For as long as Simon could remember, he had enjoyed writing songs. He poured into the text what he often could not express in words or even actions. When emotions overwhelmed him, and events left a big imprint, he always fished out of his pocket the little notebook that you gave him, and, holding a cigarette in his lips, began to write it down.

Your friendship was, as it seemed, older than the Egyptian civilization and the creation of the world, according to Scandinavian mythology. Always together, not holding hands, but catching each other's eyes through the packed classroom. A modest dinner as a burger shared between two, the change you scraped from the pockets of your older brother's old jacket to buy it. A reflection on adulthood, when you celebrated your first paycheck by treating him to a pint of beer at the bar.

You've always been here, always by his side. And never too much.

Not like the other girls.

When one of Simon's band's songs became popular in local bars and were noticed by one of the heads of a recording studio in London, everything began to rush forward at breakneck speed. The recording of the first album, a photo shoot for CD covers, and then the first, albeit small tour. It was then that the girls began to throw themselves at each of them in a crowd, hugging their shoulders from all sides and asking them to sign on their chests after a successful set in bars.

Even he, being a drummer, did not escape this fate. Fuck everyone who says that only bass players are popular.

But he didn't pay attention to the girls. The guys in the band started teasing him, joking that poor Simon had become celibate, stating that their next hit would be about God and modesty. He could only curse them under his breath while they went off to get another batch of shots in the company of girl fans.

But that wasn't the point. The thing was, Simon just realized that he wasn't interested in any other girl. In anyone who wasn't you.

Despite his wild success, and your work in the office, for which you received pennies, your friendship continued. You went to see him perform in bars in your hometown, and called when you were miles apart on the highway. You were always here, and when you weren't, your voice sounded sleepy but encouraging on the phone when you asked if his notebook needed a replacement.

And he just... realized that he couldn't live without you. In no way.

That's how this song was born. Playful, slightly outspoken, and suited to their band's style. The girls squealed with delight when the lead singer tilted the microphone. But Simon was only looking at you, standing a little behind, against the wall, and holding a pint of beer in your hand. You were tired after work, your hair was tied up in a quick bun, and your jacket was rumpled.

But you didn't have to talk, didn't have to decipher every line to understand what the song meant.

Because it was a step. The first step from Simon. An request to allow him to become more than just your best friend.