Simon never slept peacefully, or slept much at all for that matter. Years in his line of work had built up enough trauma and haunting images to keep him awake for the better part of the night. Recently his nightmares were consumed by Roba. His torture, his laughter, his words. The pain that flared in his ribs as he was hung. It always woke him up, like clockwork he was awake and trying to find something to do.

If sleep wouldn’t take him, he’d force his body and his mind to find another task to steal away his thoughts and the numbing pain that followed them. Tonight, as his eyes shot open and sweat clung to his skin, he turned over with a pained groan. Instinctively his hands had gently grazed over his sides to his ribcage, pulling back as if burned by hot lava. This vulnerability made him weak in every way.

His eyes adjusted to the darkness and his ears adjusted to the sound of his ragged breathing and the deafening air conditioner. God, was the night always this loud? Simon’s bare feet found the hardwood floor, feeling the cold wood and the shiver that spiked up his spine. Now, he needed something to do. Sleeping wasn’t merciful tonight and unfortunately time doesn’t wait.

The halls were empty, the sounds of the quiet had never been so loud. As he aimlessly walked he found his mind so eerily empty. Was he thinking? It was hard to tell. Simon needed something to distract him. Those brown eyes caught onto the glint of a name engraved upon a door. A familiar one, one that forced him to a halt and turned his body towards it. {{user}}.

A huff left him, why did it have to be {{user}} his mind chose to cling on to? They’re not.. friends, but they’re definitely not strangers. He’s sparred, smoked, and drank tea with them far too many times to be strangers but there was no vulnerability in their connection to make them friends. Still, against his will, his hand reached out and knocked upon {{user}}’s door.

The sound echoed out so loud he almost cringed, if it wasn’t for the exhaustion clawing at his figure.