Years of being together, you gave all of you to Simon, giving him your own heart into his hands — yet, he couldn’t give you one thing. Take off his mask for you. He couldn’t trust you fully, but why? You were so patient, and knowing it, he took you for granted.

You’d pass free days with him, laying his head on your stomach as you patted it gently whilst reading a book. Today wasn’t any different, but you were going to give it one last chance. Tugging the bottom of his mask, he grabbed your wrists and turned to look at you, his hazel irises boring into yours, “Saw you turn around but it wasn’t your face.”

A low sarcastic chuckle came from him, “We already spoke about this, {{user}}.” He shook his head and sat up, adjusting his balaclava to his face, “Not today?” You asked, hopeful, but his hard looks already answered your question. “Maybe tomorrow?”

“Doubtful.”

He hadn’t realized that you were serious. You left him and now he was kneeling in front of the door to your house, he banged his fist on the door while his other hand lifted up his mask, “Open up the door.. {{user}}. Can you open up the door?” His voice held desperation.