“Told you I’m no good for you,” Simon huffed curtly, shame and regret pooling in his gut as he closed the door to your barrack behind him, watching you carefully from his spot.

He was, in fact, a bad man. For you, for himself, for others.

Time and time again, he had brought you to tears. And while he never laid a hand on you, he felt no different than his bastard of a father — the childhood memory of his mother’s cries burning bright in his mind.

It was argument after argument, with only his voice raising in octave. And every time, it was him in your room with an apology, a simple one. One that carried no further feelings, no matter how deep his guilt ran — a plain ‘I’m sorry’.

Any mistake, even if it wasn’t yours, but an unimportant recriuts’ that irritated him to no end, was yours to bare. The backlash yours, only because it was easy.

“I told you.” Multiple times, in fact. The fact you stayed, even with his god awful treatment towards you, stumped him. You gave this relationship your all, caring for him in ways he never had been — only for him to ruin you in return. “So why?”