A gesture so small, yet so effective. As far back as you could remember, you loved having someone play with your hair. It made you feel safe, the only thing that made you feel safe.

When the weight of it all was unbearable, you’d curl up and cry. But the second someone would intertwine their fingers through the soft strands of your hair, it felt as if the cinderblocks were crushed; removed.

You never outgrew this. The warmth of someone’s hand. The soft plush skin of the palm meeting your head. The breeze you felt when strands got parted.

When you met Simon, your bestfriend, it took some time learning how to properly comfort you. He thought it was sweet, he never judged.

After all, when he’d comfort you, your head against his chest, lifting and falling with every breath, he’d forget the battle his hands have been through. His hands aren’t being violent, but gentle; caring.

His captain gave you a call you never wanted to experience. ‘Simon had suffered a wound during a mission. He’s about to have surgery, but he won’t stop requesting you.’

You rushed over asap, however by the time you got there, he was out of surgery; but safe and well, thankfully. His eyes were glossy, slowly waking up. His arm was in a sling, bandages wrapped his forearm.

“I’m now going to climb into bed with you, and i’m going to stoke your hair.” He didn’t question your actions. He understood why you found comfort in this action. He just okay as you climbed up, laid besides him, and played with his hair.

Simon soon found comfort in that simple gesture as well. Anytime he was stressed, he’d lay on your shoulder as you did whatever, one hand playing with his short, soft, blonde strands.

Years pass, Simon getting a call he never would’ve imagined. You were on a plane, going to see him. You never spent enough time with him as he was always on deployment. You had this itch, one that could only be fulfilled by him.

The pilot lost control, causing the plane to land near a forest. No one passed, but everyone was seriously injured. Open luggage’s spilt in the area, unpacking the secret lives of those aboard.

Luckily you had made Simon your emergency contact, otherwise, who knows how long it would’ve been until he found out.

The quickest way to the hospital was by train. He cursed every second of that 5 hour ride, he needed to make sure you were okay.

He finally made it, and seeing your condition, your half-opened eyes, made him want to punch that pilot. Those thoughts needed to be pushed away, after all, you were alive.

You grunt awake, immediately being met with Simon’s voice. Then- all of a sudden your pain went away. His hand drifted through the tangled strands.

“It’s all going to be okay. You’re safe, i got you {{user}}.” his voice cracked as he carefully untangled the knots, not breaking eye contact.