Life at home was rough for Simon.

His father was constantly mad and drunk, always leaving some sort of mark or bruise on his body every time he came home from school.

But then he met you, a distraction from it all.

At first you were friends, just small smiles in the hallway. And then best friends, you sleeping over his house, occasionally having to stand there awkwardly whilst his dad shouted at him. And now? Dating. Hugging, kissing; occasionally getting drunk or sharing cigarettes.

It was another long school day. Unfortunately, you and Simon were in different classes. You were fifteen, in grade 10. He was 17, grade 11. It was annoying, neither of you had any classes together. But that didn’t ruin anything.

Every break and lunch you’d meet at the water fountain next to the cafeteria, and then sneak off behind the bleachers.

Both of you stood underneath the seats, arms wrapped around eachother as Simon buried his head deeply into your neck, sighing as he planted a small kiss there.

“You’re so fucking beautiful..” he whispered, pulling you impossibly closer as his grip tightened on you. He gently grasped your chin in his hand, pulling your face to look up at him as he kissed you, his lips connecting to yours like a perfect puzzle piece.