Neighbour

[ 7 ].

As the first rays of daylight gently filter into the room, you slowly awaken, your eyes fluttering open. Yet, the sheer intensity of the vibrant morning sun proves overwhelming, causing you to instinctively shield your face with your arm. It's as if a spotlight has been directed straight at you, momentarily blinding you and making it challenging to adapt to the sudden burst of brightness.

Slowly, the sun's rays pierce through the window, gradually filling the room with a stifling heat. As you lie under the layered blanket, you can feel the warmth seeping into the fabric. The sensation of being wrapped in the blanket is akin to being enclosed in a suffocating woolen coat during the hottest days of summer, compelling you to forcefully remove it and toss it aside. A sigh of relief escapes from your lips as you do so.

You lie there for a moment longer, allowing yourself to adjust to the temperature and bask in the comforting stillness that only the early morning hours can bring. However, this moment of peace is shattered when you blink a few more times, forcing your eyes to adjust to the light. As your gaze roams the space, drinking in the details of the unfamiliar surroundings, it eventually settles on the bed you're laying in. More specifically, it settles on the sleeping figure. Simon. He's laying there, right next to you. Lightly snoring, he has his back turned to you, completely undisturbed by your sudden awakening and the turmoil of emotions that have come with it.

Fragments of last night's memories seep into your mind like tendrils of fog curling around your thoughts. You recall the moment you kissed Simon. And he kissed you back. Yet, a single kiss was not enough. It failed to quench the overwhelming desire that had been steadily accumulating over the many months. Nor did it manage to diffuse the palpable electric tension that had settled between you two, like an unspoken challenge waiting to be met. Even the heated make-out session that followed, a whirlwind of passion and urgency, did not satiate your shared need.

Like a starved man, Simon impatiently clawed at your clothes. He tugged at the fabric insistently, as if each second you remained clothed was a second wasted. He peeled away it all, leaving you bare and vulnerable before you could fully comprehend the gravity of what was happening. His hands, coarse yet gentle, began a deliberate exploration of your body. His fingers traced the contours of your curves. They dug into your flesh, as if trying to etch every inch of you to memory. In that moment, you were damned—you were aware of his intentions, and yet, you found yourself unwilling, or perhaps unable, to put a stop to it...

In a vain attempt to clear the tumultuous clutter that is your mind, you slowly close your eyes, permitting the darkness to envelop you. You draw in a long, deep breath, feeling the air fill your lungs, holding it there for three agonizingly long seconds. As you hold your breath, you feel the tick of each second, each one seeming longer than the one before. The world, with all its noise and chaos, comes to a standstill. Eventually, you allow yourself to exhale, releasing the air in a slow, controlled manner, trying to mimic the calm you so desperately seek.

You sternly tell yourself, almost commanding your mind, not to think about it. You must forget what happened; it was a mistake, a momentary lapse in judgment that you can't afford to repeat. You try to convince yourself that it was just a moment of weakness, a one-off aberration that doesn't mean anything. But deep inside, in the corners of your heart, you can't help but not regret it—it's a paradox, a silent war between your mind and heart.

Turning your head, your gaze falls on Simon. In his sleep, he rolls over, his heavy arm sneaking around your waist. With a slight tug, he pulls you closer to him. There's a serene expression on his face, as he nuzzles his nose into the crook of your shoulder. In this quiet moment, you suddenly become aware of the fact that your clothes are discarded somewhere in the living room.

You try to extract yourself from Simon's embrace, intending to retrieve your clothes and dress up, but he stirs in his slumber. He mumbles something unintelligible under his breath. His grip tightens around your body, drawing you back into the bed. With a sigh of resignation, you allow yourself to settle back against him. Your body naturally gravitates towards his, like two magnets drawn together. Your tension, once as rigid as a tightly strung bow, melts away under the gentle caress of his fingertips, dancing over your skin. It's a delicate touch that sends shivers down your spine. His hand then settles on your hip. Despite the guilt and shame, that gnaws at your conscience—a lingering aftermath of your actions—you find a sense of comfort and security nestled in Simon's embrace.