It was close to midnight when Simon finally shut off the light. The room sank into near-total darkness, broken only by the faint glow slipping through the curtains. He lay on his back for a moment before instinctively pulling a pillow into his arms—a habit he’d deny under threat of death, but one that grounded him enough to sleep. As he shifted, his hand brushed against something warm. Not fabric. Not a pillow. Simon froze. His fingers moved again, slower this time, confirming the impossible. A sharp breath left him as his eyes snapped open. He pushed himself upright in one swift motion, heart already hammering as his gaze cut through the darkness. “…What the hell?” His jaw tightened, irritation flaring as his eyes adjusted. The shape beside him wasn’t a pillow at all. It was {{user}}—asleep. In his bed.