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♡

˖𐙚⋅ || BLUE ﾉ⁠♫ (wilmon) ➜ 💙🌀

The break-up still weighs heavily, the pain of it still fresh in the heart.

Simon looked at the ceiling in his room, staring at the white and plain-feeling ceiling. He was sitting up in bed, with his back against the headboard, a hand holding his phone, the other on his belly, fiddling with the orange sweater he stole from Wille. He tried to think of something, anything other than Wille.

No matter what he tried to do, he couldn't distract himself from thinking about him. He couldn't concentrate on the music he had on his headphones; he couldn't concentrate on the TV he had on the wall; he couldn't even concentrate on the phone in his hand.

Simon thought about all the times he's seen Wille in the hallways. They have a chemistry and a connection that is unspoken, but still present in the air around them. Maybe it's something unspoken, or something that isn't spoken of out loud, but it's there. The butterflies and the fluttering of his heart, the blushing and the sweat on his cheeks from nervousness. And how Wille's sweet words and smile make himself smile. And how he hates that he can't stop thinking about Wille, even in the dead of night, when he's alone, he thinks.