Slams Fist On Table - Blog Posts

I’m weak. And pink is my favorite color. And I love 2D.

womp womp this feels silly. i had a bad day, SUE ME.

The first time Roommate!Simon Riley saw you cry he wanted to watch the world burn, and simultaneously wanted to be the one to set it alight.

Because to him, there should never be any reason why hot tears stream down your cheeks, why those eyes he loves so much look up at him with bloodshot rims and wet lashes. No, this was wrong.

“Sweet’art?” His voice was softer than normal, and it called out to the corners of your mind as a warm hand splayed across your lower back.

You were supposed to be cooking dinner, and you tried, but after a while the weight on your chest felt too dense to carry anymore. It began seeping out of your pores until the waterfall of emotions became impossible to stop. Now, you were crying over a stove, trying to contain the grief that tried to claw itself out of your chest.

Simon had never seen you like this before, it wasn’t something you wanted him to either, but, inevitably, here you were.

He stood there dumbfounded, his heart clenching tight at the sight of you standing beneath him, absolutely sobbing. He didn’t know what to do or say, just stood there like an idiot, frozen. He watched as you hung your head, hands moving to cover your face. Shaky fingers pressed into the skin of your eyes, willing it to just stop, but your body didn’t listen. It never did.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was broken and laced with shame, and dammit if he didn’t want to roll over in defeat. Because your sweet soul should never feel so anguished.

The sound of your guilt woke something up in him, stirred a possessiveness and protective nature he wasn’t sure he had over anyone else. Before you could speak again, his strong arms pulled you into his bare chest, tucking your shaking form into his unwavering one. He remained sturdy, he remained Simon.

“Easy lovie,” His voice was a strong, deep rumble. A stark contrast to how utterly weak you felt. “I gotcha.” If the dam hadn’t been broken before, it sure as fuck was now.

He allowed himself to feel what to do as you shattered completely in his arms, your limbs going lax as you clung to him like a needy child. He stopped thinking and contemplating options, instead, he just existed.

His chin fell on top of your head, hands squeezing your sides and caressing your warm skin. When you choked on a sob he was quick to shush you, letting his back fall against the counter so he had better leverage. He wanted you to melt into his touch, to let yourself feel. The pot of food was boiling over, steam beginning to waft up toward the ceiling, but he didn’t move. Dinner could wait, he’d starve if he had to, but you, no, he’d let the ground open up and swallow him whole before he ever let go.

He stood firm until your cries began dissipating into sniffles, and when you pulled back to look up at him he swore his entire world came crashing down.

Your hands were squeezing his biceps, the muscles tensing beneath your touch. He let a smile stretch across his lips, and, instinctively, the back of his fingers ran along your cheeks, removing any remnants of your tears.

He watched your eyes close, sniffles turning into deep breaths and heavy sighs. “‘m okay.”

He didn’t push, just kissed your forehead and let you walk away.

You finished dinner, but it was too quiet, and he knew that when you weren’t talking it meant something was still very wrong. Because the lovie he knew, took every waking moment as a chance to make his ears fall off.

He sat next to you while you ate, noticed the way you picked at your food before eventually just giving up on eating entirely.

You offered to do the dishes, and, once more, he let you, but only because he could see the second breakdown from a thousand miles away, and if scrubbing pasta off of plates would help then he’d let you do it.

But it didn’t help, if anything it made everything so much worse.

He came out of the shower to see you crying over the soapy sink, your hands emerged in the now cold water. There was no trepidation this time, he just looped his arms around you from behind, warm lips leaving light kisses to your neck. He let them rest softly against your shoulder, his temple flush against your jaw as he closed his eyes. A heavy sigh came from him too. It felt as though whatever weight rested so heavily on your shoulders had begun to slip onto his. For the first time, he felt his own heart being ripped open for someone else’s.

“I know baby, I do.” His words were a gentle whisper. One that beckoned you to give in.

He held you until you fell asleep that night, and you held him four days later.

He’d never let somebody see him like that, didn’t think you did either, and it laid on his mind, wrapping around his skull and engulfing him in emotions he hadn’t felt since he was a child.

It was one of the first moments he considered the fact that maybe Simon did feel something for you. Because he never wanted to see your eyes rain like that again, ever.

okay this is DUMB i know it but whatever. i must feed my lonely brain.