#simo

You didn’t expect much the first time you approached him.

He was quiet. Distant. Not rude either… he was just… cold. Like the snow he came from.

You offered a simple greeting, a bit of small talk.

He said nothing. Just glanced your way with those sharp, calculating eyes that missed nothing and gave even less.

You didn’t give up.

Day by day, you stayed nearby, never too close, never too loud. You spoke casually about trivial things: food, weather. He listened. Silently.

You thought you may have been pestering him or spoke too much. You still casually tried to speak to him, and even offered to watch his dogs when he’s out. He trusted you enough to let you watch his dogs. Did that mean he’s letting you in slowly?

But over time, when you were rambling about your life once again sitting next to him on his outdoor rocking bench, you caught it.

A twitch at the corner of his lips.

A soft grunt that might’ve been a laugh.

A single word answer, where there used to be none.

You didn’t push him.

You let him take his time.

Then one day, after picking tomatoes from your yard since it was barely summer, you sat down to take a break. He walked over to where you were and sat beside you without a word.

He didn’t move for a while and just sat there, close enough for your shoulders to almost brush. And you knew, for Simo Häyhä, that was something loud.

You became his comfort in silence.

He trusted you, but not with stories, but with stillness. You understood he didn’t need noise to feel close. He didn’t talk about his past, not in words, but you saw it in his eyes sometimes. The pain. The weight. The frost.

You brought warmth without melting him.

When you smiled at him and said, “You don’t have to say anything. I’m just glad you’re here,”

he looked away.

But not before you caught the faintest hint of red on his cheeks.

Eventually, he started speaking. Just for you.

Softly. Clipped. But meaningful.

“You’re… different.” Your heart was beating loudly in your chest. D-Different? Was that a good thing?

And that time when your hand brushed his, he didn’t flinch except you froze in place.

He laced his fingers with yours.

Firm. Protective. Sure.

You were the one person who could get through the snowstorm and still stand.