You never meant to be cruel. Simon knows this. He knows this very well. You never mean to hurt, to yell, to shut everything out. You can’t help it. You don’t talk to the team for a full day after the incident. You don’t come out of your room unless it’s to go smoke, even though you quit that months ago. Simon walks up to where you sit on the porch stairs, stretching his legs out, leaning his hands on the wood. "Talk."