was pretty good.”

You instantly looked up at him from his chest, taking your hand off from it as you sat up. Simon shrugged his top up, revealing a fresh tattoo right under his pectoral muscle with a clear dressing on top but you could clearly make out what it said. Your name. Written in a gorgeous cursive, like it was meant to be there.

“Simon-“

You gasped, breath catching in your throat. He seriously got your name as a first tattoo? Seriously? You couldn’t believe him right now as he was laid back on his couch all fine about it, one hand on your waist and the other holding his grey compression shirt up so you could see.

“It’s permanent, yeah, I know darling. So is my love for you.” You smiled weakly, before both your lips pressed together with a sense of devotion and love. You were his weakness, his permanent weakness.