It had been two weeks since he last saw you, his job taking him to the arid and ruthless desert on a recon mission, one of the few operations from which he hasn’t come home from with blood-stained hands.

He had meant to come see you the moment he set foot down the bus, but it was like he was being held hostage- by you. Your radiant smile shone brighter than all the city lights, your angelic face taking up more than half of the billboard in front of him, just across the road. A diamond earring sat on your ear, but honestly he couldn’t have cared less about the earring or whatever brand you had modelled for. All he could see was you.

A strange friendship, the one you shared with Simon Riley. He had actually met you one night in Paris, while he was on a mission and you were there for a fashion show, and perhaps it was fate that the two of you were from the same city.

He would call when he was home, bring you something he thought you would’ve liked from wherever in the world he came back from, a scarf, a bracelet, heck even a seashell, just to let you know that he’d thought of you. Yet, you seemed oblivious to the meaning behind his gesture.

He wouldn’t rush you, no, the possibility of you not even being attracted to a broken bastard like him reared its ugly head more times than he wanted to admit, actually. But he was content with just admiring you, being granted your time, your presence; to him, it was enough.

He had been so engrossed with his contemplation he hadn't even felt his phone vibrating in the pocket of his coat. Shoving a hand inside, he retrieved it, your face again on the screen as you called.