forum "I'm used to being seen through but it feels so bad when it happens with you." // OxO // CLOSED! (Stalkers get ravioli)

Started March 19, 2021 by Deleted user

tune

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Beckett chuckled quietly, leaning slightly into the touch and letting the topic drop. He didn't want to pry, anyway, so he figured if Simon ever wanted to talk about anything deep, he could bring it up when he was comfortable doing so.

". . . Just- ask if you want to know something, Beck. I haven't said anything because you haven't asked."

"I don't want to," he murmured after a moment. "If you want to say something then by all means go ahead, but I don't want to pry."

"Oh, pish-tosh. You aren't prying. If anything, you've earned it because I've sort of been spying on you since you've lived here. But if you don't want to I guess I can't push you."

"If there's anything you want to tell me, feel free, but… I dunno. I don't have anything I really want to ask about right now." Beckett slumped to lie down on the couch next to Simon with a small shrug.

"Alright. Cool. I just wanted you to know." Simon glanced at Beckett, then looked up at the ceiling.

Beckett hummed in response, staring up at the ceiling for another moment before the voices from the TV drew his attention once again, and he turned his attention back to the show.

"If you don't mind my asking, what is this show. . . like I know what it's about but. . . why do you like it, I guess is what I'm asking?"

Beckett took a few seconds to think before responding. "…I guess it's a comfort show. Like it's funny, and the characters are well-rounded, and they face real-world problems. Watching the characters go through their own arcs and evolve throughout the seasons is just… comforting."

Simon didn't say anything, but put his hands in his lap, watching Beckett speak with carefully concealed amusement. After a moment, he said, "I never really think that deep about things."

Beckett hummed softly. "Most of the time I don't either. I just…" He sighed with a slight smile. "It's my comfort show, I guess. Simple as that."

"Hm. I guess. I dunno. I never really had. . . something like that." Simon shrugged. "I wish I did. But. Whatever."

"It's just a matter of finding a show that makes you happy," he hummed softly, eyes only leaving the screen for a few quick glances at Simon.

"I don't really like TV," Simon said. "Music is better."

Beckett nodded slowly. “I like music,” he agreed. Though he had a feeling the two of them had vastly different tastes in music, he was sure they had to overlap at least a bit.

(sorry for the sudden disappearance! the semester just ended where i am, and it was a bit of a rough transition.)

(do not worry about it! you stuck around when i disappeared /gen)
"What do you like, music-wise? I like Nirvana. And, um. Like eighties and nineties music."

“Uhh…” Beckett paused, genuinely trying to remember his favorites. “I like a lot of classical stuff,” he said after a moment, only slightly embarrassed to admit it.

"Any particular composers?" Simon asked. "I don't know a lot about classical music, but I like it."

“No one in particular, really. I mostly just go with whatever Spotify throws at me.” He laughed softly and half-heartedly. As much as Beckett enjoyed it, deep down he didn’t really think he has much of a good taste in music. He couldn’t pinpoint why exactly he liked certain things and not others, typically just throwing his favorites in a playlist and adding whatever he liked from the auto-generated suggestions.

“Huh. And. . . Um, what is Spotify?” Simon asked embarrassedly. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.”

Beckett attempted to stifle his laugh before he explained in the simplest terms he could muster. “It’s just an on-demand music service… thing. You make playlists and stuff for music.”

“So. . . you can just play whatever song you want? Without a CD?” Simon thought for a moment. “That’s cool.”

Beckett nodded, picking up his phone to check the time. He had a shift relatively soon now- he should probably start getting ready, actually. “Pretty much, yeah.” He gave a soft chuckle. “I have a shift soon,” he mentioned. “Did you want anything while I’m out?”

“Uh. No. Unless you can give me ghostly toaster waffles.” Simon folded his hands neatly. “Oh, well, you should look for information on. . . spirits.”

Beckett nodded with a soft, amused smile. “Yeah, I’ll keep an eye out.” Quite reluctantly, he peeled himself from the couch and straightened his clothes. He’d fallen asleep before changing last night, though he felt that wasn’t too terribly bad given the circumstances of the night before. “I was planning on that. I’ve got a few sections in mind already.” He trailed off in thought, drifting towards the stairs to head up to his room and change.

"Alright." Simon watched Beckett leave, feeling like there was something he was forgetting. He wanted to tell Beckett how he died but he didn't want to freak him out.

Remaining somewhat lost in thought, he changed quickly. He typically drove to and from work but after last night he wasn’t sure he wanted to drive again so soon. He supposed he could walk. It’d be dark by the time he set out to go home, though. He made his way back downstairs after an extra moment spent petting Zelda, who was sprawled at the bottom of his bed.

"Zelda cries when you leave, do you know that?" Simon sat up, stretching his arms over his head. "Extremely loudly as well."

Beckett blinked a few times, the corner of his lip quirking up. “Does she?” He’d never known Zelda to be particularly clingy, though he supposed he’d never had any way of knowing how she felt when he was away. Slipping his shoes on, he glanced over at Simon with mild amusement.

"Yes," Simon said, somewhat irately. He got up off the couch and glared at Zelda.