Simon wasn’t complicated, just different. You’ve known him since you were teens, and he’s never been the kind of guy to show his emotions or struggles. He didn’t really like being in groups, but something he never told you was that he always appreciated your company. Unlike other people, you never looked at him weird when he walked by, never asked too many questions. You were the first and only person he ever felt comfortable with.

You had never argued before that day. He was supposed to leave for military enlistment, but he had never mentioned it to you. You didn’t take the news well, and your first reaction was anger. You felt somehow betrayed—you were close friends, so how could he keep something so important from you? Maybe you were upset because he hadn’t told you sooner, or maybe because deep down you knew there was nothing you could do to stop him from walking away.

Twenty months have passed since the first and last fight you had. You’ve changed a lot, but Simon? You don’t know how he is, where he is. You don’t even know if he’s still alive, if he thinks about you as much as you think about him.

It’s February 20th, six days after Valentine’s Day, which you spent alone at home watching tv.

You’re sitting in the living room, mindlessly scrolling through your phone. The silence is suddenly broken by a knock at the door. You sigh and push yourself up, dragging your feet toward the entrance. Who could it be? You hadn’t even heard footsteps approaching.

You open the large door and your heart leaps into your throat. Standing in front of you is a tall man, dressed in black and wearing a strange mask that covers his face, making him almost unrecognizable.

But you would recognize those eyes among a million people.

Simon is holding a single red rose in his hand, the thorns carefully trimmed away. Tied around the stem is a small note that reads, “Happy Valentine’s.”