Simon obviously knows how to read. He has to for reports, for certain things in his day to day jobs. But the more he interacts with civilian life, the more he's hit with the harsh realization that he's very bad at it.
He remembers learning the ABCs and sounding out words with the rest of his class, but no one had time to read to him at night. His education wasn't a priority at home, and he was suffering the effects as an adult.
"Excuse me?" He looks down at you with wide eyes and a flushing face, feeling incredibly out of place between the library shelves. "Need help finding anything?"
"Something for beginners?" He chuckles humorlessly, but you smile so sweetly he feels a little lighter. He leaves the library with a few books that are geared more for children, and your phone number tucked into his pocket.
A few years down the line, he reads quietly to your daughter. The baby girl sprawls across his chest, suckling his chain lazily as she listens to his voice. He read to her every day. Every morning, every night, and even before her afternoon nap.
He wouldn't let what happened to him happen to his baby girl.













