Exception || Simarkus Fanfic (Discontinued)

[ Nov. 10th, 2038 ]
[ PM 06:13:48 ]

The drive was more peaceful than expected. It was quiet, with no one speaking except for the radio, which chatted away with no one in particular, simply speaking to whoever was willing to listen. The drive was short and simple, and even if it wasn't, Simon surely didn't notice. He stared out of the window the whole time, hand resting calmly on his shoulder. For quite the portion of the ride, he could only think about the way Carl touched his shoulder. It was something so unbelievably small, yet it was a huge game changer. It was firm; firm yet gentle. A sign of tolerance, gratefulness, or perhaps companionship. It didn't feel forced or threatening, and it was a grip easy to escape. It was quick and light. Most importantly, the handprint was easy to brush off. Maybe it was because of his clothing, or because he knew who Carl was, or maybe it was some other inexplicable reason, but either way, it didn't stick. He didn't feel like he'd have to rub at his skin with soap and water until it finally felt clean, and he didn't have to somehow peel off the handprint, all he had to do was shoo it away with his fingers and it was gone.

The house welcomed each of them warmly. The doors said their usual greeting, and once again, everything went back to how it usually was. Carl went into the studio to finish one of his artworks, Markus roamed around the house tidying up whatever small mess was left, and Simon went to the guest room to lock himself in once more. Except today he didn't want to lock himself in. For whatever reason, he felt a little more secure now. A tiny bit safer, just the slightest bit more welcome. So as soon as he reached the door, right before his hand touched the doorknob, he took a step back and turned. He stepped away from the room and all the way to the stairs, climbing down to the bottom floor. He took in a deep breath, allowing the air to fill up every small crevice in his body, then he exhaled, and he soon set off to explore.

It all began at the birdcage, where two metal birds sat calmly on a rod, twittering and singing away. Despite being trapped in such a tiny cell, they seemed happy. Simon had to bite back the urge to open up the cage. He stepped away and went into the main room, taking a quick glance around to see what piqued his interest the most. It seemed everything in the house was beyond exciting to him. He noticed Markus to the left, cleaning up a few crumbs that remained on the dining table. Maybe one day he'd get to sit there with both detectives, but for now he was convinced that the guest room was a much better place. He turned to the right, taking slow steps forward, eyes roaming every surface of the house.

The first stop was right in front of the bookshelf. He examined each book individually, noticing all the different patterns, colors, and designs, as well as the different fonts for each title. He reached over and took out one of the books, nudging it open with two of his fingers. Markus, who had only noticed Simon's arrival a few seconds prior, watched every single movement with clear intent. He leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowed and eyebrows lowered. He waited until the moment that Simon decided to do something cruel or sinister, or even just cause a mild inconvenience for anyone, but that moment never came. Instead he found himself watching as Simon flipped the pages with the most gentle touch. A touch so light no one would feel it. He watched for a few more seconds, then allowed his body to relax. Maybe all the deviants he's had to deal with on missions were fogging up his thoughts. After all, this was Simon he was watching, the one and only exception.

The next stop was by the piano, by far one of the most extraordinary things. Simon circled the instrument, looking at every curve and dip. He soon found himself looking down at all the many white keys, and just like anyone else, he got the urge to touch them. So he reached down and ran the tips of his fingers along each key, wondering what kinds of songs had been played on such a wonderful instrument. He was shoved away from his pondering when he heard the unexpected sound of one of the keys. He had accidentally pressed too hard and played a note. His head shot up immediately, looking in the direction of Markus, who was staring right back at him.