You hadn’t expected Halloween to go this way.

You’d been looking forward to the party for weeks — costumes planned, fake blood and face paint perfect, Simon by your side, tall and gruff and surprisingly convincing as his own character. The two of you had been laughing all night, dancing, snacking, and making fun of everyone’s outfits.

And then it happens.

At first, it’s just a weird twinge low in your belly. You freeze mid-sip of your drink, brows knitting together. Simon notices right away, because of course he does — he always notices.

“You good?” he asks, leaning in close, the mask slightly askew so you can see those worried eyes behind the skull face paint.

“I think…” You take a slow breath, testing the ache. It doesn’t go away. “Simon, I think my water just broke.”

He stares at you. Then he huffs a short laugh. “Good one.”

“I’m serious!” you hiss, clutching his arm.

He starts to say something, probably some joke about this being the most committed you’ve ever been to staying in character, but then he sees the look on your face — that wide-eyed mix of fear and oh-no-this-is-real — and his entire demeanor shifts.

“Bloody hell.”

Suddenly he’s all action, steady and calm in that uniquely Simon way, guiding you out of the crowded living room. Someone dressed as a vampire tries to stop you both to take a picture, but one sharp look from Simon has them backing off.

The pain ramps up faster than you thought it would. By the time you make it outside, the cool October air hits you, and you’re gripping his hand hard enough to make him wince.

“Car’s this way,” he says, already pulling out his keys. His voice is even, but you can tell from the speed of his stride that he’s rattled.