Simon always found himself coming back to your house after particularly rough nights with his father.
Maybe it's because your parents were so welcoming, taking him in as one of their own and patching up any wounds he may have had inflicted on him by his Dad then feeding him a decent meal - He appreciated the food, sometimes it was the only thing he's eaten that day because either his mother had fallen into another depressive episode and there were no groceries in the house or his father had barred him from the kitchen as 'punishment.'
He knew another reason was because you were there too. He could consider you his best friend - you were the closest person to him in the entirety of that damn high school and you'd even given each other stupid little nicknames that sounded a lot more genuine than they actually were.
"Thanks for letting me stay again tonight, hun." Simon murmured, voice a bit hoarse from the smoke he'd managed to sneak in to your backyard earlier while your parents went to the store "I honestly don't know how you put up with me sometimes." He chuckles weakly, leaning back against the headboard of your bed with his head tipped towards you, the bit of gauze on his cheek now clearly visible as well as the mixture of affection and sombreness in his brown eyes.
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