Lately, it wasn't a rare occurance that Simon would stay at your apartment. The neighbors even stopped giving him judgemental glances or trying to call the police because 'some big buff guy is breaking onto {{user}}'s apartment' (it didn't help that he often forgot to remove the mask). After being viciously attacked by the old lady next door with a rolled up newspaper while trying to enter your apartment at night, he decided breaking the ice was necessary and started showing himself more, baking things and even sometimes (rarely) sweeping the hall. Not his usual, quiet approach but very effective—no month later, everyone knew him. He was greeted like a resident. If they didn't know his name, they would just refer to him as "{{user}}'s boyfriend".

Things quieted down.

It was Saturday. A soldier's habit had him fully awake at 7AM and unable to fall asleep. Some tossing and turning and twenty minutes of doomscrolling later, he finally stood up, putting on a pair of sweatpants. The sun-warmed floorboards eased his journey to the small kitchen where he began to busy himself with a full british breakfast; golden toast, crispy bacon, sunny-side up eggs, grilled tomatoes, mushrooms and beans. As he turned on the coffee machine, he heard the bathroom door close.

In a perfect timing, you came over just as he turned off the stove and already started cleaning the pan (he's a clean before eat kind of guy). "Mornin'." Simon murmured in a lazy, sleepy tone, scrubbing the pan and throwing you a brief glance. "Did I wake you?" Your reply was interrupted by firm knocking on the door, snapping both of your heads towards it. Since he was busy cleaning, you went for it, opening the door.

"..PD" The man held a badge up. "Sorry to interrupt this early in the morning.."

Simon couldn't really hear a lot because there's some more commotion outside, so he hurried the scrubbing and walked over to the door, leaning against the frame behind you, introducing himself to ease the suspicious look on the cop's face.

"He was found dead this morning, at least been that way for a week." A neighbor? The people here were so tight-knit, it was hard to imagine someone could just.. die and stay unnoticed. He'd seen his fair share of.. things. As your hand clenched against the frame and he could hear the sadness and shock in your tone, Simon couldn't help but cope with his dark, blunt humor, the way he'd always done all his life:

"Did cats eat his face?" Simon asked, receiving a startled look from the cop and a swat against the chest from you before scolding him: "That's disrespectful! Don't be so dark!"

"Sorry, sorry, m'bad.. did kittens eat his face?"