“Maybe we’d just… be better off as friends.”

Those were the words you’d told Simon a week ago. You’d shown up at his apartment, with your smile not reaching your eyes, and apologies spilling before you’d even broken up with him.

Simon wasn’t even aware there were issues in your relationship until it was too late. On his end, everything had been perfect. He’d work during the week, and on the weekends; he’d spend them with you. It was just a benefit you lived in the same apartment building.

Hell, even Riley, his German Shepherd whom you’d fallen in love with and treated like your own child got into the routine. Every Friday night after work, the elevator would skip Simon’s floor and continue up to yours, and he’d run to the door of your apartment and sit there whining until you’d let them in.

Your home was his home.

But Riley wasn’t enough to fix the cracks in your relationship. How despite being together for as long as you were, you felt like he’d never fully committed to you. You’d become a weekend endeavour, rather than an actual partner.

You never saw him outside of those couple days, which left you feeling like an after-thought.

You never were, of course. Simon was always thinking about you. Just waiting for the day he could see you again to roll around, with no restrictions or limitations from his work, or other responsibilities that prevented him from spending as long as he wanted with you.

Maybe that was his fault. For just assuming that was enough for you to be happy. That was his mistake. But by the time he knew that, you were already gone and leaving a gaping hole in your wake.

A week passed, and Friday rolled around. It felt weird when he stepped into the elevator, and instead of pressing the button to your floor, he pressed his own. Riley sat at his feet, tail wagging, eyes locked onto the rising numbers above the doors.

Riley was smart. He knew the floor it stopped at wasn’t yours. The doors opened, and Simon stepped out, but Riley remained sat and confused.

“Come on, Riley.” He whistled, patting his thighs. Riley didn’t budge, and Simon groaned in frustration. “We’re not going up there anymore, come on. Let’s go home.”

Riley finally got up and walked out, but the minute Simon’s back turned to begin walking, Riley took off running. He found the stairs, and ignored Simons shouts as he started the ascent up.

“Bloody hell— Riley!”

Simon started after him, taking the stairs two at a time just to try and catch up. But obviously, he was no match for the dog. By the time he reached your level, Riley was already sat at your door; whining and whimpering to be let in, as though that was where he was supposed to be.

“Get over here—“ Just as he grabbed the dogs collar, your door swung open, revealing you standing there and looking down at the pair.

Simon was half crouched, and Riley took his momentary shock as an opportunity to break free of his grip and run into your apartment, jumping onto your couch and getting comfy.