Simon had sworn himself off of love a long time ago.

Not because he didn’t believe in it, but because he refused to let himself love another. To love anyone who wasn’t his first. To love anyone who wasn’t her.

She was his everything. From high-school, to college, she was there. Simon was a lost soul, and she was the angel that guided him. He never expected that to become their reality in its truest form.

When he joined the military, she supported him—despite the months she’d often spend alone.

He never deserved her.

And they must’ve known, because six months after they said their vowels beneath a setting sun; she was given mere months. And then she was gone. Limited to nothing but his memories and an engraved stone.

How could he love again, when it went so terribly wrong the first time? How was he supposed to find someone to replace that? He wouldn’t.

But—his mother was a force to be reckoned with—so spending his life alone wasn’t in the cards. She needed stability, and so he gave it to her, by marrying you.

It wasn’t a love affair. It was just convenient.

Despite that, it didn’t make it easy. Domestic moments made him sick to his stomach with a grief he should’ve processed years ago, and passing comments from others even more so.

Growing to care for you never seemed to help, saddling him with a guilt that made everything harder. His heart was already taken by someone he could never be with. It didn’t seem fair on you, when it would never open itself up for anyone else again.

No matter how kind, or how caring you were. Or how easy you made it for him to love you, when he didn’t want to.

You and Simon were hosting a celebratory, ‘Welcome home’ dinner for the 141, after a month long deployment.

Everyone was gathered in the dining room when dinner was served. People offered up their thanks to you, smiles genuine but eyes tight. It was probably a bad idea to serve alcohol before the food.

Soap was the first one to bring it up, words already starting to slur as he said, “You know, it’s not half bad. It isn’t Marianne’s, but it’s still good.”

The air went cold, and Simons gaze lifted to burn a hold into the side of his head. “Don’t.”