Your boyfriend’s profession was more than demanding. It was like sharing him with some other woman, every deployment stole away another piece of Simon from you. The Lieutenant was attached to his status, the violence, and the momentary bliss of victory, almost as attached as he was to you.

However, you loved him, and a future with the man was something you ached for, even in the moments you passed amidst the lonely silence of your apartment. You felt like you’d finally fully won Simon over the instant he hesitantly agreed to a full commitment to you, to abandoning his position for the ability to gradually become more of a homebody, more of a partner than a Lieutenant.

The agreement left you cherishing every extra moment you could spend with him, showing him bits and pieces of your life he never had the time to notice, comforting him in his midnight panics, and the appreciation seemed to be reciprocated, until it wasn’t. Simon is out of the flat when you innocently open his battered laptop, the numerous tabs covering his screen leaving a hollow feeling in your chest. Work emails, files, professional messages, all considering his voluntary deployment. Him practically begging to be swept away by the demands of bloodshed, to leave the base he’d been working a 9-5 at and abandon you once again for the never-ending cycle of war.

The thud of the front door echoes through your apartment, the faint rustling of shopping bags echoing through the entryway as you sit on the couch, fingers resting distantly on the keyboard of his laptop.

“Hey, love, they didn’t have any-“ Simon trails off as he reaches the doorway to the living room, realisation dawning on him in mere seconds. A distinct sigh leaves your boyfriend’s lips, a rough hand scratching at the stubble of his jaw as he stares at you with resignation.

“Close that.”