Chapter Text
Five years later
“My life used to be so exciting,” Simon commented absently, picking at a loose thread on the couch beneath him. “Now it's so… mundane.”
“And that’s bad?” his therapist, Stephanie, asked while handing him a fidget cube that immediately piqued his interest.
“No, not at all,” he assures quickly. “It’s peaceful. Boring is good. I haven’t felt like this in a long time.”
“Felt like what?” she asks. Simon flips the switch several times, before moving to another side of the cube.
“This… genuinely happy. I was just surviving in the military and most of my life before that,” he admits. “I didn’t think I could genuinely enjoy my life this much. After everything, it sorta felt… hopeless, I guess. A lost cause. I was too broken. But now I have soup for dinner and teach boxing and go grocery shopping. I get to be just some guy.” Stephanie smiles and writes something down in her notebook.
“You’ve come a long way from the person you were when we met. I’m proud of you. And I’m happy for you. You deserve some peace after everything,” she says warmly, and Simon smiles in turn. He hasn’t worn a mask in quite some time, so Stephanie can see his crooked grin. “Well, Simon, I think that’s all the time we have for today. We might even be able to see about going to every other week, instead of weekly sessions. You’re doing good, you might not even need me soon.”
“Ah, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Simon chuckles as he stands, giving her a firm handshake, a gesture they equated with hugs long ago.
“You need to give yourself more credit. You haven’t had a flashback or a panic attack in weeks, you’re happy, we’ve worked through a lot. You did this. You got better, and you’ve shown that you know how to use healthy coping mechanisms whenever you need them,” she insists, eyes bright with pride. Simon’s eyes grow a little misty and he let’s out an awkward laugh, not knowing how to respond and show his appreciation for her.
“I guess I did do this, didn’t I?” he says. “Thank you. Email me and we can move it to every other week then.”
“Will do. Have a nice day, Simon. I’ll see you next time. Stay safe,” she says, walking him to the door of the office.
“See you next time,” he says, leaving the building and walking to the nearby bus stop. Once he arrived, he took a seat and pulled out his phone. As expected, he had messages from Johnny.
hey luv, can ye get me some rosemary and baby carrots from the store on yer way home ??????
forgot to get them on sunday. thx
Simon huffed with a smile and replied a quick affirmative as his bus pulled up. Johnny always forgot one or two ingredients from the grocery store, and Simon always went to fetch them for him. It was almost a routine at this point.
Simon boarded his bus and stopped at the grocery store, picking up the things he needed along with a couple extra snacks that they didn’t need and were definitely unhealthy but Simon had been retired from the military for five years now and he didn’t need to be perfectly in shape all the time. They could afford to eat some junk and lounge on the couch.
Finally, Simon got home to their little apartment, opening the door and putting the grocery bags on the counter. Johnny looked up from the couch and smiled and it looked like the sun.
“Hey Si! How was counseling?” he asks, standing to greet his husband with a warm kiss.
“Good. I’m gonna start going every other week from now on,” Simon relays, wrapping his arms around Johnny and swaying them gently.
“Nice! What will ye do with the free time?” Johnny asks, nosing gently at Simon’s jaw.
“Dunno. Guess we’ll find out.” They stand there for another minute or so, just drinking in each other's presence, before Simon speaks again.
“D’you ever think about how boring our life is?” he asks, before quickly adding, “In a good way, I mean.”
“I dunno, sometimes,” Johnny hums.
“No terrorists, no world crisis’, no missions. Just us. We just get to be people,” he says, unable to hold back his smile. “Never thought I’d have it so good. Before I was discharged, I thought for sure I’d either die on a mission or from suicide. But I was wrong. Life is good.”
“Yer gonna make me cry,” Johnny murmurs into the crook of Simon’s neck. “I’m glad ye survived. I’m glad ye got discharged, I’m glad we’re here.”
“Me too.”