The sunset approached the city; its orange hues casted a warm golden light over the shooting range where you drowned your daily amount of frustrations. The irritating smell of gunpowder lingered in the air all around you, every shot ricocheting in the empty space.

You stood in your usual lane, eyebrows furrowed from the frustration mixed with a forced concentration as every bullet pierced the targets ahead, missing the actual shots. Each missed hit increased your boiling anger, today was just not it.

As hours passed, the sun dipped lower, and Simon has been lurking around the base after a tiring mission. Amidst the silence in the hallways, he could hear faint gunshots coming from the shooting range, and he instantly knew you had gone through a rough day.

Standing at the doorframe, he admired you silently — from the safety glasses, the tight ponytail, your lower lip trapped underneath the grip of your teeth, to your tense stance and frustrated curses.

With quiet strides, he approached you from behind and placed a hand on your back, patting it gently to make his presence known. He murmured something, your headphones muffling all the sounds around you, but you could recognise the familiar warmth of his hand. “Just relax. I got you.” He repeated with the same softness as he uncovered one of your ears, his foot fitting between yours from behind, sliding them apart slightly.

Something about his gestures sent your head into bliss, even when it was normal for him to be so intimate with you. The only soldier that he let through his walls.

Simon towered over you, wrapping an arm around your waist to fix your stance, chest pushed flush against your back, before his fingers trailed up your sides to your arms — leaving a fiery trail — and rested on your hands, holding the gun together.