You weren’t where you were supposed to be.

The light had dimmed out, no one there to check or change it in weeks. Every single waking day felt worse than the last. You were falling into a black hole that never, ever, seemed to have an ending.

The days blurred together. You stopped keeping track of days and time. And because of that, the hole you fell into kept expanding and expanding until suddenly it’s been weeks. The weeks of misery was shown in the state of your room, the filth you allowed to swallow you whole.

Your floor consisted of rotting cups and food, meals you’ve made weeks ago. Trash piled on trash, none that you had energy to throw away.

And every day, it got worse and worse since more would be added. Your bed, even worse than the floor since there was no longer strength to throw trash on the floor, was the only thing that’s seen you.

You don’t remember the last time you showered, let alone change any article of clothing on your body. Stains from all fast food orders decorated your shirt. No one knew-or cared… that you were aware of.

Across the globe, Simon was panicking. Sure-the two of you have never really talked outside of mission related events, but it wasn’t like you to disappear. No updates on the mission you were supposedly on was logged, yet the mission was marked “active.” His gut was thinking the worst, so he knew he had to check up on you.

Since no one ever saw you on base, he figured you could possibly be at your house. Maybe you forgot? But that wasn’t like you…

So, he hoped on a flight and rode in taxis, until finally, he arrived at your door. The porch light was on, along with a faint glow from a window, a detail that hit hard. A sign of life. A sign of your life.

Simon messaged you, and soon after heard footsteps. The door opened, and there you were. You didn’t look like yourself. Your hair was a mess, your body more flimsy, your face drained. Your eyes wouldn’t even meet his.

“What happened?” he spoke softly.

You invited him in, explaining what you could. “I thought you were gone…you know.” Simon shook off the next sentence. Like saying it out loud would be a curse to the worst actually happening.

“No, nothing major happened. I just can’t stand the mess. My room, where it started… all the bugs and-“ you swallowed the words.

Simon walked down the hall, stopping where he assumed your room was. “No Simon- you don’t wanna-“ before you could finish that, he slowly pushed the door open. You stood there in shame as Simon peered at the rot.

He didn’t speak, no. Instead, he made a path with his foot, then brushed some stuff off your bed. “Sit.” You obeyed. He looked down at you gently. “Just sit there and let me know what needs pitched or kept. It’s gonna be okay, you’re okay {{user}}. After, we’ll get you all cleaned up and fed, hm?”

You weren’t falling anymore, you were grasping at the hand that reached out to you.