More neighbor Simon! <3
You’re getting so tired of your shitty apartment!
Sure- it’s yours but, there’s always so many problems, that never seem to end.
First it’s your light flickering, then your window that’s leaking when it rains, then your breaker box—
Which you’re more than glad your good neighbor Simon Riley stepped in to help you with.
If only you would call him now.
So many things are falling apart- the thought has crossed your mind more than once.
But you don’t want to bother the big guy!
You’re sure he has plenty of things to do, and friends to talk with.
But…
Your sink has been acting weird, barely dripping water when you turn the handles.
You make a decision. You’re old enough, you should know how to fix a silly sink!
You move to an old set of wrenches you let collect dust in your closet.
Swearing you’d never use them.
But alas, you need water from your sink.
Kneeling down with a wrench in hand, you feel like a true plumber.
You clamp your tool around the loose looking nut and turn.. and turn.. and turn some more when—
PSSSSSHHH—
Water hisses and sprays at you, like some kind of possessed sprinkler. Completely catching you off guard.
Freezing cold water soaks into your clothes, puddling around you.
What did you just do???
You thought you were turning it the right way!
Your hands come out in front of you, like you could push the water back into the pipe.
You jump up to your feet, leaving the kitchen to flood.
Your legs move under you, and before you know it you’re banging on your neighbor’s door like there’s no tomorrow.
….
—
Simon has kept himself busy.
After his retirement, who knew he would be learning so many hobbies!
All because of you.
First Electrician.
Then plumber.
Now friendly handyman!
Not to say his other abilities haven’t come in handy in this whole thing.
Lock picking.
Stealth.
Observation.
All skills he needed to get in and out of your apartment without leaving a trace of himself.
You crawled into Simon’s mind like termites in old wood.
Never leaving.
Your breaker box was just the hook.
The warm meal you so kindly handed him had him needing more than just a taste of your cooking.
A sweet thing like yourself shouldn’t be alone in a run-down apartment anyways.
He told you last time, if you needed anything— and he meant anything, to call him.
And still, his phone never rang.
Not even a text.
He called you about a week ago.
In a moment of weakness, and still it wasn’t enough.
Simon was getting impatient.
His leg would tap relentlessly.
Eyes searching for shadows that weren’t there.
He was going insane.
So he took it on himself to help you out.
In his way of course.
—
The first time he breaks in was just for a quick trip. A quick wiggle to your lock with a bobby pin had the door creeping open.
He needed to do something.
Something to get him back in your head, the same way you were in his.
He would simply unscrew a lightbulb from your fridge.
Something harmless.
Surely, you’ll come to him for that, no one likes searching for food in the dark.
Or so he thought.
The moment he stepped into your home the smell of you hit him square in the chest.
Something sweet, something utterly you.
He has to hold back a groan.
After stealing the small light from the fridge, with an easy twist to his fingers, his eyes land on your coffee bar. A small area near your kitchen.
Skimming through your items making sure not to touch a thing.
Mugs, so many mugs.
Some cute, some plain, others downright questionable.
He leaves quickly after, a a lightbulb and something a little heavier weighing down his pockets.
You never came around looking for a fix.
It drove him insane.
Don’t you need him?
A few days pass before he returns with a bobby pin, and a credit card in hand while you’re gone away at work.
But this time when he tries the handle…
The door opens for him without a hint of resistance.
Like it’s welcoming him.
“Stupid little bird.”
He mutters under his breath.
You didn’t even lock your door.
Now, what would you do without him?
Being stupid enough to leave your home wide open to creeps. Murderers. Thieves.
People like him.
You needed a man like Simon to protect you.
To keep you safe from yourself, of course.
He moves to your kitchen sink like a guest invited into your home.
His footsteps silent.
The cabinet doors creak open, exposing him to your perfectly fine, if not a little rusty, pipes.
With utmost concentration he tightens the water valve, checking to make sure your sink won’t flow all the way.
This will definitely make you need him.
While he’s here, he might as well take the time to look around.
Seeing all your things that make this place your home.
Your novels, trinkets, memories hung on the wall.
He notes it all.
…
Simon sits in his apartment, your coffee mug being held in his hand.
But he doesn’t drink.
He just holds it.
Like it belongs there.
He hears footsteps, quick. Panicked.
Then— the banging on his door.
Perfect.
Because, you’re here.
For him.
He rises from his recliner, slow, unhurried. Like he has all the time in the world.
Leaning in the doorway, mask already on. Your mug still in his hand.
You look up at Simon. He towers over you.
Your eyes flick to the mug then back up at him.
“Need something?”
His head tilts, watching you drip onto the floor.
You pause for a moment like you’re searching for the answer.
“Simon! My entire apartment is flooding!”
That’s not exactly what he was expecting..
but nonetheless, he holds back a chuckle at the panic in your eyes as he moves past you.
He stalks into your apartment that is conveniently a few steps away.
Taking a look inside he automatically sees the bigger problem you’ve created.
“Christ alive..”
He shakes his head disapprovingly, moving to the spot you once were.
Getting drenched in the process.
You stand there watching with wide eyes.
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t know who else to go to!”
You exclaim.
Your words settle warm and heavy in his chest. Feeding the exact thing that’s been gnawing at him for weeks.
You needed him.
“It’s a good thing m’ here then.”
With a creak of metal the spraying water stops.
“There.. how’s tha’?”
He questions, his masked face peeking out for a moment.
“That’s- that’s amazing thank you so much! God you’re soaked! Let me get you a towel!”
And with that your back turns, leaving Simon in your kitchen.
He stands slowly, watching you move deeper into your home until he can’t any more.
Then, he moves— making sure each step doesn’t make a sound.
His attention on the key dish that you leave beside your front door.
So welcoming.
With a few steps, his gloved fingers wrap around the thin metal. Sliding them into his pocket, with not even a sound.
You return with the towel and Simon is already in your doorway, arms crossed. Water dripping from his massive frame.
You move quicker, not wanting him to catch a chill.
“Here!”
You wrap the towel around his shoulders— it doesn’t meet the ends.
Despite the towel barely fitting him, he pats himself dry.
“Thank you.”
You repeat, your cheeks burning.
“God- I am so sorry—“
“Don’t.”
His voice is low, rough.
“It’s what m’here for.”
You nod quickly, and hurry yourself into the mess that is your kitchen to begin mopping.
Simon watches you for a beat longer.
His eyes dark and focused.
Stalking prey.
Stupid bird.
He leaves out your door without another word. The weight of your keys a good reminder in his pocket.
By the time he gets home, his grin is so wide his cheeks ache with it.
Thumbing the plastic to your fob the entire way to his recliner.
The best part..?
You don’t even notice.
Not the missing mug.
Not your keys.
Not the pair of panties he took weeks ago that still sit under his pillow.
And now? He can make sure you’re always safe.
Toying the tracking device he bought just for you between his fingers.
Your keys in the other hand.
Can’t have his stupid bird getting lost now, can he?