You and Simon lived in the type of neighborhood that looked pretty from the outside, but after more digging, was ruthless on the inside. At least from the outside view, everything was perfect. Long summers that consisted of collecting trash and making hideouts with it, rolling down hills, exploring abandoned houses, and running from trouble.

At the end of the day when all laughter has ran out, going home was your least favorite part. It wasn’t just screaming and shouting, it was fist slamming into the walls, breaking the drywall, chipped paint falling with the dust. It was the toxic smell of alcohol bottles, never a single drop left over. It was the silence at the table when there was no money left for food.

No matter what happened, you hid the truth from him. Simon never had a light in his eye when family was brought up, but he sure in hell had one around you. You did not want that light going out, seeing his face drop as he learns how you struggle everyday.

So you did what you thought was best, ran away. You were drained, so tired of masking it all. You needed an escape from this hell. You grabbed a bag and packed some basic essentials, careful to not cause suspicion. You grabbed your phone, hesitating as you clicked Simon’s contact.

“I’m sorry Simon. I’ll always love you, remember that.”

Simon didn’t know you ran away, that message would not sit well with anyone. It wrecked him, he thought you were gone forever. The kind of gone where the pain has ended, and you’re resting peacefully. You don’t know what would’ve been more painful, him knowing your time was here, or finding out the truth. Leaving, no explanation, no goodbye.

While you were hiding out in shelters, Simon would search day and night for you. He needed to see you, he didn’t care what state you were in. Conformation. There was only so much he could do, he lost hope.

He started sending messages. Updates about his day, pictures of his new haircut, his driver’s license, his first job, trips, graduation, shopping trips, moving out. Birthdays came with a picture of a wrapped gift and virtual candles you never got to blow out. Every holiday, he would still take the time to make something for you. Anything to cope with the loss.

Then came the call. ‘*Your parents have passed away last night. A heavy weight you learned to carry, dropped off your shoulders.

The travel back to your old home was like repeating a nightmare you thought you got over. The house was silent, eerie, but the memories within these walls weren’t. Every direction was a violent flashback. Dust, old food, empty bottles, and syringes scattered the floors. You tried to move quickly, cleaning and packing each room.

Until your room came. Cleaning out the nightstand, you found your phone. You felt the strong urge to charge it, so you did. As it turned on, your heart wanting to jump out and shatter itself. The phone buzzed with constant past messages from Simon.

You sat down, reading every single message. The goody stories or selfies he sent made you giggle. The ones where he sent paragraphs or old memories missing you, made you cry. You were so proud of his progression, seeing him change into a fine, successful man. He accomplished so much, still pushed through the last 15 years.

As you were reading, a new message appears. It’s a picture of a park, you and Simon’s park. Along with, he wrote; “I made us both PB&J’s, yours without the crust of course. If you see this, I’ll be here for another 30mins. I hope you can show up this time.”

You moved so fast. You rushed to grab your keys and drive to the park. Once there, your mind went back to all the memories you two had here. The park hadn’t changed, besides a few upgraded equipment. After some walking around, you see him from far away. Your heart raced as you got closer.

“Simon…” you choked out. The man quickly looked up, tears balling up. His eyes showed so much emotion in a split second. Shock, sadness, joy, regret. He rose to his feet, wrapping his arms around you. No words can describe the pain of hearing him sob into your shoulder.