Stalker Simon saving you!
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The doors to the storage room were heavy, he knew you’d be close. He watched you run inside this dark place your face twisted up with fear.
Simon walks in slow, his phone ringing in his pocket. Slowly he pulls it out to see your name shining across his screen.
Nothing could matter more than this.
More than you right now.
You’re alone, and scared.
And calling for Simon.
Praying, Simon will pick up.
The ringing in the creepy room only adds to your torment.
You press your back into one of the storage crates you’re hiding behind.
Maybe Simon’s closer than you think.
You’re not sure why, but the thought tightens something in your gut.
Heavy footsteps break your train of thought, in a knee jerk reaction you curl up on yourself, pinching your eyes closed.
Your heart races in your chest.
Your phone tight in your hand.
You want to say something— to call out, but you can’t seem to move let alone speak.
This is where it ends. You’re sure whoever that’s been following you, caught you.
And no one is here to save you.
The ringing stops, making your eyes snap open.
Tears burn in your eyes, blurring your vision as you see your little life flash in your mind.
Everything you have done, everything you haven’t done.
More footsteps.. heavy.. slow.
Close— too close.
You gasp when a heavy hand brushes your shaking shoulder.
The man kneels down touching your knee, with a warm rough palm.
Your head turns up to see the last thing you think you’ll ever lay your eyes on.
But-
It’s just Simon.
“Easy there.. it’s me.”
Maybe it’s the adrenaline pumping through your veins, but you could’ve sworn he just cood at you.
Simon has never seen you so.. scared.
It does something to him he doesn’t want to admit.
His jaw tightens, staring at you with an unwavering gaze.
You swallow, hard. A mix of confusion and relief spreading through you.
“Simon?”
You all but mutter.
You reach forward for his jacket, your fingers curl into the soft leather.
Needing something to anchor onto.
He leans forward, like a magnet. Shielding you with a massive arm. You’re so close he hopes you can hear just how hard his heart is beating in his chest.
Like a damn bird in a cage.
You lean into him, like reflex. He smells different today, cleaner. Like a hospital.
Bleach-y.
He speaks again, the pad of his thumb collecting the tears under your eyes.
“Look at you, shaking like a leaf.”
He tilts your chin up, savoring the way his fingers feel against your soft face.
He whispers.
“Tell me whats wrong bird.”
Hoping this moment will never end.
You open your mouth to speak but honestly you feel like an idiot.
Here you are, crying and shaking and for what good reason?
You breathe out, steadying yourself.
“Someone.. someone was following me.”
You whisper, the tremble in your voice has Simon tensing.
He doesn’t question you further, instead he nods, brushing the tears that stream down your face away with a rough thumb.
His next words send a chill through you.
“Someone was. I took care of them.”
Your eyes widen on his. Everything playing back in your head.
With your brows knitting together words tumble from your lips.
“Simon— what does that mean?”
He stares back at you, dragging his thumb under your eye.
“Means they won’t be botherin’ you again.”
He pauses, studying you.
Before you can even find words to question him with, his big hand moves from your face to your arm, brushing against the cold skin there.
Silencing you.
His words should make you feel better.
They don’t.
But.
The tears in your eyes stop falling.
Again his thumb strokes slowly against your arm.
“Can I take you home?”
Simon doesn’t rush, just waits.
His gentle motions never stopping as you gather your thoughts.
Frozen like a deer in headlights.
The what ifs?
The maybes?
The could haves?
You freeze.
Nasty anxiety stirs in your stomach.
Before you know what you’re doing, your head is shaking side to side.
Slow like you’re unsure of the answer yourself.
“No.”
It’s small, barely there. But Simon doesn’t miss it. Nor the way your eyes dart away from his.
He doesn’t like it.
That’s when he offers, even lower.
“How about mine instead?”
You nod.
Behind his black surgical mask, Simon is sure to crinkle his eyes just enough for a smile to be seen.
Gently, Simon offers you his hand.
It’s big.
Scarred from things you’re not sure you want to know.
Calloused just right before knuckles meet fingers.
You don’t wait to take it.
His grip tightens on you, not painfully.
Never painfully.
Just enough to pull you up and close to him.
He wraps a protective arm around you as you two walk out of the store.
No items in hand.
Just your quietness and another victory for Simon.
He looks down at you, your distant gaze.
Quietly, he speaks to you as you walk.
“You’re alright. Safe now.”
You nod, barely registering the words.
The walk to his Chevy is short, at least you remember it to be.
He opens the passenger door for you, helping you climb in as he’s done before.
It’s soothing, the familiarity of it all.
The smell of his leather seats, the way his hand instinctively moves to the back of your headrest.
Close but not touching, like being near is all he needs.
You take a deep breath in, and out.
Looking up at the roof.
Calming your nerves as your hands clench open and closed.
Simon looks over at you with one hand on the steering wheel, a question in his eyes.
“You see who did it?”
You swallow hard, all the work you just did to calm your unwravels at the simple question.
You shake your head, not trusting your voice.
Simon sees this.
Watches how you stare at only one point, how your fingers clench around the fabric of your shirt.
Softly.
Gently, even.
“You’re safe with me.”
The words on his tongue feel like a lie.
A blatant one.
Simon is not the kind of man anyone is safe around.
But you?
You finally smile back at him, and nod like his words are fact.
His massive hand moves to your shoulder, slow, like if he moved too fast you might jump out your skin.
But you don’t.
Then, his thumb swipes against you.
Once, then twice.
It’s nice.
Comforting.
Your eyes close for just a moment, then Simons outside, opening your door like a true gentleman, offering his hand for you to get out.
Like routine, you take his hand and jump down.
Without a word you follow Simon in, he leads you to his apartment, his hand on your lower back the whole way.
Inside his apartment it’s clean, as you remember from last time. But now your eyes land on a pillow and blanket already folded onto the end of his couch.
Like it was waiting for you.
You look at Simon, he simply shrugs, nodding to the couch.
“Guess it’s a good thing I forgot to put ‘em away.”
You nod, seems understandable enough.
“Sit make yourself comfortable.”
Simon suggests, standing from the kitchen.
You almost move to follow him, but instead you land on the couch. More tired than you realize. Your hands drag down your face.
What a day it has been.
When you look back up, Simon is standing beside you. Bending to place a cup of tea in front of you.
Without question you reach to take it, with a single sip you realize it’s your favorite.
You must have mentioned it once, you think.
“Thank you.”
You breathe out, the ceramic cup warm in your hands. The aroma sweet but natural, blissful even.
Simon stays standing, looking almost awkward in his own home. He clears his throat, shoving his hands too aggressively in his back pockets as he takes a half step back to the kitchen behind him.
“You need to eat.”
It’s not a question.
You open your mouth to protest but the man is already gone.
Pots clink softly in the background, cabinet doors open and close. Before you know it, the smell is making your mouth water.
It was strangely domestic feeling.
Before you’re able to think too deeply, Simon returns with a bowl carefully balanced in big hands, steam rising from the top.
It’s your favorite.
Somehow.
But you don’t ever remember talking about it.
Not once.
Your eyes bounce from the beautiful meal in front of you to Simon.
“How did you know?”
You ask, your tone laced with suspicion.
He shrugs, like it’s not a big deal, silently asking to join you with a nod of his head.
You move, making room for him despite his unwillingness to answer you.
When he sits, the couch dips under his weight, sighing with an audible creak.
You look down at the bowl in your hands again, a soft genuine smile pulling at the corners of your lips despite weird coincidence.
You sigh, barely hearing yourself.
“Thank you Simon, really.”
Simon shifts, watching you all too closely as you bring the spoon to your lips, blowing on the steaming food before it slips between the soft muscles making Simon look away with a grunt.
Looking deadly at a spot in his white walls he asks, his voice low meant only for you.
“Who did you call first?”
It seems almost out of the blue. Simon, being curious.
“You.”
You answer without hesitation.
That’s when he sighs again, longer and deeper than before, like you’ve just taken something off his chest.
But the moment doesn’t last long, he turns facing you.
“Why?”
The question catches you off guard.
Because when your breaker box gave out on you, he was there.
When your pipes busted, he was there.
When your keys decided to grow legs and walk away, he’s the one to give you rides, to make sure you don’t walk alone.
It was clear to you.
“I trust you.”
Simon blinks. Your words settling over him like the waves against sand. Washing away the little drawings once etched into them, along with all his thoughts.
I trust you
I trust you
I trust you
Your words ring in his head like church bells.
He replays them over and over until nothing is left but you.
You look down at your half full bowl, taking another bite.
The scape of your spoon against the ceramic bowl is the only sound in the room until you look up to see Simon starting right back at you.
The whites of his eyes visible.
“Simon?”
His eyes flick, so slowly he moves in. Your breath catches at his proximity. But Simon feels like he can breathe again as he gently brushes away stray hairs from your face.
Trust.
You trust him.
“Sleep in my bed tonight.”
Your turn to him with your brows to your hairline.
“Excuse me?”
You breathe out, after all you’ve been through your heart can’t take any more of this.
“I’ll sleep on the couch, my bed is comfortable.”
His gaze hasn’t left yours, he’s not asking.
Somehow you find yourself nodding along to the idea, too tired to argue you tell yourself.
But, things are always safer with Simon.
You know this.
Once your bowl is empty, and your stomach is full, your eyelids are heavy and you can’t help but lean into the warmth at your side.
The TV drones on in the background but the only thing Simon is paying attention to is how perfectly you fit.
Fit beside him.
Fit in his life.
Fit his urges.
You were perfect.
And now he’s got you.
His strong arms snake under your legs, carefully carrying you to his bed, where he’s left special soft sheets like yours just for you tonight.
You barely stir as he tucks you in, completely vulnerable and unconscious in his presence.
He just can’t help himself, staring down at your peaceful form.
His hand twitches at his side.
He knows he shouldn’t. But he’s already gotten away with so much already.
Giving into temptation the back of Simon’s hand brushes against your cheek.
Slow.
Intimate.
Like he was memorizing the way your skin rises under his touch.
So warm.
A smile, one crooked appears on his lips.
His finger ghosting over the line of your jaw.
“Oh.. my stupid little bird.”
…
Simon slowly moves back to the living room after spending too long at your bedside.
The couch isn’t comfortable, digging into his back in plenty of places.
But it’s all worth it.
Worth it, he thinks as his finger brushes over his screen, showing off your pretty face all tear streaked and red with fear from earlier. A small huff of satisfaction leaves him as he saves the picture to a file only meant for you.
He looks back at the hallway where you sleep only a few feet away and sighs.
Placing his phone screen down on his chest.
You’re safe.
Laid in his bed.
Just where you’re meant to be.
Now… Simon wonders just how hard it’ll be to cage his little bird.