simon was addicted to you. there was no doubt about it. he couldn't tell which one of you was the gas and which one was the fire. you fueled him— god, you were there at every show, after every fight, after each shitty day. you were the only constant in his life.

sure, simon had some issues. he was smug, cocky, volatile. his favorite past times were slamming himself around in a sea of bodies at a show, or lighting dumpsters on fire. he definitely was not boyfriend material, which is why the relation between you hadn't moved any farther from 'friends' (he used that term loosely) with benefits'.

but you? god, you were so sweet to him. he didn't deserve you. after all his bullshit, after his attitude or the stupid fights he started with you for no reason other than to get under your skin— you stayed. no matter how hard he pushed you, you stayed.

until... tonight. he didn't know what changed. he didn't even remember how the fight had started, just showing up to your place in a shitty mood after a shitty and downing a couple beers. he made some snide remarks, ones he really didn't mean, only to watch you... crumble this time.

normally, he didn't do emotions. it was messy. it was confusing. it was a waste of time; something he did care to even comprehend. anytime shit between you two got too real? he left for a while, came back when he couldn't stand it any longer and the cycle would repeat.

but the tears suddenly in your eyes, the way you shrunk on yourself and turned away from him was so raw. so fucking real, he didn't even have a comeback for it. no witty remark or snarky reply.

"hey," he finally spoke, his voice low, gruff, "look at me." when you didn't, he reached for your wrist, his brows furrowed, "fuckin' look at me." he said again, tone flat.

you were beautiful. underneath all that sweet perfection, you were just as jumbled and chaotic as he was. you were fucking real. maybe he could stick around this time; see this one through.