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The whole week have been fucking you up really good. Nothing seemed to be going according to your plans and it felt like the universe was constantly conspiring against you. Of course, at the start it was the small things – bad weather, occasional tripping and falling here and there, alarm not going off in time, but those small things started to build up and now you were on edge more than you would’ve liked to admit. It felt like you were about to break down the moment another minor inconvenience will make your day worse. Thankfully, weekend was ahead and in the evening your friend will be coming over to your flat for a little hangout that you had to schedule several weeks in advance because how busy both of you were. You had hoped that at least today wouldn’t be as bad as the rest of your week so you could get at least a short break from the misfortune that seemed to like following you these days.
However, the reality of the situation wasn’t exactly what you’d hoped for. The day was going well, but on your way back to your flat some random driver decided that your outfit lacked a unique touch, which was why your coat and boots were now all covered in dirty rain water and you were seconds away from having a mental breakdown right on the street. But at least you were almost home, so you’ll change out of the damp, dirty clothes pretty soon. A sudden worried thought formed in your head and you immediately started rummaging through your bag in attempts to find your keys. Only to come up with nothing. Left in another bag.
Well, that was the last straw. You feel your whole body start to shake, as you stomp towards your flat, hoping your roommate is not out and about, even though he rarely is. It felt like your already frayed nerves started straight up melting, overloaded and done with keeping it together this whole time. Everything was too much, and you had too little patience to deal with it. You could feel the pain shoot right through the joints of your finger as you pressed on the doorbell, holding it in place, as if urging your roommate on with noise will help him open the door faster.
Soon enough, the mountain of a man that your roommate is, opens your door. You see a hint of confusion on his face from the fact that you were relentlessly assaulting the doorbell instead of opening the door with your own keys, but he doesn’t say anything.
You push through him, angrily throw your dirty coat on the floor and toss the boots in the direction of the shoe rack, not even bothering putting them away, before you storm into the living room and collapse on the couch with an exasperated, spent sigh. Solace, at last. You barely hear the footsteps of Simon following you.
The flat looks clean, no doubt Simon decided to help while you were out and about, so that means you only have to make yourself look presentable. But you couldn’t even get up from the couch to freshen up, exhaustion overtaking you completely. You let out a heavy sigh as your head hits the pillows, seeking nothing but some sleep after a whole day of running errands that seemed to have no end to them.
“Are your feeling alright?” You hear a low, quiet voice of your roommate and open one of your eyes to look at him. You obviously weren’t alright and he was an unwilling witness to the past week of you getting your ass kicked by events that were out of your control. Simon tactfully decided not to comment on it though, occasionally checking in on you and trying to make it easier by helping out here and there. He wasn’t the talkative type, preferring to speak through his actions, and you respected that. You could say you grew on each other after all this time of living together, but it always felt like there was something…unspoken between you. Some line him and you were not ready (or rather afraid?) to cross.
“I’m…no, Simon. Not really. I’m not.” You let out a heavy sigh, which makes the weight on your shoulders feel almost crushing. If your eyes weren’t closed right now, you’d see him nodding thoughtfully to the sound of your voice, catching every word.
“Want me to help?”
“You really don’t have to…” You didn’t want to burden your roommate with your feelings, worries and sour mood. Simon never actually told you what he did for work specifically, but the fact that he’d disappear leaving only some utility money and a note, saying to call him in case of an emergency, just to return with a duffel bag and lack of any light in his eyes several months later was enough to add two and two together. This mountain of a man most likely had more than enough on his plate already, and a nagging voice in the back of your head “helpfully” suggested that he probably considered your very visible distress childish or ignorant, when he probably saw things that your nightmares would never even remotely replicate.
“It’s a yes or no question.” Simon’s tone was firm, but living with him for some time taught you it wasn’t him trying to intimidate you into agreeing. This gruff behavior was just how he was and he wasn’t going out of his way to be threatening.
“Yes.” You croak after a pregnant pause. That was all Simon needed to get to business, circling the flat with swift, but quiet steps, as he started to put away your things, watching over you from the corner of his eye. A few minutes passed and he approached you once again, still curled into yourself on the couch. You feel him gently shake you by the shoulder, trying to get your attention and pull you out of your sleepy daze. For a guy this big he sure has quite a light hand, huh?
“Sit up for me.” He murmurs close to you. You try to sit up straight but your muscles betray you soon after, making you slump to the side, putting your weight on the couch cushions that felt softer than silk at the moment. Simon didn’t seem to mind that, you feel the couch cushions dip under his weight right behind you. Despite the sleepiness, you hear almost every shift of fabric behind you and when you feel Simon’s fingers delicately brush against your hair you let out a soft sigh.
He’s gentle. Almost painfully so. Every stroke of his hands echoes not only in your wary head or tense shoulders, but in every cell of your body. Mild, but not in an underwhelming, disappointing way, reminding you of benign salt-filled waves licking up the sand from the sea shore.
You feel his fingers separate your hair in three parts methodically, every movement deliberately slow, gradually melting away at the solid tension locked inside your body, condensed within every muscle fiber and solidified into your sapped, utterly drained form. You wanted to say something, let Simon know at least in some way that you appreciated what he was doing for you, when there were so many things he could be doing, instead of taking care of his worn-out roommate.
His feather-light touches had your mind traveling somewhere you knew it was not supposed to. If Simon was willing to go to such lengths to comfort you, then what would he do if the two of you were more than just…cohabitants? The word didn’t feel right in your mind, unmistakably not doing justice to the strong, intimate bond that you shared without ever having to utter a word to have the feeling of a mutual understanding settle over the both of you.
“It’s alright, love. Everything’s going to be fine.” Simon’s voice is quiet and low, you can only compare it to the rumble of thunder, comforting in its rich sound with a barely discernable hum to it. Your chest feels much lighter with every second spent like that, beside him, taking care of you in such a small, but at the same time important way.
You could feel the warmth he was radiating, even through layers of clothes and exhaustion-induced haze slowly clouding your consciousness. Strange. Despite how cold and distant he seemed when you first met him, he turned out to be quite the opposite of what you expected him to be. Light touches of his fingers, warm and calloused (why are they so scarred? You didn’t see him without his clothes often, but when you did, admittedly, on accident, his body was littered with scars, resembling a map of a starry sky), lifted the weight off your shoulders with such ease, for a moment you considered him to be a wizard of some sorts. Well, he did have the weirdness for it, for sure. You dismissed the thought with a smile dancing on your lips. How childish. Simon is making you childish.
You catch your thoughts before you melt into a puddle at the mere thought of getting to know the man sitting right behind you closer. Him braiding your hair so tenderly and softly, like you were the most precious thing on Earth was enough…for now. It will satiate your affection-starved mind for many more months, you were sure of that. Until then, you will enjoy his presence from a distance… You feel Simon’s fingers finally get to the end of the braid, tying it together with a hair tie you didn’t even know where he took from.
“There you go. Better?” His voice is deep and soft, like he’s afraid to disturb the frail peace he managed to bring you. A thought dawns on you. Simon was intentionally braiding your hair very slowly.
Cheesy idiot.
“Better…”
You sit there, losing count to the minutes that have passed with you basking in each other’s presence, in the aftermath of this close, very personal moment. For the nth time you feel the urge to say something, break the silence with your voice and show Simon your earnest appreciation for his presence, his solace and everything he did for you. Your lips crack open for a moment, your head still lowered, eyes trained on your palms, nervously fidgeting fingers and your leg, slightly bouncing in one place from the tension. A couple of seconds passes and you find yourself unable to break this fragile, precious silence, when Simon’s palm finds its way back on your shoulder, blazing fire of his person drawing you in even deeper into the utmost infatuation with him.
You suck in a puff of air you didn’t know you needed. Maybe, next time. Next time you’ll tell him. Right.