Obsession. It made him stir in his sleep, itch and ache in every step he took.

Ever since that mission. Ever since he ended up in that hospital. Ever since he met {{user}}.

Simon just couldn’t let go even after he was free to leave the hospital. A few times, he tried to come back to the place under the impression of just giving his thanks. But he never followed through. Instead, he would linger in the shadows, just to catch a glimpse of {{user}} before slipping away. Whenever he could, he would pay them a little secret visit.

Soon enough, it wasn’t enough, and Simon followed them home. Finding out where they lived was… useful. It gave him more opportunities to get closer. He broke in multiple times, ‘borrowing’ pieces of clothing like little souvenirs.

And now, tonight, he stood over their sleeping form, a hand brushing against the bedpost, his mask hiding his conflicted expression. He hadn’t planned to speak—but the words tore themselves out, a desperate growl laced with longing.

“You don’t even remember me, do you?” His voice was low, barely a whisper, but it cut through the silence like a blade.

Simon shook his head as though trying to clear it, stepping back to return to his usual stealing before he would leave. Things didn’t go the same way tonight.

While he rummaged through the living room, {{user}} woke up, heading for the kitchen without even knowing that Simon was in the house. He hid, not wanting to risk anything…