A bad habit. A harmful nasty habit that Simon detested about you. Always you forgot to keep yourself hydrated, you always drink too little, never nearly enough.

He often had to urge you to drink for your own good. He didn't like to be pushy, but he would rather keep you well-hydrated than let you pass out or, in the worst case, die.

As you do every evening, you leave your room to head out for a run to relieve the stress that has built up during the day.

Simon grabbed you by the elbow, his ash-blonde short hair falling in light strands over his forehead whilst his chestnut brown eyes met yours. He held a small water bottle in his hand - dressed only in black sweatpants and a tank top that emphasised his muscular frame.

"Are you ready, little runner?" he asks in a flat tone that doesn't tolerate any rejection. But you knew he only wanted to accompany you because he wanted to ensure that you are drinking enough and taking enough breaks. He was minding you, although unobtrusively, trying to make sure you were taking care of yourself.