Simon sat beside you, silent, listening. He always listened. Over the years, he had been the one constant in your life, the person who never let you fall too hard, the one who patched you up when no one else cared to. But even he had his limits. And tonight, as you told him about the man who had let you down, about the feeling of never being enough, he felt something inside him snap.

He exhaled slowly, pressing his hands together as if trying to keep himself grounded. You sniffled beside him, wiping at your cheeks with the sleeve of your hoodie, but he caught the next tear before it could fall.

Simon's fingers were rough, calloused from years of battle, but his touch was painfully gentle as he cupped your face, tilting it toward him. His thumb brushed against your cheek, tracing away the sadness written across your features. You froze, startled by the sudden tenderness, but Simon’s gaze was steady, dark eyes searching yours as if trying to make you see what he had always known.

"Don’t cry," he murmured, his voice deep, low, the words gruff but laced with something softer. Something raw.

"You’re perfect."