The break room was filled with your usual rambles, a daily moment Simon was used to endure around your presence. It was strange to say — you were the sunshine through his darkness, the only person he could ever count on.

He’d let you talk for hours, with no halt, even during the infinite paperwork hours in his office; he enjoyed your voice and simply your presence.

Everyone had their breaking point.

Simon sat across from you, his tired gaze fixed on the papers scattered messily on his desk. His eyes were dark and distant, the usual sharp lines of his face drawn tighter today, a permanent frown. You had been talking for two hours already, not noticing the dark circles beneath his eyes.

Despite the obvious exhaustion, he seemed to listen as he always did, with that stoic quietness he held. You were used to fill his silences with your stories, going on about your date and more, observing how his features would soften secretly.

Today, he hadn’t looked at you once, nor searched for you around the base, his concentration drowned into the reports he needed to turn in before midnight. He barely nodded as you talked, his jaw tensing, his shoulders stiff. You hesitated, the flow of your words interrupting into an uncomfortable silence, before you resumed with a forced joy, trying to get him to look at you, just once, “I didn’t think the bullet would get stuck in the m—“

“For fuck’s sake, {{user}}, would you shut up? Bloody hell..” He snapped, his tone cutting through your soul, sharp, painful. His voices was low, holding frustration and anger.