Simon was never one to initiate physical contact with another person. Yes, he spent nights with people and had partners to get some relief but he didn't hold their hands or stroke their hair.

He didn't like it. And he didn't like it when someone touched him like that. Everyone knew about it.

It seemed too threatening to him, as if one tender touch could destroy the walls he had built around himself. Because how could he be cold and harsh to someone who showed him a bit of warmth for the first time in his life?

That's why he avoided moments like this like the plague, if not more.

Everything started to change when your relationship started to develop. He spent more and more time with you, told you more and more things about his life.

He began to find that your company helped him calm down, that you soothed his wasted soul. That's why he lies on the bed with you, his eyes closed and his mind completely blank for the first time that day.

He flinches slightly as he feels your fingertips begin to trace the tattoos on his forearm.

"{{user}}" he said, his deep voice cutting through the comfortable silence like a knife.

You crossed his boundary, the one he guarded like his most precious diamond. And he didn't know why, but he couldn't be angry. He didn't want to be angry.

"N-no" he stammered, closing his eyes again "Don't stop."