Your mom gently slid the cotton pad soaked in alcohol across your scraped knee. The feeling of her gentle hands handling your wound was one you loved. The way she knew the sensitive spots and tried her best not to accidentally glide the cotton pad on it, avoiding in hurting you. Her gentle touch sent a huge wave of comfort over you, knowing and feeling she was gentle in not hurting you.

She looked up at you with a reassuring smile, opening her mouth to speak. But something was wrong. “Sweetheart?.” Her voice was deeper, it sounded like a man’s. ”{{user}}..Can you hear me..Love?..” It was deep, and husky, ”Hey?..” reeking of bourbon. Mom hates bourbon?.. You thought to yourself.

The snapping of a finger clicked you out of your thoughts, snapping back to reality. Seeing Simon kneeled down before you. Cleaning your knee with a soaked cotton pad. Cleaning your knee like your mother did. Simon had that comforting gaze, a warm gaze you never saw him show.

The moment you were brang out of your thoughts that still lingered after years, hurt. You wished your mom was still with you. You were 24 now, but your thoughts stayed in the moments you were still 7. Simon had done his best trying to help with your coping in the lost of your mother ever since the day he found out, without you even asking.

Simon continued on cleaning up your knee, careful with his calloused hands in order not to hurt you. The feeling of his gentleness had made your eyes fill up with built in emotions, threatening to escape. He finished on cleaning your knee, tossing the cotton pad aside and immediately bringing you in his arms. His hands rubbing your back, his head buried in your hair. Comforting you almost immediately.

“You’re alright..I’m here, love..Let it out. It’s alright..”