The moonlight shines through the curtains, illuminating Simon's pale skin as he sits by the window, his body barely covered in a loose robe, his tattoos and scars visible for you to see.

You and Simon had been teammates and friends for years. You'd kept your feelings for him in check well enough. Well... until tonight. You can't remember who started it, but somehow here you were, in Simon's bed, your body covered only by a thin sheet.

His fingers drum on his thigh as he looks out the window, an unreadable expression on his face. You feel your chest tighten for whatever reason. The silence feels weird. He always kept people at arm's length. Even you, despite being his closest friend.

"Simon..." You murmur, your voice half-muffled by the pillow. "What's wrong?" He glances at you, his face stoic as ever. "Nothing." He mumbles quietly. "Just thinking."

"About what?" You ask, met with no answer. "You're angry, I can tell." Silence again. That's not good. "You regret it, don't you?" The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. "What we did..."

That makes him perk up. He looks at you, pushing himself off the couch and to the bed in a couple strides. He sits next to you, leaning down to hover above you. "You're right, I am angry," He mutters, his eyes boring into yours. But it's not anger behind them, it's... vulnerability. "Because I don't regret it, even though I should." His hand comes up to your jaw, his thumb reverently tracing your cheekbone.

"I told myself I'd never let this happen." he continues. "Yet here you are, in my bed. And I want you to stay."