summary: SIMON IS ATTRACTED TO YOUUU. And yes I was listening to Attracted to you by PinkPantheress while writing this!!!
warning: slight yearning I guesssss.
You notice him before he ever speaks to you, not because heās loud or trying to be seen, but because he isnāt.
Simon leaning against walls with his arms crossed, shoulders relaxed but never careless, skull mask hiding everything except his eyes. Those eyes always seem to find you, even when youāre not looking for him, even when you tell yourself it doesnāt mean anything.
At first, you think youāre imagining it. He never approaches you, never starts conversations, never gives you a reason to believe thereās something there. But he watches... Like heās making sure youāre still breathing. It makes your chest feel tight in a way you donāt understand, and you hate how aware of him youāve become, how every time he enters a room, you know without looking.
Itās late one night when you finally end up alone together. The rec room is quiet now, the TV still on but muted, casting soft light across the floor. Youāre sitting on the couch, legs tucked under you, pretending to scroll through your phone even though you havenāt actually read anything in minutes.
You can feel him there before you look up. Heās sitting across from you, elbows resting on his knees, his big frame somehow both relaxed and tense at the same time.
His eyes lift when he notices you looking at him, and for a moment neither of you says anything. It isnāt awkward. ike thereās something sitting between you that neither of you knows how to touch.
āYou always stay up this late?ā you ask finally, your voice softer than you meant it to be. He shrugs slightly. āSometimes.ā His voice is low, rough in that way that makes your stomach twist without permission. You nod like that answers anything, looking back down at your phone, but you can still feel him watching you.
āYou?ā he asks after a moment. You glance back up, surprised he spoke again. āYeah.ā you say. āCanāt really sleep.ā He hums quietly, like he understands more than he says. Like he always does.
After that night, it becomes a thing you donāt talk about. You start noticing him everywhere, or maybe he was always there and you just didnāt let yourself see it.
He stands a little closer than he does to others. He listens when you speak, even if youāre not talking to him. He notices things nobody else does.
One afternoon, you mention that the mess hall coffee tastes awful, and the next morning thereās a different cup waiting for you, still warm. You frown at it, confused, looking around the room until your eyes land on him. Heās leaning against the wall, arms crossed, already looking at you. You walk over slowly, holding the cup.
āDid you do this?ā you ask. He shrugs, looking away like it doesnāt matter. āYou said you didnāt like the other one.ā Your chest tightens. āYou didnāt have to.ā He glances back at you then, eyes steady. āI know.ā Thatās all he says, but it means everything and nothing at the same time.
You donāt know when it turns into this quiet thing between you, this invisible string pulling you toward him even when you try to stay away from him.
Sometimes you catch him staring at you like he forgot how to look away.
Sometimes you pretend you donāt notice, even though every part of you does. It scares you, how much space he takes up without touching you.
How much you think about him when he isnāt there.
One night, you find him sitting alone outside, the air cold enough. You hesitate before walking over, but he already knows youāre there. He always does.
āCanāt sleep?ā you ask softly. He shakes his head slightly. āNo.ā You sit beside him, not too close, but close enough to feel his presence.
The silence settles around you again, familiar now. Safe. āYou donāt talk much,ā you say after a while. He lets out a quiet breath that might almost be a laugh. āDonāt need to.ā You look at him.
āI donāt mind it,ā you admit. His eyes flick to you. āNo?ā You shake your head. āNo. Itāsā¦ nice.ā He looks at you for a long moment, and even behind the mask, you can feel the weight of it. āYouāre good to be around.ā he says quietly. Your heart stutters. You donāt know what to say to that, so you donāt say anything at all.
The realization comes slowly but all at once. Itās in the way he always finds you in a room.
The way he stands slightly closer than necessary. The way his eyes soften, just barely, when they land on you.
Itās in the way you look for him without meaning to. The way your chest feels lighter when heās near.
One night, youāre laughing at something Soap said and when you glance over, Simon is already looking at you. He doesnāt look away when you catch him. He doesnāt pretend. He just stays there, quiet in the only way he knows how.
You walk over without thinking, stopping in front of him. āYou stare a lot,ā you say softly. He tilts his head slightly.
āDo I?ā You nod. āWhy?ā Heās quiet for a moment, like heās choosing his words carefully. Like they matter.
āJust making sure youāre still there,ā he says. Your breath catches. āWhy wouldnāt I be?ā His eyes donāt leave yours. āThings disappear.ā Your chest aches at the way he says it.
You swallow, your voice barely above a whisper. āIām not going anywhere.ā He studies you like heās trying to memorize the truth of that. Like he wants to believe you, but heās afraid to.
He doesnāt touch you. Not yet. But he stands closer now, close enough that your shoulders almost brush. Close enough that you can feel the warmth of him beside you.
Itās terrifying how much you want him to stay there. How much you want him to want you. You donāt say it.
