Motion Sickness | Simon Petrikov x Reader

Chapter 4 | Save Your Tears for the Pillow

The morning was surprisingly chilly for early September. You listened to the sound of your own shoes tapping against the concrete of the sidewalk as you walked to the building your classroom was located. The wind was awful, pushing your hair around in the opposite direction of the way you originally styled it. You grumbled as you stopped bothering to try and fix it. The wind wasn't stopping anytime soon.

The sun was just rising, the orange sky starting to turn into a light blue as the sun peaked over the horizon. You observed that patches of grass starting to turn a pale yellow. It was a little early in the year for that. Maybe the area needed rain?

Your train of thought broke as you opened the building doors, stopping in the doorway once you saw Simon on a chair in the middle of the entrance hall. He was standing on one leg, gripping a broom in an upside down fashion in both of his hands as if he was trying to smack something. His glasses sat sideways on his face, his shirt collar flipped upward. He froze in place, his eyes locking directly onto you, his lips curling downward as if he just got caught doing something you weren't supposed to see.

"Simon?" You looked at him with a confused expression.

He quickly flickered a nervous smile, his eyes flashing a terrified look at you. "(Y/n)! You're... here early!"

You nodded, looking around as if you were trying to figure out if you were missing something. Simon had lost his balance while you were looking away. The sound of the chair slipping out from under him, making his body and broom crash into the ground, startled you so much that you snapped your head around to view your colleague on the floor.

You swiftly walked over to him, looking down to see if he was okay. His eyes were wide, his cheeks growing red with embarrassment as you continued to stare at him. He cleared his throat as his upper body snapped up in an upward motion to sit up.

"Okay," you breathed out, "I have two questions. Number one, are you okay? Number two, what were you doing?"

Simon cleared his throat, looking off somewhere else as he spoke. "Number one, yes, I'm alright. Number two..." he blinked twice before continuing, "flying cockroach."

You snorted, letting out a loud laugh that you couldn't keep inside of your throat.

"I don't know where it went, but that's a problem for future us." He stood up, dusting himself off.

"Us? Oh no, if that thing turns up again, it'll be your responsibility to get rid of it." You shook your head. Simon chuckled.

You walked to your office with Simon behind you. You pressed the power button on your computer monitor, letting out a sigh. You sat down in your chair, a light creak spurting from the movement of the seat. Simon straightened out your name plate, looking at it for a moment before looking at you.

You were trying to navigate your keyboard with your bandaged hand, attempting to find a comfortable way to type.

"What's that on your hand?"

You stopped for a moment, looking down at the cream colored bandage wrapped around your palm. "A bandage."

Simon scoffed, "I can see that."

He crossed his arms, rolling his eyes, "What's it for?"

You paused for a moment before answering, "I accidentally cut myself last night while making dinner." You lied.

You didn't want him to think your were careless, but you would much rather him think that than letting him know you felt crazy in your own thoughts the night prior.

You picked up a pen, scribbling random squiggles on a post-it note to distract yourself and avoid eye contact.

Unlucky for you, Simon didn't believe you.