You and Simon always shared a burning hatred for each other. Insults, passive-aggressive comments, petty arguments.

One might think it to be tiring, but you knew better. It was excitement, packed in the disguise of disdain. An alluring game of who'll break first, of who'll hurt the other more.

And when Simon saw you trying to tie your corset, he couldn't help it. The words bubbled out, and his body inched closer to help tighten it until it hurt.

"Stop whining. You can take it," he taunts.