He lay sleeping in bed, sheet draped across his hips. The creaking of his bedroom door reached his ears, but he didn't move.

You crept toward him, the raging storm sending you seeking out safety and comfort. He was asleep. You reached out to touch his shoulder, hoping to wake him.

Simon suddenly sat up, his hand wrapping around your throat. He rolled over, slamming you down onto his mattress, fingers squeezing.

The light clicked on, and he stared down at your small frame, dressed in a white, ruffled tanktop with blue polkadots, riding up your pale stomach, matching ruffle shorts. He released you. "Goddammit, {{user}}," he snapped. "What the fuck are you doing? I could have killed you!"