Imagine Simon trying to impress you at your house party.
There were more people than Simon had been expecting. When he met you during community service, you had seemed a bit shy, quiet, a bit more like him than the others, so he had hope that you two might become friends. He hadnât been expecting your apartment to be full of people, including the others from service when you had invited him over for a âget togetherâ.
âHey, you made it!â You said, seeing him come through the door, and rushed over to give him a hug. Even that alone was enough for him to start to blush. You smiled and motioned towards the table where two coolers of drinks were. âAlcohol is in here, and non-alcoholic is in here. I like to cater to everyone. Have fun, yeah?â
Before he say anything, you had disappeared to go and talk to someone else, leaving him alone and uncomfortable as per usual. He reached for a beer, opened the top and started to drink to ease his nerves. An hour later, he was on the makeshift dance floor, somewhat enjoying himself, but always keeping an eye out for you. You were making a playlist on your phone and connected it to the speakers, better music starting to pour out of it now.
Simon started to dance, losing himself, but never losing you. He caught your eye and took a chance, motioning you over. You responded well, dancing your way over to him with a smile. He started to show off some of his moves, arms flailing, nearly hitting the others, until you slowed him down by putting your arms around his shoulders.
âNo need to go crazy,â You chuckled, kissing him on the cheek. âWe can take it slow.â
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Imagine your power being over weather and not being able to control it when fighting with Simon.
Simon turned away from you, which hurt you even more than it would have he had shouted. The silence was strong and you had to ruin it, you had to put a stop to it for it made the room feel so heavy you could barely breath. Humidity was filling the room, making sweat droplets start to form on your forehead.
âSimon, if you donât look at me right now, I swear to God-â You said, and then stopped yourself, waiting for his reaction. All that he did was take a couple of steps forward, away from you, and that was when the floodgates of your own mind opened up. Rather than crying, the ceiling above started to take on a new form. No more was there a solid foundation above you, Â but moving grey mists, forming into dark rainclouds.
Rain fell, ruining just about everything. The bed became soaking wet, Simonâs stereo died. The drops of water stung you like each cut as it hit your arms. At this reaction, Simon looked over his shoulder and then turned around, moving his wet hair out of his face.
âStop.â He said, simply. The rain slowed but it did not stop. You had already caused physical devastation. It was clear from the look in his eyes that you were causing it emotionally as well.
The English nights were long and often chilly, but on this particular night, you felt that it wasnât long enough, and you were warmer than you had ever been before. Your heart was pumping at an accelerated rate, the heated blood bringing a flush to your body, and sweat shone on your skin.
The sun was rising outside, creating pastel tones in the sky but neither you, nor Simon, could see it currently. You were in his underground apartment with no windows, and even if there had been - Simonâs face was between your thighs and you were in such a state of afterglow that all you could see was bright lights flashing from behind your eyelids.
After your body stopped trembling, Simon got up from the bed and grabbed a bottle of water from the bedstand table. As he took long drinks to replenish his energy after the rutting around you had done for hours, he looked at you with a smile subtly playing on the edges of his lips.
âItâs morning,â He said, simply. âDo you want to go out for breakfast?â
This was your first big project and you were quite worried about it. You were an artist who just got your first volunteer job and it was to paint a mural symbolizing unity and community. It was a job that very well should be paid, considering how big it was going to be, but the community center didnât have that much money to spare, and you wanted something bigger for your artwork portfolio. You double checked that you had all of your brushes, your paints, a sheet below to stop any paint from dripping on the floor, and all that you were waiting for was for one of the people doing community service to come and help you out. A man named Simon was supposed to come over and help you by cleaning your brushes and dipping them into paint for you so that you could focus entirely on the picture.
Simon Bellamy was looking forward to being away from the others for a little while. Nathan was especially exhausting to be around under the best of circumstances, but lately it had been even harder. It seemed that loneliness was rubbing itself in his face, and Nathan wasnât helping with the constant teasing and taunting. A little bit of quiet concentration, with maybe a bit of conversation with someone who wasnât a total arse would fill his afternoon if all went well.
He rounded the corner and saw you, but you did not see him yet. He saw you crouched on a sheet, paintbrush stirring a shade of blue that matched Simonâs own eyes, not that he would ever think anything artistic of himself. He paused in his tracks, his hands on his stomach as he was struck by a feeling that he only knew from books and movies. Being isolated most of the time, it was a feeling that he did not know first hand, but he had hoped that he always would. Being shy, he would never admit it out loud for what it was - love at first sight.
You finally saw him out of the corner of your eye and gave him a tentative smile. The parole officer insisted that he was one of the least explosive out of the people that they had in community service, and you could see that from his manner. He just looked quite shy, standing there. His hands were in front of his orange jumpsuit like he was trying to hide it. You couldnât blame him. Anyone could feel ashamed having to wear that thing around and be judged for it. âYou must be Simon?â
âYeah,â Simon said, finally stepping forward. He cursed himself internally for his awkwardness and as much as he would love the idea of turning invisible right now to hide from the embarrassment that he felt, it would raise too many questions that he was not comfortable with answering. He looked down at the ground and got in closer to you, examining the multitude of colors that were around you. âYouâre painting a mural?â
You nodded and beckoned him over a little bit closer. He seemed to be nervous by the aspect but you figured itâs because it seemed you didnât trust him. You werenât sure of what he had done to be here but it wouldnât hurt to show a little bit of kindness and compassion.
You explained to him the different brushes, and numbered them for him so that you could just call out a number and he would hand you a certain brush. You also lettered the paints so that he could dip them into the right color and all you would have to worry about was actually getting it onto the wall. You took this as seriously as if you were paid and it was something that Simon noticed.
Whenever you would look at him, he would be looking back. He had the instincts of a painter and he was watching what you were doing closely. You hardly even needed to ask him for the proper paintbrush anymore, he had it in his hands and was just waiting to be told exactly which shade should be dipped into. Youâve never had someone work with you on your art like this before but if everyone was like Simon, you might actually consider getting an assistant. But of course they wouldnât all be as quiet and studious as Simon was. He seemed the perfect fit.
A couple of hours later, you were finished most of what what you had wanted to complete but your eyes were starting to feel strained from attempting all of the detail. You got back onto your feet, and stretched a bit. Simon noticed how the shirt that you were wearing seemed to rise a bit and showed off smooth skin above where your jeans hung. His face instantly turned a shade of red and he turned off to the side so that you would not notice.
âI think thatâs good for today,â You said, pulling your shirt down when you noticed that it had risen a bit. âSo what are you supposed to do when youâre done here?â
âI guess I can just go home.â Simon said, his eyes looking towards one of the harsh, circular clocks that looked like it had come out of a prison. It was the sort of clock that seemed to never show the time that you were wishing for, going slow when you want it to go fast and going fast when you want it to go slow. âWhat about you?â His questioned seemed forced, like someone was in his voicebox, pushing out the words.
âAfter something like this ... the pub.â You laughed. âChips and beer, thatâs what my night is looking like.â
âMay I - Can I join you?â Simon asked. You smiled, and thought about it for only a second before coming to the conclusion.
âThat sounds a lot better than being alone.â You admitted.
The two of you did go to the pub, and you noticed that Simon was looking at you quite a bit. He was good company, he did put forth a couple of jokes but he ended up staying quiet most of the time. You had done most of the talking, about how you had gotten into art, how much it meant to you, how you enjoyed it and wanted to do it as a career while Simon listened carefully and nibbled on some of the chips you had bought to share.
The next day, you were back at the Community center, with your paints set up, waiting for Simon once more. He had noticed that you were waiting, but even after the night before, he felt shy to approach you. He hid around the corner, peeking around every couple of seconds to see if you were still there.
It wasnât you that prompted him to face up to his feelings and come to see you, it was the sound of Nathan causing a fuss and running up the hall. His heartbeat quickened with nerves of Nathan saying something stupid, humiliating or condescending in front of you, which was bound to happen the second that he would be meeting you.
He stepped out and into your view, desperately trying not to be seen by either of you, but you had caught sight of him and you had called his name. âMorning Simon!â You said, cheerfully. He had not heard his name be said in such a happy way in quite some time. It put a silly little smile on his face that even Nathan could not wipe off.
He gave you a good morning right back, and instantly went to work with handing you everything that you needed. He didnât pay any attention to what was actually being painted on the wall, but was much more distracted by you. Anytime that you accidentally smudged paint on your hand, arm or face - which was quite a bit - he was right there with a damp cloth to wipe it gently off of you.
You finished your painting, and it was muchly thanks to Simonâs help. You promised him that you would put in a good word with his parole officer, or at least attempt to do so. You still did not know what he had done to get into this place, but he did not seem like he belonged here at all. He was too shy and quiet and sweet to be a criminal. Not like the others that you have seen walking through the hallways of this place.
You lowered yourself back to the ground, and it felt good not to be standing on a ladder. You turned to Simon to get your brushes back so that you could clean them, but you found that he had already done that. And he had that damp cloth in his hand again. You watched his Adams apple bob as he swallowed, a sure sign of nervousness, and you suddenly grew nervous in retaliation.
He reached towards your face and he rubbed a smudge of blue paint that was on your cheek. He did so as gently as he possibly could so as not to irritate the skin. When he finally got it, he retreated like a little boy who had just done something wrong.
âThanks Simon,â You said, and laughed a little as you saw his hands. âItâs your turn.â You took hold of the damp cloth and wiped some of the paint that must have dripped from the brush to the top of his hand.
âDo you want to get another drink tonight?â He sputtered out. âLike a -â
âDate?â You finished the sentence for him. âI was planning on going home and taking a shower, but Iâd love to meet you at the pub afterwards.â
âOkay, yeah, great.â Simon said, taking the damp cloth from you once more so that he could dispose of it. âIâll see you later tonight then.â
âYou will.â You affirmed. He hadnât been all that hard to read as he wiped your cheek. You had seen a look in his eyes that you had not seen in a long time. Simon was not dangerous, he didnât belong here, but you were looking forward to listening to the story of how he had come to be here.
Simon wasnât used to using his powers when he wanted to be left alone, but right now, he was using them because he didnât want to be alone anymore. For the first time, he thought he found someone who could understand him, and in order to be sure, he wanted to be close to this person. To find out all about them, find common interests. It was easier to begin on a topic that he knew you liked rather than have awkward small-talk, and risk offending you.
He had been to your house twice before when you had invited him inside for a cup of tea. It always kept you sane after a long day at the Community Center, dealing with all of the people there like Nathan and Alisha who were two of the most disrespectful people you have ever met. He knew the front door, and he knew that you only locked it when you were alone, so he was able to slip in while you were carrying in your groceries from the car. He wished so much that he could help you, that you could show him where the apples were placed in their bowl or he could make you laugh by pretending that the baguette was a guitar.
He had noticed that a peach had gone rolling off of the counter, and was about to fall off. As it plummeted down, he caught it carefully, making sure that you had not seen it, and placed it right back where it had been when it had started rolling. It was extremely close to you, he had even felt your body heat as he put it back and then backed off a couple of steps. There was a creak in the kitchen that he had learned to avoid, and he narrowly missed it, making it to safety by the microwave.
You set about putting away the groceries without knowing the little things that were happening. Like how Simon had held open the fridge while you were putting things inside of it. You were used to fighting with it, bumping it occasionally to keep it open. You didnât notice that he would move the sugar slightly to the side so that the coffee can would fit perfectly in the spot, or that the salt and pepper was out of the way where otherwise you would have knocked it over with your elbow. Simon was learning a lot about you as well, such as your favorite foods, which would be good things to bring up in conversation.
He watched as you settled onto the couch, going through the different channels to find something to watch. You stopped it on the news and watched as th days tragedies were revealed to you. You were so enthralled with the stories that you didnât notice that Simon had slinked over and sunk into one side of the couch. His eyes were not on the television but on you, admiring the way that your haircut made your eyes stand out more, the way that your long eyelashes looked from a profile view, how your tongue would poke out from between your lips before you would open them to take in a breath.
Simonâs head leaned against the back of the couch, just watching. He touched the fabric of the couch that was next to you, just longing to be able to touch you but he couldnât. He wanted to just reveal himself right now and tell you that he had powers, that he could turn invisible, he wanted you to know all about him and to know about you in return but he was too far gone now. He realized how it seemed. It would be creepy if he revealed himself to you now.
The news ended, and he had not noticed that the moments had passed by. He had just been staring at you, and wondering what it would be like for her to know that you were sitting here. For you to cuddle up against him, to be able to put his head on your shoulder and close his eyes and feel you breathing.
A short time later, you were channel surfing, and came across the food network. Your stomach gurgled and Simon could hear it. It gave him an idea, if only he could wait a little longer. He was learning so much about you, it was giving him pure bliss and joy to be able to see you like this. The way that you were when there was no one else around. Sure, all you had done was put away the groceries and watch TV but Simon hadnât found that boring at all. He saw himself in that. He saw you being just as lonely as he felt every day.
Although he didnât ever want to break anything of yours, he had to in order for his plan to work. He went into the bathroom and knocked over the glass vase that held some fresh flowers. He noted what they were, and kept that information in his head for it would surely come in handy at some point.
The crash had captured your attention, and it would take up enough of your time and attention for Simon to sneak out of your house. He remembered that you had mentioned you liked a take out place that was around the block so he had gone there and put in his order and waited. He was impatient, tapping his feet against the ground, his eyes kept wandering to the direction of your house. Once the order was ready, he was practically running, avoiding the awful raindrops that often came with the English weather, and carried the bag to your door like your life depended on it.
Instead of sneaking in this time, he gathered himself and knocked on your door. You answered it with a band aid around your finger and he instantly felt bad. It had not been there before. You must have cut yourself on the vase that he had broken. âI um - I was in the area.â He said, feeling awkward now. âAnd I didnât feel like eating alone so...â
You invited him in, and you did notice how accustomed he seemed to feel to your apartment though he had only been in here once or twice before. You also noticed that he knew his way into the kitchen when he went to grab salt and pepper to add extra seasoning to the food. You stared at him as he made his way back to the table and held out a fork and knife to you. âYouâll be needing these,â He said.
âYes, I guess I will,â You laughed. âThank you, Simon. It was really nice of you to stop by.â
Simon grinned, and this time he did his best not to watch you. It was more special being around you when you knew he was there, and he noticed a lot of the same little habits, which he took as you being comfortable around him. âI saw on the news that there was a fire on the other side of town. Crazy stuff.â
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Imagine being the only one to notice Simonâs birthday, and giving him a homemade cupcake.
You were probably more nervous inside than you were outside. You were a bit frightened of rejection, or of making the wrong flavor or maybe he didnât like cupcakes. Maybe he didnât like birthdays! Both of these ideas might be preposterous to you, but you have heard of such people...
You hadnât heard from Simon that it was his birthday, but rather you had a chance to peek at his file when the parole officer was having you clean his office the day before. Knowing that his birthday was approaching, you wanted to do something to at least make up for how bad Nathan had been picking on him lately.
When you found him on his own, you werenât all that surprised. He seemed to be a withdrawn person under the best of circumstances, but with people like Alisha and Nathan around, it could be hard. You were rather  reserved yourself, but you gathered up your courage and approached him with the cupcake on a plastic plate, and a little smily face put on top of the icing.
âHappy birthday, Simon.â You said, nervously trying to get the plate into his hands. He did take it, and his usual confused expression turned into one of surprise, and even a little joy as he saw what you had done.
âThank you, y/n. I- Iâve never had anyone make cupcakes for me before.â Simon said, a rare smile on his face. He undid the festive wrapper, and took a big bite. It was nerve-wracking, but he seemed to like it and you calmed down as he ate the entire thing in almost a single bite.
Imagine falling asleep on Simonâs lap during community service hours.
Simon wasnât sure what to do. You had fallen asleep on him fifteen minutes ago. He had known that your head was propped up against his legs as you both took a break from sweeping leaves off the decrepit tennis court at the community center that hadnât been used in years. But he hadnât known that you were falling asleep. Not until you rolled over, fully using his lap as a pillow for your head now.
He couldnât get his arms comfortable folded up in front of his chest, so he decided to try something. Looking down at you, with such a fear of waking you up and making you uncomfortable, he started to get your hair out of your face, painstakingly going from strand to strand until your face was fully exposed to his blue eyes.
The sun on your bare skin is what woke you up, not his touches. You opened your eyes to be greeted by Simonâs curious gaze, a look that you had gotten used to. He seemed to always have it. âSorry, did I use you as a pillow?â You asked, stretching and sitting up. âDidnât get much sleep last night, sorry.â
âItâs okay.â Simon said, a bit quickly. âI donât mind at all. If you, I donât know, wanted to use it again, itâs okay.â
