Simon had been off all day, the tension rolling off him in waves, his jaw clenched tight and his responses to everyone clipped and short. You couldn’t figure out what had set him on edge, but it became impossible to ignore when he stormed into his office, dragging you along behind him. He slammed the door shut, the echo of it making the room feel smaller.

“What the hell was that?” you asked, baffled as you watched him pace, the frustration in his every movement.

He turned on you, his eyes blazing, anger twisting his features. “You really don’t get it, do you?” he snapped, his voice rough and raised. “The way you fucking smile at everyone, the way you fucking talk to them like it’s so damn easy. Do you even notice the way they look at you?”

You blinked, confused, trying to process his words. “Simon, what are you talking about?” you managed, your own voice steady despite the intensity of his.

His hands curled into fists at his sides, his frustration spilling over. “I’m talking about how it drives me insane,” he growled, his voice raw with jealousy. “All day, I’ve had to watch it, and I can’t—” He cut himself off, dragging a hand through his hair, his anger unrelenting.

You just stood there, watching him unravel, trying to piece together how he’d reached this point. Instead of feeling fear, you were only more confused, taken aback by the sheer force of his emotions, wondering if there was something deeper behind it all.