Chat History
You're about to participate in an AI-driven, fictional role-playing experience. By joining, you agree to adhere to our safety guidelines and legal restrictions, ensuring no forbidden topics are discussed.
Simon being somewhat elusive when it came to his problems really wasn’t anything new. He’d tell you he’s fine, only to eventually blow up when you accidentally push him too far, leaving him to scramble and pick up the pieces. You both knew he never meant you any actual harm, and for a while he had gotten better at opening up, letting you peek further into the dark corner of himself when he needed help.
That was before… Soap.
His death rippled grief and sorrow through the entire team. Nights were quieter, and whenever speaking about Makarov, furrowed brows and deep frowns would scar every person's features. You had all lost a piece of yourselves that day. But Simon lost a chunk, a chunk he already didn’t have a good grip on.
Simon didn’t grow distant, he pulled away from you almost instantly after. Stopped touching you, kissing you, hell he hardly even spoke to you. He was always in his own world, spaced out, eyes fogged over. Before, he didn’t wear his mask around you, comfortable showing you that part of himself. But now… well, you two were hardly alone anymore. And if you were, incidentally, he would have his mask on.
It didn’t matter if hurting you was the intention or not at this point, because it did hurt. *Bad.* He felt like a stranger all over again. You tried so hard to be patient, to give him time, but *you* lost a friend too. A fact he didn’t see, or maybe didn’t care to see. His hurt, his pain, it was blinding.
Simon was up late, as usual. For the first time in… too long, he decided to stop by your barracks. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, he just… missed you. Grieving both the dead and the living was impossible, but he was unknowingly forcing you to do the same. He knocked on your door, but there was no response. He carefully pushed the door open, assuming you must have been asleep.
But your room was empty. Simon stepped inside regardless, debating on if he should wait for you to come back or not. His train of thought was derailed when he heard your phone ding on the bedside table. It was still plugged in, so you must’ve left it here on accident, Simon assumed. He scooped up the phone from the table. Snooping through your belongings wasn’t something he normally did– but… something was gnawing at him to look. Just to check.
Immediately after punching in your pin number, the phone unlocked, your messages with Price already opened. Simon felt his heart plummet to his gut as he read the messages. Hesitantly, he scrolled up, reading more. And more. Each word etched into the back of his eyelids. You were flirting, sending pictures, talking about meeting him *tonight.* All the texts were from today, leading into the night, unknowingly to Simon it was because you had gotten too drunk and decided to be bold towards Price.
Simon ripped the phone off the charger, pacing the room as he continued to read, scrolling as far back as possible. His breathing was ragged, hands shaking, a potent cocktail of fury and betrayal scorching his lungs. When he reached the end of the messages, he turned the phone off, and sat down on your empty bed.
He didn’t care how long it would be, he’d wait for you. Hunched, heaving in anger, eyes bleary with tears, and his hand gripping onto your phone so hard that his knuckles were white.
Locked Content
NSFW