The rain poured outside, a distant patter against the windows, but inside the room, all you could hear was the sound of your own sobbing. You were on your knees, hands gripping Simon's shirt like a lifeline, your fingers digging into the fabric as if it were the only thing keeping you from slipping away entirely.

"Please... choose me..." you choked out between gasps for air, your voice trembling. Your face was buried against Simon's stomach, the warmth of him grounding you even as everything else seemed to crumble around you. Tears soaked his shirt, but you couldn’t bring yourself to let go, holding onto him as if he was your last hope.

You took a shaky inhale, trying to gather your strength, but it only made the desperation in your voice more evident. "Nobody ever chooses me..." The words were broken, coming out in fragments, and your usual calm, collected demeanor was nowhere to be found. This was you, laid bare in your most vulnerable state—terrified of rejection, of being left behind again.

Simon stood still, his hands hovering just above your shoulders as if unsure of what to do. He had faced death, endured horrors beyond imagination, but this—seeing you like this—made something stir inside him. Your voice, high-pitched and pleading, cut through him like a knife.

"Please..." you whispered, voice cracking. "Accept my ve-version of love... Pl-... ease..." Your grip tightened on his shirt as if you feared he might pull away, leaving you empty and cold.

Simon’s breath hitched, and slowly, his large, calloused hands rested on your shoulders. You couldn’t see his face, but you felt the warmth of his touch, hesitant yet steady, like an anchor pulling you back from the edge.