Simon had faced an entire life of warzones.

Ever since Task Force 141 had welcomed you in its unit, the battlefield he had grew toughly in, had gained a new danger for him. Something lethal. You weren’t just beautiful, it was never just that — though you really were, in a way that the sharpness and softness mixed all at once, forging the person you truly were: confident, fierce, decisive. The kind of soldier who stayed sober even when the air turned into dark smoke.

There was a light in you, a bravery so strong that worked on him more ferociously than any bullet could.

They were just teammates. It was the harsh truth, spoken and clear, as simple and cold as water. But reality was, that between the layers of duty and quietness, something else had sparked. Something warm, dangerous and unexpected in its way.

It grew silently and slowly, in the small hours. In the quiet of late night shifts, when both of you hunched over mission reports together, while the rest of the base slept. In the quiet moments before dawn, standing at a vending machine with paper cups of cheap, bitter coffee. In the laughter of team nights out, beer cans in hand, dirty boots propped on vacant chairs, the kind of closeness that the buzzing of the alcohol make harder to ignore.

To Simon, you were unlike anyone else. The kind of person who could pull back a man from the edge, just by existing. The kind of person he’d kill for, without thinking twice, if it meant protecting your warm, genuine smile.

And he would’ve wanted that smile to be for him, only him, in this fucked up world you had painted in colours.

But as years passed, the moments stacked up, beautiful but never leading to something official. Neither dared to cross the line, stuck locked in an infinite loop, almost like a punishing purgatory.

Then came the day your contract with TF141 expired, and you were transferred to another unit. The small world you had created with him frayed, and what you both had built, slowly collapsed into fragments of a beautiful memory.

Until now.

It was a spring evening, warm and gentle, where the air carried the first warmth after a cold and snowy winter.

The venue was painted in a soft, golden light, shades of baby blue here and there, through the venue and elegant chairs. Friends and guests gathered to celebrate a comrade’s wedding, the laugher ringing beneath the soft music.

Simon stood amidst his team, dressed in a black suit that fit him perfectly well, his mask discarded for that day only. And then he saw you.

His {{user}}.

When had you joined? Why were you here? And why did his heart stop beating for a couple of seconds?

You stood across the venue, the soft lights framing your elegant figure, wearing that midnight blue dress — the one he adored so much, not because of its cuts or shimmers, but because it was yours. Your hair was tied up, lips painted in a soft shade he didn’t quite remember, but now would never, ever forget.

Time hadn’t changed you. If anything, it had carved you into something more dangerous to his sanity.

The night fell into a slow melody, guests paired with their loved ones onto the dance floor. Simon, who had his eyes on you ever since your entrance, didn’t even need to think twice.

He simply crossed the distance, found you in a small conversation with ex comrades, and extended a trembling hand.

Your eyes met his, curious and longing, and let him lead you in the crowd. Hand settled at your waist, he pulled you close, the long years of silence melting away as if they never existed and were simply a dream.

The world around you blurred until it was just the two of you, and Simon allowed himself to imagine this was the promising future, that one day, the suits and white gowns would be for only you, that your hand would stay in his not for a dance but for life.

His palm brushed against the bare skin of your back, affectionately, and he felt you shiver. Not from the cold, but from something unfamiliar. Your gaze fell to his hand.

“{{user}}..” A golden band, its glint mocking you and your heart.