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the-chosen-fanfiction · 1 month ago

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Simon Peter | Struggles Unseen | Platonic

Jesus indirectly teaches Simon a valuable lesson about accepting people who are different by tasking him with bringing you to market.

Note: I do not have ADHD. I aimed to depict it in a respectful, accurate and appropriate way. I am aware that it manifests differently per person. If you feel like I should change some things, please let me know by sending me a message!

Requested by Finn

Once done rinsing your breakfast bowl, you wipe it dry on one of the rags lying around, putting it with the other clean dishes before setting out to do your daily tasks, heading for the large tub of laundry waiting for you underneath one of the tables. You can smell it from a distance, wondering which one of the men around camp had failed to put his tunic into the wash in a timely manner.

After lifting it up under your arm, you carry it over to the side of the nearby creek, taking the small bowl of tallow that rests on top of the dirty clothes and taking the first tunic from the pile, beginning on your chore. Personally, you don’t mind this so much, for you like the immediate effect that doing laundry has on the clothes you’re washing. The stains disappear right in front of your very eyes and the fact that the men smell nicer to be around is a plus. Once you get to focus on the chore, you hum a song as you bounce your leg up and down a bit.

Right when you are about to rinse the third tunic — you think it’s Thaddeus’ — you hear your name across camp called by a very familiar voice. Looking up, you find Jesus across camp, gazing at you expectantly as He attempts to catch your attention.

“Yes?” you ask across the open field. Jesus chuckles.

“Come over here for a second. I have another task for you.”

“But I’m still doing laundry.”

“Judas can take over.”

The man in question lifts his head, slightly annoyed at the fact that he is now been made responsible for said task. He mumbles something in protest, but when Jesus gives him a raise of His brow, Judas sighs and puts away the wax tablet he had been writing on, getting up to take the chore from your hands.

Heading over to Jesus, you find that Simon is already with Him. “I need you two to go to the market,” Jesus gets straight to the point, “I need you two to get us supplies so that we can eat tonight.”

For a second, you and Simon lock eyes. You can immediately see the annoyance brewing behind his dark irises. “No need to keep (Y/n) from doing her laundry,” the former fisherman says, “I can go with Andrew instead.”

You narrow your eyes in annoyance, gritting your teeth in an attempt to stay calm. “What is so bad about going to market with me?”

“Because I’m not a babysitter.”

You plant your hands on your hips as Simon crosses his arms over his chest, giving you a challenging look. Jesus steps in between you to break your line of sight, His eyes going from you to Simon. “I expect you two to get us something decent for dinner.” He hands Simon a list.

“Why can’t I bring Andrew instead?”

“Because I said so,” Jesus concludes. “Now, get ready to head over the Jerusalem, you two.”

Normally, you’d have adored a shopping trip like this, often in awe of the many sights and smells the city has to offer. However, you retreat to your tent with your gut twisting unpleasantly at how unhappy your companion Simon seemed to go on said task with you. Of course, you know that you could be chaotic from time to time, but this apparently caused more annoyance for one person than for the other. Philip, Thaddeus or Andrew never complained about your tendency to get distracted and Nathanael always said he could completely relate to you. Simon could somehow always look past his own flaws in the face of making an issue out of yours, much to your dismay. It was not like you could help it.

You put on your other pair of sandals — ones that were better to walk on than the ones you had put on earlier this morning — and throw one of your cloaks over your dress for extra warmth. After all, it was still a little chilly before noon this time of year. You grab your bag, pocket a pouch of money and sling it over your shoulder, then head out to meet with Simon at the edge of camp. He’s got his thumbs hooked into the rope around his waist and impatiently paces back and forth as you approach him.

“I’m ready to go,” you announce.

“Well, I can see that. You got everything?”

“I do. Do you remember what we have to buy?”

“Of course.” Simon says with a huff. “I have it right here.” He holds up the slip of parchment, handing it over to you. “Don’t lose it.”

“I won’t,” you promise, the two of you heading out for the market of Jerusalem.

It is quite the trip by foot, but you don’t mind the exercise. Simon maintains two steps in front of you during the entire journey there, making sure you can’t make smalltalk. Instead, you are forced to stare at the back of his head as the two of you draw closer to the city in the distance slowly but surely.

A few patrolling guards pass you on your way into Jerusalem. No matter how often you’ve visited the place, you tend to forget the exact route to the market, but luckily Simon knows how to get there. He looks over his shoulder to see if you’re still behind him and halts for a moment, nearly making you collide with his back. “Watch it!” he huffs, “Why don’t you get the vegetables and the bread, and I will get the wine and meat. We’ll be quicker that way.”

“Sure,” you muse, holding up the list and giving him a small smile in the hopes he’d be friendly enough to mirror it. He doesn’t do so and instead rolls his eyes, taking to one of the stalls without saying a word. With a sigh, you take a breath and make your way over to the vendor selling fruits and vegetables. Not a lot can go wrong as long as you keep your trusty list at hand, causing you to purchase the right amount of leeks, carrots, onions and lemons, as well as two cucumbers and a bunch of different herbs for good measure.

So far, so good. You put the fresh produce in your bag and make your way over to the next stall.

On the end of the road, you see a stall selling wooden figurines. Your eyes widen upon the sight of them, for they are carved with such care that they simply seem to reel you in. Upon approaching it, you halt to admire the handiwork.

“Pretty, no?” the woodcarver says. He points at a few of his favourites with hardened, calloused fingers that have obviously worked many trees. “These can be bought together for a discount.” You inspect the two statues up close, turning the two wolves over in your hands to look at the intense detail brought into their fur. If positioned right, they resemble a pair of fighting males. You have never seen a wolf in real life, only in drawings, but it is almost as if the figures inside your palms could spring to life at any moment.

“They are beautiful,” you breathe, “Almost as if you’ve been face to face with an actual wolf while creating them. It must have taken you ages.” The woodcarver shrugs and smiles a bit.

“It’s part of the trade. Sometimes, whenever I work on my statues, it’s almost as if I am not moving on my own behalf.”

Smiling, you open your mouth to reply to the man, but before you can do so, you feel a presence behind you.

“(Y/n)? What are you doing here?” Simon stands behind you with two skins of wine around his shoulder and in his hand a wrapped chunk of meat. Feeling your smile grow, you turn to face him.

“Look what I came across. Do you think Jesus would like these? Do you think Jesus has ever seen an actual wolf? I have never seen one for myself, I��ve just seen them on the drawings my abba used to show me when I was a little girl. I wonder if I still have that journal somewhere, I haven’t seen it in a long while... Do you think I should take up drawing for myself? I think it would be a great pastime—”

“—(Y/n),” the older son of Jonah hisses through gritted teeth, “Did you get the things I asked you to get?”

You lift your bag slightly to show its weight. “Got the vegetables.”

“And the bread?”

“Oh, yeah, I was about to get to that.”

With a sigh, Simon yanks the wooden figurines from your hands and puts them down again, giving the vendor an almost apologetic look. “Sorry about that, we don’t have time for this. Come on, (Y/n), let’s go get the bread and head back to camp.”

The woodcarver gives you a wry smile that conveys that he feels pity for you, sensing Simon’s annoyance quite well as the former fisherman guides you away. Barely able to keep up with him, you hurry after him as he tears through the streets. It’s obvious that Simon doesn’t want to stay here for a second longer than necessary. Once you find the proper stall, he pivots to you on his heel and holds out his hand.

You frown a bit, puzzled at what he means. “List?” he clarifies bluntly, and you hum.

“Ah, of course. Uh…” Patting your pockets, you try to find the piece of parchment. Then, you rummage through your bag to find it equally as missing. “I must have it somewhere, I just…”

Simon taps his foot against the ground frustratedly, gritting his teeth as he glares at you before reaching into his own satchel and taking it out, dangling it almost tauntingly in front of you. “Here it is. I found it on top of the pile of carrots while I was on my way looking for you. You left it there.”

Something akin to embarrassment colours your face pink. “Oh, sorry, I—”

“—Forgot!” Simon retorts by cutting you off, “Of course you forgot!”

That takes you aback, and you watch him with a confused expression on your face.

“A person can forget something. Is that so wrong?”

Simon lets out a scoff at your words. “Forget— Forget something… Psh…” He plants his hands on his hips, looking away for a moment as he grits his jaw. Then, he sharply turns back from you, brow furrowed together.

“Can’t you do anything right?! Not only do you get distracted by some stupid wooden figurines, you also left behind our shopping list! I can’t believe you, you know that?!” Simon spits angrily, pointing an accusing finger at you, “You are always like this! Like there is some hole inside your head from where all the important information escapes you!” He points at the side of his skull. “All you do is interrupt people, and get distracted by stupid things, and forget the most basic tasks ever! It’s like you’re a child! What on Earth is wrong with you?!”

Your mouth falls open at Simon’s sudden harsh words, your throat feeling tighter all of a sudden. It doesn’t seem to pick up on your offence, however, not shying away by kicking it up a notch. “It’s almost like you’re this— this annoying little sister who buzzes around you like a— like a mosquito! You constantly interrupt conversations you aren’t even part of! And whenever it matters most, you just— All sense seems to leave you! I don’t understand why Jesus paired me up with you of all people! You’re a nuisance! Even Matthew is annoying sometimes, but at least he is useful to us!”

Standing in silence, you stare at him in disbelief, tears brimming in your eyes. When you don’t respond verbally, Simon steps forward, closer to you. “Just tell me what your problem is, because I don’t understand you!”

“I’m just trying to do my best, okay!” you whimper, “I— I know that sometimes I come off a little strongly compared to others and sometimes I can’t contain my excitement in things, but that doesn’t mean that there is something wrong with me!”

Simon narrows his eyes at you for a moment, taking note of your sudden emotion and only now mulling over whatever he had actually just said in his fit of anger. Something in his face softens as tears glitter down your cheeks, the exasperation fading from his shoulders and making place for regret.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

You let out a sob. “But you said what you said, right?” His eyes widen as you step away from him, your breathing growing shallower as the actual weight of his outburst starts to dawn on you. “So you think I’m a nuisance, huh? Do you think you’d be better off without me?”

Simon’s mouth opens and closes soundlessly as if he’s a fish on dry land and under any other circumstance you’d have found it humorous to witness if it hadn’t been for his wrenching revelation on how he thinks about you. Short of breath, you feel more tears start to blur your vision, blood rushing inside your ears. “Do you really think that I never thought of that? That I never wondered why I am different from others? Why sometimes people seem to be annoyed by me whenever I join the conversation or when they don’t seem to follow my train of thought? Do you really think that I never feel like a burden? Because of course I do! I sometimes even annoy myself! And I can’t help it— It’s not like I can turn it off—”

“—I’m sorry. I’m sorry— Listen… I’m sorry I said those things. I really am, because I don’t mean them. Sometimes, I get upset about something… Something that doesn’t matter all that much, and then I say things in the heat of the moment that I regret later on. I don’t say them because I want to hurt the person I’m talking to. Bygones, you don’t deserve any of what I just said, (Y/n), because I know it’s not true. It’s just that the frustration took the better of me for a moment and I…”

He puts a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to calm down your tense shoulders, teetering on the edge of a panic attack. “I— That was not an attempt at an excuse, I swear. Please, (Y/n), I hope you’ll forgive me for these hurtful things. I didn’t— Didn’t mean to. I shouldn’t have let the anger take over. I… I apologise.”

Usually, you’d have been smug about getting him to apologise. Simon rarely did, let alone to you, and you’d have teased him about it had he not hurt you as much as he did. You let out a shaky breath and dry your cheeks on your sleeve.

“What can I do to make it up to you?” he wonders, and you swallow hard as you avert your gaze. “Please, I… I know I’ve never approached you about this in the first place. I never asked.” There is a glimmer of regret in his dark eyes, convincing you of how genuine his apology is.

“Then maybe that’s a good starting point,” you conclude, straightening your back as you feel your initial panic ebb away. “Just listen to what I have to say. Be kind to me. I don’t always notice it myself and some gentle reminders might actually be very helpful.”

“Okay.” Simon lets out a sharp breath, “Okay, I can do that. Just… How about I’ll come to you with a question regarding your behaviour. I’ll— I’ll try to be non-confrontational, okay? It’s also a moment to learn for me, so… So I’ll ask, and you’ll answer, and I’ll listen so that I can understand you. Does that sound good?”

A soft smile tugs at your lips as you nod, glad to sort things out this way. It may still be a journey to fully understand one another, but you are open to teach Simon more about it, and he’s ready to learn. He opens his arms and you embrace him briefly, patting him on the back as you find yourself grow more at ease. Simon seems to sense it, because the lines in his brow are more relaxed now.

“So, how about we get whatever is left on the shopping list, and in the meantime you can tell me all about your ambition to take up drawing.”

Surprised with his sudden curiosity regarding your interests, you can’t say no to that suggestion.

Once done, you head back to camp, and from a distance, Jesus can see you two approach, walking closer to each other than when you had left, engrossed in your conversation. The Messiah smiles gently, His shoulders lowering as He sighs. It seemed that the trip has borne fruit to a closer friendship built on more understanding. Simon had learnt a lot during this afternoon.

Judas on the other hand seemed to need another demonstration on how to properly wash clothes, making it so that tomorrow, you’ll have to do all today’s laundry all over again.

#the chosen #reader insert #the chosen x reader #chosen x reader #platonic #simon peter x reader #the chosen simon peter #shahar isaac

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