Chapter Text
Music filled the interior of the car, loud enough for the driver to mindlessly bob her head to, yet quiet enough to keep her concentration on the road. Her fingers tapped along the steering wheel to the beat every now and then, a subtle hum escaping her lips that were stuck in a smile, content with how the day was going so far.
(Y/n) had met up with her friend for a late lunch, having spent the entire time babbling to each other about the recent movie they saw the day prior—Iron Lung. Both were so excited to talk about it and exchange their thoughts with one another that they had barely even touched their food. A to-go box sat in the passenger seat of her car with nearly a full sandwich and chips, along with a lemonade in her cup holder.
After spending nearly two hours chattering away about the film – and some catching up with each of their lives – she debated going to see it again. Maybe she could today after dropping off her leftovers. It was the weekend, and she didn't have any other plans besides that previous meet up with her friend.
The once smooth road turned into dirt with small, bumpy rocks. What was once a city scenery with various buildings and people bustling around, bled into hues of green with various plant life and trees that towered over her car. Living in a wooded area with less people was comfortable, a safe haven from the hustle and bustle of everyday life—especially the growing noise of cars every morning, she loved not having to wake up to it anymore.
There may have been some downsides to being isolated, ones where the hours of watching too many crime documentaries began to creep into the back of her mind, reminding her of the terrifying reality around her. Even then, she found it far more soothing than any cramped apartment in the city could offer, gladly accepting of her fate if it meant she could be without noisy neighbors.
Plus, there's no way anything bad would actually happen. She's been living in this wooded area for so long now, and the most exciting thing that ever happened was witnessing a wild bear munching on berries nearby, or a skittish deer scampering off through the woods.
It was perfectly safe, peaceful in every possible way. As she pulled into her driveway, she couldn't help but bask in the serenity—the warm sun bathing everything in a natural glow, the tree leaves swaying and falling in the gentle breeze, the occasional wildflower blooming amongst the vegetation, a bloody and battered body laying in the grass on her lawn, the soft sounds of—
Wait.
A what?
Her blood ran cold, stomach lurching with a mixture of apprehension and nausea, while her fingers tightened around the wheel she still held like a lifeline.
Surely that couldn't have been right.
No, she'd watched too many crime documentaries and now it was affecting her subconscious, making her see things that weren't there.
Right?
Slowly she returned her gaze to where she saw the body, only to freeze up when she realized she was definitely not imagining it. There was very much a silhouette of a man laying in her lawn, unnaturally covered in blood—so much blood she nearly found herself wrenching at the sight of it.
With difficultly she swallowed down the bile that threatened to crawl up her throat, her mind running haywire on how to address the horrifying situation.
Should she call the police? Lock herself in her house until they arrived to determine his death and search for the killer?
Well, that was assuming the man was dead and someone had been the cause of it. Even then, something in the back of her mind didn't feel like that was right. How would a murder end up with that amount of blood, to the point the viscous liquid was coating the entire body and pooling around on the ground?
Now that she thought about it, it actually looked rather familiar. But that would be a stupid connection to make.
As if her body had a mind of its own, she cracked the door open and began to inch her way out of the vehicle. This was dumb, she should've been calling the police right now, not dragging her feet towards the – presumably – dead body slumped in her yard. Yet it was like instinct was tugging her forward, something foreign urging her to investigate.
The closer she got, her nose began to scrunch up from the scent of iron and a hint of rot. Though, the smell wasn't nearly as revolting as a corpse should've been, and her eyes began to widen when she got close enough to see the man's body move up and down with breaths that were concerningly slow and shallow.
By the time her shoes had squelched into the blood surrounding him, she could only stare down at the person in disbelief for a long, defeaning moment. Any thoughts from before of this being a murder flew out the window, but the new thoughts that rushed in place of them didn't make sense, an unfathomable outcome that was theoretically impossible.
No, she had to be losing her mind. There was no possible way that the body at her feet, coated from head to toe in blood, was the character from the movie she watched with her friend yesterday.
There was no way in hell, that Simon was laying at her feet. The character who died at the end, nonetheless—he looked the part for sure, aside from still having his arm intact.
Yeah no. She definitely hit her head or something and was hallucinating. That's the only logical explanation to this.
A groan came from below, to which she recoiled on instinct, nearly slipping in the process from the blood underneath her. She hastily stabilized herself, her eyes snapping back down to his body once she regained her balance. For a second she held her breath, expecting his eyes to open or his body to shoot up, only for his head to barely lull to the side before going completely still again.
Okay, maybe this wasn't a hallucination, considering she almost fell on her ass from the slippery blood tainting the grass. But how was this even possible? How did he end up here, and alive no less? How would this—
(Y/n) nipped those thoughts in the bud. There wasn't anything logical about this situation and no way for these questions to be answered, so she'd end up in an endless loop of confusion and drive herself crazy.
With a deep breath to calm her nerves and tame her spiraling thoughts, she decided it was best to assess the situation in a rational manner. Act first, ask questions later—preferably when he was no longer covered in a disgusting amount of blood.
She made a quick trip from her car to her house to drop off her belongings first, then left the door open as she trailed back towards his body with a towel in hand. Ever so carefully she used the towel to loop her hands underneath his arms, using every ounce of strength she had to slide him out of the crimson pool surrounding him. Hopefully no one would drive by and see that in her yard later, that'd be difficult to explain.
Simon remained unconscious the entire time, a grimace forming on her face when she recalled everything he had been through. She hoped he didn't have too bad of a concussion, since she wasn't exactly sure how to help with that. For now, she'd focus on his external injuries to the best of her abilities.
The blood covering his body was swiped off with the towel, until it was drenched in crimson, and his figure was finally visible through streaks and smears of red. To her relief, he didn't look nearly as deformed and irradiated as he did at the end of the movie—still busted up with bruises, gashes, and scratches, though nothing she couldn't manage. That was puzzling as well, but she chose to be grateful over that fact.
Next came trying to drag him into her house to her bathroom. She groaned quietly to herself, knowing she'd be scrubbing out blood from her hardwood floors and carpet after the fact. Whatever, it was fine, he'd be safe and clean and that's all that mattered to her at the moment.
Concerned for his wellbeing, it fueled her movements to get him inside as quickly and carefully as possible. It was difficult – he was bigger than her and weighed as such – but eventually she ended up with him in her personal bathroom, gently propping up his form so it was slumped against the wall.
She huffed, trying to catch her breath as she eyed the red stains trailing along the carpet of her bedroom. Then her gaze flickered to the tub on the opposite side of her, debating how to go about this.
Apparently she wouldn't have to for long, for the body in front of her shifted, a deep groan coming from his larynx. Her (E/c) eyes snapped back to Simon, startled when lidded, brown irises were staring back at her, layered with confusion, exhaustion, pain and a flash of fear followed by a defensive anger—too many emotions, signaling his overwhelmed state.
He tried to use his hand to push his body further up, only for him to hiss, immediately crumpling from the pressure that shot a hot spike of pain up his arm. His body began to fall in that direction, losing his center of balance from how he was propped up earlier.
Acting on instinct, she went to crouch by his side, her hands shooting out to gently stable him. "Hey, easy! You'll hurt yourself, relax." She rushed out worriedly, frowning when he flinched from the contact.
Yet he couldn't get himself to move away, a whimper slipping past his lips at the ache in his chest from even breathing. "Wh–who... the fuck... are y–you..?" He managed to sputter that out, trying and failing to make his weak, raspy voice sound intimidating. "Where... where..? What happened–? I–I think I... died? I saw the... the light..."
His disoriented mumbles and trembling body felt like a knife to the heart. It wasn't that difficult to see through the thin veil of hostility he tried to uphold at first, quickly cracking as the memories flooded back and along with it the terrifying reality he had faced.
That should've been his end, one that he had accepted even if he wasn't going down without a fight. Now here he was, with an unknown woman kneeled in front of him, in clothes that were far too pristine and seamless – aside from the blood staining them – staring at him like she was concerned to death.
Was she apart of the C.O.I.? Had they managed to save him before that thing got to him? No, he heard Ava's submarine get torn apart by it, he swore he did. He vividly remembered that, along with the blood that poured into the vessel as it bursted open from the sharp jaws of that creature, various teeth shredding through the metal like butter before he blacked out.
That should've been the end. He should've been dead. Why was he here? How was he here? Where even was here?
Nothing looked familiar, his brown eyes frantically scanning the bathroom and only causing him to spiral further. There were facial items strewn across the counter and decorations hung along the walls, luxurious products that didn't exist, that they didn't have access to on the station after the Quiet Rapture.
Where was he? What was happening? Why wasn't he dead? Who was this woman? Where was the C.O.I.? Why wasn't he back in a cell if he truly survived? But how would he have even survived that?
It wasn't possible, this couldn't be real. None of this was making any sense—
(Y/n) could see the alarm setting in right before her eyes, both her hands latching onto his shoulders to grab his attention. Simon's gaze snapped to her face, wide and afraid like a wild animal that had been cornered, trapped in a place they weren't supposed to be in.
His breaths were coming out in ragged pants now, panic consuming him whole as he trembled like a leaf in her hold, mind too muddled to even think about trying to scramble away from her—not like he could in his wounded state. His muscles remained tense beneath her fingertips, rigid to the point she worried about the strain on his body.
So, with a slow deep breath, she tried to answer at least two of those questions as calmly as she could. "I'm (Y/n), and you're at my house." She noticed the way his face shifted at that last word, adding another layer of puzzlement to this mess that she didn't have time to explain right now. "Listen, you're covered in blood and injured. I know you have questions, but I need to clean you up first. Is that okay?"
There wasn't any sound aside from his uneven breaths, either unwilling or unable to form a proper response. The only reaction she got was the smallest shift of his eyes, squinting in a manner that told her he was skeptical—of her, of the circumstances, of literally everything happening right now.
She couldn't blame him, since she'd be freaking the fuck out as well if she were in his shoes. Hell, it was taking everything in her not to lose her shit right now because of how bizarre this was. She couldn't begin to fathom what was going through his mind, and she felt absolutely awful for him.
Her thumbs rubbed gentle circles where they rested along his biceps, a mindless action to soothe away the hard muscles beneath the tattered cloth. "I promise, I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to help." It was a mere whisper, trying not to overwhelm him anymore than he was, yet desperately needing to reassure him.
Those dark brown irises studied her for a second longer, searching for any signs of dishonesty or malicious intent beneath her benevolent countenance. When he found none, it was a flip of a switch, like his mind and body finally gave up on trying to fight back against an enemy that wasn't there.
A long, shaky sigh escaped him as he physically deflated, breaths slowly but surely starting to even out. His head was still pounding, lost as to how all of this happened, but he tried to suppress it for the time being. Instead he focused solely on her words and the touch on his arms, registering it as comforting rather than threatening.
Simon practically slumped into her grip, exhaustion creeping into his aching muscles and bones as he barely gave a nod of agreement. As if confirming he made the correct decision of trusting her, relief flooded her (S/c) complexion along with a hint of a smile, one that couldn't possibly hold any animosity.
"Great, okay! I'll take care of you, I promise." She responded quickly, anxious to get to work now that she had his permission and he seemed to be more at ease with her presence. "Let me run a bath, then I can help with your clothes. I should have some spare clothes from when (M/f/n) stayed here, too..."
The last part was mumbled mainly to herself as she drew away from him, trailing to the bathtub so she could start filling it up. A tired grunt came from behind her, which she took as an acknowledgement to what she said, likely too frazzled to respond with words.
She didn't mind, allowing him to rest while she rushed out of the bathroom to grab a spare change of clothes. When she came back she set those and two towels on the counter, before moving to check on the tub filling with warm, soapy water—unaware to the tired eyes following her, a flicker of interest amongst the disorientation.
Once the tub was full, it was a bit awkward to help Simon out of his tattered and blood-soaked clothes. She tried to be as careful as possible, helping him wiggle out of his clothes from his sitting position on the floor, apologies falling from her mouth whenever he'd suck in a sharp breath or let out a low whimper.
Out of respect, she looked away when he got his last pieces of clothing off – including that damned harness – blindly helping him to get to the tub. He managed some strength for that short period time, until the water splashing indicated he had made it, along with a groan that had her head whirling around.
"Is it okay? It's not too hot, right?" She asked frantically, worried she might have gotten the temperature wrong for his needs. That was until she studied his scruffy facial features, her own softening upon seeing how all his concern and embarrassment melted away, his muscles loosening up the minute the warm water soaked his skin.
Simon's eyes were closed, looking like he could fall asleep right then and there. "'S good." Was all he mumbled, voice low and hoarse with exhaustion.
(Y/n) immediately calmed down at the confirmation, turning back around to retrieve some bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. She had a few to choose from scent wise, and settled on a raspberry vanilla set she had—one of her personal favorites.
She made her way back over, cracking a smile when she noticed Simon had peeked his eyes open to see what she was doing. They closed when she was nearby again, and she took note of how his shoulders fell, as if he had tensed up again upon noticing her absence.
Carelessly dropping the bottles on the floor and unhooking the shower head from above to lay on the side, she went to drag a nearby stool closer to the tub before rolling up her blood-stained sleeves. "Can you tilt your head back so I can get your hair wet first?" She asked while turning on the water, aiming the shower head into the tub where it began to spray.
She was a little surprised when he complied easily, but she supposed the feeling of being surrounded by warm water was keeping him at ease—that of which, was already shifting from clear to pink from the blood seeping off his form. Gently she cupped her free hand over his forehead and upper eyes to block any water from running down, an amused breath leaving her when a puzzling noise came from his throat.
Once his hair was wet enough, she turned off the water and set the shower head aside to reach for the shampoo bottle. Pressing it open and squinting a generous amount into her palm, she set the bottle aside before lathering it between both her hands. Then she leaned forward so she could reach his head, beginning to scrub the soapy substance into his disheveled, tangled locks.
The water had rinsed some of the blood out of his hair, yet her hands began to stain red the longer she massaged it into his scalp. Not that she minded, not when Simon's quiet sighs and low hums reached her ears, even tilting his head to press more into her hands like it was the first comforting touch he'd felt in ages.
She decided to lather his dark locks longer than she normally would've, her nails occasionally scratching against his scalp to coax a deep, pleasant rumble from his chest. Eventually she had to pull away to grab the shower head, nearly laughing when a silent huff left him, his head turning in the slightest to peek at her like he was questioning why she had stopped.
In return she simply smiled, trying to ignore the heat creeping onto her cheeks at the sight of his lidded, borderline pleading stare. She repeated the process from earlier, cupping his forehead to gently tilt his head back, rinsing out the suds from his hair. The fruit smell wafted into her nose, much more pleasant than the metallic scent of blood.
She did the same thing with the conditioner, taking her time with coating it in his hair until the strands were a silky smooth texture—along with extra scratches on the scalp since he seemed to enjoy that, practically becoming putty in her hands. That was rinsed off a couple of times, until she was satisfied with his newly clean hair, the soaked, dark locks cascading downwards to brush against his shoulders.
Her fingers ran through his hair, carefully untangling any twisted strands, before she trailed her hands down to cup each side of his face. Gently she turned Simom towards her, his eyes cracking open again to peer at her. There wasn't any questioning in his gaze this time, leaning into her palms and letting her do whatever she needed to, completely trusting and pliable like she was his savior.
Dipping one of her hands into the soapy water, she raised it to delicately wipe away any remaining blood and grime caked on his face. She was careful, tracing along the defined features while avoiding getting any water near his eyes, and scratching her fingers along the short beard hairs around his jaw and mouth.
The entire time he didn't move, cheek resting comfortably against her palm, where her thumb absent-mindedly caressed the rough skin. For a second she thought he might've fallen asleep, chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths that brushed along her skin. Unlike earlier he looked at peace, no panic or hostility or fear—pure content, a simple bath managing to wash away those worries within an instant.
Unfortunately, there was another pressing matter as she glanced down towards his chest and arms, noting the bruises, cuts, and gashes littering his tan skin, irritated and red. Carefully she slipped her hands away, offering an apologetic smile when his eyes lazily blinked open to find her, akin to a puppy desperate for attention.
She went to grab the body wash, placing it on the edge of the tub. "You can work on cleaning the rest of the blood off while I grab the first-aid kit from my closet." She suggested, deciding it was better for him to do that part himself—the hooded stare he held on her seemed to disagree.
She ignored it, hastily shuffling her way out of there so he couldn't see the red hue dusting across her face. Stepping outside her room, she greeted the cat at her feet, and headed off to the closet. The Portuguese— Sorry, siamese cat trailed after her eagerly, curious as to what was happening.
Grabbing the first-aid and heading back to her room, she felt bad when her furry friend tried to squeeze inside with her. She kneeled down, ever so gently urging the cat backwards while using the kit to slowly nudge the door closed. "Sorry, I know. I'll be out soon."
With a sigh she stood back up and walked towards the bathroom where Simon was waiting expectantly, an odd look on his face when she went to set the kit on the counter. One glance confirmed he must've cleaned himself, since his body was spotless – aside from the injuries – and the water was now a bright red instead of pink.
While she opened the kit and shuffled through the contents, she paused when he spoke up. "Talking to someone?" Her head turned at his tone, the skepticism from earlier seeming to slither its way back in when he remembered he was in a completely foreign place.
The smile that curled on her lips was humored, finding it funny that he was unknowingly getting defensive over a cat. "Yeah, my cat, (P/n)." She responded, nearly laughing when she saw his glare falter. "She hates when the door's closed so she's waiting out there."
"Oh." That was the only sound that left him, his gaze flickering down towards the dirty water surrounding him with a wince. He cleared his throat, quickly trying to move on from his false alarm. "I, uh, I don't think I've ever seen one in person..."
As she was setting aside some bandage wraps, adhesive bandages, isopropyl, ointment, and some stitching string, she blinked, closing the kit while she turned her head towards him. Well, it did make sense since he grew up on Mars before moving to Eden's station, and she'd assume there weren't many animals—if any, seeing as adapting animals to a different planet was near impossible compared to humans.
She wasn't sure, but chose not to dwell on it for now. "No? Well, you'll love her. She's very sweet." With that said and her supplies set, she swiped the larger towel of the two off the counter. "You should get out and dry off. Do you need help?"
Simon shook his head, water droplets splashing from his dripping strands of hair. "No, no. I can– fuck!" He tried to get up, only to let out a curse when his body ached in protest, various wounds and bruises wreaking havoc on his physical state. He sucked in a sharp breath, face contorted from the pins and needles that seemed to prick at every inch of his skin.
A frown pursed on her lips as she stepped her way over to the tub. "It's okay. I want to help you, remember?" She reminded him gently, hoping to ease away whatever shame he may have felt.
He huffed, staring at her with furrowed brows and a slight scowl. "Why? I still have no fucking idea who you are or how... how any of this is happening..." His voice tapered off at the end, his frustration overpowered by how lost he was, unable to wrap his head around any of it.
To that, she heaved out a sigh, already dreading the thought of that conversation. "It's going to be a long explanation, one that I don't really know myself." Was all she could offer before lightly waving the towel that was in her hand. "So can I at least get you patched up before I end up confusing the fuck out of both of us?"
There was a stare-off between the two, conflicted brown irises boring into sympathetic (E/c) ones, the silence stretching by the second. Eventually he broke eye contact, awkwardly flickering them downwards as he gave a reluctant mumble of, 'Fine,' underneath his breath, one that sounded less than happy about it.
That was enough confirmation for her as she got to work on helping him out of the tub. She took it slow, her grip on his now smooth, clean skin careful yet firm, keeping him upright while his body's injuries fought against him. Once he was standing she was quick to wrap his torso in the large towel, providing him with some decency.
Every small noise of pain he made while she helped him step out of the water chipped at her heart. It wasn't hard to tell how exhausted and frail he was, even struggling to do something as simple as standing as she had to let him lean his weight against her side before his legs could give out.
After this, she was wrapping him up in her fuzziest blanket and letting him take a nap while she fixed him some stew. All her brain could focus on now was taking care of him, on comforting the poor, traumatized man in her arms that had faced horrors incomprehensible to the human mind. He'd been through so much, both during the events of the movie and years before that. A peaceful slumber on a fluffy mattress surrounded by various pillows and a big, fuzzy blanket was the very least he deserved after that hell.
Now with him seated on the stool, body properly wrapped up and shielded by the towel, she first went to grab the smaller towel and a brush. Needing both her hands she bit the handle of the brush between her teeth, ignoring the odd stare Simon was fixing her with when she trailed back over to him.
It didn't last for long, his eyes squeezing shut as the towel was plopped on his head of dripping hair, his body flinching on instinct. Then her hands began to gently ruffle the dark strands, soaking up the excess water as best she could.
A breath escaped him, keeping his eyes closed while she massaged away the troubled thoughts bouncing around in his head. Her fingers carded through the wet strands, holding onto them while she ran a brush along them, trying to prevent it from snagging on any knots. Every movement was careful, so unbelievably gentle that his heart ached, unfamiliar with the tender treatment.
He didn't allow himself to think, didn't allow himself to question what was happening, simply letting his exhausted mind take a break as he quietly relished in the attention—the bristles of the brush dragging along his scalp, her fingers ghosting his skin where she'd hold his hair, the sound of her soft, even breaths above him, the warmth of her presence surrounding him. She was his tranquility, a blind trust on his part, but something about her hushed the constant fight or flight buzzing through his body.
Truthfully, Simon could've fell asleep right then and there when she discarded the brush and began combing her hands through his hair. The action coaxed a hum from his throat, low and satisfied, to which he heard a hushed breath from her, no doubt amused. She was doing it on purpose – his hair was already untangled – yet he was more than alright with that when her nails scratched and pressed into his scalp, sending shivers down his spine.
Unfortunately the next part wasn't nearly as pleasant. There was no way around it when it came to treating his wounds, though he could appreciate her trying to be quick about it through mumbled apologies. The bath had almost made him forget all about it, until the alcohol seeped into each one and reminded him of the number of injuries his body sustained—more than he expected actually, and made him question how he was even conscious at the moment.
By the end, there were two bloody towels on the floor, empty bandage rolls, remnants from the sticky bandages, a few stray strings from minor stitches that had to be done, a half-used ointment container and an alcohol bottle. Alongside that, her tub was full of red water, and crimson stains smeared across her floor and walls.
It looked like a crime scene, as did the rest of her house when she remembered the blood trail. Yeah, she wasn't looking forward to the clean up.
However, the difficult part was done, with him looking much better all patched up and dressed in some sweat pants and a t-shirt that may have been a little tight on him. (Y/n) averted her gaze, a hint of a blush staining her cheeks as she cleared her throat.
"I'm sure you're tired. You can sleep in my bed while I prepare some food for you." She spoke up, maneuvering around him to drain the water, blood and grime mixture in the tub. "Or if you want, you can eat something first then take a nap. Whichever sounds best to you."
Simon let out a hum, a sound that indicated he was more than tempted to pass out right then and there. "First one. Think my body's ready to give out on me." He mumbled, arm already raising up after she walked back around him, for the first time willingly awaiting her assistance.
Maybe he was too drained to be defensive now, or maybe he had accepted her presence as being trustworthy enough not to bother—whichever it was, she was thankful for his cooperation. She looped his offered arm around her shoulders, one of her own slipping around his waist for stability, leaning his weight into her side while she guided him into her connected bedroom.
She let him get comfortable on the bed, her hands grabbing at the fuzzy blanket at the bottom to pull it over him. As she bundled him up in the soft material, a smile twitched on her lips from his drowsy state, dark locks of hair sprawled over the pillow and eyes barely able to stay open. It was like the minute his body hit the fluffy mattress his brain shut off, ready to finally get some long-awaited rest after being constantly overloaded by horrific events.
Without thinking she reached out, gently brushing some stray hairs out of his face. That was all it took for his eyes to fully close, and as her hand barely hovered along the side of his face, he was drawn to her touch, pressing into her palm like she was his sanctuary. She almost didn't want to pull away, seeing him look so at ease for once.
"Comfortable?" She murmured questioningly, her thumb lightly trailing back and forth along the rough skin of his cheek. A rumbling noise of confirmation came from his chest, tilting further into the warmth of her palm. "Alright, get some rest. I'll be back with some stew when you wake up."
After a moment she ever so carefully slipped away from him, surprised to find out he had already fallen asleep, nothing but light, even breaths making his chest rise and fall. She was as quiet as possible when opening and closing the door, needing to hush her noisy cat when she began to whine at her feet.
Okay, Simon was asleep, so now she needed to get to work on some food... and finding a way to explain all of this without sounding insane.
But first, a change of clothes from her laundry room was very much needed when she recalled the blood staining her outfit. Good thing she forgot to put away her clean load of laundry.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
(Y/n) stood at the stove, mixing together the ingredients in a large pot, a thick, savory smell wafting into her nose and filling the entire kitchen. She had decided to make a simple beef and vegetable stew, figuring it'd be flavorful and filling. If he was still hungry after that, she had that untouched sandwich in the fridge he could munch on.
She tapped the wooden spoon on the side of the pot before setting it on spoon rest. It'd been a good couple of hours since Simon fell asleep, with her occasionally popping her head in to ensure nothing was wrong. Aside from that, she spent most of her time scrubbing out the blood stains dragging along her carpet and hardwood floors.
Since it had been some time, she figured he'd wake soon, thus decided to start on the meal she promised him. (P/n) circled her feet while she stepped away from the stove, meowing insistently and rubbing up against her legs. As per usual whenever she was in the kitchen, her cat decided it was time for her meal as well.
Popping open a can of cat food and mixing it with some kibble, she walked over to set the bowl next to her water on the ground. An amused breath left her as she watched the siamese cat dig in as if she had never tasted food until that point.
After washing her hands she went to stir the pot again, only to jump in her spot, nearly dropping the spoon into the stew from the distressing yell that echoed throughout her house. The spoon was quickly casted aside, her feet rushing towards the direction of her room. (P/n) spared a curious glance, before resuming eating like nothing happened.
(Y/n) slammed her bedroom door open in alarm, not sure what to expect yet prepared for the worse. Fortunately, there wasn't anything horrible like she thought—no intruder, no worse injuries, no returning blood, and most importantly no lack of Simon. Unfortunately, the sight of him had her heart shattering to pieces.
Simon was sitting up in her bed now, eyes wide open and wild as they flickered around the room. There was nothing but dread in his expression, as if when he woke up from whatever nightmare he was having, he was expecting to be there—to still be stuck in that damn sub, nothing to do except wait for his death that he thought he had already experienced.
His form was trembling, chest heaving up and down with unsteady breaths, unable to fill his lungs with enough air in his panicked state. Handfuls of his shirt were grasped in his palms, regarded with an odd stare along with the visible bandages covering his arms. The time before he'd fallen asleep had been drowned out by the flashing memories of his punishment, that short moment of peace and softness feeling more like an inconceivable dream than his actual one.
Upon her entrance his gaze snapped to her, flinching from the loud bang of the door hitting the wall. He blinked a couple of times, scanning over her until slowly a hint of recognition began to break through the fear.
He swallowed thickly, looking down at his hands as they fell to his lap covered by the blanket. "You... you're real..?" He mumbled in disbelief, still trying to catch his breath and calm his racing heartbeat. "Th–this is..?"
The recollection of events was slowly coming back to him, though it was like he couldn't believe it actually happened, that he was even alive and ended up somewhere entirely different. It could've been a dream or a hallucination, one he was expecting to snap out of and wake up on the hot, metal floor of that submarine, the warning alarms of a hull breach blaring around him.
Except he didn't. He was still here, in a bed that his weight had sunk into and was by far the most comfortable mattress he had felt in years, along with a woman who treated him like a human more than the people in his mind had.
Cautiously, (Y/n) began to step towards the bed, similar to approaching a frightened animal. "It's real. You're safe, I promise." She reassured as gently as possible, sitting on the edge of the bed at a respectable distance. "You had a nightmare about what happened before, I assume?"
A long, shaky breath left him, one of his hands running through his hair in a stressful manner, pushing the now soft, untangled locks out of his face. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his body relaxing from its defensive posture.
"Yeah, something like that..." That was all he muttered in response, making it evident he didn't want to divulge further. Not like he needed to, since she already knew about everything he went through.
A noisy meow interrupted their brief conversation from the doorway, causing him to avert his gaze to the source. (P/n) came padding into the room, locked on the new person while she was already leaping up onto the bed.
Simon stared at the fluffy creature with intrigue, who was currently sniffing at him. "Your cat?" He questioned, earning a hum of confirmation in return. "She's cute and... smaller than I was expecting."
She couldn't help the quiet, amused puff that left her at that. "Much better than just seeing a picture of one, right?" She asked with a soft smile, relieved to see him calming down.
He only managed a nod, looking uncomfortable the longer (P/n) kept sniffing and nudging at him. "What exactly is she doing..?" He asked uncertainly, not sure how to react to it—he couldn't even recall if he'd ever been around any type of animal as a child.
Seeing someone that was known as 'The Butcher' once, be on edge from a small cat was simultaneously amusing and endearing. Her smile widened when he hesitantly raised a hand towards her, allowing her to smell him and then freezing up when she bumped her head against his palm. He didn't dare move, and she couldn't tell if it was because he was afraid of hurting the cat on accident, or of her potentially harming him.
"She was just getting used to you." She answered softly, raising an eyebrow when her cat continued to bonk her head against his head with a whiny meow, yet he remained as stiff as a board. "You can pet her. Don't worry, she's completely harmless." She said with a breath of a laugh, reaching out to demonstrate such.
Her hand glided across the soft fur of (P/n)'s back, earning her a delighted purr as she arched into her touch. Simon watched her silently for a second, before slowly reaching out to ever so carefully brush his fingers over her head and ears, as if he were afraid the slightest amount of pressure would hurt the little thing.
The cat's purring became louder, sounding like an engine as she eagerly leaned into his hand. Then she padded further onto the bed, right onto his lap where she decided to lay, circling a couple of times before curling up into a ball. At first his hands hovered above, letting her get comfortable before he gently rested them on her, one hand on her side while the other continued to run along the back of her head.
(Y/n) watched the interaction, noting the softness in those brown irises while gazing upon the feline. It was probably the most relaxed she'd seen him so far. Maybe the cat was all she needed to convince him he was in good care, that even this little creature was at ease and carefree in a space like this.
"The stew is done, if you'd like some." She quietly broke the silence after a minute of listening to (P/n)'s purrs, shifting Simon's attention from her to the woman sitting beside him.
The dark-haired man visibly perked up at the mention of food, paired with a perfectly timed rumble of his stomach. His head ducked down, focusing on the cat again to hide the embarrassment creeping onto his face. "That, uh... That'd be nice."
She let Simon chill with her cat while she went to prepare their food at the island counter. With his bowl, she made sure to scoop in a generous amount. That man had been down in that submarine for days without food, if she recalled correctly. Even then, with the limited food supply they had – and the quality since he was in the C.O.I. prison – he deserved a good amount of a hearty meal.
Turns out she had been right, because she'd never seen someone scarf down food so quickly. She was eating her own at a normal pace, occasionally glancing at the man that was shoveling food into his mouth like a chipmunk. Not that she could blame him, she'd probably react the same way if she were in his shoes. Though, she'd definitely be housing some (F/f) if she had the option.
During that time she had gone through the complicated process of trying to explain what happened, minus the mention of him being from a movie she watched—she couldn't handle the existential dread that might occur from that.
Overall he appeared to understand, despite not being able to make sense of how it happened in the first place. He mentioned something about a light before he 'died', then concluded it had to do with why he ended up here. Other than that, he was as clueless as she was. However, he didn't seem opposed by any means, more than satisfied with the result of where he ended up now that he didn't need to constantly fear for his life and the end of humanity in a planet-less universe.
They both finished their food, and she swore Simon was already looking better, a simple meal and some water managing to return the life to his person. It brought a smile to her lips, seeing him slowly heal and knowing she was the cause of it.
She went to grab his empty bowl, heading over to the sink before pausing. "Did you want more?" She asked, glancing at him over her shoulder. She did give him a good amount, though she felt it'd be rude if she didn't ask.
Simon stared back at her, quiet for a second like he wasn't sure how to respond to that. "Can I have more..?" He sounded both surprised and uncertain, like he'd never even thought of seconds as a option.
She wasn't sure if he'd already forgotten everything she told him, or if he was so accustomed to measly rations that his mind couldn't fathom it. Either way it chipped at her heart, a frown on her lips as she set her own bowl inside the sink.
"If you're still hungry, then of course you can. You can eat as much as you want." She answered while setting his empty bowl on the counter. Then she lit up a bit, facing him when she remembered something. "Or I have some brownies I made the other day. You can have one or two of those for dessert."
The man looked like a little kid at the mention of dessert, an unattainable luxury after the Quiet Rapture. "Fuck, I can't remember the last time I've had anything sweet." He uttered, mouth practically watering at the thought.
She took that as her que to grab the glass pan, walking over to him with it. "I can't imagine never having a sweet treat after dinner. I think I'd die." She joked, popping open the lid to reveal the chocolate squares inside. "Help yourself."
Taking a square for herself, she handed one to him as well, which he eagerly took. "Thank you. Y'know, for this and everything you've done so far." He sounded genuinely appreciative as he bit into the brownie, sighing pleasantly at the moist, chocolatey goodness spreading across his taste buds.
She waved him off, juggling between eating her brownie and grabbing a glass container for the remaining stew. "I did what I hope any other person would do when they see someone who needs help." She shrugged, finishing off her dessert so she could start filling up the container. "Though, you did scare the fuck out of me at first, looking like a dead body in my lawn."
Simon rolled his eyes, already grabbing another brownie from the pan. "Sorry, I should've cleaned myself up before magically appearing in your universe." He remarked, voice sarcastic yet light-hearted. "I'm glad it was you though. These are fucking amazing."
"You show up just to eat all my brownies. How rude." She went to put the closed container of stew in the fridge while she said that faux complaint. For a second she eyeballed the dishes, decided she'd do them later, then trailed back to him to grab another as well.
"Can't help it. They're good." He'd taken a bite before talking, the words muffled by a mouthful of chocolate. "You should make more."
She glanced at the last one in a pan, finishing up her own and leaving that for him. "Maybe tomorrow, it's getting late." She suggested instead, then perked up, suddenly remembering something she'd wanted to do after he woke up. "Wait here! I have to do something!"
(Y/n) was already running off, his brown eyes following her with a strange look. "Okay..?" He mumbled, slowly turning back around to grab the last brownie and munch on that.
By the time she came rushing back – after he'd caught glances of her zipping from her room to the back of the house with stuff in her arms – Simon was sitting with (P/n) in his lap again. So far he seemed to be fond of the small feline, keeping one arm secured around her while he scratched behind her ear.
The (H/c)-haired woman was grinning as she came to a halt in front of him. "I have a question." She blurted excitedly, causing him to raise an eyebrow and hold the cat a little closer. "I saw an article once that said the sunsets on Mars are blue. Is that true?"
His eyes slightly squinted, face scrunching up in confusion at her out of the blue question. "Yeah, it is... or was. Why? Is it different on Earth?" He asked back, curious as to where this conversation was going.
She found that sentence so strange to hear, the idea of a human being unaware to how things were on Earth. Nonetheless, it gave her a chance to show him one more beautiful scenery besides the original one she had in mind.
She didn't answer his question directly, rather holding her hand out as an invitation, an enthusiastic smile on her face. "You can come outside and see if you'd like."
He eyed her outstretched hand then the cat in his lap, carefully grabbing her and easing her to the floor. After standing up from the stool he grabbed onto her palm, much to her own surprise. His hand easily enveloped her own, warm, calloused skin and bandage wrapping slotted against her smooth skin.
She didn't let it affect her for long, those brown eyes watching her expectantly and causing her face to flush. "Just, uh, follow me. I set something up outside." With that she began to gently tug him along with her, never once breaking their interlocked hands.
Simon trailed after her wordlessly, eyes scanning around the various trees and plant life growing around them while she lead them to a clearing. From there the outline of the city could be seen, along with the horizon where the sun was setting, hues of red, orange and yellow painting the sky, while soft, pink clouds hovered above.
Ahead she had set up a little blanket on the grass, along with a couple of pillows and an extra blanket on top for comfort and warmth, and some flashlights for later. She eagerly guided him towards it, seeing as he was too busy taking in all the sights around him—ones he hadn't seen or were painfully reminiscent of his home planet, of a world before everything vanished.
(Y/n) settled herself on top of the blanket, tugging Simon to sit down beside her, his leg and side bumping into her own as he did so. She debated on whether or not she should let go of his hand, though decided against it. Judging by the fact he let his hand stay in her own on her leg, she assumed he didn't mind. Rather, it seemed he welcomed the touch, his body subconsciously leant into her own where they sat against each other—he probably wasn't used to physical contact in an affectionate sense.
For a while there wasn't a peep between them, both simply watching as the sun sank below the horizon and the dark blues and purples of the night sky took over. It was peaceful, nothing but the sound of nature around them—insects buzzing around, the gentle swishing of the tree leaves, an occasional rustle from the brush whenever little critters scampered around the area, paired by the distance warbles of the birds high up in the trees. It was relaxing, more so than the noise of the city drowned out in the distance.
Once the last slivers of light had began to fade away, she spoke up. "I know it's not as cool as a blue sunset, but it's still pretty." She murmured, unwilling to raise her voice and break the delicate, soothing atmosphere that surrounded them.
"Yeah, it is." A sigh left him, matching her hushed tone while he continued to stare at the fading light. "I've forgotten how much I've missed this... how much was lost." There was a deep melancholy in his words, torn between the lingering despair of his world and the hope of starting anew.
(Y/n) waited to respond for a minute, grabbing the spare blanket and shifting his attention to her. Wordlessly she threw one half around him and snuggled into the other, warding off the nighttime chill. Not once did her other hand break away from his own, still clasped over her leg while her other rested near it to keep the blanket close.
She leaned into his side, her head mindlessly falling to rest on his shoulder while her eyes searched the night sky, a satisfied smile slowly curling on her lips. Right after she felt Simon gently rest his head on top of her own, his arm mimicking hers to keep them fully tucked into the fuzzy material.
His body was warm against her, strands of dark hair tickling at the side of her face and his hand subconsciously squeezing her own. She could feel him nuzzle closer to her, like she was the only thing that could bring him comfort and safety—or rather has, given everything she's done for him thus far. Nonetheless, it warmed her heart.
Smile slowly turning into a grin, she found the right time to speak. "Not anymore. It's all here again." Her voice was a whisper, moving her hand around the blanket to gesture to the sky for a brief moment.
Simon's gaze moved away from looking at her, his breath catching when he found the night sky awaiting him, specks of white twinkling amongst the endless darkness that had long since disappeared. They were all there, some larger than others, some burning brighter to stand out more, and some forming constellations that he had long since forgotten. With those stars, the shape of a crescent moon glowed beside them.
It was all there, right before his eyes. Like it never even left, like it had all been some cruel, sick nightmare that he had finally woken up from.
His vision began to blur at the edges, yet he didn't dare look away, already trying to memorize the location of every star like they'd start fading away at that very second. He'd missed looking at the stars, missed the little amount of hope they gave him. God, he couldn't even remember the last time he saw one, the last star that fizzled out from existence to leave them in a cold, black void.
A light touch against his face startled him, his dazed eyes snapping down to her face. Both of their heads were lifted now, and he hadn't realized he'd started crying until her thumb delicately swiped away a tear trailing down from his eye.
"Hey..." There was a frown on her lips, her other hand breaking free from his to cradle the other side of his face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I thought you'd like to see them again since..." She trailed off, uncertain on how to address the matter and worried she crossed a boundary.
Yet that panic faded nearly as quick as it came, the blanket slipping down around them as his hands came to rest over her own. A few tears continued to trickle down, though he merely pressed into her hands whenever she wiped them away, the facial hair along his jaw scratching at her palms.
Simon let out a shaky breath, eyes closed with an emotional smile on his lips. "You didn't. I'm– I'm very happy." He reassured her, all while trying to keep his voice from wavering mid-sentence. "I just... can't believe this is real. I never thought I'd be able to see the stars again."
Those (E/c) eyes softened, filled with nothing but promise. "Well, now you can see them as many times as you want." She whispered, thumb lightly caressing along his cheekbone. "I can even set up a picnic dinner tomorrow, that way we can do this again. Oh, and I have some hot chocolate we can make as well, and stuff to make some s'mores if we make a little campfire!"
She was rambling a bit in her excitement and Simon listened to every word, eyes now peeked open to watch her with a newfound fondness. He wasn't sure he'd ever had whatever a 's'more' was, but judging by her eagerness, he'd assume it was something as delicious as that brownie.
Regardless, he was looking forward to it, to a tomorrow that was no longer overshadowed by the dread of an empty future. More importantly, he was looking forward to spending more time with her.
"I'd like that, thank you."
The two spent some time longer outside, huddled back in the blanket and leaning into each other. (Y/n) pointed out some of the constellations to him – at least those she could remember – while also trying to make their own shapes out of the clusters of stars.
Sadly, it couldn't last forever, as Simon had began falling asleep at one point, his head continously lulling to rest against her own. His mind and body were still exhausted, seeing as a couple of hours napping could only help so much.
So they ended up gathering the stuff and heading back to the house, greeted by a sleeping (P/n) sprawled out on the couch. She'd have to scooch over and share the space tonight, unfortunately for her. For now though, (Y/n) carelessly tossed the items aside in the living room and guided Simon back towards her bedroom.
"You can sleep in my bed again." She stated while fixing the pillows and pulling back the cover. "I'll be out in the living room if you need me, okay?" With that said she went to take her leave, only for a gentle grip on her wrist to stop her.
"Wait." The word was blurted out before Simon could stop it, his expression mirroring her surprise for a split second. Then it morphed into shame, his hand quickly releasing her while his gaze averted elsewhere. "Could you, maybe... maybe, uh, st... stay?"
She blinked at him owlishly, processing what he said to ensure she heard him correctly. "Stay as in... sleep alongside you?"
Simon looked like he already regretted saying anything, turning away to hide the heat rushing to his face. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked, that was– Sorry." He rushed out an apology, mentally cursing at himself for creating this awkward situation in the first place—for letting his longing and fear get the better of him.
"No, it's fine. I can stay, if you'd like." She was quick to qualm his worries, her feet padding over to stand beside him. "I don't mind, I was just making sure that's what you meant. Or I could grab those pillows and blanket and set up a spot on the floor, if you just want company."
He fidgeted where he stood in front of the bed, sparing a glance at her that was uncertain, yet notably pleading. "I mean... it is your bed." Was all he mumbled in response.
To her, it was his awkward, indirect way of saying he wanted the prior option. It was adorable to her, not really expecting someone like him to be so soft. Then again, maybe he was only that way with people that cared about him and vice versa.
"That it is." She confirmed, a playful smile on her lips to hopefully relax his mood. "So I guess that means I should sleep in it, too."
She could see a hint of a smile start to form on his face. "Guess so."
With that settled, she went to shut off the light and close the door, only leaving a crack open—(P/n) liked to sneak in at night sometimes to cuddle. She didn't bother changing clothes, deeming her current outfit loose enough for sleeping in.
Wordlessly she settled in the bed next to Simon, pulling the covers over the both of them. He was laying on his back, bandaged hands crossed over his stomach and form stiff as a board. Even though he was staring at his ceiling, nothing but the dim light of the moon casting a glow in the room, she could see the dread creeping back in.
It clicked then why he wanted her to stay—he was terrified of waking up all alone, back in that submarine like none of this was real. He wanted her presence to keep him grounded, to wake up to and remind him he was still there, that it hadn't been some sick and twisted scenario his mind made up.
He was terrified, and that's why she found her body moving so easily, cuddling into his side and snaking an arm around him. It was like her touch alone flipped a switch in his brain, his body immediately melting into her as the tension faded from his muscles. He shifted to face her as well, his own arm curling around her to drag her closer, while lidded, chocolate eyes gazed into her gleaming (E/c) ones.
With a smile on her lips, she leaned up to press a fleeting kiss to his cheek, before burying her head underneath his chin. "Good night, Simon." She murmured, her fingers tracing random patterns on the back of his shirt. "I'll see you in the morning."
A drawn out breath dusted along the (H/c) hairs on top of her head, before he tilted his face down to rest there. "Good night, (Y/n)." It was muffled against her, yet he sounded relieved.
After that, she didn't let herself fall asleep until she was certain he had, the sound of his steady breaths reaching her ears and brushing along her head. Content, she let her eyes flutter shut, basking in his warm embrace and the promise of their tomorrow.