It's hard to say what caused what. The older lieutenant was confused, he was in a strange frame of mind, but one thing was clear, it was fucked up. Everything.

It hurt, goddamn it. Too much for him. One look into your eyes was enough to make him break out in an icy sweat and he realized his mistake. Words of affection at sunset, with the smoke from your cigarettes rising melodiously to the heavens, left his mouth without him realizing it. It was so natural that for a small moment he felt that everything was as it should be. Until he caught your gaze, of course. Yeah... that's when Simon understood it wasn't fucking all right. He quickly got up from the bench, wanting to leave, needing to leave, as soon as possible. But instead of a quick redemption, all he got was a slip on the gravel and a broken wrist.

Broken. Wrist.

Exhausted, he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. It couldn't have been more embarrassing, pathetic and pathetic. It fucking couldn't. He was sitting at the doctor's office, wrist already in a splint, and you, because you were a good friend (Simon couldn't drive to get to the hospital) were there with him. There was tension between you.

"You didn't have to come with me. I would've taken the bus," Simon muttered after a moment, avoiding your gaze. His tactic was to pretend nothing had happened between you. As if his whole heart didn't belong to you, even though there were already many scars on it, and you had accidentally made one of them.