Simon never told anyone, but after a mission, he fell and landed on glass, slicing open his jaw. His silent presence wasn’t unusual on the way back, but normally he has some intel to tell. Everyone just brushed it off.

He was quick to rush back the barracks, snooping around for some thread and a needle. Simon was the type to handle it all on his own, no matter the pain. But, the pain was so unbearable he had no choice but to stop being stubborn and do what he’s terrible at: asking for help.

He scattered his belongs from his nightstand out onto his bed, searching for the phone book. He needed to call the nurse and have them patch him up in his room. No way would he risk lifting his mask up in front of other soldiers.

When you arrived, he was silent, only gesturing for you to sit by him. You sat down, no questions asked. Without warning, he fully takes off his mask. Underneath reveals several old and new scars, but a huge deep wound from his lip to jaw.

You were so gentle with him, treating his face like he was made of porcelain. He felt so cared for. There were thoughts of your hands being on his body, not his face. His brain filled with thoughts of you, so he took his chances and started flirting.

3 weeks later, his wound was healed and it was time to remove the stitches. You and Simon had a lot of shared meals and deep conversations during these weeks, it was quite nice.

“How do your lips feel? Do they feel better?” you gently ask, showing true concern for his wellbeing while you finish clipping the final threads.

Without hesitation, he brings you in for a firm but gentle kiss. “How about you tell me, sweetheart.” was all the man would say, the sentence ending with a small grin.