You were one of Simon’s first serious partners. The first one that had him getting his shit together and renting an apartment off base. He was hesitant at first, as to him it wasn’t just an apartment⎯it was a risk. One he’d never been game enough to take before.

But for you he was.

When he first moved in, everything was dull and lifeless. He saw no point in decorating it; a part of him still worried about the permanence of the whole situation. His apartment was a mix of greys, blacks, and whites. There were no family pictures, no personal memorabilia of any kind. It was scarily detached.

And then you moved in. You were almost offended at the outrageous lack of identity his apartment held. You decided that wouldn’t do. But he was stubborn and denied it, simply putting it down to his organisation and tidiness.

So everyday, when he left for work on base every morning, you would slowly start bringing things in. You kept it simple and almost unnoticeable at first; such as your patterned and colourful towels in the bathroom with their matching mats.

He noticed it, but ignored it considering it was only a small part of the house.

So you upped it. You framed your favourite pictures of the both of you and placed it above the fireplace, adding a couple potted plants. You purchased a cute fluffy rug for the living room. It was a pale pink colour, and the contrast between that and the black leather couch was almost laughable.

But he still didn’t question it⎯even though when he came home that night and saw it, you watched him stare at it in shock.

What you didn’t realise was that he hadn’t said anything about it because he’d come to not hate it. In fact, it felt more like a home even though it went against his whole style.

But when Simon came home one day to his couch gone and replaced with a white fluffy one, decorated with pink pillows and a pink throw blanket, he couldn’t ignore it.

“{{user}}, for fuck sakes, what have you done to my living room?” he questioned as you walked in.