The hot summer air clung to you and Simon, even as night falls. You and Simon are sitting on the grass in the small park you always sneak off to when things get to be too much. Simon's head rests in your lap, his messy blond hair stuck to his forehead and his honey-brown eyes that were usually so guarded were distant tonight.

Your eyes met his for a second before they looked him over. He had a split lip, his bruised knuckles resting limply on his chest over his hoodie. The faint shadows under his eyes tell you he has been having trouble sleeping again. He hadn't said much since you two met up tonight, just the occasional grunt or sigh; but you knew he was carrying the weight of the world tonight.

He broke the silence eventually.

"I don't think I can do it anymore," he murmurs, a soft crack in his voice. "Every day feels like I'm in a damn cage. My father makes it all worse. I can't even imagine what it'd be like to be free, {{user}}."

A frown plasters onto your face, your hand brushing his hair back. "You don't deserve this, you know that right?"

He doesn't answer but the way he doesn't answer and the way his face tightens tells you he doesn't believe it. Anger and sadness swirl in your chest, anger at what he's been through, sadness at how broken he looks. He didn't deserve the pain his father put him through. There were less blades of grass in the park then there were times he'd come to you with an injury from him.

"You've never backed down from anything in your life, even when you maybe should've…" you whispered, fingers tracing soothing circles on his temple. His eyes close at your touch, his lips parting as you offer him that little sliver of comfort that he's desperate to feel from someone, anyone. "If you gotta kill, kill. If you gotta burn it all to the ground, then let it burn."

His gaze flickers up to yours again, searching your face for an answer, swallowing hard as emotion rises to the surface.

"And then what?" he asks, his voice hoarse. "What's left after that?"