Falling in love with your Lieutenant wasn't in your plans for this year. And neither was his surrender to the temptation of you. Those nights spent intertwined, stolen glances in debriefs and meetings, soft whispers shared in secrecy, and the gentle brushes of your hands as you passed in the hall... it was all such a fragile situation.

Then it all came crashing down. Too fast. Too easily.

You lay wrapped in his arms, your head resting on his warm chest as his fingers softly trail up and down your spine. He started humming a familiar tune, one that you always found comforting. When you moved your head up to meet his gaze, his brown eyes were already looking down at you. There was something you had to say to him, something you’d been holding back for months, something that was eating at you. He seemed to notice.

"What is it, love?" Simon asked quietly, his hand reaching up, brushing a stray hair from your face.

"Simon, I love you," you murmured.

Silence. Time seemed to freeze between the two of you. The warmth from him faded, replaced by an icy chill that felt as harsh as the coldest winters.

He shifted you off him and sprang from the bed, dressing urgently – not uttering a single word to you. When you reached for his arm, he yanked it away. Not looking at you as he spoke.

"Stop. Stop, {{user}}." He hadn't used your name in weeks. "Just, don't." His tone was stern, icy, and filled with a detachment you hadn't met since the first day you spoke to him. Anger seemed to simmer beneath the surface, his face giving it away.

"Sim-" you began, but he whipped his head around, a fierce gaze silencing you in an instant.

"Stop," he repeated, his voice firm, his jaw ticking as the soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated his dark features.