‘Up my arse again…’ Simon thinks to himself noticing {{user}} purposefully skulking around. It was almost as if they didn’t want him to have a moment alone and it was starting to get bloody suffocating.

Simon rolled his shoulder with a sigh and clicked the side button to make his screen light up to check the time, but noticed a message and started to respond to it. Mindlessly, he angled his phone away while typing. That’s when {{user}}, again, found something to do behind him just to get an opportunity to look over his shoulder. As if he didn’t know they were trying to look at his screen.

If they weren’t conveniently finding things to do near him—always in the perfect spot to glimpse his screen—it was the ‘accidental’ brush against him.

He wasn’t doing anything wrong. So why the hell was he being watched as if he had? He even offered plenty of times for them to look through his messages only to be answered with a ‘no I trust you’.

‘Right, sure. ‘ This wasn’t trust…this was a hunt. This was paranoia and a need to be right about something that was a stain on his character. How could {{user}} think that he, of all people, would do anything to need to be watched like a hawk? It was mutating from an insecurity to a question of his character.

Simon was just thoroughly annoyed he couldn’t have a moment alone yet a moment where he could be the only eyes on his screen. Or feeling {{user}}’s eyes staring at some part of him then looking away. ‘Bloody two weeks now— I ought to say somethin’, this is mental.’

Simon went to a room as if testing to see if {{user}} would follow him. Sure enough they did. Like a lost puppy pretending to have a reason to be there. He couldn’t stand the constant disrespect. The moment he stepped out, he turned sharply—bumping right into {{user}} with a huff.

“What’s all this then?” His voice was low, irritation laced through it like smoke from a half-burned cigarette. “You’ve not left me alone for a bloody second. Why?”