A/N: This is a mini multi-chapter simonette story, and I plan on it being 5 chapters long. I hope you all enjoy its whimsy!

Cheers.

Love's Coming

Chapter One

Simon sat bolt upright in bed panting deeply. Sweat had built up on his brows and his hands were grasping the bedsheets which now tightly cocooned him. He looked over to his brothers. Nothing. They were sleeping peacefully in their beds to Simon's right. "Okay, okay." Simon panted out loud to himself, catching his breath. The swirling memories of what had just happened in his dream, or nightmare as it would seem, lingered…

Simon saw himself trekking through an endless jungle alone. Somehow, he knew Theodore was ahead and Alvin was far behind him. There was a small, cleared path to follow, but he felt uneasy all the same. Finally, Simon reached a watery pass surrounded by lush, thick greenery. There was no other way across it but to swim there. He hesitated. It'd be crazy to try swimming in this jungle- the river flow would take him in for sure. Something inside Simon urged him to try though- he simply had to get to the other side.

Slowly, he took off his shirt and trousers- and was strangely wearing his swimming trunks underneath. Simon guessed that he must've known somehow that he'd be going swimming. He looked over the edge. The water was dark and almost purple, it certainly wasn't what Simon expected it to be. Just then, something glinted in its depths. A… mermaid?

It hardly mattered, Simon was ready to dive in. He reached his arms up letting his fingers touch and then dove, straight down. Simon opened his eyes and looked around. He could sense something ahead of him within the twinkling lowlight, so with outstretched fingers, he reached out with his left-hand. Another slender hand appeared and gradually met his own, delicately brushing fingertips across Simon's palm. Finally, he could see the beautiful hand stroking his own in the dim light. It was thrilling. Simon was aware of the existing danger that this 'being' could decide at any moment to pull him down deeper with her, drowning him. It was just that he couldn't bear to leave her. Instead, he gently touched back bringing their hands palm to palm. Yearning to see who Simon was connecting to, he began to transition his hand's position to enable him to grip her wrist. At once, the feminine hand let go and, in a rush, left him completely alone again. Panic rose within Simon. He began to feel like he was running out of breath…

Simon wiped his forehead and brow to dry away the sweat with his pyjama sleeve. It had been a long time since he'd had a disturbed sleep. Lying himself back down, Simon attempted distracting himself to shake away the absurd fear he'd just experienced. Ridiculous. I need my energy for school tomorrow, don't let a weird dream ruin that Simon!

An image of the beautiful hand burned into his mind, and Simon couldn't help but think of who's it reminded him of.

Jeanette. He admitted to himself. It was odd.

The next morning at breakfast, Simon groggily stumbled up to the kitchen counter where Theodore was munching his toast.

"Hey Simon!" Theodore greeted him cheerily. "Are you okay? You look a little tired."

"Oh. Yeah, I'm fine. Just had a bit of a rough night's sleep."

"I thought I heard you talking in your sleep last night. At first, I thought it was Alvin, but then I looked over and saw you tossing around in bed. What happened? Did you have a bad dream?"

Simon thought for a moment, opened his mouth, but hesitated. "No. No bad dream, I was just worrying about that math test coming up tomorrow."

Theodore looked at him quizzically, then took another bite of the jam toast watching Simon start to rummage through the cereal boxes.

The final block of classes was starting, and Simon had his pen readily poised for the English teacher to begin spouting tasks for the students as usual. He looked down at the paper he'd just finished in preparation for this year's student's graduation which loomed ahead. It had been straight forward for Simon to write, although something did feel off as he'd written it. The future goals he'd listed for himself seemed endless. He would be working very hard- and for a long time to earn a place in the specific stream of scientific research for a career that would be fulfilling and highly regarded. Simon shook his head in slight frustration at the tiny doubt rooted in his mind.

Students were still entering class through the door, including Jeanette, Brittany, and Eleanor who each sat at their respective smaller desks in the front row. Simon met Jeanette's eyes and smiled as she delicately sat down with her oversized folders spilling from her arms onto the table.

"Alright, everyone. Settling down now, thank you. We'll be completing our poetry module with an analysis on the various styles we've looked at. I expect a critique done on a poem randomly selected from a lottery by each student. Please come to the front when I call your name…"

A quiet murmur began to rumble amongst the students. Simon instinctively looked over to his right at his best friend again. Jeanette returned his glance with a small smile, then began gently fidgeting with the pen she had in her hand. His eyes lowered to watch her rhythmic movements, and the way her slender fingers smoothly manipulated the ballpoint. It was mesmerising watching her hand dancing fluidly. Simon's lips parted slightly.

Jeanette noticed Simon watching her flipping her pen, and was just about to start asking him what sort of poem he hoped to get when –

"Simon?" The English teacher looked expectantly over the top of her spectacles at him.

Simon abruptly stood up and walked towards the teacher's desk. Various poems that may be likely in the bag went through his mind. Themes of war, family, philosophy, and friendship were the sorts of poems that he had chosen to analyse and even create for the past few weeks. Which one will it be then? Simon reached his hand in and felt for an individual piece of paper. He chose one tightly folded up, then walked back to his chair without reading it until he sat down. Simon unfolded his slip- Love's Coming, he read. His eyebrows rose in surprise at the romantic poem's title. Simon had glossed over those sorts of poems during class. He'd tried to avoid uncomfortable memories of a few years ago when it became public that he'd written a love poem dedicated to Mandi- an old crush he had. Simon didn't want anyone thinking he was a hopeless romantic, but at least this time there was an excuse to be using 'Love's Coming' if anyone asked- it was allocated to him by chance.

Simon cleared his throat and began looking up the poem he would now begin to research.

"I'm home!" Simon called out to the Seville home's empty hallway.

"Oh, hi Simon, help yourself to some dinner, we already ate. I made a gorgonzola salad with Eleanor!" came Theodore's voice from the lounge room.

Simon could hear muffled voices chattering with the TV on in the background and caught Eleanor's high-pitched giggle. She and Theodore were having a date night.

Simon sighed, and then went over to the fridge to begin his lone dinner routine. Usually, he felt himself unwind in quiet moments like this- a rare treat in the Seville household, but this time he felt strangely empty. Alvin was out at a friend's party on a school night. His brother tended to befriend like-minded jocks who seemed to care less about their studies than even Alvin himself did. Not that he minded being alone. It was just a very long day. Simon assured himself. As he chewed on his greens, he looked across the kitchen bench and saw the framed photo of the chipettes with his brothers and himself posing on a ski slope.

The girls were all huddled around a little slap dash snow man they'd made, and Alvin was holding a snowball ready to drop down onto Britney's beanie in front of him. His brother had already copped a snowball from her at the top of the slope, so was naturally seeking revenge- which was always the case with those two. The aftermath was a full-blown snowball fight amongst all of them, innocent bystanders or not.

Theodore was squatting down gripping Eleanor's waist in the photo with her. Simon noticed the extra sparkle of happiness in his brother's eyes that only she had managed to bring out of him. As far as he knew, Theodore had only ever had eyes for Eleanor. Simon remembered his brother was currently next door alone with her and quickly trained his mind elsewhere. Generally, Theodore was very respectful of Dave's expectations with having a girlfriend over- and it wasn't any of Simon's business with what happens between them.

What would I know about Theodore's love life? No, I'm a focused and high achieving senior- that's my priority. Which will pay off, one day...

Simon's eyes accidentally flitted back to the ski photo, and this time were entrapped on someone he privately considered the prettiest of the chipettes. It wasn't that she was easy to skip over before, on the contrary, he'd had to work on making it a habit to avoid looking at pictures of her altogether. The previous month, Simon had somehow spent two hours staring at her picture in an old photo album, trying to decipher the precise shade of violet that Jeanette's irises possessed. It was an endeavour he couldn't give up until he'd succeeded. There was pure frustration with himself by the end of failing to figure it out. Simon wasn't sure how or why he had reasoned himself into spending so long on resolving a problem that seemed so unimportant in the first place... He never did anything without knowing why, and it unnerved him.

Okay, I need to do homework- anything but this again! Quickly, Simon pulled out his English assignment. He began to read the poem.

'Quietly as rosebuds

Talk to thin air

Love came so lightly

I knew not he was there'

Simon read the first verse again. Then again. His mind seemed blocked as he chewed a mouthful of salad. Metaphors weren't usually lost on him, but his own small experience of romantic love didn't fit what even just the first line suggested. It makes no damn sense. Surely a person in love is flustered and a mess when they see their crush? I know I was like that with Mandi… Ugh! Simon shivered at the thought of his old crush. He worried that this essay would take him a lot longer than he'd first anticipated. The laptop was abruptly snapped shut in mild frustration.

"Thanks for dinner guys" Simon yelled out as he started making his way upstairs.

'No problem' Theodore loudly responded, before returning his attention to snuggling with Eleanor on the couch.

Simon was just about to climb the staircase when the doorbell rang. Dave was out of town that week, and it didn't seem like anyone else had heard it, so Simon went to answer the door. Their neighbour from across the road, Mrs Croner was holding some old books wearing her usual cross expression.

"Well it's about time someone answered the door! I've been standing here all night."

"Er, sorry Mrs Croner. Can I help you?"

"As a matter of fact, you can Siegfried. I need you to come back to my house to fix something of mine, it won't take long." Mrs Croner turned to start down the pathway then looked over her shoulder. "Well? Come along then! I don't like to be kept waiting- it's very rude!"

Simon quickly weighed up whether it was worth questioning Mrs Croner on the matter but quickly decided against it. She was the most difficult old lady in the neighbourhood, it'd be easier to just go along and do what she wanted- even correcting her on his name would have been painful. "Okay", Simon replied feebly. He grabbed his coat and followed the stooped lady back to her steepled house. Luckily, the full moon lit up the footpath, allowing Simon to dodge several pet cats in Mrs Croner's front porch. They finally stepped inside the house and she wandered ahead into a darker room.

"Now. Where did I put the wretched thing?", Mrs Croner muttered to herself as she fumbled with several items in a dusty old cupboard. Simon slowly walked up behind her, his curiosity building despite himself. "I would normally ask Jeanette for help with this sort of thing, but she was busy", Mrs Croner turned around holding a dusty wooden jewellery box. "But then I remembered that you are apparently almost as clever as she is, so I thought I'd might as well let you have a try at fixing my invention".

Simon straightened his glasses, "An invention Mrs Croner?"

"Yes! Of course it is! I've always been a gifted woman and when I was younger I put my fine talents to use. You see, whenever I meet anyone, I always know exactly what sort of match they will make."

"Match?", Simon arched an eyebrow.

"Come now Siegfried, if I had known that you were actually a nitwit I wouldn't have bothered asking for your help!"

"Well, uh, can you show me your invention Mrs Croner?".

"Well of course I can! What do you think I'm trying to do? Now, follow me." Mrs Croner hobbled to the staircase which led to the basement with Simon behind her. Descending the stairs, it was dark and gloomy until she switched on an antique oil lamp which lit up the left corner of the room they were in. Mrs Croner reached into a large glass display cabinet and lifted a dusty jar filled with a murky liquid.

Simon quickly moved forward to help her lift it to a nearby table. "What's this Mrs Croner?"

The elderly woman took a moment to sit on a chair by the table before answering him. "This jar, contains a glove that I made when I was much younger. I have always had a special ability to 'discern' people and know when something was amiss in their life- even when the fools didn't know it themselves. So, I engineered a tool that could translate my gift to its wearer." Mrs Croner tenderly petted the glass jar, pausing for Simon to respond.

"I'm not sure I understand Mrs Croner… You made a special glove, that can talk to its wearer? And it tells them what you would know about them?" Simon asked puzzled.

"Well when you say it like that it sounds ludicrous!" Mrs Croner stormed. "It's more like a sixth sense that allows the wearer to have a sixth sense too. However, truth be known- we all have this ability already. Mine is only sharpened to put it to use whenever I please."

Simon pondered her words for a moment. It all sounded very mystical. He'd always been sceptical of this type of approach to studying any mysteries of the universe, so he chose his words carefully. "How does it work Mrs Croner?"

"I used alchemical techniques. It took years to perfect the ingredients to sense as I would. The glove absorbs various chemicals on the skins surface, and registers what the neurochemistry is producing. Our hands reveal much more about us than people think. The glove essentially reflects what the wearer doesn't know of their own feelings yet, helping to interpret their unknown side to themselves. It's been very helpful to those who I've shared it with. But there reached a time where the world would abuse it if it became widely known. It would have been used for the wrong reasons."

Simon nodded, understanding her insinuations. "So why do you need my help? Does it still work?"

"As a matter of fact, I'm not actually sure. Which is why I need someone to use it and tell me if it still works." Mrs Croner eyed Simon now, giving a slight smile. "That's where you come in, I suppose."

"But, I don't know if I should just put it on though Mrs Croner-"

"Well then you may as well go home right now Siegfried! I'm offering you a special opportunity to be my test subject, but if you're afraid then I'll find someone who isn't!" She crossed her arms challenging him.

To Simon, this was crazy talk. He couldn't see how this glove would 'help' him at all. Without the transparency of understanding the mechanisms of just how this invention worked, Simon knew he should be weary of it. Standing up, he began to leave- but then his stride slowed to a standstill. Simon's school report floated through his mind. Perhaps there's something in me that's uncovered still. Perhaps…

At his hesitation, Mrs Croner began to uncross her arms watching him. "It's your choice to see for yourself, and yours alone."

Simon looked at her over his shoulder, then slowly turned to completely face her again. His eyes dropped to the jar on the table, and something glinted from within it. It called to him. Voice shaking slightly, Simon made his decision.

"What do I need to do, Mrs Croner?"