Archive of Our Own ^beta

Friday - May 19th, 2028

Simon doesn't feel ready as he waits for his name to be called and for his cue to get on stage and sit at the piano right in the middle of it. His hands are shaking and he can feel his heart beating into his throat, ready to jump out of him. He doesn’t feel ready as he gets called, walks on stage and sits down at the piano. The lights pointing towards him makes his neck and forehead sweaty, feeling a cold, damp sensation as he wipes his face with his palm. He looks over the small crowd gathered at the foot of the stage, taking a deep breath to try and level his racing heart off.

As Simon listens to the crowd quieting down, he places his fingers on the keys, shifting his body on the bench to be closer to the instrument. He quickly reconsiders the choice of song -not that he has such a vast repertoire to choose from-, but then he starts playing the first few notes, and his voice comes out. Almost as if he couldn't help it, his mind is already stumbling over the memories of three years ago, flooding him with the accurate very images of it all, vividly displaying in front of his eyes, as his voice goes over the exact words that he felt too deep inside of him.

[Walking down 29th and park

I saw you in another's arm

Only a month we've been apart

You look happier

Saw you walk inside a bar

He said something to make you laugh

I saw that both your smiles were twice as wide as ours

Yeah, you look happier, you do]

Sunday - April 13th, 2025

Simon was late once again. He could practically feel his sister giving him a sharp look, the kind of look that was able to make Simon shiver from the judgment in the worst way, and it was a common look on Sara's face lately, when looking at him. But it was also that look that Simon is now used to, and that doesn't give it much credit, because it really was the last of his worries now. He knows he deserves those glances, though. He hasn't been doing much this past month to give his sister (or his friends, for that matter) a reason to not act harsh towards him. Not that he gave them a reason to act harsh either, since he's pretty much ignoring them.

But he doesn't blame his sister. He would do the same if she was in his situation, because he knows she deserves to live out of that misery that was eating Simon alive. But it was also different, because she had a brilliant life with a brilliant career ahead of her. Simon didn’t really think the same about himself, at least not anymore. He doesn't even feel like he still has some kind of reason to try and get better. The whole world is indifferent to him, and he is tired to prove otherwise, failing over and over and over again. The list of reasons to try for is such an embarrassing short list that he doesn't even know if it can be called a list. So short he doesn't have the strength to fight for it.

But Simon admits it, it's his own fault. He's doing all of it. Wrong, all of it is being done wrong, but Simon seems to be quite fond of that pattern, that he keeps going on with doing shit. His therapist told him his inclination to auto sabotage is one of the main factors as to why he's got depression in the first place. Simon doesn't find it hard to believe.

But then there was his sister, still there, still hoping he gets better and stops thinking and thinking and thinking and spiralling and drowning in his own distress. So, even if he really cares about her, he can't really care if he’s not doing enough anymore. And as of now, he doesn't really care that he's late either. It became a routine during this last month, he got used to it with plenty of other things that he can't help but let them take over his body, his mind, his thoughts, his life.

He was late in the morning, the days he’d decide to show up to university and try to come up with some productive hours. He was late in the evening, those few days Anna, the bakery owner, sweet and caring, genuinely worried for Simon, decided he could still come to work, even if it was for barely a few days a week. Moreover, he needed that job, he needed the little money he does with it so that he could at least eat, so he had to go. He could barely show up in time at his sister's door -not that he's actually showing up at all lately, but once he used to, that is- or at his sister's workplace. He was late every time he had to leave the house, mostly because most of the time he was forced to. Actually, let's say all the time.

So he is late now, rushing (so to speak. He is definitely not actually rushing) to their usual bar down the street, where Sara is having her night shift. She called him a few days ago, gently asking him if he would finally visit her, but he totally heard the snarked undertone of her voice. Sara added how she was picking extra shifts lately and it was most likely to find her at the bar rather than at home, and he doesn't know what has gotten into him to tell her he would, in fact, show up at her job to see her after a whole month. It was probably the growing disappointment in her tone every time she called him, and his only answers were half noises, and half yes or no. Or maybe the sleep deprivation situation he was in, but whatever the reason was, he said yes.

Simon regretted it a few hours later, but he got out of his house at night, for the first time since he left his -no longer- house that he shared with Wille, convincing himself it would be good for him, because Sara convinced him. Convinced that it would be good to try and enjoy a bit of fresh air and all of that shit. And he’s trying to enjoy it, to not surrender to his mind and turn back home and crawl in his bed. But he is late. And he's not enjoying it. And he fucking promised Sara he'd have been there at 10.

Simon doesn't really know what time it is, but he's pretty sure it’s not 10. Not when at fucking 10 he read the message of his sister, asking him if he was on his way. At that point, he remembered he had to go and meet her. It's not a long walk from his mamá's now empty house, that he was now using temporarily -the one she bought when running away from Simon's father, and apparently from her kids too- to the bar. It's probably about a 20 minutes slow walk, but Simon was extra slow that night, and he had no intention to speed up, so it would probably take him about 15 minutes more.

Logistics don't really matter, not when he is finally a few meters away from the building, a few people walking past him, chatting animatedly. He can already see the red led sign, the huge letters creating the word “Shaken” and lightening the front of the building, the people under it and the asphalt. The Shaken became Simon's favorite bar -and then his friends’ favorite- when he moved to Stockholm, way before his sister got a job there and way before he lost the will to party at night. It faces one of the biggest parks of the city, evergreens everywhere and a small lake right in the middle of it.

Simon used to hide in between the trees during the first year of university, when he had just moved to Stockholm with Wilhelm and had a hard time getting used to his new, chaotic life and to the absence of both his parents in it, scared he was gonna live the agony of surviving in a place that he couldn't feel his, with no one next to him to support him. Wilhelm wouldn't go look for him, because he knew he needed that space at times, so he'd just sit on one of the benches at the beginning of the path that leads to the lake, waiting hours till Simon would come out, sit beside him and let himself melt into Wilhelm's welcoming embrace.

Now, getting close to the building and those same benches, he sees something that makes his body heavy, bringing him to slow down his pace to look carefully. He still isn't close enough to differentiate people's heads, but close enough to recognize his head, so his mind starts to spiral, hitting him with scenarios he had never thought before, and doesn't really want to think about now. But eventually, he needed to get there, accept that, and overcome it. Maybe it could have happened more gently, at his own pace and when he felt he was ready enough to hear the reality of things. But it was fine. Simon is fine.

Simon takes a few more steps, the sufficient ones he needs to be close enough to tell apart faces -or heads, for that matter- and be sure he isn't hallucinating, be sure his mind isn't playing tricks with him, making him see what he basically asked for when a month before he broke up with the love of his life, but that he didn't really want to see, nor acknowledge with his own eyes. Someone else telling him at some point would have been fine anyway. He's close enough, so he stops on his feet, almost tripping on them, on the middle of the sidewalk.

He needs to stop on his feet, he couldn't get his body to move even if he wanted to, because he suddenly feels dizzy. A painful ache extends from his heart to every inch of his body, bringing back the memory of the last time he felt such pain. He hoped he would never feel it again. His stomach starts aching as well, making him close to vomit. It’'s probably because of the food he didn't fucking eat today, too tired to even open a can of tuna. Or maybe it is Wille, not too far from him, but right in that moment he never felt more distant from him. Wille, sitting on one of those exact benches, body completely twisted towards the boy next to him, reaching behind his shoulders to trace circles with his fingers on it as he says something enthusiastically. He doubts it's the lack of food to make him numb, even though it could have been a good guess.

He wants to run. Leave that place and get somewhere he's sure he won't see him anymore. Not around another man, at least.

He wants to scream, because that's exactly what he wanted, he tells himself again. He wanted to see Wille happy again with someone who could actually take care of him as much as Wille himself takes care of the people he loves.

But he needs to scream, because it’s barely been a month. And if on one hand he's glad he found someone and is over him, he can't really fathom the way he already was really over him.

And he needs to scream and run away and bang his head against a wall until he loses senses, because Wille is there, smiling wider than he has ever seen him, laughing as if that boy is the funniest human being on earth, and Simon hates that he was right, when he thought Wille wasn't really happy in their relationship, when he thought Wille wasn't receiving back the love he was giving.

Simon hates it and hates himself for it, hates that he wasn't able to love. He hates that he doesn't know how to love. He hates that he can't love. He can't do it.

He can see the wrinkles making their way around the corner of Wille’s eyes as he smiles. And he can tell Wille's happy, he can see that from that far. That same pain that was making him numb gets stronger, spreading harder and faster. He doesn't move, he can't. He can only stare as the boy lifts himself up to blow Wille a kiss that hovers between them, but it was enough to make Wille lighting up with a smile and a scrunch of his nose. He feels his legs quiver, wanting to fall on that sidewalk and cry more than he's done all of this month. He doesn't. He waits, dragging himself into the alley that makes a corner with the building so he can lean his body to the wall.

The two of them get up at that exact moment, starting their way towards the entrance of the bar. A couple of people turn their heads to watch, curious, but they only get a Wille with his head down, looking at his feet moving as if hoping the people around them would just disappear and stop staring. Simon remembers that feeling, he got used to it over time. With them getting closer, Simon has the opportunity to peer at them with a better view, covered by the wall and the low lights only pointed towards the front of the place. Wille looks as he remembers, yet so different. He has a light in his eyes, Simon hadn't seen it in so long that at the end of their relationship he feared he had made it blow out, extinguishing it completely to the point he ruined Wille forever.

Simon lets out a sigh, somehow there's relief that fills his lungs as he notices how that same light is there again, exactly where it belongs. And maybe it was the yellow and red illumination that comes from the bar that was tricking him by putting some of the light in his eyes, but Simon decides to believe it was actually there, because he needed it to be, even if it makes his breath stop abruptly. He feels relief, somewhere in his bones, even if it's so mixed up with the clenching pain that was consuming him, biting his skin to get inside him, tearing him up piece by piece until he was left with nothing but a bunch of heartbeats that were bound to stop, sooner or later. The relief was deep inside of him, buried and running away from the reality of it all the same way Simon wants to run away too.

Because Wilhelm was happy, and he could -he should- feel just as happy, knowing he left him in time, before he couldn't resurface again from that scary, lonely, weak place that was Simon’s depression, before Simon would swallow him alive, not strong enough to leave him out nor strong enough to pull him out, not when he was the first who couldn’t see the exit and not when Wille was determined to search for Simon's exit, ignoring the fact that he would remain without one. And Wille is carefree, with those shiny eyes that once could make Simon's eyes shine too by looking at him, and it makes Simon forget about any signs of regret for what he did.

Then, he looks at the boy walking with him, his body leaning into Wille's side as much as he could, but he never touches him. Simon supposes it's because Wille doesn't want anyone to see him affectionate with a guy, especially when he has known him for -Simon guesses- not more than a month. He is the same height as Wille, with long, black hair, an impeccable set of clothes in jeans that makes his olive skin tone stand out, and a laugh that is contaging Wille's, till he is laughing even harder. He still can't move his feet from his place or takes his eyes off of the couple as they pass by and step into the bar, the boy opening the door for Wille and letting him step inside first, the hand not occupied holding Wille's runs on his back to smooth it out under his touch.

The guy says something that makes Wille laugh genuinely, biting his lips to stop from laughing too hard as he steps through the door and Simon can't see his figure anymore. The music gets louder when the door opens, making Simon aware of the noise around him, letting his body feel the reality around him, the light breeze that was blowing around the city, the smell of liquor and beer. All of the laughter of the people around him, vibing to the music played by the dj. He looks around the place, finding himself to be the only person alone, feeling the way he was standing in the wrong space, not knowing why he would even be there. Simon doesn't move, he barely breathes. He feels as even his breaths make him aware of where he shouldn't, creating small clouds from the cold. Every move he does with his body makes him aware of how out of place he is there, occupying a space he shouldn’t, scared he could make people turn towards him at every shift or motion and notice he has nothing to do with them. Scared they notice how he shouldn't be there too. The door closes, echoing a ‘bang’ that resonates in his head louder than it should, making him startle and take his look away from it, from them. He fixates on the bench they were sitting on, watching it with watery eyes and a few tears on his cheeks. He doesn't find the courage to move between those people.

[Ain't nobody hurt you like I hurt you

But ain't nobody love you like I do

Promise that I will not take it personal, baby

If you're moving on with someone new]

Friday - March 7th, 2025

Simon doesn't know how he was able to walk home that night, head dizzy and legs unstable, his eyes hardly making him see clearly around him. He didn't know if it was because of the crazy amount of alcohol and pills he ingested earlier tonight, or if it was for the tears that never stopped coming down, dumping his cheeks, but he didn't pay much attention to the movement of his wobbly feet, nor to the time or route he took to actually get there. If anything, he's actually surprised he reached the right apartments’ building at all.

He somehow managed to stumble home, from a stranger's house a few blocks away. He guesses it took him more time than what would be necessary when sober, because while he grabs the keys from his pocket and proceeds to open the door, he finds himself already more present than when he started his walk, and not like he was a ghost teetering around the area anymore. He wouldn't call himself sober, though.

As he enters, he is met with a Wille standing in the middle of the entrance hall, almost completely surrounded by darkness if it wasn't for the small lamp in the living room. Wille's standing still, big eyes filled with panic that look for Simon's, arms crossed in front of his chest and jaw clenching and relaxing quickly, picking up a steady rhythm. The view makes Simon’s head less fuzzy. He stumbles inside and closes the door behind him in a slow motion, trying not to fall.

Wille doesn't move, it doesn't matter that he sees Simon looking for a surface to hold himself up. "Where the fuck were you?" he asks, cold, "it's fucking five in the morning, Simon. I was worried sick, where the hell did you go? you don't even answer your fucking phone?" to prove his point, he throws his phone out of his pocket, tossing it on the shoe rack beside the door.

During their whole year or so of relationship, Simon thinks he has never heard Wille cursing this much. He's never seen him so terrified either, which was a lot, since his mother was, well, his mother. It was new, and it hurt him, but he also had all the reasons to react as he's reacting. Simon'd probably react worse, and it hurt him, because he didn't deserve Wille and his stupid, fucking adorable and loving way to care about him.

"I broke it" Simon pronounces blankly, "it fell"

Simon’s mind is instantly picturing the text messages he received earlier that night, probably not long before Wille started to call him. Those words written down in front of him makes him gasp for air. They are standing right in front of his eyes again, as he tries to send them away, to erase the memory of him throwing his phone somewhere in the middle of the street, never looking for it again, and his need to bring Wille as far from him as he could.

He remembers his heart sinking, scared. He remembers how he saw all of his effort to get out of this dark place during the past two years. He saw them in front of him, into those texts, and swept away all of the hope he had in him, all of the hope that he was actually getting better. It's a matter of a few seconds, and he feels himself sinking deeper again, black all around him, the sound of his phone hitting the ground somewhere in front of him.

Simon shakes his head and ignoring Wille's seeking eyes he walks past him to get into the open space of their house. He hears Wille's steps following him behind. He stops a few steps in, when he gets to the back of the couch, right after the entrance of the living room space, so he could lean on it with his back and have something to keep him upright. He swallows a thick lump in his throat when he sees Wille stopping in front of him, an absurd amount of space between them. A weird feeling crawls in his stomach as he looks for the words.

"I chea'ted o’ you" Simon hiccups, his tears’ taste are on his lips again, "I- I cheated on you" he repeats slower.

"You didn't" Wille's words sounded hard and assertive. So convincing he could almost believe it himself. But he did.

"No. I did" he sniffles, breaking away his contact with the sofa to take a tentative step closer to Wille, "I did, and it was terrible. It was the worst thing ever, I couldn't stop crying and thinking how gross it was, how gross I was. I was just praying it would be over quickly, but I did" he doesn't know why he feels the need to tell him every detail, but he needed Wilhelm to actually get what he had done, and right now the only thing Wille seemed to be was a statue.

Wille doesn't move, but his head starts shaking left and right fiercely. His breath starts to get faster and it's a matter of seconds before his eyes get shiny, watery enough that a single tear escapes Wille’s eye.

"No" he whispers, "you wouldn't. stop it, fucking stop talking" he says between gritted teeth.

"I did. I did, Wille. Just break up with me now, alright?" Simon says, gripping with his hands Wille's crossed arms to pull him slightly, hoping he would do something, but he just keeps shaking his head and it drives Simon crazy in the worst way possible, "throw me out, fucking hate me, yell whatever you want to my face and throw me out of here" he almost pledges, urgence for Wille to do something growing in his voice and body, "Wille" he whispers, "please. please, you gotta do it. Please, Wille"

Something in Wilhelm shifts, and gets his face closer to Simon. His eyes run to look for Simon's, not blinking once, "are you high?"

Simon nods, his voice getting stuck in his throat, making it impossible to speak.

"How many pills did you take?"

"I-" Simon clears his throat, feeling it dry, "I don't remember"

"You said you were trying" Wille's voice is small, but always so steady.

"I am" Simon cries, "I am, I just-"

"Fuck off, Simon" Wille says. He doesn't wait for Simon to say something more, and shakes his grip off of his arms to walk past him towards the coffee table in front of the white sofa.

Simon’s taken aback by his move, and when he doesn't have anything in front of him to grip and keep himself up, he falls to his knees, hands running in front of him to avoid his face hitting the floor. He doesn't bother moving, he just adjusts his position so he's sat with his ass on his heels and lets his tears fall, thinking they have to stop at some point. He assumes Wille would get back to their room, leaving him there to get out of the apartment on his own, but he doesn't. Instead, he gets back with a pack of tissues and sits silently on his knees in front of him.

"Wille" he cries, "fucking say something. Fucking tell me I'm the worst person ever and throw me out"

Wilhelm just shakes his head, a deep sigh leaving his lips, "I won't. Now stop it, you're just making this harder" he says, but there wasn't anything in his voice that reminded Simon of his usual sweetness. He was the coldest he has ever seen him, and still, he wouldn't tell Simon to fuck off immediately.

Simon needs Wilhelm to tell him to go fuck himself, and he doesn't. He needs Wilhelm to leave him out of the apartment, but he doesn't. He needs Wilhelm to scream at him how wrong he did him, to tell him he couldn't screw their relationship worse than he did, but he doesn't.

Wilhelm doesn't do any of those things, but he wipes Simon's face with the tissue, carefully removing every stain of dry and wet tears from his cheeks and lips, then dries his eyes as well, making them flutter close.

"Why don't you hear me?" Simon sobs, a desperation in his tone that sound strange even to him, "I had sex with a fucking str’anger, why are you still here? You're making this so hard"

"No" Wilhelm cuts him off as he stops wiping his face and retracts his hand, throwing the tissue somewhere on the floor behind him, or maybe into his pocket. "I told you already, you're the one making this harder" he repeats dryly, "and I hear you, but I'd honestly rather not" Wilhelm looks at him one last time, then he gets back up on his feet and Simon can't help but follow him with his eyes, not strong enough to get himself up on his feet without falling again.

Simon follows Wille with his gaze until he can't see him anymore, and lets out a squeak out of surprise when he feels his hands under his armpits, propping him up. As it came, the feeling of his touch was gone once Wilhelm was sure Simon wasn't gonna fall again, and he was once again in front of him, his eyes were every second more red, making Simon’s stomach twist painfully, an actual pain spreading inside of him. It was probably the same pain he has felt all night, but now he had to face it.

Shame, disgust, hurt.

"How much did you drink?" Wille asks.

Simon shrugs, not really able to tell an exact quantity as it happened with pills, "I think a bottle of wine. A few beers" he says, having a hard time swallowing his saliva and almost choking on his words. He fixes it with a few coughs that make Wille flinch, "shots, too"

"Why?" Wille asks quietly, taking deep breaths. "I don't know" Simon shakes his head, but he's instantly met with the reason why he shouldn't have. He never stopped feeling dizzy, even worse if he was standing, "it felt easier that way" he whispers.

The sticky feeling of his skin being touched by someone else so careless gets mixed with the bitter taste of his tears and the words Simon repeatedly told himself, hoping it was gonna end quickly.

It's for Wille, you can't let him be close to you, not when you're such a mess and such a huge waste of time. Wille deserves so much, and you're just so, so little.

Wilhelm squeezes his eyes shut, opening and closing his mouth a few times, wanting to say something. He ends up not saying anything. He takes Simon from his forearms and prompts him to walk, as he guides him walking backward, his head turning to see where he was taking the both of them. Passing through the entrance, they get to the bathroom's door, which Wille promptly kicks open, letting Simon get in first and following right after.

Simon manages to get to the toilet, still stumbling a bit, and falling right in front of it, hands clenching around the bowl, already knowing why Wille brought him there.

"You're gonna vomit everything you took, and no complaints about it" Wilhelm sighs, crouching down beside him.

Simon hates vomiting. He never does. He prefers having to go through the aftermath of everything he decided to take, insead of vomiting his life out. He was a kid, the last time he vomited. His voice can barely be heard when he, in fact, tries to complain, "I don't need to vomit"

"It's not a choice, Simon" Wilhelm says harshly, giving him a pointed look, "you won't go to sleep full of shit. Do you need me to do it or will you do it?"

"Why are you doing this?" Simon asks low, "helping me?"

"Will you or not?" Wille ignores him, repeating his question sharply.

"I slept with someone" Simon repeats, because he doesn't think his boyfriend understood. He wouldn't be helping him if he did. He shouldn't be helping him.

"I fucking know it" Wilhelm clenches his teeth while he says it. "Open your mouth, I'll do it" he says, losing the last crumb of patience he had left.

Simon just accepts it, opening his mouth as much as he could and leaning better on the toilet, his eyes closing unconsciously. He hears Wilhelm letting out a frustrated sound, then he feels a hand soothing his back and fingers in his mouth, and the second later, he's vomiting as he never did in his life.

A few minutes go by, when he finally falls with his ass butt on the floor, legs bent on his side and his whole body collapsing against the wall to his right. He has the worst taste ever in his mouth, but he has to admit he was already feeling lighter. He notices even his tears stopped at some point, maybe because he didn't have any more in him. He doesn't open his eyes. He listens to the faint sounds Wille was making while moving around the bathroom, washing his hand and then getting out and back in not much later.

"Open your eyes" Wilhelm says, his voice sounding too close and too loud for his liking, "drink this"

When Simon does as Wille says, he sees the man crouched down in front of him, handing him a glass full of water with one hand, and keeping a wet cloth in the other one. He takes the glass with shaking hands, then he waits for Wille to clean his mouth up with the cloth before starting drinking the whole glass in silence.

None of them talk: Simon too tired that even keeping his eyes open is starting to be a challenge, and Wilhelm probably as tired as him if his red, swollen eyes are a clue. They don't talk, not even when Wilhelm drags him up again and remains behind him to keep him steady, clearly seeing how Simon's legs couldn't hold his weight anymore. He was on the verge of crying again. He accepts the toothbrush Wille hands him and uses his help to rinse his mouth and face, then to reach their bedroom and to sit down at the end of their bed.

Simon can't take his eyes off the wall in front of him, rarely even blinking, watching the shelves full of pictures and their objects. Them on their first anniversary. Them with their friends on the last day of school. Simon the day of his 17th birthday, next to the picture of Wille the day of his 18th, because better to forget his 17th. A ceramic frog wearing a crown, that Simon felt the urge to buy and give Wille the day of his abdication. A few stuffed animals from Simon's childhood bedroom. A postcard from Venezuela that Simon's abuela sent him. An old alarm clock that belonged to Erik, now ticking every second and making it echo in Simon's brain.

For a moment, he believes he’s about to fall asleep, sat as he is, listening to their breathing and the time passing. Then Wilhelm sits down next to him, his eyes fixed on the same spot as his.

"Did he know you were basically unconscious the whole time?" he says weakly.

"I wasn't unconscious" Simon argues, but he's met with an harsh look of Wille, already turning back towards the wall, as quick as it landed on him, "I- It wasn't that easy to hide" he decides to say, shrugging a little.

"Great" Wille scoffs, "this gets better and better"

"I'm leaving now" Simon says, starting to prop himself up slowly, paying attention not to fall back on the bed, nor on the floor. He's stopped by Wilhelm's arm in front of him, that makes him sit back on his spot effortlessly.

"You're not going anywhere. This is your house too"

"It shouldn't be anymore" Simon bickers back, "you're not kicking me out, so I will do it myself"

"In that state, Simon?" Wilhelm asks, his eyes wandering up and down on Simon's figure, an eyebrow arched. "Why do you want me so much to kick you out?" he asks, with enough irritation in his voice that he’s close to laughing as he speaks.

"Because I cheated on you, and that's the right thing to do" Simon responds, not daring to look at him. His gaze falls to his hands placed on the mattress, on both sides of his body. A few seconds go by, in which Wille doesn't say anything. Then, he drags out a sigh and talks.

"I know you did it on purpose, Simon"

"Isn’t it even worse?"

Wilhelm gets up, turning his body towards Simon, "it just makes you an asshole"

"You shouldn't be here taking care of me" Simon says, looking up at him.

"That's not your decision to take" Wille calls him out angrily, "but it looks like something you really like doing lately, don't you, huh?"

Simon doesn't know anymore what to answer, he was drained and hated how Wille was looking at him, how Simon made him change his look to those empty, pained eyes. He lets his -ex?- boyfriend help him out of his clothes and into his pajamas. He thinks he falls asleep during the process, or maybe he just blacks out, because he doesn't notice when he gets pushed under the cover and the light turns off.

['Cause baby you look happier, you do

My friends told me one day I'll feel it too

And until then I'll smile to hide the truth

But I know I was happier with you]

Monday - March 10th, 2025

Simon couldn't feel his limbs anymore. He's been lying on Rosh's sofa, in the same position since he knocked on Rosh's door two days ago, tears still running down his face and a duffle bag with not even half of his possession in, slung over his shoulder loosely. His head is buried into the pillow, arms resting powerless down his sides. He would bother to move just to go to the bathroom, then he's back as he was before. Even eating became something uninteresting for him, purely a waste of the last crumbs of strength he has left in him.

He has never actively thought about it, but if his head pressed heavily on the pillow was gonna make it hard for him to breath until he wasn't anymore, he wouldn't really do something to change the situation, not that he had something to keep living for anyway.

"Simme" Rosh calls him softly, as she lowers herself on the edge of the sofa, occupying the last bit of it free from Simon's body, "you can't stay on this couch forever"

Simon gives her a muffled groan in response, feeling his throat vibrating against the cushion underneath him. He turns his head around, letting it fall on its side as he looks up at his friend "you said I could stay at yours" he murmurs, his voice hoarse from the little use he was making of it lately.

"And you can," Rosh agrees, "but you should get up, y'know? take a shower, eat something, change clothes" she says. Rosh extends her hand to brush his curls out of his face, smiling sadly at him, "your hair needs so desperately to be washed"

Simon sighs heavily, looking at her attempt to make it lighter for him with a joke. "And I desperately need to melt into this sofa and act as if I don’t exist until you can’t do much else than forget about me" he whispers, thinking Rosh wouldn't even hear him, but she does.

"Don't say that again, or I'll slowly torture you to death until you have to change your mind" Rosh says, shoving him on the shoulder.

Simon doesn't know if his friend became stronger in those few days, or if he was the one getting weaker and weaker, but he growls in pain when she touches him. "You'd never kill me" he retorts, "you're too sweet"

"And you're a bitch" Rosh bites back, a playful glimt in her eyes that Simon can only appreciate and be grateful for, "but you're right, I wouldn't kill you" she shrugs "I need you here with me alive"

Simon rolls his eyes, scoffing, "great. Can I sleep now?"

"Absolutely not" Rosh lets out a dry laugh as she shakes her head, "you’ve been sleeping for the past 48 hours"

"Unfortunately, I was awake for most of the time" Simon lets her know dryly, his eyes falling shut as he speaks.

Rosh doesn't really care about his absolute status of desperation, because she not so gently pushes him to press his back on the back of the sofa, and sits better on the cushions, not on the verge of falling to the floor anymore. She shows Simon the bowl in her hand, that he only notices at this point, "I brought you your favorite cereal. You should really eat, Simme"

Simon just stares at her, shifting back a bit more into a more comfortable position, his arm folded under his head while the other hugs his own self. He couldn't find the will to put food into his mouth, scared he would vomit it all from the nausea that was constantly following him around. At this point, he doesn't know anymore if it was because of the lack of food in his stomach, or if it was the whole Wille situation. Either way, his stomach stopped throbbing with hunger after a bit less than a day of not eating, so being stomach-empty wasn't that annoying anymore, now that he wasn't doing that much of moviment anyway. He watches her as she sighs and places the bowl on the coffee table in front of them.

"I know we haven't properly talked about it yet," Rosh starts slowly, "but I think we should"

"There’s nothing to talk about" Simon shrugs, "I now you just want to tell me I'm an idiot"

"You are an idiot. You hurt him in the worst way possible, and I'm so mad at you for this" Rosh confirms, giving him a pointed look, "It's not your place to make decisions for him, Simme. He's a grown up"

Simon's throat started to sting, he could almost feel it burn if he touched the skin of his neck. He shakes his head, not knowing how he could even start to explain himself to her without receiving looks of pity and sympathy in exchange. He'd prefer to drown in his own tears than see her feel sorry for him. Tears that he was trying to not make fall, not blinking till they were just gone. They fall anyway, when Rosh wipes round the corners of his eye with her finger, gently bringing it to caress his cheek before retracting the hand to rest on her lap.

He ponders whether to tell Rosh about that night, about his reasons, about his phone, about the burning sensation his phone left in his hand. But he can just feel his throat tighten as he thinks about telling her, about how he was just starting to go downfall again, and how he couldn't let Wille save him once again. And telling her would mean seeing her mad as hell, as she spits out all the reasons why Simon is so weak and a sucker for letting it affect him this way, after such a long time, after he worked on that. Well, she wouldn’t really use those words, Simon supposes, but the meaning would remain the same.

"He loves you" Rosh whispers, pulling him out of his thoughts, "I don't get it, Simon. You’re doing it again, you're pushing him away again. He's doing everything he can to make sure he takes care of you the way you need"

"I don't need someone to take care of me, and I surely don't need him" Simon spits out, feeling his chest burning with Rosh's words. He chokes on his own answer, because he can't really lie about it the way he wished he could. And maybe he could try to lie to himself, but to Rosh? that was so not possible.

"Look at me" he prompts, "I'm a burden. I can't stand on my feet most days, I keep saying I would get better and I never do. I can't show up at university for more than a day every, like, two months. And work is even worse. I don't think I even have a job anymore. Most of the time I won't talk for days, I'm completely useless more often than not and I know it" he shakes his head, shutting his eyes close as the light starts to burn on his tears, "hell, I'm becoming my pappa, Rosh, and I swore I would have never"

When two years ago he was diagnosed with depression, he got back home running away from Sara, running away from whoever would want to talk to him. He ran into the bathroom, closed himself inside and slid to sit on the floor, knees on his chest as he wasn’t even totally aware of the tears running down his eyes. By the time he got back up, his sister had stopped trying to get in, and he looked at his reflection in the mirror. He hated that version of himself, the one traumatised by his own parents, the one who couldn't stay sober, because otherwise he would spiral and think and run away. He hated to see how it all affected him, how he was scared of everyone around him, of every little sound of movement.

Scared enough that day after day, trying to escape from his father’s addiction and problems, he got into the same ones. Scared enough that he hated it for him, that he had to be alive and act like nothing was happening in his life, because no one would care either, the signs on his face don't have a meaning to anyone. Scared enough he got depression, and a handful of traumas that was worsening the whole thing.

That day Simon looked at his reflection, at the faint bruises that were fading around his eyes and his ruined lip. He looked at himself and promised he wouldn't become his father, he would get out of that nightmare and get better, because he was better than him, and he wasn't his pappa. He promised himself. But now, thinking back to that day, he can see how stupid and naive he was. From that day, he was only falling deeper, unable to change it, unable to admit he couldn't do it alone.

"I became my fucking pappa, Rosh" he breathes out, his voice coming out strangled, "I can’t do this anymore. I can't fucking do this. I need all of this to stop, all of this, all of this" he shakes his head, his eyes squeezed close, not willing to open them anymore. He covers his face, hiding it between the upper arm and the forearm, "I’m so fucking tired" he mutters, muffled by his own arm, "I don’t wanna be here anymore. I don't wanna be anywhere. I just want to disappear completely and never have to open my eyes again"

"Fuck, Simme" Rosh mutters, her voice is pitched, he can hear the panic rising in it, "you're not your pappa" Rosh nudges him, pulling his arm away to prompt his head to get back up. She looks at him, eyes looking for his ones as he can only look around the living room, avoiding her, "you're fighting, and you’re so freaking strong for it. You’ve been fighting so much and I’m so proud of you, even if you can’t see that and don’t want to believe me. I’m glad you're still here, Simon" she whispers, her eyes filling with tears as she wipes them away with her hand, "You’re allowed to ask for help, to let people help you as much as they are willing to. You can't ask us to leave you to deal with this shit alone, and you might have stupidly pushed Wille to the limit and off the edge, but you won’t be able to do that with us, too, okay?" she explains, voice sweet and caring the way it comforts him, "you can’t do this alone, and it’s okay"

"I can’t ask you for it" Simon breathes out, "and I can’t let Wille fall back into this shit, not when he fought so hard to get out of his"

"You don’t have to ask for it, and I’m sorry I didn't do enough earlier that it got you to say and think all of this" Rosh says, her eyes showing all of the guilt she is feeling.

Simon shakes his head, sniffing loudly, "you did more than enough. And I’m glad I got you"

Rosh sighs, her lips forming a tight, straight line. "I’m glad I got you" she remarks. She bites her lips, silently watching Simon's tears fall and his breath getting more steady as he slowly calms down. Her hand falls on his arm, rubbing it delicately with his thumbs as neither of them talk for a few moments.

"You know, you're so lucky you had him in your life" she whispers, changing topic and taking his hand in her, squeezing in tight as she brings it on her lap.

The weak smile that shows up on Simon's lips happens involuntarily, and he’s glad he could still show one, feeling one, as much as he’s glad Rosh dropped the topic, even though he knows she didn't permanently drop it, and that they will talk about it again, when there will be less tears and sniffling involved.

He swallows tightly, hoping to melt the lump stuck in his throat that makes him feel heavy and vulnerable in front of his friend. Rosh’s right: he can’t do that alone. He hates it. He hates that he has to bring the few people that still care about him down with him. He shakes those thoughts out of his mind, knowing he would piss Rosh off and they would probably fight about it. His smile starts to slip away, so he forces it back.

"I remember how you hated him when we first started dating"

"He looked like he had a stick up his ass and no idea of where he was!" Rosh exclaims, her mouth dropping open in mock affront, "and you hated him more than me!"

"Well, that was before getting to know him" Simon scoffs, "you’ve tried to get rid of him for, like, half a year after we got together the first time"

"Simon" Rosh calls, his face falling into a serious expression, hiding the way she wanted to laugh, "you’re such a liar. You barely lasted two weeks the first time. Also, you're making me look like a bad friend"

"Hey! It was, like, a month" Simon says, and he laughs, the first real laugh he had in weeks. His laughter mixes with his tears, that don't stop falling, but he doesn't pay much attention to it anymore, until he does again, when they fall silent and his head flies back to the original topic.

He clears his throat, squeezing more his friend's hand, "I can't do this to him, Rosh" he murmurs, shaking fiercely his head in between tears, "I can't, I can't"

Rosh sighs, "I know" she says, "you're the strongest person I know, Simon. But pushing him away like this? It was low even for you, this is not who you are. This is not the Simon I know"

Simon looks at her, his lip trembling as his whole body starts shaking too, "I know I’ve been an asshole" he chokes out, his lips trembling when the words roll out his mouth, "but I love him too much to ask him for help, he deserves to be happy and- and not-" he trails off when his breathing becomes erratic and it doesn't allow him anymore to speak without choking air.

"You're so dumb if you think he wasn't happy with you" Rosh gives him a flat look, her eyes looking disappointed somewhere between her concern for him, "You're going through tough times, of course he will be looking upset or tired, but he never stopped looking at you as if you hung the sun for him, and that's because he wants to be happy with you" she says, "you always cares so much about the others, Simme, but who's gonna take care of you, mhm?"

"I was making him fade away, Rosh, I could see it every time he looked at me and it was the worst thing ever because I did that to him and I would just keep doing worse" Simon argues, because he really, really knows his friend is right, and knows what Wille'd want, and that makes every bone in Simon hurt even more, "his eyes are so empty it scares me" he whispers under his breath, his eyes fixating on a random spot on Rosh's clean coffee table.

He remembers the first time he couldn’t recognise Wille's eyes, his usual light he had in them. That day, his heart sank an inch into his body, and from that day on it never stopped. That day, he could see how his pappa was right, when he told him how he only ruins every person he meets, draining them until they are dead instead of him. He always refused to believe him, and he fought himself every time to not let it go to his mind with all the other million things he said that Simon couldn't keep outside, far from him. He's been trying, but then he saw it, and he saw it in Wille's eyes. It made him scared of himself. It made him scared for Wille's life. And now he’s scared, all over again.

Rosh brings his hand to her mouth, leaving there a few, soft kisses. She sighs, rising the corner of his mouth to give him a hint of a smile, "I won't tell you you shouldn't have cut him out of your life, because I would’ve probably done the same" she says, so low Simon almost doesn't hear her, "but I hate how you did it, and I will never get tired to remind you. You've been the biggest dick ever, and I honestly didn't even think you were capable of doing something like that, especially to Wille" she frowns, looking down at their hands intertwined, "he needed you, Simon"

Rosh's words cut Simon open again, sinking deeper into the cuts Wille's words left. He shakes his head, looking up at the ceiling, breathing loudly in and out. He knows Rosh's right. He doesn't even recognize himself, if he thinks about that night. But then he sees Wille's need to fight for him, then Wille’s drained body and eyes while he tries not to let go of Simon, and he can’t really know anymore if it was an actual dick move. He was desperate, he didn’t know what else to do. It hurt him in ways he didn't know he could be hurt, feeling his body as an annoying extension of him every time he looks at himself and remembers how that man touched him everywhere. Sometimes he thinks he hurt himself more than he hurt Wille. His Wille, who was fading away in front of him, because of him. He can't really regret what he did when the only image he can remember of Wille is the one where he knew he started to kill him painfully slowly, aware Wille wouldn’t have fought it.

"I took his spark away" he finally decides to say, "I saw it shutting down and Wille letting it happen just to help me. He wasn't gonna give up, Rosh. I needed him to give up" he cries. His eyes flutter close when enough tears collect between his eyelashes to cover his sight.

"Take this" Rosh speaks, handing him a tissue and breaking the contact of their hands.

Simon takes it, drying his face as much as he could. "It's just-" he says, cutting himself off to breathe, "If I have to bring him down with me while trying to get back up, I'd rather do it alone and sink all the way down on my own" he sighs. He pulls at the feathers coming out from a rip in the cushion beneath him, watching them as they fall on the floor.

He shrugs tired, "I know what it means having to live without a crumb of happiness in your life, and I can't let Wille feel it"

"I doubt he's happy now" Rosh says.

"But he will be. Maybe it'll take some time, but he will be for sure happier than he was with me" Simon argues, "there's no sure with me and most certainly there will be no happier"

"You will be" Rosh murmurs, a few tears now wetting her cheeks, too. She seems to ponder on something, then she's quick at throwing herself on him, her arms running to tighten around his neck as best as she can in their position.

Simon shifts down on the cushion slightly, to help their hug, then wraps his arms around her shoulders to pull her closer, hiding his face in her t-shirt, wetting it with his silent crying. It was barely noticeable, if it wasn't for his shoulders shuddering with every breath he takes.

"You'll be happy, Simme, and then you'll be even happier. I promise" Rosh mutters, holding him closer, "I won’t leave your side, not even for a second if that's what it takes to let you accept my help. I will not let go"

[Sat in the corner of the room

Everything's reminding me of you

Nursing an empty bottle and telling myself

You're happier, aren't you?]

Friday - April 18th, 2025

Simon knows it's his fault and his fault only, if he showed up to the party on Friday. He even fought with Sara about it.

He wanted to go. For, like, a few hours. Then he changed his mind, but it was too late, and Felice was already too excited and his heart was beating way faster than it should have because for some weird reason he wanted to see Wille. But now every point his sister made was becoming true, starting with him feeling trapped, definitely not lighter as Maddie hoped, and definitely not comfortable around- pretty much everything. And he wasn't really aware -or best, he was ignoring it- that apparently every basic human function he already had a hard time accomplishing, was even harder to achieve if Wille was into his visual field. He would eat. He would go to work. He would go to uni. He would go out with his friends -kind of. He would, but he needed to avoid every sign of Wille in order to do that, or else he just feels freaking haunted by him. Haunted by his bright eyes, full of love, and his bright, crooked smile that Simon was just so in love with.

Same smile Simon is seeing now. From well afar. As Wille smiles at his boyfriend, or whatever. He's pretty sure Wille didn’t even notice Simon, but Simon surely noticed him. Which, for some reason, was the original reason he decided to show up. And he now understands why his sister was so against it.

He wishes he could get back home and coil up into his warm blanket. No one is really acknowledging his presence anyway. Or at least, his sister and the rest of the group was, for a bit, making sure he wasn't gonna hide somewhere with some alcohol and that he was actually gonna have a fun night for once. Which is basically what is happening right now. Except he's not exactly hidden somewhere. He just slid into the back corner of the room. It was the rest of the group that he couldn't see anymore. So it's not really his fault. Well, it is. Because he voluntarily decided to take a bottle of wine from the open bar, and he voluntarily started drinking it. But he was left alone, somewhere where he has no idea who these people are, in a place he doesn't want to be, and where the only face he recognizes and knows is Wilhelm.

His original plan, when he accepted his faith of being left alone -although it didn't really surprise him, was to go get some air outside to breathe properly, instead of letting sweaty people and consumed air toss him around the room, shouldering him not so gently. He resisted about three minutes before he was starting to freeze his fingers off. Once back in, things happened really fast and thoughtlessly, and now he finds himself sitting on the floor, in the corner of the room, well pressed against the wall with his knees up against his chest.

It was only when he ran to the kitchen to get a new bottle of the first thing he could find and then slid again into his corner, that he notices not only his group wasn't anywhere anymore, but even Wille and his new flame weren't anywhere to be seen. He admits to be quite tipsy, and probably his sight is not that great right now -a little messy, a little fuzzy- but he was still sober enough to actually see people dancing around each other, unbothered and cheerful and, unfortunately Simon can also notice, couple making out on the dance floor, pressed against each other and taking the same, corny, loving breaths.

Simon isn't trying to purposely hurt himself, but he must admit how used he is to, in fact, hurt himself. At this point, the words of his therapist, Jasmine, were every day more present in his head. It seemed to him that especially recently, his mind was trying to hurt him purposely more often than usual. She told him something along the lines of a deep speech that can be roughly summarised as Simon implementing hurtful mechanisms against himself with the clear intention to damage himself, but without really being aware of doing it purposely. Either way, he wasn't sober enough to ponder on his therapist's words, but he was sober enough to let his mind wander into dangerous places.

More specifically, Wille. Wille, and the way they used to dance together, him pressing Simon every second closer and never being enough, him kissing and making out with Simon breathlessly, exactly the same way he sees hundreds of people do the same in front of him right now. And Simon wonders. He wonders if Wille is somewhere amongst those people, doing the exact same with his new, perfectly handsome, most likely fleeting guy. He wonders if he’s appreciating the way the lights fall and color Wille’s skin, making his eyes reflect it perfectly in the guy's, the same way Simon used to with him. He wonders if Wille's appreciating the way the guy moves under his touch as if no one was watching, the same way Wille used to with him. The same way he sees a guy do, right in front of him, holding his girlfriend tight against him, smiling in her hair when she can't see. He wonders if Wille is doing the same.

Simon looks at the DJ when his vision gets smudged, admiring how comfortable he is around his place, mixing and changing songs as the people ask him. He thinks back to the times Wille used to request Simon’s favorite ones, until the DJ would get tired of seeing his face coming up to ask. He wonders if he does the same for the new guy.

In a matter of seconds, he lets his gaze fall to the side of the room, where some couches and coffee tables were positioned, and he sees Wille again, talking by the end of the dance floor with someone Simon never saw in his life, gesticulating with his hands as he's explaining something. The girl listening is so close to him.

Simon wonders if his boyfriend can see how she is trying to get in his pants, and he doesn't know if he saw it, but he knows Wilhelm definitely didn't and that Simon himself surely did notice. And he surely would do something, like come up to him and kiss him deeply in front of her, waiting for her reaction, but he can't do it. Wille shifts his gaze from the girl to the middle of the dancefloor, and Simon follows the movement with his eyes, to get where he is looking.

The guy is there. Simon can't see him too well from where he's sitting, but he can still capture a few of his movements, when he's not hidden from other bodies. He's there, dancing alone, carefree and joyous as he follows the rhythm Rihanna's music is giving. He thinks back to the times Simon would dance alone in the middle of the dancefloor, daring to get a bit closer to whoever tried to slip their arms around him, so that Wille's attention would instantly fall back on him. It would usually work. Wille would stop talking as soon as he'd notice him, and Simon would stop dancing with strangers as soon as he'd notice his boyfriend coming up to him, dragging him to the end of the room to kiss him senselessly, where Wille would let his hands leave faint signs of his passage on his hips, and where Simon would lose his mind at the feeling, wishing he would squeeze even harder.

Simon thinks Wille would do the same now, but instead, he just looks at the guy with a soft smile on his lips, taking his bottom one between his teeth. It's just so obvious when he stops listening to the girl. Simon wonders why Wille doesn't walk into the crowd to reach the guy. Maybe they don't really do boyfriends, not yet at least, and Felice was right. But Wille's smile hurts Simon in his stomach, lungs and heart that he needs to look somewhere else.

Simon looks for his friends again as he empties the second bottle, now too gone to even think about getting up. He wishes his friends would look for him and see him drowning in his own pity. He wishes they would see him, because he doesn't think they really understand. He wishes they would notice how low he has fallen, even if he hides from them, even if he doesn't really be found. Even if he knows it's his fault if they don't see him. Even if he knows he needs to be found. He can't get up. He watches the people walking past him, ignoring his presence, probably not even noticing there's someone there, almost passing out on that floor, close to being stepped on by whoever walks by. He leans his hands against the wall, trying to use it as a support to get up. He gives up quickly, when his mind can't even come up with the reason why he’s sat there.

He puts his eyes back on Wille, not knowing what to do with them, or with the rest of his body. His hand is resting gently on the guy's back. He's talking to someone different from the girl before. But now, with the guy close to his side, Wilhelm smiles a bit more. Sometimes he turns to give him a look. Doesn't matter how far Simon sits, nor how blurry his vision is and how dazed his head feels. He can perfectly recognize the look in Wille's eyes. Because it's the same look Simon used to see when they first met, the same look Wille used to show him when they first started talking to each other. It was the same look that showed Simon the gentle, brave, caring Wille hidden beneath his wall of fears and sorrow, beneath his mask of Prince and then Crown Prince. It was the same look that made Simon fall in love harder and harder. The same look he at some point didn't see anymore, and the same look that when Simon noticed Wille had lost it, he knew he had lost him. The same look that was there again, dedicated to a new guy.

He can see it perfectly, he would recognize it every time. As he feels a tear coming down on his cheeks, tasting sour in his mouth, he can't help showing the hint of a smile.

[Oh, ain't nobody hurt you like I hurt you

But ain't nobody need you like I do

I know that there's others that deserve you

But my darling, I am still in love with you]

Saturday - March 8th, 2025

Simon wakes up with the worst headache he's ever had, even though last night he vomited everything. When he slowly flutters his eyes open, a hand thrown on them to avoid the light hitting him too strongly, he notices the blinds are still closed, blocking the sun rays that are reduced to small glints seeping through the windows. He looks around, taking in a bunch of clothes -he supposes his ones, although he can't really make his eyes tell apart what he's seeing- spread on the floor and on the chair.

Simon turns his head on the pillow, finding the other side of the bed empty already. With a pained grumbling, a mixture of his actual physical pain and emotional pain, he quietly extends his arm to skim Wille's side with his fingers, fixating his eyes on the movement, till he knows he needs to get up, take some painkillers, look for Wille, and talk. He can't hear anyone moving around on the other side of the wall, and his stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought of Wille leaving him when he was sleeping, no matter how much he wanted it to happen. He'd prefer, somehow, having a last chance to see him, to talk it out, even the things to go over were little. He’s flooded with the need to see his eyes one last time, to hear his voice one last time to remember it forever, even if that meant hearing the worst thing Wilhelm could ever come up with against him, because yesterday he was too broken, too waisted, to really pay attention to the sound of his words rolling on his tongue.

Without waiting any further, Simon gets up carefully, making sure to be well steady on his feet before taking off his hands from the bed that were keeping him from falling. And, well, well steady was an absolute overstatement, but he wasn't already on the floor either. His head starts spinning as soon as he looks around, almost feeling like something was stinging his forehead. His throat was parched. As Simon takes a step more to reach the bedroom's door, then the entrance, then walks into the open space of their house, holding onto every surface he encounters because he doesn't trust his own feet, he can feel the guilt as it creates a knot into his stomach, every step tighter, every step wider. He can feel it in his mouth, on his tongue, between his teeth and around the words he's thinking to.

Simon walks past the sofa, holding onto the back of it, looking in front of him as he sees Wille's back, busy with rummaging in a drawer of the kitchen counter, a partial mess on it of something he was making. He doesn't know if he didn't hear him coming, or if he's ignoring Simon's presence on purpose, but either way Simon doesn't call for his attention. He gets to the kitchen isle in complete silence, leaning with his elbows on it to leave his weight somewhere different from his legs. Placed on the isle, there were already two plates of food, still steaming. He feels his eyes burn.

Wilhelm finally turns around, "morning" he murmurs. He doesn't look Simon in the eyes once as he slides a glass full of water and a painkiller on the table and places them in front of him, "take this, you're gonna need it" he says, voice distant, enough to make Simon wonder if it's actually his.

Simon swallows the lump in his throat, biting back the need to start crying again. He looks pathetic even to his own eyes, given that this is all his fault. Wilhelm must find him even worse than just pathetic. He reaches for the painkiller and the water, and swallows everything as fast as he can.

Wille watches him during the whole process, until Simon's eyes land on him and they share an absurd moment of embarrassment. He lets his eyes fall down on one plate of pancakes, sliding one in front of him and starting to cut it into pieces.

Simon can't move, he watches him. He notices the way Wille didn't sit down on one of the stools. He just stands there, his body leaning on the isle as Simon stands on the other side of it, not daring to sit down either, even if the stool is right beside him. He feels the air tense enough that he just eyes the stool once, then he decides to not use it, no matter how wobbly his body was still feeling. He'd probably feel better once he eats something, but the thought of eating is just enough to make him sick. He doesn't even reach for his plate.

Wille doesn't seem too eager to eat either, because he plays with the small pieces of pancakes on his plate, moving them around with his fork. He barely lifted his head to look at Simon since he got in the kitchen, but Simon can see the dark circles around his eyes anyway.

Simon clears his throat, feeling the room getting smaller around him, squeezing him in, "I-"

"I don't know how to help you anymore, Simon" Wille cuts him off, the sound of his fork falling from his hand resonating in the air, hig gaze rising to meet Simon's with a harsh motion of his head, "I don't know what you need" he says.

Simon hears desperation. He doesn't even know what to say, so as he looks for words, Wille is already starting to talk again.

"I've been trying all of this time. I'm always here for you, I put myself aside everyday to make sure you get everything you might need, the space you need for, the time you ask for, everything," he says, showing Simon the counting on his fingers as his list goes on, "I make sure you know I'm here for you, to make this easier for you and to make this easier for the both of us. I try every. single. fucking. day. to take a piece of your pain from your shoulders so that I can carry it," he pushes his plate aside, strong enough to make it stop right on the corner of the isle, ready to fall. It startles Simon. "And I know it's not that easy, that it's not enough and you won't magically feel better because I'm here for you, but I try, Simon. And all of this is hard for me, too, okay? I won't pretend this doesn't affect me too, because it does, but I need you to tell me how I can help you ‘cause I don't have the answer anymore," Wille's voice breaks, so he stops talking definitively.

Simon can only watch him, his own eyes stinging.

"I-" Wille tries again, head bent to look at the white countertop instead of Simon, "I try, but you seem to bolt away every time I get closer and lock me out. You don't talk to me and I can't read your mind" his hands cups his face, hiding it between them to hide a deep breath so that he can keep talking, "I- everything I do has the opposite effect and makes it worse for you. It breaks me" he whispers the last part, a tear falling on the isle in front of him. He doesn't do anything to stop the other ones falling too.

Simon follows them down, feeling his own following the same path down his neck, or on his lips. He doesn't know what to do with himself, his whole body feeling a stranger to him. He rocks on his feet, "I don't wanna hurt you, but that's the only thing I keep doing and I'm tired to see you like this"

"Yeah, well, maybe cheating on me wasn't the smartest move, then" Wille spits, his hand hitting the pristine surface. The sound of his ring hitting the stoneware guides Simon’s puffy eyes back on Wille's face.

"You won't listen to me, Wille," Simon argues back, "you're trying to carry my burden when it's clearly making you miserable and I can't do anything to stop you from putting me in front of yourself"

"I'm not carrying a burden" Wille flashes back. A second goes by, before the silence is broken by Wille's laugh. It's dry, and it's short, but it's a laugh. He laughs and shakes his head, "your fucking burden" he mimics the quotation marks around the word ‘burden’, emphasizing it with his tone, "doesn't make me miserable," he says, "you cutting me out, not wanting my help. That makes me miserable." Then, silence falls around them, both of them looking at random objects in their kitchen, avoiding each other.

Simon feels pressed between two walls, he needs to count his breaths to make sure he's actually doing it, grasping for some air and begging for it to get to his fucking lungs. He follows Wille's, waiting his same time to exhale and inhale, knowing he was trying to hold his composure as well, knowing he was trying to be strong before both of them would crumble in front of each other, knowing he was having way much more trouble to breath than Simon, but he's still the one making sure none of them would fall apart before they could talk it over, because he still needs to make sure Simon wasn't gonna break. Simon knows Wille is trying right now, he sees it. And he despises it. Because this is exactly the reason they can't go on anymore. Wilhelm is neglecting his own health, again, to make sure Simon doesn't, and it doesn't matter what he says, Wille won't stop doing it.

Simon wants to say so many things, he feels them in his gullet, he wants to explain exactly how he feels, tell Wille exactly why he can't let him in, but the words are tying knots on his tongue. He feels pain, starting from the middle of his heart and reaching every nerve in his body, not leaving one out. He needs to hold himself to the edge of the counter in front of him, squeezing it hard.

"You don't-"

"I don't, what? I don't understand?" Wilhelm stops him. He circumvents the isle until he halts in front of Simon, waiting for him to turn his body towards him before talking again, "I can't understand if you don't explain it to me. This-" he says, pointing his fingers at himself, then at Simon, then back at himself, "is all your doing. Not mine"

Simon sniffles, shaking his head, feeling defeated, "you don't deserve my problems on top of yours," he whines, "you don't want to see it, but I can't do anything without noticing it. You want to help me, but I'm just making you sink with me and I can't do that"

Wille dries his cheeks with his sweater caught in his fist, "you're not sinking me" he whispers.

"I haven't seen you smile in months, Wille" Simon insists, trying to prove his point.

"Of course I haven't! What do you expect?!" Wilhelm busts out. He's close to shouting, "that's what happens when your boyfriend is not doing well and not doing better, either. How am I supposed to laugh when you can't even get up from the bed because you're either too drunk or too high or fucking both, huh?" he says. His bottom lip is trembling as he's quick to bite it between his teeth to make it stop.

Simon snaps his head up to the ceiling, hoping he could stop his tears from running down at least for a moment, giving him back the ability to see clear at Wille's face right in front of him, but he gets quite the opposite when his eyes fall back on Wilhelm. "That's literally what I'm talking about. I'm making you miserable" he says.

He bites his tongue to avoid making their fight, or whatever that was, harder with comments on how it wasn't that simple and it couldn't be enclosed into his addictions only.

Wille rolls his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief, "you're making yourself miserable, not me," he argues, "if you'd only let me in, I'd-"

"I'd bring you into something you don't want to see" Simon finishes the sentence for him, "hell, I don't want to see it either"

Wille takes a deep breath, his hand moving to reach for Simon's, scarily slowly, ready to take it in his.

Simon is faster to pull his one closer to himself, running away from Wilhelm's touch.

Wille doesn't show disappointment, or any other emotion, he just brings his hand back in his pocket and looks at Simon, tears completely ruining both of their faces. "You need help, Simon" he whispers, tired. Hopeless. His eyes are empty, Simon shivers at the sight.

Fighting back the urge to crash completely on Wille, to beg him to help him, to let him know how much he needs him, how he doesn't even know if he could go a day without him keeping his pieces together, fighting back the urge to tell him he's the only thing still keeping him going, that it's not true he's not helping him, that he knows he needs help but it's just not that easy to accept it, Simon can whispers his next words, broken.

"I don't need yours", he says, throat folding on itself. His eyes follow his hands, crushing tight on each other, unable to take in more of Wille's broken look and red eyes.

Wilhelm doesn't talk, but he doesn't stop looking at him once, then, he nods, sniffling loudly. "You could have just told me," he suggests, "no need to pull the shit you did yesterday"

"You would have kept trying, Wille" Simon mutters, "you're suffocating me"

A strangled, wry sound leaves Wille's mouth, "sure, now it's my fucking fault if you can't face problems like adults, and it's my fault if you prefer letting yourself die instead of getting help" he takes a step back, dropping his mouth open as he tries to elaborate his thoughts, "you don't want to get help, you only try to get worse and worse and worse and act like it's just too hard for you so that you can just keep falling deeper, that's what you want" he spits out.

Simon feels a hole expanding right in his heart, so painful he feels it in his limbs, on his chest, in his hands. Wille's words piercing him over and over again in every inch of his body, taking in the way he thought Wille knew him better than anyone else, till he proved him wrong right in that moment, with those exact words he just spat out in his face. He wipes his face with his hand, not even giving him the time to dry himself properly because more tears were ready to keep falling.

Wilhelm's hand presses against his own chest through the sweater, rubbing it on the spot where his heart is, "you're right," he says, when Simon doesn't speak, "I'm the idiot who tried to help you out, putting you before anything and everything else, spending all of my time and even the time I didn't fucking have to remain next to you because you needed it and because I fucking needed you to get better, losing my mind over the fact that I was losing you and I couldn't do anything to make it stop from happening" he swallows loudly, his throat fighting to let out a suppressed sound, "I've been so fucking dumb, now I know it"

"I never said that" Simon chokes out, taking a step towards Wille, who's ready to take one more back in exchange.

Wille's reaction makes him freeze on his feet, his breath getting stuck somewhere on his way to his mouth, making him choke on air with a shameful noise, "I love you"

Wille’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly before getting back to normal as it never happened, "but you mean it. You never said but I did it for you" he breathes out, ignoring Simon's last words to focus on his firsts.

"You can't know that" Simon tries to argue, but he's so tired it doesn't even seem like a complaint.

Wilhelm starts walking, a dry laugh reaching his ears again. "I just hope that not having me in your life can really help you find yourself again" he says, shrugging too casually, but his itchy breath gives away the emotions he’s trying to not show. He walks backwards, taking small steps, so he can keep his eyes on Simon as he gets to the door, "but you don't even try yourself, why would I? I'm done here. You're on your own, now, Simon"

[But I guess you look happier, you do

My friends told me one day I’ll feel it too

I could try to smile to hide the truth

But I know I was happier with you]

Wednesday - April 16th, 2025

Simon didn't need a lecture from Felice, nor from Sara, nor from anyone else, really. But he knows it was bound to happen, from the both of them. He knows it from the tense silences his sister’s kitchen hold, from the way Felice looks at him with the corner of her eyes so many times Simon's skin starts to itch, and he sees it from the way his sister absolutely ignores him, doesn’t look at him, doesn't talk to him, she barely acknowledge him.

When a few nights before he ran away from her workplace, he started dreading the meeting with his sister that had to happen, sooner or later. And when Sara didn't even reply to his texts, he knew she was absolutely mad at him, way more than she already was. But then she texted him, telling -no, forcing- him to come over to spend a few hours together, and that Felice was gonna be there too, he briefly pondered if it was gonna be worse meeting both of them at the same time, or just Sara. The fact that now he was there with both of them says a lot. He just couldn't really bear the talk her sister would give you if they were alone. And he dreaded the thought of telling her about the messages. Because they don’t lie to each other, so of fucking course he had to tell her. He was just stalling, taking more time to decide how.

But now he sees both of them, dancing around in the kitchen while Felice teaches Sara how to cook some kind of dish Simon didn't really pay attention to. He sees Felice have a faint try to engage him into a conversation. He sees how Felice gets tired of trying to engage him, and starts eyeing him from where he sits at the kitchen table, on the same chair since he got into the house. He knows those conversations he has been trying to ignore, with both of them, were about to happen. He can't really do much about it, but he kind of feels his hands itching when Felice turns her head towards him one more time, acting as if it was just a coincidence and she didn't do it to look at him, so he decides to finally break the silence, and get this over with as quick as possible, before he opts for sprinting out of the house without saying a word.

"Can you stop looking at me?" Simon says, harder than he means to, "you both can say what you need to"

Sara doesn’t even flinch at his voice, she just keeps whisking whatever she has into the bowl. Felice, instead, startles. She stops stirring into the pot and turns her body to face him. A straight line falls on her lips, "do we really have to say something?" she states carefully, but her voice is bitter to Simon's ears. "Pretty sure you know what we both think"

Simon rolls his eyes, leaning back on his chair, "but you still want to spit it out to my face" he declares, as if it was so obvious, "so do it"

"Yeah?" Sara turns her head, an eyebrow raised in irony that makes Simon's jaw clench, "so you can finally realize we're both here to help you and shout us out, I don't know, telling us the worst shit that comes to your mind so you can hurt us?"

Simon winces at her voice, and Felice turns to her, whispering something he can't make out, but that makes Sara pull out a wry laugh. "He doesn't even care about us" Sara continues, letting the whisk drop onto the kitchen counter with a loud noise, "look at him. He runs from his own sister, doesn't bother to know how she is, what she thinks, or if she fucking wants to be with his brother to support him when he needs it" she spits, looking right into his eyes, "but you don't need help, right? you're so perfect, you can do it all alone, no one can do it with you"

"You don't know shit, Sara" Simon hisses through his teeth, as her words pinch him everywhere and shake him, "I'm sorry if making sure you're okay isn't the first thought in my mind, when I can't even take care of myself, when I'm the one who's actually broken and needs to be asked how I am!"

"Guess what?!" Sara raises her voice, stepping out of the kitchen space to get closer to the table Simon is sitting at, "people would actually ask how you feel, if only you could stop being a fucking prick towards every sigle person who loves you!"

"Alright, okay!" Felice steps in before he could react with something, placing herself between the table and Sara, "stop it, now." she says, looking between them a few times, "this is absolutely not the way to go over this"

Simon throws a last glance to Sara, then she turns around, a low scoff leaving her lips as she gets back into the kitchen. He focuses on his own breathing, nipping at the skin of his bottom lip. He feels the blood flowing inside the vein of his neck.

Felice sits down silently next to him, pushing the chair she sits on until she faces Simon. She crouches down, resting her elbow on her knees, looking up at Simon until he looks at her. "I know it's been hard for you, and that you’re not in a good place," she starts slowly, but her tone feels harsh, "but Wille is old enough to make his own decisions, and I'm so fucking mad for what you did to him. He doesn't deserve it"

"He doesn't deserve having to bear with me, either" Simon says, "I was fucking suffering in that relationship, but no one actually cares to see how it was affecting me" he shots a glance over to his sister, "I felt like I didn't have a choice but to accept I'd be responsible for his downfall as well"

Felice sighs, shaking her head, "you're so sure you won't get better, Simon, but you will"

"It's been two years already, Fel" Simon points out, "and I know it won't get better. Not now"

"It surely won't if you act like this" his sister spits, staring at him from the kitchen counter. She quickly gets back to her cooking.

"Why would I even bother explaining it to you?" Simon says, defeated. Wille's words come back to his mind, aligning perfectly with the ones his sister was pronouncing.

"Why would I even bother helping you, if that's how you act?"

"It's not like you ever helped, anyway, so I don't know what you want-"

"You're an asshole, Simon-"

"I just told you to stop it!" Felice talks over the both of them, assertively, giving him a pointed look, "stop it."

He feels a feeling of unease burning inside of him as he looks over at his sister's back, which only worsens as he shifts his gaze to Felice.

"Simon. You can't ask someone you love to stop taking care of you" Felice says.

"I can't even ask someone I love to sacrifice himself for me" Simon whispers, feeling his throat burning once again. The same feeling he grew accustomed to recently, every time he thought about Wille, or about pretty much anything that's going on in his life right now.

He feels as if he's been thrown back to two years ago, when he was first diagnosed with depression, except he somehow feels much deeper into it now. He shakes his head, "I know I'm falling deeper, I know what's happening in my own body, alright?"

Felice brings her gaze to his sister, than back to him, "If you keep pushing away, it's gonna be a hundred times harder"

"I'm not pushing any of you away" Simon says, his voice sounds strained.

"You're not letting us in either"

Simon shakes his head. The flashbacks of that night of a month ago come back to his mind, to him standing in the middle of the street, feeling lost, feeling as if he had finished the chances to actually get progresses, as if he had just been teletransported to the lower point in his life, and now, a month later, he was still there. He's lost in the flinching pain he felt that night, when he knew there was no chance of getting once again out of it without completely ruining Wille's Life, no when he had his dead gaze engraved in his mind, never leaving him alone, always making him feel like he was hurting Wille more than he was hurting himself. He couldn't move.

He still can't move. And he can't move when his breaths get shorter and mismatched. He can't move, not even when Felice places his hand on his upper arm and calls his name repeatedly. He can't move, not even when his sister is in front of him, forcing him to match her breath. As he begins to feel his limbs again, he drops his head into his hands, hiding the tears that start falling. He brushes them off, sniffling loudly from his nose, still pressed hard into his palms. He hears shuffling in front of him, and when he brings his head back up he sees Sara sitting at the table, on the opposite side as him, looking at him with something dark in her eyes that Simon can't figure out. He looks at her, then shifts back to Felice, who extends his arm to take his hand in hers.

"I'm scared" Simon chokes out, his voice breaking slightly, "I saw the most important part of my life almost losing himself because I let him too close. And I know now I lost him definitely, but at least he didn't lose himself"

Felice keeps caressing his hand with her thumb, stroking up and down gently, not adding anything with words. A sad smile is plastered on her lips. With the silence downing on them, Simon has, unfortunately, the time to get lost in his thoughts again, this time finding their way to the new guy he has seen Wille with, to Wille's bright, shy smile for him. His throat stings, and he feels unable to keep the questions to himself, doesn't matter if he's not in the position to ask them.

"Fel" Simon calls her, his voice is barely a whisper when he asks, "how's Wille?"

"He's…" Felice stops herself with a low sigh, "He's a great actor"

It makes Simon's stomach drop. "I saw him the other day" he says, clearing his throat, "with- with a guy"

Felice stops blinking, her hand stops rubbing his and letting it go, straightening her back. Then, she breathes deeply, nodding at him, "He is. Kinda. But, you know, they're not really a thing," she says, furrowing her eyebrows, "or, well, I suppose they are, but he's just looking for distraction and, I don't know, he just looks like he needs to demonstrate he's not affected and that he's fine even if he's totally not fine"

Simon takes in what she just said, nodding slowly. He looks at his sister, who is already looking at him, biting her lip as if she's pondering what to do or say. At the end, she doesn't say anything, and Felice's voice fills the air again.

"They started going out, like, last week" Felice adds, "He works as a model where Wille is doing his apprenticeship"

Simon clears his throat, feeling uncomfortable in that chair after all of that time spent sitting down. He doesn't get up, the load he feels inside is too heavy, it makes Simon aware of the nauseous feeling in his gullet. "I saw him, smiling. Laughing. He looked okay. Happy" he says, flatly, eyes pointing on the table.

"If he laughs and smiles doesn't mean he's not suffering" Felice sneers, "you should know that"

"I haven't seen him like that in months, Fel. He couldn't even pretend" Simon tells her. He couldn't tell when he stopped crying, but he realizes it only when a new tear starts its way down on his cheek and he's on the verge of fully breaking down again.

Felice sighs, "Simon" she calls him softly, then shifts her gaze to Sara so quickly that he doesn't even notice it getting back on him, "I'll be honest. I hate what you did to him, but you're still my friend and I care about you as much as I care about him. And I saw how happy you made him, how you brought him back to life" she says, "you've been the most important person in his life, you can't really believe it took him so little to get over you and be happy with some random dude, not when he's so in love with you"

"I know" Simon confirms, not sure if what he feels is a sense of relief, knowing Wille actually loved him, or if it's just the agony of knowing Wille is actually not as happy as his mind made him. "But he is happier than he was those last few months with me, at least" he sighs, shrugging with his shoulders, "while I look as dead as I already was, if not more"

"You'll get happier too, Simon" Felice murmurs, "not that Wille could be really defined with happy, but still"

"No, I mean. I know. That wasn't what I meant" Simon says, "it's just- I would have been so foolish to not break up with him. And before you say anything, I know I couldn't have done it worse, I feel bad enough for it already, don't twist the knife" he stops both his sister and Felice before they can say anything, sighing loudly when he stops talking.

Lost in his thoughts, he hears his sister letting out an exasperated grumble. "He's always asking Maddie if you said something about him to Rosh" Sara spits out, leaning on the table with her arms and eyeing Felice, "or about you, in general"

Simon feels a warm feeling in his stomach, at that revelation, that quickly gets suppressed by the guilt of even just feeling it. He left him for a reason, now he can't go around, hoping he's still thinking about him. The whole point of them breaking up was that Wille could forget about it. He looks at her sister, who's already staring back at him with blank eyes. He doesn't know what to do, or say. So he doesn't, and just stares back, lost in her expression, not able to understand how she feels, what she thinks about him or what she wants to yell at him. He just sees the judgement. He stares at it, and it stares back at him. It makes him shiver when he realizes he recognizes almost anything of his sister.

Felice breaks their little stare contest clearing her throat, exchanging another of those looks with Sara, "I think you should come to my boyfriend's party on Friday"

"I mean" Sara rushes to say, starting slowly, her voice still stinging with annoyance, "I don't know if bringing Simon to a party is the best idea"

"Only if he wants to, I thought that was obvious, of course" Felice specifies.

Simon draws his eyebrows together, scoffing, "I don't know if you noticed, but I'm not really in the mood for parties right now" he says. Then, he quickly corrects himself, "well, actually, I'm not really in the mood for parties where Wille will be present and his new flame too"

Felice gives him a pointed look, "you know I won't force you, but you need to distract yourself a little. It was just an idea"

Simon eyes Sara, but her gaze is fixed to Felice when she says, "last time he saw Wilhelm it didn't really turn out a success"

"That's because he took him by surprise" Felice shrugs, "he wasn't ready"

Simon can, for the first time in weeks, let out a snicker. A genuine one, kind of. "Yeah, I don't think I will be ready by Friday, Fel" he lets her know, "but I can help you pick a dress, if you want," he suggests, "I’ll be distracted and also in bed by 9"

Felice hits him on his knee, rolling her eyes, "Wille's helping me with that"

Simon turns his head towards her dramatically, his eyes open wide comically enough it draws a low laugh out of Sara. "Fuck off, then" he breathes out.

"Words, Eriksson" Felice warns him, but on her lips there's a playful smile. "Look, I won't force you to come, but if you decide to, I promise we'll have a shit ton of fun. Sober" she remarks gently, turning to Sara to get her approval as well.

His sister nods non-committedly.

"Why do you want to ruin the party?" Simon retorts.

"You wouldn't ruin the party, Simme" Felice scoffs, rolling her eyes, "you gotta try, right?"

Simon sighs, breathing deeply. He knows he has to try, thanks. He's just not that sure that going to a party, surrounded by alcohol and pills, in the same space as Wille and his new fucking boyfriend was a good way to start over. Not when he needs to run from exactly those points. But if he were to be honest, leaving his house again felt kind of heavy, right now, even if there were no party, no drugs, and no Wille.

His sister says all of it before he could do it himself. "It's not really about trying" Sara gives Felice a questionable look, "it's more about constricting Simon into a space full of everything that sinks him deeper into his depression. Especially now"

"You tried to drag him into the Shaken, like, barely a few days ago"

"Yes. Because I didn't know he wasn’t clean anymore" Sara shots him a glance.

"Can you stop talking about me as if I’m not here?" Simon asks, marking the word ‘stop’ as much as he could. He looks Sara back with the same annoying glance, then turns to Felice and smiles at her, noticing how she traded her usual bright smile for something intense and thoughtful. "I'll think about it, alright?" he concedes.

"Alright" Felice answers, the corner of her lips turning back into the shadow of her bright smile, "but you're right, I'm sorry. It was kind of out of place"

"It's fine, Fel"

Showing a last little smile, Felice’s face falls again into something so serious Simon has to draw his eyebrows together in confusion. "Talking actually seriously, now, Simon" she starts, "we're here for you, and we will always be. You'll get your beautiful smile back, and your beautiful energy back, and your beautiful strength and huge ego that comes with, alright? and it will be because you'll get through this and you’ll be genuinely happy, and happy, and so happier again. No matter if it takes years, you'll get out of this"

[‘Cause baby you look happier, you do

I knew one day you’d fall for someone new

But if he breaks your heart like lovers do

Just know that I’ll be waiting here for you]

Sunday - April 13th, 2025

Simon feels the way his legs start to break down, not willing to keep him up anymore. He shifts his eyes back to the door, wishing he could somehow still see where they are, but he can only see chaos and a dark cluster illuminated by the ceiling led lights.

He can’t stop thinking. He can't stop wondering if that guy is really the right one for Wille, but the only answer he could come up with was a firm no. He hopes he treats him well, the way he deserves, and looking at Wille's face, Simon can’t really say he doesn't. So it's fine. It has to be. He hopes this guy won't do it all wrong with him, the same way Simon did. He hopes he can make Wille's smile only grow wider every day they spend together, never make it die the same way Simon did. He hopes that guy knows how much Wille deserves to be loved and admired and appreciated and wanted and valued and respected and estimated, in a way that Simon wasn't able to do but oh, how he wanted to. He hopes Wille never gets his heart broken again, not after Simon saw what it meant breaking it.

Simon decides he can't go inside, greet his sister and spend a few hours sitting at the counter talking with her as if Wille wasn't in there somewhere mixed in between the others, dancing pressed against someone else's body. He would come around the next day, or maybe the next weekend. Or he could just finally show up to her place. He would just text her something as an excuse, knowing he doesn't really need one, not when Sara will clearly see Wille as soon as he heads to get drinks for himself and his boyfriend, or whatever he is.

So Simon gathers enough strength in his feet to turn his body around and distance himself from the wall, making himself smaller into his jacket and taking the way back, looking down at his feet and being careful to not lift them up to look around. He focuses on his breath, in and out, on his heart beating under the fist that was keeping his jacket close and pressed to his chest. He shuts down the noises around him, the colors he sees and the steps of the people he encounters, hoping that no one would actually see him.

Then, he scratches away from his mind the broken image of Wille that he created, and replaces it with the Wille he just saw, with the brightest spark he has seen in months that someone elses brought back, so that he could remember him as the version that Simon has met years ago.