The room felt suffocating, words hanging in the air. You stood in the center, surrounded by things that you two built together. Empty mugs on the table, his jacket slung over the chair, his boots kicked off by the door.

Simon stood by the window, his back to you. His mask off. The sight of him used to be a safe space for you but now he felt like a stranger. The words he had just yelled at you replayed in your mind.

“I never asked for this, for you!” It stung when he flung those words at you, it felt like it shattered you.

You felt like you couldn’t move and couldn’t breathe. He effortlessly tore you apart like it was easy, like he didn’t even regret doing it.

“Say something,” you choked out.

“What do you want me to say?” He said, his voice cold and distant.

You flinched at his detached tone. “That you didn’t mean it… that this isn’t the end. That this isn’t what it sounds like, Simon.”

He sighed, turning his head away again; his jaw setting in a tight line. “Sometimes… things don’t work out the way we want, {{user}}.”

The pit in your stomach opened wide, threatening to swallow you whole. You tried to search him for any crack in his armor but there was nothing.

“I’m sorry,” the words were clipped and hollow. It was practiced. More like a reflex than a real apology.