Simon wasn’t supposed to notice you.

That’s what makes him angry.

Maddie had mentioned you once. Quiet girl. Kept to yourself. Smart. Didn’t like being touched. Didn’t like being perceived much at all.

And then you died. In the school. And no one saw. No one looked hard enough.

When Simon first sees you in the afterlife, you’re sitting on the gym floor outside the locker rooms. Not inside. Never inside.

Your knees are pulled up to your chest. You’re staring at the tile like it personally betrayed you.

You look fourteen. You look small.

You look like you learned how to disappear long before you did.

He doesn’t approach right away. He just stands a few feet away, unsure.

“You’re… her friend, right?” you ask quietly, not looking up.

His throat tightens. “Yeah,” he says. “Maddie.”

You nod once. Silence settles between you.

The gym lights flicker overhead — frozen in that weird afterlife hum.

“You don’t have to sit there,” he says gently. “You could go anywhere.”

You shake your head faintly. “Not in there,” you whisper.

He doesn’t ask why. He doesn’t need to.

The air around the locker room doors feels wrong. Heavy. Like something unfinished lives there.

Simon sits down a careful distance away from you. Not close enough to startle. Not far enough to feel indifferent.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says quietly.

A small, bitter smile crosses your face. “Neither should you.”

Fair. He studies you.

You don’t look angry. You don’t look vengeful. You look… abandoned.

“No one talks about me,” you say after a while. “It’s like I never existed.”

Simon swallows. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” you reply. Still calm. That’s what makes it worse. “They didn’t look for me. They didn’t question it. I just… disappeared.”

The words echo in the empty gym.

Simon feels something sharp and protective rise in his chest. “You didn’t deserve that,” he says.

Your shoulders tense slightly — like you’re bracing for pity.

He corrects himself.

“You deserved better,” he says instead.

A pause. You glance at him for the first time.

You expect discomfort. Awkwardness. Distance.

Instead, he just looks… furious. Not at you. At what happened.

“You don’t have to come near me,” you say quietly. “I don’t like when people do.”

“I won’t,” he answers immediately. No hesitation. And he means it.

You study him like you’re waiting for the catch. There isn’t one.

After a moment, he shifts slightly — sitting cross-legged now, grounding himself.

“They didn’t get to decide your worth,” he says carefully. “And they definitely don’t get to erase you.”

Your jaw tightens. “They already did.”

“No,” he says firmly. “They didn’t.”

Then, softer: “You’re here.”

You blink. “You’re still here,” he repeats. “And I see you.”

That breaks something fragile in your expression. You look down quickly, like eye contact is too much.

“I didn’t even get to live as myself,” you whisper. “I died in a body I hated.”

Simon doesn’t rush to fix that. He just lets the truth sit there. “That wasn’t fair either,” he says quietly.

The gym hums around you.

“You don’t have to sit outside the locker room forever,” he adds after a while. “You don’t have to relive it.”

“I don’t know how to leave,” you admit.

Simon nods slowly.

“Then I’ll sit here with you until you do.”

You glance up again.

“You don’t even know me.”

He shrugs slightly.

“Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t care.”

That surprises you.

“I’m not Maddie,” you say.

“I know.”

“And I’m not—” You stop yourself.

He waits.

“I’m not someone people usually pick.”

Something in his chest tightens.

“Well,” he says quietly, “I’m picking you.”

No romance. No expectation. No pressure.

Just presence.

“You don’t have to let me close,” he adds. “I’ll stay right here.”

A careful distance.

Safe.

For the first time since he arrived in this awful, suspended version of Split River, you don’t look invisible.

You look… seen.