The drive is peaceful, filled with the sound of rain and the low volume of the radio. You turn the dial up when you recognize it's Rain by Sleep Token.

Simon's gaze flicks to you, his fist gripping the steering wheel. Your profile against the rain, soft lips singing so sweetly, eyes out the window. Your voice is like a siren calling to the thoughts in his heart.

"Fuckin’ hell," he mutters. He's already pulling off the road, finding a secluded spot and killing the engine. “Backseat, love."