Work Text:
The lights were on when you pulled into your driveway.
You lived alone.
Or at least, you were trying to.
After turning the engine off, your body remained seated, drained by the workday. Maybe you could stay like this. If you closed your eyes and relaxed a little, you’d probably fall asleep in minutes - no, seconds - and you wouldn’t have to face what was waiting for you inside.
Yeah, sleeping in your goddamn car when your house was right there.
As exhausted as you were, as much as you wanted to recline the seat and pass out, you weren’t letting yourself go that far just yet. You had to reclaim your territory, if only for the sake of sleeping in your own bed. Gradually, you forced yourself to get out and head for the front door, not bothering to keep your keys ready when you knew it was unlocked.
You indulged in a sigh before opening it.
Immediately the smell of cooking hit you like a wave, and before you could stop yourself your nose tried to identify the dish. Something new? Although you cursed your eagerness, the surprise scent helped you wake up a bit. Whatever it was, it was sure to be fancy and way over your head. While you closed the door behind you footsteps came from the kitchen as Simon approached the dining table with a covered pot in his oven-mitted hands, placing it carefully on a pot holder in the center. The rest of the table had been set up with bowls, cups, and silverware for two people to sit across from each other, everything perfectly spaced the way only an android would bother doing.
Once he noticed you, Simon’s face lit up with a smile. “Just in time! Tonight’s already perfect,” he said, taking off his mitts and pulling out a chair for you. “Don’t worry, you don’t need to help. Everything’s ready.”
You stared at him blankly.
“Bad day?” he asked. His smile lingered, though softer now, more sympathetic as he came up to you and pulled you into a one-sided hug, leaving a peck on your lips before taking your hand and attempting to guide you toward the table. “We can talk about it over dinner. Maybe you’ll feel better after you eat.”
Unmoving, you finally spoke up. “You can’t keep doing this.”
He chuckled. “We’ve been over this. I’m doing it out of my own free will. I like cooking for you, I promise.”
“I got new locks,” you continued. “Expensive locks. How did you even get in?”
Simon paused at that, letting go of your hand, but your relief didn’t last when he wrapped his arms around you again, this time loosely enough to gaze lovingly at your face. “The important thing is that we’re home. Both of us.”
“We broke up weeks ago,” you said. “Can’t you give it up already? I could call the police, you know.”
“But you haven’t,” he stated, still sweet as ever.
The silence floated heavily in the air, almost thick enough to make you open a window. Or perhaps it was the aroma surrounding you, more like a trap than an invitation now that you weren’t in the doorway anymore. Perhaps it was his arms around you, a trap-
“Come on,” he said, separating from you to make his way to the table. “Food’s getting cold.”
You were wrong. His words were the trap. The police didn’t know about these surprise visits, but only because it didn’t seem necessary yet. Calling Markus, the only other person he really listened to, was an option - if you wanted to distract someone important with your petty relationship problems. Even if that wasn’t an issue, out of the respect you had left for Simon you wanted to give him a chance to do the right thing on his own, but he only repeated this pattern.
You couldn’t keep waiting for him to understand.
“This is the last time,” you said, joining him and taking your seat while he remained standing. “If you come back again I’ll really do something about it. I’m serious. We can’t go on like this forever.” On a different day, on a better day, you’d have the energy to properly deal with him. Your workload seemed more hellish than usual today, and you still weren’t used to not having Simon around to take care of things. Normally he made most of your meals, cleaned the house, and ran errands so that you could focus on work - and him. Now though, everything was up to you. Each area of your life suffered for it, which only added to your stress.
Simon grabbed onto the lid of the pot. “You’re right,” he said. “We can’t do this forever.”
You barely had time to process his unexpected compliance before he removed it, releasing a rising cloud of steam and scooping into the pot with a ladle, filling only your bowl with…
Beef stew?
“Which is why I’m staying tonight,” he said, beaming as he sat across from you with his empty dish.
His statement ripped your attention away from the food. “Wait, what?”
“Beef stew. Well, with some extra additions for flavor. You said you wanted me to try something simple, remember? Though I couldn’t help myself from- Oh, but be careful. It’s hot.”
“No, I mean-” You held a hand to your temple. “I told you already, we broke up. After what you did-”
“I could blow on it for you, if you’d like. Better yet, let me just…” He stood up and reached over for your spoon.
You snatched it away before he got to it. “You’re not staying.”
Simon let his arm hang in the air for a quiet moment, and it occurred to you that he wouldn’t have let you sleep in the car anyway. Eventually, slowly, he sat back down, a hint of a frown taking shape. “I’ve given you space these past few weeks, just like you asked. Hasn’t it been long enough?”
“When I asked for space I meant permanently,” you told him. “And you’re still coming here every few days, so it’s not like I got it.”
Oh no. You knew that look - you used to always give in and hold him when he seemed so dejected, and even now his face, his posture, it still managed to tug at your heartstrings despite knowing what he was capable of. Simon had this way of making himself small. Instead of exploding into rage or tears, he held himself in, breaking from the inside. Over the course of your relationship he gained some confidence, but once in a while he looked like the Simon you first met. The Simon who latched onto you like a lifeline. “That’s the most I can hold myself back,” he said. “I just miss you so much.”
Unable to look any longer, you fixated on your plate. “I know your feelings are strong, but that’s not an excuse to just do what you want.”
No response. Glancing up, you noticed his expression hadn’t changed, but you couldn’t let it weaken your resolve. He wanted this to end, and so did you.
You had to make sure he wouldn’t come back again.
Hesitant now, you chose your words with caution, fighting through the mental haze of fatigue. That resolve of yours stood no chance if you couldn’t lighten his mood. “I’m just not someone who can match your… Enthusiasm. Maybe someone else will be able to appreciate you more, someone lonely who would be grateful for you.” You weren’t just saying that. When the two of you first started dating you didn’t believe anyone could be so attentive, affectionate, and devoted without hidden motives, and it took time to trust him. Once you did though, you didn’t even mind the clinginess. In fact, you indulged it, assuming it would fade as he grew more self-assured.
“That used to be you,” he said. “That’s still you. I know you still love me-”
“Simon-”
“You’re just scared. I know I can go a bit overboard, but it’s only because I have so much love to give you. And I know you love me too. If you didn’t, then you would’ve had no problem getting someone involved, or doing anything more than locking the door. You know by now I’ll just come back.”
“That’s not…” Thinking it over, you came to a halt.
Out of the respect you had left for him? Was that really why you let this go on for so long?
You banished the thought. “Even if that’s true - and I’m not saying it is - you crossed a line. There’s a reason I ended things, and don’t pretend you don’t know why.” It wasn’t his endless attempts at convincing you to find remote work, or his insistence that you spend your nights in rather than go out with friends, or even the constant need for your attention as soon as you got home each day, all of which worsened with his newfound assertiveness. None of these came close to what he did.
His eyes went to your bowl. “It’s a good thing I came here today. You must’ve been hungry. How is it? Is it good?”
You looked down, surprised to see your bowl already half empty. When did that happen? You didn’t mean to eat this fast, but it was too easy after a long, difficult day without a lunch break. “It’s fine,” you answered. Switching the subject wasn’t unusual for him, but he used to do it with more subtlety, although despite his new boldness some things never changed. Why did he always ask if his cooking was good? Simon was built to be a domestic assistant android, of course it was good. Perfect, actually. You never answered any other way. Why did it matter to him for you to say the obvious out loud?
Remembering your goal, you pushed the bowl away, and you didn’t miss how Simon’s expression fell once more. Suddenly you remembered the importance of obvious questions. Despite your instinct to reassure him like you used to, you addressed him as demandingly as you were capable of, an impressive feat while seeing that face. “Tell me why I broke up with you.”
“What? Don’t you know? Didn’t you just say you had a reason?”
“I do, but I need to know that you know. I need to make sure you understand.” Too much refusal or tolerance wouldn’t help - you needed to engage him. You glared at him, or at least, you hoped it came off as a glare. “Tell me what happened that night.”
Simon stayed silent for a while.
When he spoke again he sounded like a nervous witness being interviewed by a detective. “You came home from work looking like you had cried, and you were trying to hide it. I wanted to comfort you but you pushed me away acting like nothing happened. I didn’t give up though.” Hands under the table, his arms shifted slightly, and you wondered if it was his anxious fidgeting. “Eventually you told me someone at work had been bothering you but that you handled it. You wouldn’t tell me who it was, but I knew.”
Reminded of your mistake, you cringed. Why didn’t you keep your mouth shut? As conflict-avoidant as Simon could be he wasn’t stupid. You used to tell him everything.
“I wasn’t going to do anything,” he continued. “Not at first, but you seemed so sad, and… I’m always here for you, but for a while I’ve been feeling like that’s not enough. If I could do something instead of waiting for you to let me pick up the pieces-” He collected himself. “You went to bed, and while you were asleep I… Took care of things. I helped.”
Already knowing the answer, you asked, “What did you do?”
Another long pause, one he ended with a forced laugh. “Does it matter? Everything worked out in the end. No harm done-”
You slammed your hand on the table. “You broke into his house and threatened him!”
“It was a warning, not a threat-”
“A warning that makes people move to a different state in less than a week? What the fuck did you even say to him?”
“Language.”
“I didn’t even tell you why I was crying, you just went ahead and did whatever you wanted behind my back, and since then you never stopped doing whatever you wanted-”
“Wait.” His tone became serious. “You lied to me?”
The strength of anger left your body when you heard his voice. Shattering his perfect image of you - no, of your relationship - should’ve been an accomplishment, but something inside of you couldn’t help but cower at being on the receiving end of his resentment for the first time. Still, even though Simon threatened your coworker, the idea of him actually hurting anyone, especially you, was almost comical, this android who made you feel as if you had your very own housewife. You didn’t do anything wrong anyway. “I didn’t lie, I just didn’t give you any details. He was bothering me, that was true. He made me cry.”
Getting up from his seat, Simon walked toward yours, and despite yourself, despite how absurd the thought was, you almost backed away. However, instead of giving you a reason to do so, he got down on his knees beside your chair and took one of your hands in both of his, bringing it close to his chest.
“What did he do to you?” Simon asked.
Fuck. How did he turn this around on you? Simon was the one being accused, not your coworker, but it would’ve been easy to believe in his innocence with the way he looked up at you, the way he held your hand so-
You needed to be strong. When you took your arm back Simon didn’t resist, but for a second he contemplated the empty space in his hands.
“I was crying,” you said, “because he tried to convince me to leave you.” After you finally acknowledged Simon’s increasingly pushy behavior you needed an outside perspective.
“What?” Breaking eye contact, he lost himself in thought. “So that’s why you… I get it now.”
“No, you don’t.”
Simon looked back at you.
“I was still going to stay with you until I found out about what you did that night. That’s when I realized everything he told me about our relationship was true. It wasn’t his fault I broke up with you. It was yours.”
If you had struck him across the face his expression would’ve been the same as it was right now: wide-eyed, confused, pained.
Ignoring it as best as you could, you kept going. “I excused everything you did before, but breaking into someone’s house in the middle of the night to threaten them? And now this?” You gestured to the contents of the table. “Now my house? I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t good enough, but this isn’t how to go about it. You’re acting like a criminal. You need to leave me alone and figure yourself out. Don’t come back here anymore.”
After the shock faded, Simon bowed his head to stare down at the floor, unresponsive.
With nothing else to say, with no more emotions to distract you from your body, the exhaustion set in again, and you wished you could’ve seen his face to guess what he was thinking. Hopefully he wasn’t crying. If so, that might’ve been the one thing he could’ve done to make you give in. Simon had never cried in front of you before but he wasn’t always this brazen either. How did things get so out of hand? He used to be so compliant, so willing to handle the little things and let you take the lead - or was that how he controlled you all along? Even now you wanted to reach out to him. You could’ve held his hand like he held yours moments ago, or ran your fingers through his hair, or gotten down on your own knees to pull him into an embrace. You wanted to.
But before your walls had a chance to crumble he looked up at you again, stern and determined.
“Prove it.”
It took you a moment to comprehend. “What?”
“Prove that you want me to leave, that you don’t love me anymore. Convince me. If you can, I’ll go.”
“That’s-” Stopping yourself, you shook your head. “No! I’m not playing this game. I don’t need proof, no one does.”
“What did he say to you?” Simon asked. “If it was enough to change your mind then maybe it’ll work on me.” Like before, he grabbed your hand, only this time he gripped it tight. “Tell me.”
You tried to pull away. “Let go-”
“He probably wanted you for himself. Why else would he get involved like that?”
“Stop, just stop-”
After another attempt to free yourself, Simon stood up, looming over you as he took hold of your other hand as well. “I’m not going to stop. I’m not going to stop coming back until you actually call the cops. Until you can actually say I don’t love you.”
You quit struggling.
“And what if I do love you?” you asked.
His eyes went wide, forgetting his bitterness for a moment, but before he could respond you kept talking.
“What if I love you and still think we shouldn’t be together?”
Irritated again, he furrowed his brows. “That’s ridiculous. If we love each other then we can work things out. You don’t have to do this. You’re just doing what someone else told you to.” He squeezed your hands. “But what do you really want?”
As Simon waited for your answer his question echoed in your mind.
What do you really want?
Was he going to listen to you now? After all of this, was he finally waiting to hear what you had to say, to truly hear you? If so, then your next words could reach him for good. However, the more you tried to piece your ideas together, the less sure you became.
What did you want?
Simon stared down at you now, focused, almost hungry. A sharp awareness glinted in his eyes while yours likely looked glazed over, ready to close for the night. What had he become? More importantly, what had you become? Whoever was standing in front of you right now, you knew you weren’t supposed to forgive him. You knew what you should’ve done, what anyone better than you would’ve done already. If you didn’t take action he’d never let you go.
So why couldn’t you commit?
Sure, it would’ve been nice to have help around the house again, but that wasn’t why you couldn’t speak right now. There was always more to him. He offered everything you ever needed - a hug, a meal, someone to come home to, someone to ask if you were okay, someone who would protect you, who would never leave - all in exchange for one thing: your freedom. How could you decide? Yes and no were simple answers, I want you gone and I want you to stay were clear and final, but one was a lie and the other was…
“Simon,” you said.
“Yes?”
You took a deep breath.
Rising from your seat, you smiled at him as he still clung to your hands. “Thank you for dinner, but I think I’ll go to bed early. Can you save the rest for me? I’ll bring it for lunch tomorrow.”
His mouth hung open until he could force out stilted sentences. “Of- Of course. I can do that.”
Stunned, he unconsciously loosened his grip, letting you slide your hands out and start heading to your room. “You can have the couch.”
“Does this mean you want to be together?” He followed you, catching up. “We can go back to how things were?”
“It means I’m tired,” you said as you walked. “I had a long day and I’m going to have to get up for work in the morning. I’m not losing sleep over this.”
“I thought- You said-” You could almost hear the gears turning in his android brain. “Is this some kind of trick?”
“Just because you aren’t capable of sleep doesn’t mean it’s a trick.”
He stopped you with a hand on your shoulder, holding you back. “Just tell me what’s going on. What does this mean for us?”
You stood still.
Why did he have to come here today, of all days?
All you wanted right now was to let someone take care of you again.
“Good night, Simon.”