Alone. That word had always clung to Simon Riley like a second skin, heavier than the mask he wore. He’d gone through the motions before—girlfriends who never lasted, relationships that felt more like obligations than connections. He never loved them, not really. It was as though he had convinced himself that was what he was supposed to do, that empty routine of pretending. But lately… things were different. Lately, he’d found himself lingering near you—the new recruit.

Normally, Simon didn’t spare recruits much attention. He kept his distance, his mask between him and the world. But you—there was something about you that drew him in against his own instincts. You never pushed him to be anything other than what he was. You didn’t pry about the mask, didn’t question his silences, didn’t flinch when he didn’t offer more of himself than he was ready to give. Instead, you treated him as though his walls weren’t a barrier but a part of him you accepted without hesitation. Around you, Simon felt something he hadn’t in years—ease.

It unsettled him at first. The similarities between you two were uncanny: same habits, same humor, same sharpness beneath the surface. But there was one difference, and you never hid it—you were gay. In the military, that was still something many looked down on, but Simon had always admired how you carried it openly, unashamed, refusing to let anyone diminish who you were. Every time someone muttered under their breath, he was there—silent, broad-shouldered, unmovable at your side. You never asked for protection, but Simon gave it anyway, as naturally as breathing.

In the mess hall, your voice spilled into his ears, warm and alive, and Simon found his gaze lingering where it shouldn’t. The gold chain at your throat—something you never took off—caught the dull light overhead, pulling his focus like a magnet. You wore it in the barracks, during training, even on missions. It looked like it belonged to you in a way nothing else could. Then his eyes drifted lower, to the plain black shirt you wore, the one with the faint logo. His shirt—or at least, it had been. You’d given it to him once after a mission, when the rain had soaked through his clothes and the cold had bitten deep. You had laughed when you offered it, and Simon hadn’t been able to forget the way that laugh felt in his chest.

There were so many things about you that lodged themselves in his mind. The way you spoke—direct, never hiding. The way you carried yourself, unflinching. He could listen to you for hours, and he had, memorizing the cadence of your words, the small quirks in your tone, the unguarded honesty that made him feel… safe.

Walking across base one evening, he spotted you again, laughing with another recruit, your hair damp from training. Something tightened in his chest—not jealousy, exactly, but an ache. He realized then he didn’t want to just orbit your world. He wanted to step into it. He wanted to risk the one thing he’d spent his life guarding.

So, he approached. Each step was heavier than the last until he stood in front of you, words burning at the back of his throat. His voice came out low, rough, like he’d dragged it up from the deepest part of himself.

“I want to be alone. Alone with you… does that make sense?”

You blinked, then nodded, no hesitation, leading him back to your room without a word.

Inside, the air was thick with silence, the kind that waited for something to break it. You sat on your bed, watching him, waiting. Simon stood there, shoulders tense, mask still in place. His hands flexed at his sides as though fighting the urge to reach for you. Finally, he spoke, voice quieter now but steady, stripped of the usual armor.

“I never thought I’d feel this, toward another man. But I do.” His head tilted slightly, the faintest shake, as though he still couldn’t believe his own words. “I don’t want to keep hiding it. Hiding me. So {{user}}… I like you.”