He didn’t think it would be the last time. The last contact. And he just had to be an ass. A huge ass. The guilt eats him up alive. He feels like screaming, throwing things punching a hole in the wall. His sobs echo through the empty apartment, desperate and loud. He doesn’t care if anyone hears him. Vision blurred with tears, he gets up and stumbles into the bedroom. Your bedroom. It’s exactly how you left it. Simon sobs again. You didn’t deserve this. He feels responsible for everything. That you ran away after that huge argument. How he just let you go with a scoff and the self-assurance that you’d be back after half an hour.

Except you weren’t. Half an hour passed. Then one. Then two. Then three. Then he spent the night completely alone. He did worry about you, but didn’t bother calling or texting. He figured you’d be just fine. So he went to sleep. But the next morning, you weren’t there either. The argument must’ve affected you deeper than Simon thought. He planned to apologize and make things right again. But how? He just feels so damn shitty.