Have Faith in Me

by dragonaf69

Summary:

Simon comes over for dinner with Patty's family.

Notes:

im sorry if u guys are tired of me by now, but I cant get them out of my head so its gonna be an everyone problem lmfao. enjoy!

 

s/o to claire for helping me pick a title!! u a real one for always listening to me ramble n whine!!!

Chapter 1

Patty clambered up the porch steps and stumbled across the threshold into the house, jacket barely hanging on, hair amess, and backpack slung over one shoulder. She was more than a few minutes late for her curfew again. She knew she should have stopped Simon sooner, but, god, he really wasn’t kidding when he said he could spend hours between her legs. 

 

She tried to swallow her heavy breathing from sprinting down the block, slowly easing the door closed behind her and squeezing her eyes shut to brace herself as she heard her mom rise from her designated spot on the couch. More and more frequently, she found herself wishing she wasn't so terrified of heights; she learned it was much easier sneaking in through the bathroom window rather than having to deal with her mom at the front door. 

 

“You’re late,” Connie warned, her tone just short of scolding. 

 

Patty took a side step towards the stairs as her mom approached her, tugging Simon’s jacket further up her shoulder and smoothing over her hair before her mom did it for her. Her heart was pounding and her cheeks still felt hot, but she wasn’t sure if that was from Simon, the running, or the impending questioning of her mother. Maybe it was from all of it. 

 

“I know. I’m sorry, Mom,” Patty offered quickly with a smile she hoped didn't come across as guilty.  

 

“This is starting to become a habit, Patty,” Connie continued sternly. 

 

“I-Practice, uh, ran late again,” she felt the words tumble out of her mouth, catching the arch of a single brow from her mom. Shit.

 

“We were working out some kinks in the new set,” she stammered, attempting to enhance her lie, but instantly winced at her choice of words instead. 

 

“Uh-huh.” Connie squinted as she took in Patty’s features: flushed cheeks, disheveled hair, that nervous tic she did with her lips, her eyes trying desperately to look anywhere but hers. She considered herself blessed that her daughter was never good at lying. 

 

“I’m sure it’d save you a couple minutes if he dropped you off at the door instead,” Connie suggested casually, reaching to take the falling backpack off her shoulder and setting it on the stairs. 

 

It took Patty a lot longer than she'd like to admit to realize her mouth had fallen open, snapping it shut as her mom fussed with her wrinkled jacket nonchalantly. She knew she had to say something. Anything. But she was certain if she tried to come up with something on the spot, she’d give away more information than she wanted to share. She opened her mouth again, hoping the words would come to her, but they never did.

 

For Connie, this was one of those times in parenting where it was really hard not to laugh, but she kept her cool, biting her tongue as she moved to Patty’s other shoulder to tug the falling jacket back up. Patty flinched away from her touch, jerking her shoulder up to her ear; Connie instinctively flicked her eyes up to her daughter’s neck.

 

“Oh, Patty,” Connie sighed and shook her head disappointedly. She was hoping after a month or so these would lose their appeal, but this was the biggest one yet. “I really wish he’d stop leaving these marks on your neck.” She pushed Patty’s hair behind her shoulder to get a closer look, tsking at the deep purple ring right above a yellowing one. “You know it’s not very ladylike," she chastised with a raise of her eyebrows. 

 

Patty wasn't sure how she squeaked out a shocked "huh?" since it felt like all the air was punched out of her lungs at once, and she slapped her hand up to her neck to get her mom’s prying gaze off of the hickey. 

“What? You think I wasn’t young once too?” Connie laughed, squeezing Patty's shoulder playfully. 

 

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mom,” Patty stuttered. She prayed her face wasn’t as red as it felt. 

 

Connie shook her head ever so slightly and bent down a smidge to look Patty in the eyes. “Honey, you told us you were going over to Sissy’s tonight to watch movies—not band practice,” she started, putting a finger up as Patty tried to speak over her. “And I don't want to hear anything about a curling iron when your hair isn’t even curled," she continued, gesturing to her hair and then to her neck.

 

“But I—.”

 

"Oh, please. Burns don’t turn yellow after a couple days,” Connie interrupted with a dismissive wave of her hand. Or are in the shape of a bite mark, she thought to herself. But she managed to keep that to herself, knowing it would only result in her daughter shutting down rather than finally having the conversation Connie had been dying to have. She had given Patty enough time to come clean on her own, but Connie was far too impatient to wait any longer.  She watched Patty’s eyelids flutter as she shook her head. 

 

Shitshitshitshit. Where was Simon when she needed him? He was always so good with his words in a way she’d never be. Oh! Simon had given her a different excuse other than a burn. She just had to remember what it was again...

 

“Oh, don’t act like you’ve been sly,” Connie chuckled, crossing her arms and waving an amused hand at her. She could only watch her daughter flounder so many times, her mouth opening and closing like a fish while she tried to find a way to combat her statements. Connie decided to extend a small olive branch of the sort to speed up the process, leaning forward and whispering with a smile, “a mother knows when it’s love.”

 

Patty curled her lips inward and replied with a short nod, trying so hard to fight off a smile but failing. Her mom was right, but she wasn't sure how she was able to tell. The only thing she could really think of was maybe the way she checked out at dinner when she knew Simon was picking her up afterward, or maybe it was the way she bounced out of the house, or how she was always in a good mood on days she got to see him. She wanted to ask but thought better of herself. 

 

“So I’m guessing he’s been out for longer than a couple of weeks then,” Connie prompted, smoothing out the creases on Simon's hideous green jacket that reeked of perpetual sweat and cigarette smoke. She would give anything if Patty would let her wash it, but she wasn't sure if she'd be forgiven for that one. 

 

“Uh…,” Patty’s eyes darted nervously, anywhere but her mom’s overbearing eye contact. “Who?” 

 

Her mom furrowed her brows with a curious smile on her face as she gestured toward the door. "Well, it's either Simon or Danny in that car, and I think you've made it pretty clear how you feel about Danny." 

 

Patty nodded and shifted uncomfortably on her feet; her eyes locked in on a spot of dirt at the tip of her shoe as she braced herself for the inevitable reprimanding and punishment. If tonight was going to be the last night she saw Simon for a while, she would have done things differently. She would have cuddled him longer, kissed him harder, reminded him she loved him over and over, ran her fingers through his hair again, maybe even snapped one last Polaroid of him before her parents locked her in this house for the unforeseeable future. Definitely would have insisted on one more kiss even though he'd just given her three as he dropped her off in a frenzy moments ago.

 

Patty couldn’t bear to see any of that written on her mom’s face. She inhaled sharply and felt her entire body stiffen. “Are you mad?” 

 

Connie felt a wave of guilt wash over her as she watched Patty wring her fingers anxiously, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground and chewing on her bottom lip. Patty often spilled the contents of her mind to Connie, to a fault at times, and it broke her heart to know that Patty felt like she couldn't come to her about this, though it wasn't hard to see why. Both Connie and Norm had some very choice words upon reading the article in the newspaper detailing Simon’s arrest. 

 

Connie had put the pieces together after the second “burn” that there had to be a boy involved, but she had convinced herself it was just a little fling when Patty didn't pipe up about any new love interests. But then, there were little signs that Connie couldn't refute: Patty started singing in the shower again, something she hadn't done since her early teen years. And she hummed pleasantly whenever Connie asked her to help around the house, and she rarely fought with Kev at the dinner table anymore. Connie noticed there was a sudden uptick in phone calls, ones that Patty responded to with giggles instead of short, one-worded answers. She had a new buoyancy in her walk as she skipped in and out of the house, staying out later, or even overnight, and coming home pink-faced and starry-eyed and…happy. Happier than she’d seen her daughter in a long time, or maybe even ever before. And when Patty informed them, not so discreetly, over breakfast one morning that Simon had been released early, it didn’t take much for Connie to connect the dots.

 

Connie waited to approach Norm about the situation until she had definitive proof, finally catching them in the act a few days after Patty's announcement. Connie expected to be mad, but she felt a tenderness where the anger should have been as she watched the familiar outline of a botched-haircut, dark-jeaned boy opening the car door for her daughter as she climbed in. She knew then that her approach to her husband was going to be much different than she initially anticipated. 

 

Norm was furious when Connie brought him her findings, which Connie expected. She could admit had she known from day one she would have been too. She and Norm had spoken extensively of their shared disapproval every time Patty would visit him in jail, reaching similar conclusions that they wanted to keep him as far away from Patty as possible when he was released. If it wasn’t for how independent Patty had become over the last two years coupled with how the happiness radiated out of her like a sunray slashing through a storm cloud, she knew she would have taken Norm’s side—it was hard to discount his criminal history and how that could potentially impact Patty. But it was even harder for Connie to discount how happy he clearly made her daughter. 

 

Connie gently took Patty's hands in hers. “You know your father and I aren’t fond of his history. But you’re an adult now, and I–we trust you to make the right choices.” Connie held back a grimace as the words left her lips, knowing she was definitely skirting over her husband’s opinion. She didn’t want to lie to Patty, but she thought with some more coaxing and gentle prodding that she could get Norm on her side, like she always did. 

 

But, admittedly, that hadn’t gone very well so far. She and Norm hadn’t argued like this in years, and it had been a point of contention more than once over the past couple of weeks. She was thrilled that Patty was given the opportunity of love, of living a normal life, of something more beyond this house, and she tried to angle it as such to her husband. But Norm could only see it as the tainted criminal coming along to steal his only daughter away. 

 

“She is 22, Norm,” Connie had reminded him briskly, placing her hands on her hips. 

 

“This isn’t a normal 22-year-old we’re talking about,” he had reasoned back, palms up in the air with his torn-off tie dangling in one hand. “And who knows what his-his… intentions are with her.”

 

“Danny said—.”

 

“I don’t care what Danny said. I care about Patty, don’t you? Are you really entertaining this?” 

 

Connie took a deep breath and looked away before she said something she didn’t really mean. “Look, I can’t say I’m the biggest fan of him or the situation either, but I really think we should give him another chance."

 

Norm looked at her like she had grown an extra head which only added to Connie's growing frustration. "What's gotten into you? We just talked about this a couple of months ago, Connie—."

 

"If you'd open your eyes, you'd see she's walking on freakin’ sunshine around the house these days,” she interrupted, watching Norm roll his eyes, and she threw her hands up in the air. “You aren’t the one that waits up for her to come home. You aren’t here when she gets dropped off in the morning. I’ve never seen her so hap—.”

 

“Dropped off in the morning? She’s staying overnight with him, and you didn’t say anything?” Norm snapped, raising his voice and taking a step towards her.

 

Connie put her hand out calmly, hovering over his chest. “Norman. She is an adult.” She selectively left out that she knew they were being safe; she found the half-empty box of condoms stashed in her closet a couple of weeks ago. And her request for birth control a few months back started to make a lot more sense. But if Norm knew that they were having sex, there would be no chance in hell that she could get him on board. 

 

Connie decided she needed to take it up a notch while simultaneously distracting him from the obvious implications of her previous admission. "And I'm not sure if you remember, but my parents weren't particularly fond of you either, and they gave you a chance."

 

Norm grumbled in response, shooting her a heated glare. "I'm sure their reasonings were different from ours." 

 

Connie crossed her arms in a refusal to budge. "We've been together for over 25 years now, Norm. Think about what would have happened if they would have put their foot down. I wouldn't have wanted to navigate this life with anyone but you. Is this something you want to take away from her?"

 

She watched as he sat on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands with a heavy sigh. “Connie, I want her to have a normal life too. I do. I just…I can’t see it being with him.” 

 

“Well, I’m not sure we get to make that choice,” she replied simply. Connie spun on her heel and left the room before her husband could protest. 

Patty blinked at her mom slowly, too stunned to find any words. She pinched herself as she had surely convinced herself this was all some sort of weird dream, that she'd accidentally fallen asleep in Simon's bed, and she'd wake up to him telling her it was time to go home. But instead, the pinch hurt, and she was left with her mom's oddly amused look on her face and her own racing thoughts. 

 

“What?” her mom laughed, rubbing her hands up and down Patty's arms. 

 

“I just–I didn’t think—. I don’t know how—. I-I—,” Patty stopped herself, shaking her mom's hands off of her, and tried to get one thought out at a time. She landed on, “you really think of me as an adult?” with a tilt of her head and scrunch of her nose. 

 

Her mom gave her a sympathetic smile as she tucked a strand of hair behind Patty's ear. "Honey, you’ve only been reminding us for the past few years now.” 

 

Patty nodded, took a quick breath, and looked up again. “When did you find out?” 

 

Connie grinned and pulled her daughter into a side hug, squeezing her tightly. “Oh, I’ve been waiting over a month now for you to say something.” 

 

Patty felt her throat lump up, thinking of all the lies she had fed them over the past few weeks. She pushed her lips to the side and shrugged out of her mom’s grasp. Patty studied her carefully as she considered her next inquisition. “Did you always know it was Simon?” 

 

Connie sighed and looked up. “No, not in the beginning. But I knew there was a boy,” Connie replied, watching the pink shift to red on her daughter’s cheeks. "It wasn't until your little announcement that I figured out it'd been Simon all along."

 

Patty felt her breath catch in her throat, causing her to choke at her mom's confession. She thought she had been pretty subtle when she told her parents about his release. But if she had any takeaway from this entire interaction, it was that she wasn’t very subtle at all. She inherently wasn’t and even less so when it came to Simon. She preferred enthusiasm anyway. 

 

“You know I think it's very sweet that he always opens the car door for you, too," her mom added with a wink once she had regained control over her breathing. 

 

"Mom," Patty whined, ducking her head in embarrassment. She knew she should have kept a firmer stance on taking the bus, and she'd be sure to tell Simon that too. 

 

“Why don’t you invite him over to dinner?” her mom offered cheerfully. 

 

If Patty had been holding anything in her hands, she would have dropped it. Instead, her mouth hung open once again. “What?” 

 

Her mom chuckled and patted her shoulder gently again. “Call him up, and tell him to come to dinner tomorrow,” she reiterated.

 

Patty wanted to be ecstatic, but she couldn't feel anything much past shock at this point. She had expected there to be raised voices and tears shed when she told her parents about her and Simon; she had prepared herself that she'd have to put up a fight to keep him in her life. She didn't understand how or why her mom was being so welcoming about it all, and she really couldn’t see either of them being okay with this, especially her dad. Not after all the disdain he had spouted about him over the years. “Is that a good idea?” 

 

Connie felt her heart ache as the daunting realization swept over her that she had effectively put Patty in the same position Connie's parents had put her in all those years ago. “Well, of course it is, sweetie. If you’re going to be dating him, we’d like to meet him,” she replied evenly. 

 

“You have met him, Mom,” Patty reminded her with an annoyed roll of her eyes. 

 

Connie shook her head curtly and smiled tightly. “No, Patty. I don’t think we did.” 

 

Patty held her mom's eye contact until she couldn’t take it anymore, sighing as she chewed her lip. She supposed she was right in a way. “Well, what about dad?” 

 

Connie knew she didn’t hide her reaction very well, could feel the drop in her cheeks and the uncrinkling of her eyes. She smoothed down Patty’s hair again and conjured a soft smile. “He’s a smart boy. I think he already knows he needs to mind his Ps and Qs.”

 

Patty nodded slowly, curling her lips inward and taking a hesitant step up the stairs. She quickly turned around and threw her arms around her mom, squeezing tightly in a way she hadn’t in years. “Thanks, Mom.”

Chapter 2

Notes:

tw: brief mention of seizure/epilepsy (s/o to my fiancé for being my forever inspo for both characters lmfao)

Patty had spent the better part of her morning stewing on the previous evening, fluctuating between overwhelmingly tense and undeniably relieved from the moment she opened her eyes. The bizarre mixture of emotions she was left grappling with in the wake of her mom's acceptance and subsequent offer had kept her locked inside her head at breakfast, barely registering conversation being made over the table. She insisted she was just tired when her mom prodded her about her lack of focus with an obvious smile. But Patty barely noticed it, nodding while waiting patiently at the table until she could dutifully collect and wash the dishes. She was grateful for once to be tasked with a mind-numbing activity to distract her. 

 

The worst of it all, she knew she couldn't call Simon for several hours. Well, she could call him whenever she wanted, but she was giving her best shot at restraining herself from doing so. Simon had informed her on their race back to her place that he was going to take something to knock him out for a good chunk of the day, wanting to catch up on some much-needed sleep, and to expect to not hear from him until late the following evening. She didn't remember what he said he was taking,—not that it would have mattered anyway considering Simon often used slang that she had never heard before—but he slept eleven hours when he took her meds and that was only because she woke him up. Who knows how long he was capable of sleeping undisturbed. 

 

Patty tried not to fret about it, but sitting in her bedroom fiddling with the same trinket on her desk over and over sure as hell wasn't calming her nerves. She took out a scrap piece of paper and a pen, deciding to do the math to figure out exactly when would be the best time to call him: 

 

Simon dropped her off about 6 minutes late, and Danny lived about 12 minutes away from her. She saw he only had two cigarettes left in his pack when he dropped her off, so that meant he would have made a trip to the convenience store on his way home, which wasn’t always quick depending upon who was working that night. Sometimes Simon would spend nearly thirty minutes in there chatting with the guy at the counter, but, for the sake of her own sanity, she added an easy 15 minutes to his stop and rounded up to 20 minutes for the extra drive. That would have put him back at Danny’s right around 1 AM. So if he went to bed right away, which she knew he didn’t, the earliest he would be up would land her right around 12 PM if she was lucky. Should really give him til 1 PM at least to account for an hour of fucking around with Dan before he crashed out from whatever he took.  

 

Patty looked up at the clock with hopeful eyes; she immediately frowned and groaned. It was barely a hair past 9 am, and she felt like she was going to explode. 

 

And while Patty should have been grateful that she had the whole morning to think on it, she still had no idea how she was going to break the news to Simon and found the extra time nerve-wracking rather than helpful. It was a subject that he was testy about to begin with, and she certainly didn't want to have to tell him over the phone no less. She much preferred being able to gauge his reaction from his facial expressions and body language rather than his grumblings over her parents' landline. 

 

Simon had rambled about various, and sometimes contradicting, plans for how to angle it "just right" with her parents. One thing was always consistent in these plans: he wanted to know when it was happening. Other than that, the details usually wobbled back and forth, depending on whether Simon had decided he wanted to be there to tell them with her or not. Patty personally thought that was a horrible idea, and she always made sure to vocalize that to Simon. But he was just as stubborn as she was unfortunately, always going off about how he wanted to be there to defend himself, as if she hadn't defended him countlessly since the day her parents found out he was in prison. 

 

Patty was pretty certain Simon would have some sort of adverse reaction to it happening spontaneously, outside of any semblance of control. She'd seen and dealt with Simon when he was upset or mad plenty of times, but her experience didn't make her feel any better. In fact, it made her feel worse, like fire burning in her tummy, the smoke rising to suffocate her lungs and tickle her throat. She decided that sitting in her bedroom, lost in her mind and dwelling over the details, wasn't helping any, and she forced herself to get up. 

 

Patty took herself outside, desperate for a change in scenery and some fresh air. She shot hoops for a while which held her focus until all she could think about was the last time she and Simon played H-O-R-S-E in Danny’s backyard, and Patty showed some excellent sportsmanship at Simon's victory, ending up with her back pressed up against the plastic siding and her legs wrapped tightly around Simon's waist. She understood then why girls would lose games to boys on purpose. Made perfect sense if losing was really a reward. 

 

Patty clawed her hands and shook her head frantically to clear away her thoughts—being horny about the situation wasn't going to help her find a good way to tell Simon. She stumbled into the garage to put the basketball away, glancing over at the clock on her dad’s workbench to find she had only killed an hour. She groaned and stomped her feet impatiently as she rummaged through her bin of items in the garage, coming across some old sidewalk chalk. She shrugged to herself and took it out. Better than nothing. 

 

She managed to decorate about half of the walking path leading up to their front door with little flowers and leaves and vines and hearts before she lost interest in her little project after skinning her knuckles for the fourth time against the concrete. She dramatically threw herself back onto the grass in frustration, just in time for her mom to walk out the door. 

 

“Oh!" Her mom jumped, clasping her hands over her chest, as she opened the front door. "I wish you wouldn't lay in the yard like that, Patty. The neighbors already think we're crazy as it is," she complained once she regained her bearings, stepping over the mess of sidewalk chalk in her path. "Make sure you clean this all up. I’ll be back later,” her mom instructed as she hurried to the car.

 

“So much for treating me like an adult,” Patty mumbled to herself, sitting up to watch her mom back out of the driveway and speed down the road. 

 

As Patty carried the bucket of chalk back to the garage, a twitch in her peripheral caught her eye. She veered from her path to peek into the yard, elated to find a cute, baby garter snake wiggling pleasantly through the long blades of grass. She bent down and smiled at it, setting the bucket of chalk gently down on the sidewalk and taking a small step toward it. She followed the teeny snake on its seemingly important journey, managing to stay on its trail for a good few minutes before she lost it in the bushes in her backyard. 

 

Patty plopped down in the grass, leaning her head back as she watched the clouds roll by and kept her ear out for any rustlings of her new snake friend. While she waited, her mind supplied her with a memory from a few weeks ago:

 

"C'mon, Pats. Lemme teach you. It's not as hard as it looks. Swear to god," he offered with a cheesy smile. They had been driving in circles around town all night, watching the sun set over the horizon with the windows down and music blasting. Breaks in conversation or singing along to Simon’s cassettes were interrupted by Patty with questions about the song selection or comments about the landscape while Simon happily chain-smoked cigarettes. 

 

"But I don't have a car," she replied, scratching the top of her head with one hand and the other flipped up in confusion.

 

"Yeah, no shit. Me either," he chuckled. 

 

Patty rolled her lips around her teeth as she considered his proposition. "I don't know. Mom says—."

 

"Fuck your mom. When was the last time you had a seizure anyway?" 

 

Patty looked up as she thought about it. It had been quite some time; she remembered she was watching some slasher film with Sissy & Karen when it happened. Luckily, Sissy was familiar with the protocol, knowing what to do on the rare occasion she did have one. Gave Patty some space, thankfully didn’t call an ambulance or her parents, especially seeing as she came out of it within a couple of minutes. Disoriented, exhausted, and starving like she always did but otherwise fine. Despite her parents’ extra precautions, she wasn’t photosensitive, or at least hadn’t been since she was really young. As she got older, it was typically stressed-induced, and Karen teased her later on that evening for it: You know people usually piss themselves when they’re that scared, Patty. Not have a near medical emergency. She smiled as she recalled the memory. 

 

"I had one at Sissy's a couple of years ago."

 

Simon shot her a pointed look. "You didn't tell me about that." 

 

"You had other stuff going on," she replied with a small grin. It was right around the time he was getting his final sentencing when their phone calls had been few and far between since most of Simon's calls had to be used on lawyers and figuring details out with Danny. She didn't mean to not tell him. By the time they got on the phone again, she wasn't thinking about a small seizure she didn't even bother telling her parents about weeks prior. She was just happy to finally hear his voice again.  

 

"Yeah, alright. Law says if you go six months without one, you can drive again. What do you say?"

 

Patty refused. Her mom had already filled her with so many horror stories, and she didn't consider Simon a very good driver anyway, constantly speeding and weaving in and out of traffic while he shouted obscenities at other drivers. But Simon wouldn’t take no for an answer, making her agree that she'd get behind the wheel and give it a shot the next time he offered.

 

"My patience comes few and far between, Pats. Gotta take advantage of it when you can," he chuckled, tossing his cigarette and reaching for another one. 

 

As the memory faded, her mind found an unachievable solution to lessen all her gnawing anxieties. A car and the ability to drive herself over to Danny's and tell Simon in person would have provided her the avenue to circumvent most of her worries; she shook her head at herself and tried to clear the unhelpful idea away. There was no use in dissecting that scenario when it wasn't a possibility. She peeked into the bush, realizing she never heard any sign of her snake friend, and she begrudgingly pulled herself to a standing position, blinking absently at the sky before returning to the house. 

 

Patty made a point to not look at any clocks as she walked back inside, knowing it would only cause more harm than good. There was only so much skin on her lips that she could pick and chew before she ran out and busted her lip at the seams. Patty stomped up the stairs, feeling like she had the heaviest ankle weights known to mankind strapped to her in her melodrama, and dragged herself into her bedroom.

 

Patty threw herself face down onto her bed, and, considering not even Kev was home to call her a freak, she let herself scream into the mattress. Patty often wished that Simon could sleep like a normal person, but that was typically out of sympathy and care for him more than anything else. Right now, it was out of nothing but selfish irritation.

 

After she was satisfied and her voice was starting to feel raw, she convinced herself to get up and take a shower, reminding herself how that usually helped to clear her mind and put her in a better mood. Patty was pretty good at getting lost in her thoughts anyway, but the white noise of the shower combined with the sensory of the heat and water cascading around her body always put her into a pleasant sort of trance. Plus, with her mom out, she didn't have to worry about her banging on the door that she’d been in there too long. Maybe, if she could force herself into being productive, she’d come up with a good way to tell Simon while she was in there. 

 

The scalding hot water was the cure Patty was looking for, even if it was only temporary. She did manage to get lost in her head, and, while she could admit it wasn't necessarily productive, it did a good job of setting her mind at ease again. Her little daydreams of her and Simon that her mind loved creating were usually good for that sort of thing. Though she had to admit they were a little different these days, especially when she could sculpt them into something that could actually be real.  

 

She hummed to herself as she imagined a reality where Simon finally took her up on her offer to start their own band. She knew that Simon and Donnie had recently found a decent guitarist for their new project, and Sissy, Karen, & her were still getting gigs every once in a while. But Patty couldn’t deny that her best work came out when she worked with Simon, and she was getting a little fed up with doing most of the heavy lifting in her band. She’d give him more time with that one though. She could be patient, knowing Simon wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, and she wasn’t ready to piss Sissy & Karen off yet anyway. That didn’t stop her from wondering what it would be like though.

 

Once the water ran cold, Patty hopped out of the shower, taking extra time to dry off and neatly comb through her hair for a second time that morning, releasing some of her lingering tension on the brush handle against the bathroom counter once she was finished. She took a deep breath and hummed loudly as she exhaled, fighting off the rush of nerves that hit her all at once. She realized she never figured out how she was going to tell Simon, and she convinced herself that the words would come to her when she got on the phone with him. She decided her approach would be heavily dependent on his mood, rendering it pointless to put a script together. She learned pretty early on he rarely followed them anyway. 

 

She spared a glance at the clock as she entered her bedroom and squealed, delighted that it was blinking 12:57 PM back at her. She was quite proud of herself too. By the time she was dressed and made it down to the phone, it would have been perfect timing. 

 

Patty wiped her sweaty palms on her shorts before she dialed Danny's number and shakily cradled the phone to her ear. The line rang five times before anyone picked up, and, just as she feared, Danny was the one to answer the phone.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hi, Da—.”

 

“Hey, Patty. He’s passed out on the couch still. Gimme a second.” 

 

The moment Danny set the phone down all the courage she had built up began to fade away and fast. Simon always woke up grumpy when he was forced up, and Patty knew that he was really out if he hadn't made it to his bed. She tried to get a handle on her breathing while she waited, but it seemed like that was only making things worse as her guilt grew the longer the line stayed quiet. She found herself tapping her index finger repeatedly against her lips as she waited and waited and waited. 

 

“Hey, baby,” Simon’s sleepy voice slurred in a somewhat pleasant greeting. Usually, when his voice made her stomach drop like that, it was in a heated, passionate way that left her squeezing her thighs for relief. But this time, it felt much more like stage fright as she suddenly lost her words. 

 

“Hi.” 

 

Simon felt like she was purposely testing his patience while he waited for her to say more, leaning his back against the kitchen counter and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He was fighting his irritation with every ounce of his being, quickly losing the futile battle as the loudest voice in his head was currently trying to figure out why the fuck she would wake him up for no fucking reason, especially after he told her Donnie scored him some k-pins. He hadn’t slept that great in weeks and felt like he coulda slept another six hours if she’d have let him.  

 

Simon tried to justify her silence; he pulled the phone from his ear and inspected the cord, thinking it may have come unplugged. It didn't. “Pats?” 

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

Simon threw his free hand up in the air in exasperation, thankful she couldn’t see him, so he could expel some of his frustrations without having to do all the mental gymnastics to maintain his composure. “Look, you know I’m always happy to hear your voice, but is there a reason you’re callin’?” 

 

A pause, and then: “Yeah.”

 

Simon inhaled sharply as he held the phone as far away as possible. “For fuck’s sake,” he gritted through his teeth, the sound of Dan’s body rustling on the couch quickly adding to his volatile mood. Kid was definitely eavesdropping, still the annoying little brother at heart.

 

“Okay, what is it?” he tried to encourage nicely, hoping she'd get to the fucking point already. 

 

“Well, I have to tell you something, but you have to promise to not be mad.” 

 

Simon’s mouth ran dry, and he rubbed his forehead as his mind instantly split off into a dozen possibilities of whatever the fuck she was about to throw at him, though he knew it was likely a fruitless effort. He often found himself dodging one scenario just to be hit in the face with something he never would have thought of. And, if he was being honest, Patty was always odd, but she was being weirder than usual which only added to his growing anxiety and her unpredictability.

 

“Jesus, Patty. That's one fucking way to wake a guy up,” he grumbled. “Is it something bad?” 

 

Patty shrugged. Other than how Simon was going to react, the only other downside to the situation was how her dad would be at dinner, how he would interact with Simon, which was something to worry about no doubt, but Patty was usually one to look on the bright side of things. And she felt the pros definitely outweighed the cons: she didn’t have to have the conversation with her parents, her mom was being really cool about it all things considered, knew Simon couldn't complain about them not knowing anymore, and, most importantly, it felt like it was a step in the right direction for them, for their relationship. But that was only if she looked at the situation as an individual. She knew Simon wouldn’t like being caught off guard like this, and she also knew that he really didn’t enjoy having dinner with her family to begin with. She hoped it wouldn't give him a migraine again.  

 

It took several moments of silence, of Patty waiting restlessly for Simon to commit to her requested promise, before she realized that Simon couldn’t see her shrug over the phone. Another reason she would have preferred to do this in person. 

 

“I don’t think so?” she finally replied, inflection perking into a question. 

 

Simon pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply. His brain supplied what he thought was a pretty realistic assumption, the only thing he could think that she would respond like that to. He knew he should have checked the condoms better. 

 

“Fuck, don’t tell me it’s what I think it is.” 

 

“Huh?” 

 

Simon rubbed the heel of his palm against his eye and threw it out in front of him. “Nothing. What is it?” He hoped he didn’t sound as irritated as he felt right now. By the sound of Dan shuffling behind him, he wasn't doing a very good job. 

 

“You have to promise—.”

 

“Okay, fuck, Patty. I promise I won’t be mad. Now, please just,” he paused, curbing the impatience in his voice, relaxing his jaw, and softening his tone. “Tell me?”

 

He heard her take a deep breath, and he squeezed his eyes shut to brace himself, his heart jackhammering in his chest so loudly that he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to hear her over it.

 

“My mom wants you to come to dinner tonight.”

 

He was right to trust his instinct that he wouldn’t be able to predict what she was about to say. He had a million questions come to him all at once, and he wasn’t sure where the fuck to start. “What?”

 

“My mom wants you to—.”

 

“No, I heard you, Pats,” he interrupted and bit his thumb as he tried to organize his thoughts. “What the fuck? How the fuck? Why the fuck?” 

 

“I did tell you to stop giving me so many hickeys, Simon." 

 

Simon ignored the attitude in her retort, keeping his focus on his questioning. “So you told her?”

 

“No," she started, trailing off. "I don't know. It was-It was weird."

 

“Yeah. Okay. Weird how?” Simon swirled his hand in a gesture for her to go on, far past the point of agitation. Christ, this was like pulling fucking teeth when he couldn’t see her, touch her, use his usual tactics of pulling information out of her. Fuck doing this shit over the phone.  

 

“Well, when I got home last night, she got onto me about being late again, and—.”

 

Simon snorted over her and rolled his eyes, a couple minutes late wasn’t worth getting an earful over.

 

“Just listen. She told me it would save me some time if you dropped me off at the door instead—."

 

"Yeah fuckin' right," Simon huffed.

 

Patty let loose a frustrated noise at being interrupted again. "Hold on, Simon. And then she saw my neck and said that she wished you would stop doing that.” 

 

Simon shook his head, unwilling to accept that as her answer. They’d been so careful the last couple of weeks with the drop-offs; Patty was making him park so far down the block that he was starting to argue with her about how far she had to run. He could admit he was getting sloppy with both the hickeys and getting her home on time, but there was no fucking way Connie out of all people concluded that it was him. Anyone could give her a goddamn hickey. She must have fessed up when her mom started hounding her; Patty didn't always do the best under pressure. 

 

“Ain't no fucking way your mom named me personally," he accused. 

 

“Yeah,” she responded, her tone rich with disbelief to the point that Simon could see what face she was making with the way she said it. He knew then she was just as shocked as he was.

 

"Fuck," Simon sputtered, at a complete loss for words. Maybe Connie was more with it than he gave her credit for. And, clearly, if she was inviting him to dinner, she didn’t hate his guts by any means. Unless it was a tactic to get him over there, so her and Norm could try to corner him into something he’d absolutely refuse to do. But with Dan in the room, he wasn’t going to entertain that out loud. "She's not pissed?"

 

"Well, she was mad that I was late and about the hickey, but she wasn't mad about us," Patty responded thoughtfully as she recounted the interaction again.

 

“Shit, uh, alright then.” He scratched the back of his head. Maybe it was because he was barely coherent right now, but none of this shit was adding up with the picture Patty had painted about her parents and their perception of him. “Your dad cool too?”

 

The line was silent for far too long, but Simon knew that was an answer in itself, saw it coming anyway. “Old man ain’t fond of me, huh.” 

 

“Yeah," she said softly. "Mom told me you needed to mind your ‘peesincues’ whatever that means.” 

 

Simon laughed bitterly and shook his head, his shortened fuse surfacing once again. “She wants me to pretend to be someone I’m not is what that fucking means.” 

 

“Oh," Patty replied, so sweetly and so genuinely. "I don’t want you to do that. I like you as you.”

 

Simon nodded, anger combining with a mixture of self-preservation and self-deprecation before he could think to stop it. “So you understand the problem here?” 

 

“Problem?” 

 

Simon adjusted the phone to his other ear, so he could bite at his preferred thumb instead as he tried to find a way to let her down gently. He threw his hand out in front of him and sighed. “Me comin’ around doesn’t sound like a good idea, Pats.”

 

“Oh.” 

 

The heartbreak in her voice made Simon feel like a total piece of shit, like she hadn’t considered he would refuse. As if he hadn’t made it perfectly clear how he felt about her parents already. And then to ask him to sit down with them and act like anyone but himself? He wouldn’t be able to stand it. Think he would really lose it on them, and then what? He’d never get to see her again? He couldn’t risk that.

 

He couldn't risk losing her. 

 

“Look, I’m sorry, Pats, but—.”

 

“Please?” she squeaked. Patty wasn’t about to take no for an answer, even if that meant she had to beg him on her hands and knees to come to dinner. If she had to tell her mom he said no, she was sure he’d have absolutely zero chance of getting back in their good graces. And now that they knew, would she ever be able to leave the house again? Would she ever be able to see Simon again? She would do anything to make this work with him, but she really didn’t want to think about how much more difficult having this relationship would be if Simon didn’t figure out a way to make peace with her parents and vice versa. 

 

Simon looked over his shoulder, caught Dan’s watchful gaze, and flipped him off. He covered his mouth around the speaker and hunched over himself. “I just don’t think I can sit there and pretend with them, Patty. I mean, fuck, you knew what you were getting into with me.” 

 

“And you knew what you were getting into with me,” she countered fiercely. 

 

Even when he was pissed, he still thought she was cute when she got her teeth out like that. Simon snorted, too tired in his haze to push his amusement below the surface. It was a mistake. 

 

“Don’t laugh, Simon,” she immediately pouted, and he rolled his eyes. “This-this isn’t funny.” Simon could hear the swell of emotions in her voice, knew she was suddenly holding back tears. Fuck, where did that come from? That awful stabbing feeling in his chest returned, and he swore under his breath. He wondered if this was how Dan felt when Simon would corner him into doing something he wanted no part in. 

 

"Patty, I—."

 

“It's not—I don’t want you to pretend,” she explained through a poorly disguised sniffle. “I-I just, I think I want you to try.” 

 

“Christ, Pats. No need for the goddamn waterworks.” If the tears weren't enough, her words definitely were. He couldn't make any promises, but he would try. For her. 

 

“What?” 

 

“Fucking hate hearing you upset like that," he admitted, blamed it on the brain fog and exhaustion again. She was probably going to pocket that information for later knowing her, and he quickly changed the subject. "What time you want me over then?” 

 

“Wait. Really?” her voice perked up, all sunshine and roses again.

 

“Yes, really. Now, c’mon. Before I change my mind,” he barked. He figured if he played up the annoyance now, maybe she'd be more apprehensive to pull that shit again in the future.  

 

Patty made the sweetest little noise in celebration, ignoring his tone completely. “Mom said 5:30.” 

 

“Fuck, that’s an early dinner,” he complained. He was really hoping he'd be able to go back to sleep, but he knew he'd be even groggier and in a shittier mood when he woke up the second time. He'd prefer to end the night with a girlfriend still, and he was real fuckin' liable to do some damage at the dinner table if he showed up like that. 

 

Patty didn’t respond, and he threw his hand up in the air. “I’ll be there," he assured her, but he knew he didn't sound so reassuring. 

 

“Simon?” she asked, after a small beat of silence. 

 

He could hear the grin in her voice, and he bit his cheek to suppress his own. “What.” 

 

“Thank you," she breathed out, relief evident as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

 

And, unfortunately for Simon, that meant he got to carry that weight instead. “Yeah, whatever. You owe me though.” 

 

Patty giggled, and it felt like the universe reminding him of why he agreed to do this shit again. “After dinner,” she promised. 

 

“Deal. I’ll see you soon.” 

 

Simon hung up the phone and leaned over the counter with his head hung, taking a deep breath to steady himself as he allowed the contents of the phone call to sink in.

 

He’d had plenty of girls take him home, shit, plenty of moms take him home where he had to sit at the table, so he could get his rocks off. Had dealt with plenty of disgruntled fathers and father figures at his presence, but that was like apples to oranges to what she had just manipulated him into doing. This actually fucking mattered. This would be the first time he attended a dinner, outside of his family’s, where his ultimate goal wasn't to get laid and get the fuck out. He couldn’t tell Norm to fuck off if he pushed him too far, and he couldn’t lie out of his ass or make a scene to get himself out of Connie's prying questions. He knew he was walking into this as the underdog with no advantages. If it was anything like how Patty made it seem, her dad probably already had his mind made up about him, and he didn't know where the fuck he was going to start with that. 

 

“What the hell was that?” Danny questioned as he scurried into the kitchen. Simon woke up in a shit mood, and Dan had to stop him on his way to pick up Patty's call to remind him to not be a total fucking dick on the phone. If Dan had to give him a grade, he'd probably get a solid C. That being said, he wasn't sure if there was actually something wrong, or if Simon was blowing things out of proportion like he tended to do. 

 

Simon blatantly and purposefully ignored him, keeping his head down and taking another slow and steady breath to calm himself. Unfortunately, he knew there was no ignoring Dan, fucking relentless like a pesky mosquito. He chose to soak in every second of silence he could get. 

 

Danny knew of an efficient way to figure out if he was dealing with the former or the latter. Taking in what he heard of Simon's side of the conversation, his tone of voice, and body language, he had narrowed Patty's news down to two options—if it was something to seriously be upset about. “Either you cheated on her, which I know didn’t happen, or she’s pregnant.”

 

“Fuck, I thought so too at first,” Simon chuckled with a small shake of his head. 

 

Danny rolled his eyes. “Okay, so then you’re overreacting.” 

 

Simon snapped his neck up to look at his brother incredulously. He felt like he was handling things pretty fucking well, considering he had been jolted awake out of a near coma and forced into a debilitating conversation where he ended up coerced by tears into doing the absolute last thing he wanted to do today. “I’m not fucking overreacting, Dan.” 

 

“Your knuckles are white.” Danny pointed to his grip on the counter. 

 

Simon released his hands and slammed them on the counter, unable to contain the rage that had been boiling beneath the surface. “Christ, you’re just like fuckin’ mom. Stickin’ your grubby little fingers in places they don’t belong.” 

 

“Chip in on the phone bill, and I won’t interrogate you after every phone call,” Danny ribbed with a wide grin. Sometimes he wondered if Simon forgot he was long immune to his outbursts and intimidation tactics.

 

“And there’s Dad,” Simon muttered with a disappointed shake of his head. He had half the mind to walk back to his room and shove the cash he had in his backpack at Dan. It’s not like he didn’t pay any bills. He chipped in what he could, and Dan didn’t ask for much. Pretty fucking shitty of him to use it as leverage now, but he knew exactly where that shit came from. 

 

“So?” Danny pressed again.

 

Simon sighed deeply and swayed his head back and forth as he contemplated giving in to Dan, deciding he'd get him out of his hair sooner if he caved. “She invited me to dinner tonight.” 

 

Danny flipped a palm at him. “Yeah, no shit. I got that part.” 

 

“With her family,” Simon qualified lowly, swiping his index finger under his nose. 

 

"That's what's got you all worked up?" Now Danny was completely fucking lost. He had listened to more than a couple of drunken rants of Simon’s about Patty keeping their relationship a secret from her family. The guy had an awful lot to say about it, and it was really the only thing he ever complained about when it came to her. So Dan felt his confusion was more than warranted despite the look his brother was giving him. “Isn’t that what you were wanting?” 

 

“Fuck no," Simon dismissed immediately, but Dan was giving him that look that always made him think twice, like he knew something that Simon didn't. "I mean, I don't fucking know, Dan," Simon sighed as he turned around and reached to grab a beer out of the fridge, popping the tab and taking a large gulp. The yeasty carbonation gave him the clarity he needed. "No, fuck that," he shook his finger at Dan decisively. "Me not wanting her to hide me, and me coming over for fuckin’ family dinner are two different things,” Simon reasoned. 

 

Danny sucked his teeth and patted his brother on the back. “Hate to break it to ya, but they're really not.” 

 

Simon shrugged Dan off of him as he leaned back against the counter, leveling an even glare at his brother. Dan still didn't wipe that stupid fucking look off his face either. He chugged half his beer and waved it in front of him. “Okay, fuck it. I’ll entertain this. How?”

 

Danny shook his head impatiently at his brother, how dense he could be at times. He wanted to grab him by the shoulders and tell him he can't have his cake and eat it too, but Danny somehow mustered an extra sliver of patience for him, per usual. "Part of being in a relationship, especially one that isn't a secret means you're gonna hafta do shit you don't wanna do sometimes, y'know compromise and shit. And—," Danny shook his head as Simon started to open his mouth, raising his voice. "This time it means coming to family dinner."

 

Simon rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath in response. Danny sighed and threw his hands up in frustration. “I mean, really, dude. What did you think was going to happen?”

 

Simon jutted his bottom lip and went to snag his pack of cigarettes from the coffee table, craving the soothing effects of the nicotine. “I don’t fuckin’ know, Dan. Guess I didn't think that far. I’m not exactly the type of guy that you wanna bring home to the family,” he admitted, fumbling with his pack. His fingers still felt thick and sluggish from the dying effects of his midnight snack.  

 

“Well, you are now,” Dan chuckled, following his brother into the living room and throwing himself down on the couch. 

 

"Fuck, when did that happen?" Simon sighed, plopping down adjacent to his brother and rubbing his eyes again. 

 

“If I had my guess, it was probably after you fucked her. And, considering it’s you, that was, what, less than 24 hours after you met?" Dan jabbed, finding himself on the receiving end of a heated glare that he laughed at. "Come on, you're gonna be fine. You have nothing to be nervous about. Connie and Norm are so easy to get along with—.”

 

“Bullshit, Dan. I have fucking plenty to be worried about. And for fuck’s sake, don’t talk about them like that,” he snapped, his frustration compounding as he couldn't find the lighter he knew he left on the table before he crashed out. 

 

“I’m just sayin’ they’re much more manageable than Mom and Dad,” Dan replied with a raise of his hands. He wasn't sure if Simon ignored him on purpose or if he was genuinely too preoccupied with rooting around for a lighter, but he tossed him the one in his back pocket.  

 

"This one’s mine, asshole,” Simon grouched, lighting his cigarette and pocketing it. 

 

“My bad. Probably took it from you while you were passed out on the couch,” Danny confessed as he sprawled across the sofa. 

 

“And that’s another thing, Dan. I fucking told her I was planning to lose a day to sleep, and now I gotta fight through this fog and deal with these fuckin’ assholes. I mean, fuck me, really. You got any Excedrin?” 

 

“Fuck, you’re being such a little bitch today. Yeah. There’s some in the medicine cabinet. Take it with you for all I care.” Danny braced for a fist that didn’t come. When Dan peeked his eyes open, Simon had his head in his hands instead. 

 

“What?” Danny asked, trying to not sound too annoyed.  

 

Simon debated with his hands before confessing, “it’s weird that I fucking care.”

 

“Shit, well it’s nice to see you care about fucking anything, man," Danny started with a chuckle, glad to see Simon snort in amusement with him. "I mean, I know you always cared about your music and all, but this is different. She's different. Like she's made it so I can stand you now."

 

Simon looked up at Dan, shaking his head briefly before smiling. “I don't know. I like to think I'm just as 'unmanageable' as I was back in the day." 

 

Danny threw his head back and belly laughed. Unmanageable was the word their mother often used to describe Simon, to the point that it had long become an inside joke between the two. "Take it from the guy who was actually there. Doesn't even compare. I like you much better with her."

 

Simon took a long drag off his cigarette, studying it as he exhaled. "Worst part is I like me better with her too." 

 

Dan quirked an eyebrow at him. “You really think that's a bad thing?"

 

Simon stretched out onto the couch, getting into a more comfortable position with his legs kicked out in front of him. "Nah," he shook his head. "Can't believe she's got me doing this type of shit though." 

 

“I can," Danny chuckled. After watching the gradual changes in his brother and getting to know Patty better over the years, he held a firm belief that that girl could get him to do anything. No matter how much it went against his beliefs, Dan was sure if she batted her eyelashes just right, Simon'd bend to whatever request she was making, which was fucking crazy considering he'd seen Simon go to monumental lengths to hold his ground in the past. "Who knows? Maybe I can get her to convince you to have dinner with Mom and Dad again too," Dan quipped with a smirk. 

 

Simon narrowed his eyes and pointed his lit cigarette in Dan's direction. “You wouldn’t.” 

 

“Yeah, no. They’re still pretty pissed at you,” Danny chuckled. He wasn't sure if Simon or their parents could stand to be in each other's presence again. They both still spoke poorly of each other, leaving Dan trapped in between, a place he had gotten comfortable with years ago. 

 

“Yeah, think her parents might be too. Her dad at least. Guess dinner was all Connie’s idea.” Simon leaned forward to ash his cigarette and kill the rest of his tall boy. He still wasn't sure he fully believed Patty's story, but it was all he had to go off of for now. 

 

Danny nodded with a small downturn of his lips, honestly pretty damn proud of himself. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

 

Simon chose to ignore the comment, but Dan wasn't going to let him off easy this time. Not after all the work he put in for him. “Feel free to thank me for that whenever."

 

Simon shook his head and gave Dan a confused look. “For what?” 

 

Danny returned Simon's confusion. “You think I wasn’t in her ear about you?”

 

Simon raised his eyebrows and nodded, slowly dragging his cigarette to buy himself some time to figure out a response to that. They had never talked about it, but he had dropped plenty of hints since Patty told him that her parents had a fuckin' hard-on for his brother that he wasn't too fond of their little friendship. For Simon, it felt like beating a dead horse rather than an extension of kindness. "Never thought about it like that.”

 

“C’mon, man. I wasn’t buttering them up to fuckin’ spite you. I was trying to help,” Danny asserted. He knew his brother was paranoid at heart. If the intentions weren't spelled out point blank at times, he was wholly suspicious of them. Dan knew he should have mentioned it in one of their phone calls when he was still locked up, give him some time to prepare, but their precious fifteen minutes were usually spent sorting out more important topics of discussion: the trial, subsequent sentencing, whatever Patty needed at the time, commissary when he got real desperate, shit that always felt more pressing than hey, your girlfriend's parents are actually pretty cool, and we have coffee together sometimes. It didn't feel right. 

 

Simon nodded as he stubbed his cigarette out, slapping his hand on Dan’s knee and looking him in the eye. He had expressed his appreciation more than once for Dan, but he felt forever indebted to him for all the running around and smoothing over he seemed to do in the wake of Simon's destruction. He shouldn't have had to do it then and he shouldn't have to do it now, but Simon was pretty fucking grateful he did. “Thanks, Dan, ‘ppreciate everything. Hope you know that.” 

 

“Yeah, whatever,” Dan replied, waving him off. 

 

"What would you two even talk about?" Simon asked curiously. Danny had always gotten along well with any parents, not just their own. He didn't know how the guy managed to fucking do it; it only nauseated Simon. 

 

Dan smiled at him. "Honestly nothing most of the time. Connie will talk anyone's ear off if they'll let her," Dan explained, gauging Simon's reaction before continuing. "It didn't take much for them to open up to me; all I did was show up a little earlier, brought them some of Mom's cookies. Connie ate that shit up too, made me sit down and have coffee with her. She complained about Norm and grocery prices and Patty and Kev's loud music, gossiped about the neighbors, y'know housewife shit. Sometimes we talked about the weather, or she'd ask about my work. I'd find breaks in the conversation to drop in that you were a good guy, and then I'd be on my way," he concluded simply. 

 

If Simon died today and was inevitably sent to hell, he was pretty certain a version of his would look something like how Danny described. "How do you fucking do that?"

 

"Do what?"

 

Simon threw his hands up; he felt like it was obvious. "Fuckin' pretend to give a shit I guess," Simon muttered. 

 

Danny gave him a confused look, sorting through his items under the coffee table and pulling out his bag of weed and a pipe. "I've seen you do it plenty of times," he responded dismissively.

 

"Yeah, for fuckin' pussy, dick, or dope," Simon scoffed. Simon required a strong motivation to put up a front like that and maintain it without gagging. And he hadn't had to do it in a long time at that. He didn't have to pretend to give a shit when Patty talked; he actually cared about what she had to say. Her parents? Not so much. 

 

Danny snorted as he broke up the bud between his fingertips. "Are you not doing this for pussy?" 

 

Simon scowled at him. "This is way different, Dan."

 

"Ah, yes. Sorry. Because doing it for long-term pussy is so much different than doing it for short-term pussy, huh," Danny retorted sarcastically. 

 

Simon slugged his arm, jostling the pipe in Dan's hand and sending some of the bud flying into his lap. "Don't talk about her like that," Simon warned. 

 

"Jesus, Simon. I'm not. Just saying I know you can do it," Dan grumbled, trying to scoop the shake off his jeans and into the bowl. After he finished packing the bowl for a second time, he rubbed his thumb and index finger at Simon.

 

Simon chucked his lighter at him hard, nailing him in the chest. "What'd you tell Connie 'bout me?" 

 

"I'm right here. Don't gotta fuckin' blast it at me," Dan complained as he lit the bowl. He savored his first hit, letting Simon's shitty mood slide off his back as he exhaled. "Nothin' you gotta worry about maintaining. Just told her the truth."

 

Simon sat up and widened his eyes at Dan. "The truth, truth?" Patty didn't even know all of it yet, and that was for him to share, not fucking Dan. But he waited for Dan's response before he launched himself at his brother. 

 

"Fuck no, man. I wanted you to have a chance," Dan chuckled, relieved when Simon huffed a small laugh. Danny nudged the rolling bowl over to him, but he immediately declined. Shame. It'd probably kill his shit attitude. 

 

"Fuck, I'm tryin' to wake up, not go back to bed. But if you got any uppers, I'll fuckin' take one of 'em," Simon retorted.

 

"That's all you," Danny replied. He'd never been a big fan of pills anyway and was especially turned off of them after watching what they did to Simon over the years. Simon groaned dramatically in response, and Danny rolled his eyes, hitting the pipe again.  

 

Simon leaned back again after lighting another cigarette and chuckled, kicking his feet out on the table. “You know last time I was over there I told her brother he was adopted.”

 

“Everyone knows Kev's adopted,” Danny replied dismissively. 

 

“Yeah, now. Not fuckin' then,” Simon laughed. He watched Dan try to muster up a scolding look but quickly succumbed to the hilarity, choking around his hit as he started to giggle. 

 

The silence after the laughter was deafening, allowing all the self-doubt to flood back into Simon's system and put him right back at square one. Luckily, Dan was probably the only person he could talk to about this shit. He bit at his thumb before speaking. 

 

“I don’t wanna fuck this up.” 

 

“Okay, so don’t,” Dan replied simply. 

 

Simon shook his head, a finger waving in his brother's direction. He hated when Dan acted so nonchalant about shit that was eating Simon alive. “It’s not that easy.”

 

“Sure it is. Just don’t smoke inside, no cut-offs or muscle tanks, and no swearing.”

 

“Those are like my 3 favorite things.”

 

Danny threw his head back and laughed. “Well, they aren’t tonight for like two, three hours tops. You’ll live.” 

 

Simon sighed as he absorbed Danny's words. He guessed his brother was right. It was a small request in reality. Only a couple hours. He put his head in his hands as he tried to even imagine the interactions and found himself pulling the memories he had from the last time he was there. 

 

“Think I broke one of their coffee mugs too,” he confessed while rubbing his eyes. 

 

Dan bit the inside of his cheek. He was glad Simon mentioned something because Dan had nearly forgotten. That was one of the first things Connie bitched about when Danny broached the topic with her. “Bring a new one with you.” 

 

Simon looked up at him and scoffed. He was sure it had been long replaced by now, if they even bothered noticing. 

 

“I’m being serious. I think it would go a long way,” Danny urged. He wasn’t going to say something, but since Simon was bringing it up…

 

“It was Connie’s favorite mug, man.” And she had to come home to it shattered in the sink and along the counter. He had apologized profusely to her on Simon's behalf, though he could understand his brother's reaction after having a sip of their selected coffee. 

 

Simon pursed his lips but nodded. “Fuck, okay.” That wasn't like him, to go out of his way to apologize like that, especially to someone he really could give less of a shit about, but he trusted Dan's instincts. Shit, he knew them way better than he did anyway. He'd take all the help he could get. 

 

“You’ll be fine, man,” Dan nudged his shoulder. 

 

Simon wasn't so sure of that, but he'd try to use the next few hours to convince himself otherwise. She was lucky she had him wrapped around her fucking finger, or there’d be no chance in hell that he would show up.

Chapter 3

Notes:

ty friends for being patient w me. i am so sorry about the word count lol I inserted a couple of breaks where it made sense to help w that!!

 

tw: thoughts of self-harm & mentions of childhood trauma

“You can borrow one of mine if you want,” Danny shrugged as he cautiously stepped away from his brother. All he did was lightly suggest that maybe settling for any shirt with sleeves wasn't quite enough, that the scratchy metal writing surrounding an exaggerated devil probably wasn’t the most suitable option for dinner with Patty’s parents.  

 

"Yeah, okay. Thanks, Dan. If I wanna look like a gay Sunday school teacher, I'll be sure to let you know," Simon griped as he dragged himself back to his bedroom. He held the last shirt he dug out of his dresser in front of him as he reviewed the criteria: he hadn’t taken a pair of scissors to it yet, didn't have any "vulgar language," wasn't ripped or torn or stained to high hell, and had minimal anti-Christian imagery. And thank god for it because he'd sooner stand Patty's parents up for dinner than look like his fuckin' yuppie of a brother.

 

While annoyed, Simon could find a sliver of gratitude in that Dan was far more concerned about offending her parents with a meaningless shirt than the overall style Simon presented himself in and didn't blink twice at his black jeans, studded belt, or his old worn-out boots. Simon was willing to put on a semi-decent front, rally through dinner, and make nice with her parents, but he wasn’t willing to compromise who he was at the end of the day. And the realization struck him that it was actually kind of nice that both Dan and Patty weren't pushing to change him by any means. It was more like polishing out the buffs than picking up a chisel and hammering away. 

 

Simon stepped into the bathroom, scanning over himself in a way he hadn’t in several years, or at least since the last dinner or event he willingly attended with his own family. He usually could give less of a shit about his appearance, but he wanted to beat Dan at it, at any remarks about a potential stain or zit or scuff he wouldn’t have bothered acknowledging had he been going out for any other reason. Just the thought of any comments from the kid was making Simon’s jaw ache, and he had to remind himself to fucking breathe before he ruined what he was sure was his only chance at winning her parents over. 

 

He leaned forward with a frustrated sigh as he messed with his hair in the mirror. He knew Patty liked this haircut and all, but he couldn’t fucking stand it half the time if he was being honest. He hated how his bangs wouldn’t tuck behind his ear, and he was seriously considering throwing a beanie on to save him from having to brush away the fallen strands every five seconds despite it being the tail end of summer.

 

He wondered if Patty knew he only gave himself this haircut to throw the pigs off his trail and never intended on keeping it. He’d deal with it though as long as she kept looking at him like he fuckin’ hung the moon or some shit every time he popped out of the bathroom with freshly shaved sides. 

 

“Your hair looks fine. Well, you know, considering,” Danny teased as he stopped by the open bathroom door to hang off the frame. 

 

“Yeah, yeah. Fuck off, Dan,” Simon muttered as he shook his hair out again without so much as a glance in Danny’s direction.

 

Danny stepped into the bathroom and pulled his wallet out, tossing a 5 dollar bill on the counter nonchalantly. “Here, take this.” 

 

Simon arched a single brow at him. “Gonna need more than a fiver if you want somethin' from me, Danny-boy,” Simon snarked, gesturing down his body. 

 

Dan scrunched his nose at Simon with a slight shake of his head. “Ew. No, dude. Don’t be weird. Want you to buy the mug, not steal it." 

 

Simon scoffed and nudged the bill back his way. “I have money. I’m not some fuckin’ charity case.”

 

“But if I give you enough cash, I can claim it on my taxes,” Danny replied with faux innocence and a smirk. It was clear that Simon didn’t think it was funny though, evident by the glare directed at Dan through the mirror. Dan bit back an additional jab that his brother probably hadn’t filed his taxes a year in his adult life anyway, couldn’t really when his job title was your unfriendly neighborhood drug dealer. 

 

“Oh, come on. Lighten up. It’ll be over before you know it.” Dan slapped a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder. For as much as Simon disdainfully claimed Dan was like their parents, Simon was a lot like their mom—overanalyzing and dramatizing every situation until they couldn't tell their way from up and down. He was halfway tempted to comment on their similarities, but now wasn't the time to rile Simon up, especially after Dan put in as much work as he did to get him that seat at dinner. But he did slip it in his back pocket for a later date. 

 

“Last fuckin’ thing I wanted to do today,” Simon grumbled under his breath, trying to shove down the sick, acrid feeling rising in his throat as a flurry of jarring memories slapped him, reminding him of the lengths his own parents would go to make sure both his appearance and behavior were tolerable during dinner. 

 

He watched Simon lean over the sink to hock up whatever he had stuck in the back of his throat. Dan grimaced at the noise and looked away as he spat. “Just don’t take your nerves out on her, yeah?” 

 

Simon shot Dan a look that could kill, but his brother held his ground, meeting Simon’s gaze and raising his eyebrows back at him. It seemed like every time he did something with Patty nowadays, Danny was right there to remind him to not be a dick, and he was getting pretty fucking tired of his behavior in his relationship with Patty being constantly monitored and scrutinized by his little brother who clearly had way too much free time on his fucking hands.

 

He was tempted to put on a front that he wasn't nervous—just pissed at Patty. It wouldn't be a complete lie either. It was much easier to funnel his anxiety into being surface-level frustrated with her guilting him into coming to dinner last minute when his other option was to stew on the fact that, if he didn’t perform up to standards tonight, he might not have a girlfriend to worry about come this time tomorrow. But he knew Dan would call his bluff on that shit immediately, and he wasn't in the mood for hearing what he already knew.

 

“Yeah, I know,” Simon sighed as he flipped the faucet on to splash cold water on his face to help snap him out of his fog. 

 

“Alright, you got this, man. Promise you it’s gonna be worth it,” Dan encouraged, though Simon kept his head down, hands still clutched around the sink while he nodded slowly. Dan tried not to roll his eyes. 

 

“Fuck, I really hope so, Dan.”

 

“Yeah, well, I know so. How ‘bout that?” Danny laughed, taking a step backward. “Break a leg!” he called halfway down the hall, leaving Simon muttering and rolling his eyes in response. 

 

Simon took one last look in the mirror and groaned, digging through his backpack and pouring out 3 pills. He paused, frowning at the bars in his open palm. He put two back in the bottle and one in his mouth, crunching down hard and tossing the bottle onto the counter before zipping his backpack up. He swore under his breath and headed out the door.

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Simon popped in his heaviest cassette tape and cranked the volume before taking off down the road. He hoped it’d be enough to overpower the constant churning of his mind, but the drumming of his fingers along the steering wheel to the familiar beat coupled with the muscle memory of the easy drive allowed his brain to tune out all external inputs and zero in on the rampage behind his eyes instead, falling back into the well-worn footpaths created by the constant trudge of his self-doubts. 

 

The thing about dinner was that it was too easy—too easy to make one wrong move and fuck this all up, how at his every turn there would be a new opportunity for a conversation or interaction to simply go astray, and this would come crashing and burning in a bright and explosive end. 

 

What was even easier was saying fuck it and turning the car back around. He could cherish how good this all was before shit got too real, before he found a way to ruin it with his bottomless pit of shortcomings. He could instead perpetually trail a fingertip over the memories of the past three months with the sick, bittersweet knowledge of what it was to be loved by her yet being too chickenshit to follow through with what that meant to see it through to the end. 

 

How easy it would be to throw in the towel to avoid the inevitable—that his best, that his willingness to give his all just wasn't good enough. 

 

He gripped the steering wheel tighter as he came to a stop sign. He toyed with the idea of turning left instead of right, how all it would take was a flip of his turn signal in the wrong direction to solidify his decision. And while Simon favored the idea of running away and falling back into old habits, the hardest part of that diversion would be the eventual look of devastated confusion in Patty’s eye as she tried to figure out what went wrong, could see her desperate and uncoordinated fingers trying to mold what they had back together like dry, unclinging sand that was impermeable even to her tears. And when his mind supplied the projected warble in her voice as she asked him with big, wet eyes “why?”, he found his hand instinctively flicking to signal right. 

 

Simon struggled to swallow around the dry rock in his throat, and he centered in on the resounding thud of the ragged bassline and rhythmic kick of the drums, reaching a shaky hand for a cigarette. The cherry-red tip taunted him every time it flickered in his line of sight, the relentless urge to sear his forearm teasing and begging him, knowing the sharp, sizzle of pain would grant clarity and stillness he wasn’t sure he could find within himself before he reached his destination. Simon forced a long breath in through his nose and slowly out his mouth until the vision and gnawing temptation faded out of view.

 

Dan's obnoxious voice came back to remind him to focus on the positives instead, but the only solace his brain could produce was that he really only had to worry about convincing one parent that he wasn’t going to wreak havoc on their daughter’s life rather than two. And while he still had to grapple with the awful reality that both Connie and Norm would have preferred it if Patty had ended up with his responsible and put-together brother instead—which was a twist of the permanent knife in his side already—, he knew that there had to be some kind of understanding on Connie’s behalf of who Simon was, that she saw some decent enough quality in him to welcome him back into her home despite the fact that the last time he stepped foot in that house he essentially manipulated them into housing a fugitive under the guise of some self-righteous Christian character Simon used to play often. 

 

Simon pressed two fingers against his temple and sighed. God, how the fuck was he expected to come back from that? But maybe that was the point, that there wasn't coming back from that. Maybe her parents had him exactly where they wanted him, and he was naively falling for the trap, their bait the beautiful, brown-eyed force of nature he’d follow into the dark without any hesitation like some love blind fool. 

 

The fact that he had basically no time to prepare felt fucking purposeful too, like Connie was playing a demented version of detective, splitting up the suspects, so they couldn’t corroborate each other’s stories. He would have given anything to have gotten with Patty beforehand to get an idea of what questions her parents were gonna potentially nail him with, figure out exactly what narrative they had of him, so he could have his angle prepped and his answers locked and loaded instead of having to pull them out of his ass and pray they land. 

 

And that was part of the problem: Patty never spelled out exactly what her parents had to say about him, but she had heavily implied that it wasn't anything good. Simon wasn’t stupid; he could fill in the blanks. And he wasn't so sure that the doubts her dad had about him weren't the same doubts he struggled with when he was trying to fall asleep at night. If anything, that might be the only common ground they had, was Simon's perceived inability to provide what Patty needed—mentally, emotionally, physically, financially, all of it. Shit, he didn't even have a real job, still making cash off selling his plasma as well as the quick deals and other side shit that came his way from his connections. It was enough to pay what Dan asked, take Patty out once a week, and put a little away in savings to move out, but not much more than that. 

 

And if anyone asked him what his plans for the future were, he wasn’t sure what the fuck he’d say to them. The truth was he didn’t think he’d make it this far, that he’d still be alive to have to figure out how to support himself, let alone someone else. Not that Patty needed supported. Fuck, she was more stable and responsible than he could ever dream of being. Everyone, including himself, was probably far more concerned that Patty would have to provide for them rather than the other way around. And, even though he was all for women leading the way and all that feminist shit, he couldn’t deny how shitty that made him feel to put his girlfriend in that position in the first place.

 

The only thing he could think of doing "professionally" that wouldn't suck the ever-living soul out of him was his music. And he knew all too well what parents tended to think of that as a career choice, especially when he explained he was only interested in preserving the scene he grew up in and had no intentions of cashing in on its break into the mainstream. 

 

And unless making plans to see each other next counted, Patty and him hadn't spoken much about their future. Which was a topic he usually avoided at all fucking costs. Shit, he had only been out of jail for about three months, and, while their anniversary date may have been over two years ago, the difference in their relationship when he was in prison versus now was like night and day. He knew he was missing out on the depth of what it meant to be with Patty while he was still locked up, but, without having any prior experience, he truly underestimated how many components weren't translatable between letters, phone calls, and the scattered, 30 minute visits they were allowed.

 

They were still figuring out what it meant to be with each other, and he felt like it wasn't crazy that they hadn't touched on what they wanted out of the future when he looked at their relationship in the light of three months rather than two years. He wouldn't dream of crushing Patty's heart by saying that shit out loud though. 

 

And most of their “talks” pertaining to their relationship were usually about sex which Simon didn’t see any problem in up until now. He loved that she was never shy or embarrassed to ask questions, was never squeamish at anything he asked her to do, and was always confident when she brought her own ideas to the table. Patty was also the first person in a long time to want to know what got him off the loudest, the fastest, the hardest. He let his brain linger on the enticing subject, chuckling as snippets of their conversations came to him: 

Can we try it like this? Anything you want, baby. Does that feel good? Not really, does it for you? Doesn’t fuckin’ matter. Flip over.  

Are you sure you're okay? I can take another finger, Pats. Promise you’re not gonna break me. ... Jesus fucking Christ, Patty. I said one, not two. 

You’re so pretty when you cry, Simon. Fuck, are you gonna let me cum or what? Hmm, no. Not yet.

Remember when you told me I can do whatever? Uh-huh. Can I take the condom off? Fuck no. 

 

But as far as the future went, it seemed like they were both taking it day by day, soaking in each other’s presence. Enjoying the laughter and kisses and gentle touches and smiles, not worrying about where this was all leading, and keeping their attention and focus on what was right in front of them, which was usually each other. Simon liked it that way, that is until he was stuck trying to figure out how the fuck he was supposed to answer questions about his future when he didn’t have the input from the person it revolved around the most. 

 

Simon popped out of the store around the corner from Patty’s with a mug in his pocket and a fresh pack of cigarettes in his hand. He took a moment of silence to clear his head and light a cigarette before turning back onto the road. Dan told him if he kept himself in a positive headspace nothing could go wrong, and, fuck, he was willing to give anything a try at this point.

 

"It's always one thing after another with you, Simon." 

 

Simon choked around his cigarette, sputtering clumsily as the memory bulldozed its way past all his concerns and any chance for having an optimistic attitude about dinner. He shook his head in hopes the sudden movement would wipe his brain like an etch-a-sketch, but the vision of his mother dragging him by the ear from the dining room table persisted despite Simon's desperate attempts to shut it down.

 

The pieces of the scattered memory fell in a line like tumbling dominoes. The first a quick flash he had of peering into the kitchen as his mother berated the nanny about maintaining appearances, that she was to ensure there was not a hair out place or a single stain or spill on any of her children's clothes, but especially Simon's. The visual component of the memory was hazy and unfocused, but the sound of his name like poison in his mother’s mouth was as clear as if she was sitting next to him now. 

 

The next tile that fell was Simon being escorted to the table. The nanny prompted him to sit on his hands while he waited for dinner to be served per his mother's request. A finger in his face when he resisted, hands braceleting his wrists and shoving them under his thighs to enforce a stupid rule only he was ever forced to follow. Renae sticking her tongue out at him. A look of disgust from an old uncle next to him. He was sure the words weren’t verbatim after all this time, but fell along the lines of “there’s something not right about that oldest boy of yours, Nancy. We’ll keep praying.”

 

Simon knew what happened next, tried to throw out all his last ditch roadblocks before it surfaced, but it was too late. His mom stepping into the dining room with platters of food she pretended she made herself, his hands burning, burning, burning with how long they’d been asleep under his legs. Slowly, slowly starting to pull his hands free, sitting up to peek at the first course, but instantly being pulled back. A yelp at the pull of pain, his mother scolding him as she yanked him into the kitchen. A thumping finger just below his collar. A smear of toothpaste the nanny didn’t catch. Simon remembered pleading, the vision of his mother’s red face blurry through his tears as he insisted it wasn’t on purpose. Wondering why she wouldn’t listen. Wondering why she was so mad. The same old punishment for back talk, the breathtaking sting of his mother’s palm against his face.  

 

"Now quit your blubbering before Grandma hears you.”

 

The sound of the car door opening might as well have been an earthquake for how much it startled Simon, his free hand instantly shooting into his pocket and flinging open his knife in the general direction the noise came from. 

 

“Jeez, Simon. It’s just me,” Patty squeaked as she hopped away from the car with hands raised in defense. Her mom had called her down the moment she had eyes on Danny’s car, and they both waited restlessly at the door for Simon to appear. It didn’t take long for her mom’s impatience to outweigh Patty’s, and she shooed Patty outside with a wink and a whisper, “I’m sure he’s nervous, honey.” But Patty wasn’t so sure of that. Simon was rarely nervous; she assumed he was pissed off if anything and trying to calm himself down before he took it out on them. 

 

“Fuck. Don’t sneak up on me like that,” he snapped. Knife still clutched in hand, he manhandled the rearview mirror, contorting it as he thoroughly checked for any stains around his collar. He sighed deeply and shoved the knife back in his pocket. 

 

Patty furrowed her eyebrows as she looked between her house and Simon. She thought the front door slamming shut or her waving maniacally the second she stepped out the door was obvious enough. 

 

“Sorry, I didn’t think I was sneaking up,” she replied truthfully, slipping into the passenger seat and leaning over with her lips pouted. She waited for Simon to turn his head like he always did, but he kept his unblinking eyes fixated on the steering wheel instead.

 

She huffed impatiently and tapped on his wrist to get his attention. Simon grunted but barely moved in response to her actions. 

 

“Can I have a kiss?” 

 

Simon was still reeling from the whiplash he suffered after being ripped from his parents’ kitchen as a child to Patty’s driveway as his current self, but the slight plea in her voice pierced through his turmoil. Denying Patty a kiss was a far worse offense than accidentally pulling a knife on her. “Shit. Yes, of course, baby. C’mere.” He stretched across the console and gently cupped her cheek as he slotted his lips between hers. 

 

“You look nice,” Patty murmured against his lips as she pulled away. As much as she was tempted to press her tongue into his mouth, the evidence of their intimacy was already mapped up and down her neck—on the side her dad had to sit on too. She didn’t want to risk her parents seeing more than a simple peck out of them. 

 

A corner of Simon's lip turned up, and he leaned back in the seat to give her a better look. “Think so? You know this is the only normal shirt I own."

 

Patty smiled fondly at him, reaching over to rub her hand down his chest; Simon smirked as she shamelessly combed her eyes over his body, her fingers trailing lightly over his sternum before pressing her palm flat over his shoulder and down his arm. Her tongue swiped across her lips before she fluttered her lashes back up to meet his eye.

 

Simon clicked his tongue teasingly. “Really don’t think you should be coppin’ a feel in your parents’ driveway, Pats.” 

 

Patty quickly withdrew her hand and smiled shyly at him. “Sorry,” she giggled. It was going to be hard to keep her hands to herself considering she spent the better part of her afternoon distracting herself from her worries surrounding dinner with how Simon intended on cashing in on his favor afterward. And seeing him put in the effort of finding a nice shirt for her parents showed he really cared, the warmth of that realization fuzzy and sweet in her chest while hot and tugging in her core. 

 

Simon snorted at her, turning to ash the cigarette out the half-open window. He bit at his thumb as he glanced over the house. Knowing their fate was in his hands the second they stepped out of the car made him want to revert to Plan B and reverse out of the driveway without looking back.

 

Patty swallowed dryly as she watched Simon’s already weak smile fade and contort with worry instead. Maybe if she had told her parents about them a little sooner like he had been asking her for weeks, they would have had more time to prepare. Patty was honestly a little shocked that she hadn’t heard an “I told you so” out of him yet. 

 

“I’m happy you came,” she offered with a soft smile.

 

Simon huffed, shaking his head as he looked away from her. Easy for her to say when she wasn’t the one under the scalding lens of her parents’ microscope. 

 

A suffocating silence crept through the vehicle, punctuated only by Simon’s sharp drags on his rapidly dwindling cigarette. Patty chewed her lip and curled her toes; she expected angry muttering rather than brooding silence out of him, but maybe her mom was right after all. 

 

Patty took a deep breath as she turned toward him. “Are you nervous?” 

 

Simon barked a sarcastic laugh and looked at her incredulously, grumbling “am I nervous” under his breath as he brushed his bangs out of his face hastily. “Of course, I’m fucking nervous, Patty. I mean, Jesus Christ, the fuck do I look like over here?”

 

Patty blinked rapidly at him before turning her eyes up to the ceiling of the car, tracing over the material with her fingertip. “I’m nervous too if that makes you feel better,” she confided quietly. She spared a timid glance in his direction and watched his features soften as their eyes met. 

 

“Fuck, Pats. I’m sorry,” he apologized, planting a kiss on her forehead. She smiled faintly and leaned into the press of his lips, placing her hand over his. “I’m not trying to be an asshole. Just, y’know, this is…,” he trailed off as he gestured to her house. “It’s-it's a lot. Happy to do it for you, but, yeah, if you’re gonna ask, I’m shitting my fucking pants to tell you the truth.” 

 

Patty bit her lip at his choice of words. She hated when he laughed at her when she wasn’t in the best of moods, but the imagery he painted was making it really hard to restrain herself. 

 

“You can laugh, Pats.” He elbowed her playfully, chuckling along to her contagious laughter. “I’m sure it’s a little funny to see me like this.”

 

Her giggles halted at his qualification. “But I don’t like seeing you like this. It makes me feel bad."

 

“It’s fine, baby. No worse than right before I go on stage,” he lied. Simon hadn’t been nervous to perform in years, and even then that didn’t compare to the grief he was putting himself through now. He wouldn't have minded if she did think the way he acted under stress was funny, but, fuck, he really liked that she was concerned about him and wasn’t laughing at him, wasn’t telling him he was blowing things out of proportion, or that he had nothing to worry about. 

 

“Are you allergic to anything?” Patty asked him suddenly with her nose scrunched and mouth slightly agape. 

 

Simon threw his hands up at the change in subject. “Why? Who wants to know?” 

 

Patty fluttered her eyes at him briefly. “Well, my mom was asking me earlier before she went to the grocery store, and I didn’t know. She’s really excited to see you, you know.” She wouldn’t mention this part to Simon, but the way her mom looked at her when she admitted ignorance made her feel worse than her concerns regarding dinner. She didn’t feel like a very good girlfriend today. 

 

Simon was trying to figure out how he ended up in a timeline for a sentence like that to be spoken to him, but a bang on the window interrupted that train of thought, causing Patty to jump and Simon to unnecessarily reach for his pocket knife once again. 

 

“Fucking Kev,” Patty groaned and rolled her eyes dramatically. “He’s been talking about you all day.” 

 

“You think your brother's got a crush on me?” he teased as he rolled the window all the way down. 

 

“No, I think he wants to be you rather than be on you,” she joked back. Simon didn’t stop the laugh that ripped from him; he loved how Patty’s humor often caught him off guard. He felt the tension loosen in his jaw, felt like he could take a deep breath with ease all of a sudden. Fuck, with her, maybe he could do this. 

 

“You wanna smoke after dinner or what?” Kev grinned as he leaned up against the car, slapping his palm against Simon’s. This little dinner his mom had orchestrated couldn’t have come at a better time for him. Most of his friends had packed up for college recently, leaving Kev behind in this dying neighborhood. Personally, he was thrilled everything was finally out in the open about Simon and Patty’s relationship, assuming it meant Simon would be around more often and he’d have a smoke buddy to shoot the shit with again. 

 

“Fuck, let me get through dinner first,” Simon chuckled. 

 

“Might as well get it over with. Mom's watchin' you guys,” Kev shrugged, gesturing toward the front door. 

 

Simon nodded and spared a glance in the direction Kev pointed. It took all of him to resist the bile threatening to climb up his throat. “How fucked am I, Kev? Be honest.”

 

Patty pressed her thumbs against her fingernails at the urgency in Simon’s question to relieve some of the guilt consuming her. Maybe she should have insisted to her mom that dinner wasn’t a good idea, and not just because of her dad. It wasn't worth it. Seeing him like this was breaking her heart. 

 

Kev snorted. “Yeah, good luck with our dad, man.” He gave Simon a couple of pats on the shoulder before he sauntered away. 

 

Patty saw Simon’s mouth come to a thin line, his eyebrows pinching together as his eyes darted furiously across the dashboard. She desperately racked her brain for a way to comfort him, opening her mouth but unable to find the right words or any words for that matter. Another reason she was a bad girlfriend. 

 

Simon took a harsh drag on his cigarette before he turned to Patty. “What’s your dad say about me?” 

 

Patty cocked her head at him. “Huh?” 

 

“I said,” Simon paused, stubbing his cigarette out in the ashtray between them. “What does your dad say about me.” 

 

Patty blinked at him either in confusion or panic or maybe a mix of both, but Simon wasn’t in the mood to dissect it. “C’mon, I wanna be able to prepare myself,” he insisted, swirling his hand around to get her to spit it out. He knew they were running out of time, and he needed to take advantage of every second. 

 

Patty shrugged. Her dad had a lot to say about Simon and would sometimes make outlandish claims that even her mom would raise a brow to. Anything he said that was a little more realistic was still so far from who she knew him to be that she had promised herself she’d never tell Simon. Patty reasoned it didn’t matter what her dad thought because none of it was true, but she could see the frustration twitching underneath Simon’s skin, his eyes darkening with intensity, and knew she had to give him something. She settled on the one thing she sided with her dad on. “He also couldn’t believe you would lie about Tanzania.”

 

Simon barked out a laugh that died into a goofy sigh, rubbing his hand down his face and throwing it out in the space between them. “Is that it?” 

 

Patty shifted uncomfortably and pushed her lips to the side. “No.”

 

Simon shook his hand at her impatiently. “Don’t make me ask again, Pats. I already feel fuckin’ pathetic.” 

 

Patty curled her lips in and nodded, alternating taps between each fingertip and her thumb. “He thinks you’re dangerous,” she confessed quietly. Her dad didn’t quite say it like that, but Patty thought that was a pretty concise summary without having to dig into details that she knew would only hurt Simon rather than help him. 

 

“They think everything’s fucking dangerous,” Simon argued, though it felt like he was trying to convince himself more than her that that wasn’t saying much. Or maybe it was saying too much. If they thought everything was dangerous, they probably assumed he was fucking lethal. 

 

Simon lit another cigarette. They sat in silence for a while.  

 

“You can leave as soon as dinner is over. And then I won’t make you do it again,” Patty promised, sticking her pinky out towards him. 

 

The look of disappointment in her eyes and the sound of defeat in her offer wasn’t lost on Simon. He batted away her pinky and pulled her in for another kiss. “You’re not makin’ me. If I really didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be,” he chuckled. It was mostly the truth anyway. She couldn’t make him do shit. Or at least Simon was sure he could find a roundabout way to convince himself she couldn’t. 

 

“Well, let’s go then,” she chirped, grinning widely at him as she hopped out of the car. Simon took one last deep breath, abandoned his cigarette in the ashtray, swung his backpack over his shoulder, and followed her lead.

 

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Simon felt like he was moving in slow motion as Patty held open the door behind her, looking back at him with a nervous smile and a nod of her head. He held his breath as he took the plunge and was instantly greeted by Connie before he could get halfway through the door. 

 

“Oh, hi, Simon. How are you? You know I’m just so glad to see you at the door for once. How’s Danny been?” She stepped towards Simon, arms extended for an embrace she hoped seemed welcoming. She wasn’t oblivious to how long he sat in their driveway, and she didn’t want him to feel like this was an interrogation even if Norm and her both had their own questions they intended to ask before the evening was over. She knew she had to meet him somewhere halfway if she wanted him to open up and be comfortable enough to be truthful with them this time.

 

“Mom,” Patty warned, sliding in front of Simon before her mom could take another step. She knew Simon was already overwhelmed, and she was all too familiar with how her mom’s overbearing tendencies could make things worse. 

 

Simon found himself grinning ear to ear watching her defend him, throwing herself in the line of fire to protect him. It gave him the push he needed, and he gently squeezed Patty’s arm to let her know it was okay. 

 

“Hiya, Connie. Been thinkin’ ‘bout your cookin’ all day,” he mimicked her tone and smile as he accepted her arms. It felt rusty and clunky and unpleasant, playing up his enthusiasm, but Connie smiled at him so widely when she pulled away that he thought he couldn’t be that out of practice. 

 

“Here,” Simon started, slinging his backpack around to unzip it and reveal the mug. “I, uh, brought you a new coffee mug. I’m real sorry ‘bout the last one.” He gave Connie a crooked grin as he held it out to her, and he heard Patty gasp at the little reveal, coming to loop her pinky around his. 

 

Connie smiled warmly and took the cup from his hands.“That’s very thoughtful—,” Connie flinched at Norm’s sneeze as he entered the room, “—of you, Simon. Thank you.” She had an inkling that Danny may have influenced the gift, but Connie could still appreciate Simon’s effort nonetheless. She knew it had to take some courage to hand it to her with a smile. 

 

Simon didn’t want to admit that Dan was right about the mug, but watching Connie light up at the gift made him thank god that Danny knew how to give Simon a little head start before anything really began. But Simon’s victory was short-lived as Patty’s dad stepped beside his wife. He met Simon’s eye, though he instantly succumbed to a coughing fit. Simon considered it a blessing in disguise, taking the opportunity to wipe his sweaty palms on his jeans before sticking his right hand out to him. “Norm.” 

 

Norm cleared his throat and hesitantly shook his hand, if only to appease his wife who was already nudging her elbow into him. “Simon,” he mustered, glancing over his choice of clothing. He wouldn’t have dared stepping foot in Connie’s parents’ house looking like that, especially once he knew that they weren’t fond of him. Connie insisted it was a style that had been around since they were in their twenties, though he couldn’t recall a single person he knew that dressed like this back then. To him, it seemed like the kid made no attempts to clean up.

 

“We could hardly believe they let you out so early,” Norm stated accompanied by a forced, tight-lipped grin.

 

Fuck, Simon had seen this look before, usually right before he was about to get chased or lunged at, and, though he didn’t lessen his gaze, he slung his arm back through the strap of his backpack in preparation to sprint. 

 

“Yeah, they, uh, I got out on good behavior,” Simon replied, trying to keep it as short and sweet as possible. Norm raised his eyebrows at the admission, like it wasn’t believable, and Simon's hands curled into fists, straining the muscles in his face to maintain a neutral expression.  

 

“Forgive me if I say that surprises me,” Norm responded flatly. 

 

“Seems like you’re surprised by a lot of things,” Simon retorted. He immediately received a death grip of a squeeze from Patty, and, while he didn’t see it, he could hear that Norm was swatted too. At least that made them even.  

 

“Danny told us you did an awful lot of volunteer work too. Isn’t that nice, Norm?” Connie prompted cheerfully.

 

“Yeah. Volunteer work always looks great on a resume,” Norm replied. Like it would matter on a job application when he had to check the box that he was a felon. 

 

Kev, as his mother had instructed to his utter joy and amusement, was posted around the corner in case of such a scenario. He heard the tense exchange, allowed it to simmer for a bit, but the sound of his mom’s voice going up an octave solidified the need for his presence. 

 

“Hey, dude! Long time, no see.” Kev grinned widely and brought Simon into a hug, bypassing his dad and kicking at Patty who was beginning to open her mouth in confusion. 

 

“Hey, Kev. Sure your mom hates whatever this is,” he chuckled, swiping his thumb across the stubble on his chin and passing a glance over to Connie who was giving Norm a rather pointed look. He met Kev’s eyes again, nodding in thanks for the save. 

 

“See, I told you, Kev,” Connie agreed as she tuned back to the conversation. “I think it makes him look homeless,” she added in a not-so-discreet whisper to Simon.

 

Patty nearly cringed at her mom’s choice of words. She watched as Simon’s smile wavered for a brief moment before he forced it back on. If they weren’t already the hot topic of discussion, she would have called her mom out on the shitty comment, but she knew they needed her on their side. She decided to dogear the conversation for a later date.

 

“Well,” Connie clapped her hands together with a bright grin. “Dinner’s almost ready. Patty, why don’t you give me a hand? Simon, you and Kev go wash up upstairs. Norm, I believe the news is on,” Connie instructed decisively, raising her voice as she went over her husband’s task with a single arch of her brow. 

 

Patty squeezed Simon’s hand tightly, raising herself on her tiptoes to plant a chaste kiss to his cheek before catching up to her mom. 

 

“C’mon, man,” Kev whispered coarsely, yanking on Simon’s arm to break him of the look of shared disgust between him and his dad.  

 

Thankfully the tug on his arm was enough for Simon to realize this wasn’t a battle he needed to pick so early. He cleared his throat, nodded at Norm, and followed Kev’s stomp up the stairs. 

 

“You gotta be cooler with our dad than that, man. Looked like you wanted to chop his fuckin’ head off,” Kev chuckled as he opened up the top drawer of his desk. As much as it was absolutely hilarious in Kev’s book, he did like Simon most of the time, and he didn’t want the guy fumbling his chance before he stepped onto the field. 

 

“I’m fucking trying,” Simon groaned, plopping down on the familiar bunk bed and rubbing his hand up and down his face. He just needed this Xanax to kick in, and he’d be more at ease, be able to hold his cool a little better, but until then he’d have to manually manage his facial expressions.

 

His mind raced as he recounted each millisecond of the previous interaction, combing over every syllable and inflection and facial twitch and quickly decided he already stumbled and started on a bad foot. First test: failed. Fuck.

 

Simon jerked his head up as an incessant clinking noise coming from Kev’s desk was threatening him with the beginnings of a migraine. “The fuck are you doing?” 

 

Kev slowly turned towards him, one eyebrow furrowed and the other cocked. “I’m rolling,” he answered plainly, gesturing towards the supplies on the desk. 

 

“No, you’re not,” Simon scoffed as he got up to inspect Kev’s desk. “What is this? Are you using a fucking grinder?” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

Simon clicked his tongue. “That’s some lazy shit, Kev. Hand grinding always makes for the best joints.”

 

“What kinda pretentious made-up shit is that?” Kev retorted with a laugh. “If it smokes, I toke. I don’t care how you got there, I just care about the end result.” 

 

Simon shook his head in disappointment; a real joint was hand-ground or it didn’t burn right. “I taught you better than that,” he grumbled, pacing the small path between Kev’s desk and his door. 

 

“No offense, but you really didn’t,” Kev chuckled. Showing him to roll one time two years ago didn’t count as a "teaching" in Kev's book. Kevin had rolled hundreds of joints by now, and Simon’s was a drop in the bucket in comparison. Kev would give Simon the credit for opening the door for him all day long, but his rolling technique was something he had tweaked and mastered over years, using more than Simon’s input to perfect his joints. 

 

Simon smacked the back of Kev’s head without thinking, barely realized it happened at all. That was how he would treat Dan if he talked to him like that, and Kev definitely fit the description of annoying little brother. It should have been a compliment if anything that Simon treated him as such. 

 

“Jeez, maybe Dad’s right,” Kev muttered under his breath as he rubbed the spot Simon hit. 

 

He heard Simon stop dead in his tracks. “What?”

 

“Nothin’,” Kev huffed, turning his attention back to the paper in front of him. 

 

“No, no. Go ahead and share with the class,” Simon encouraged, arms gesturing around the room dramatically. 

 

“You really can’t assume based off your record?” Kev countered with a smirk. His dad had his buddies down at the police station actually run him a background check, and Norm was severely disappointed when the only thing that came back was what they all knew about already. He probably should have given Simon some kind of warning that their dad knew all the ins and outs of what his friends could share about Simon’s case, but, just for that little stunt, he thought he’d keep it to himself. Let him find out the hard way. 

 

“Yeah, alright,” Simon conceded, resisting the urge to smack the kid again or argue with him until dinner was ready. There was no use in gearing himself up just to sit next to Norm for the length of dinner. If anything, he needed to chill the fuck out. He took a deep breath and threw himself back down on Kev’s bottom bunk. “What are you doing still cooped up here?”

 

“Mom and Dad won't let Patty move out, and she’s fuckin’ 22. You think they’re gonna let me go a few months after I turn 18?” His mom had convinced Kev to stay on the basis that she would extend his curfew and stay out of his room which Kev considered as much freedom as he could get in this house. He planned on saving up enough cash to get his own place and dipping, even if that meant he had to pack all his shit and sneak out in the middle of the night. There was no way in hell he was getting stuck here like his sister, though he had a much cleaner bill of mental health than she did. His parents loved to break out that excuse to prevent her from leaving anytime she mentioned it, but he assumed Simon already knew that. 

 

“Yeah, guess I didn’t think about it like that.” He supposed it would make sense if they dug their claws into Patty that they’d do the same to Kev. He could forget that not everyone had the same type of relationship with their parents as he did. His mom was only upset the first time he ran away, the subsequent times he was met with a disapproving sigh and wave of the hand as the police officer dropped him on the front porch. They had kicked him out at 16, let him come back for a few months when he was 17, and then was booted out again at 18. He never considered having to ask permission to move out. 

 

“You know she’s really wanting to,” Kev murmured as he licked the paper. 

 

Simon threw his hands up over his head. He wondered if this whole family had issues with speaking out of context. “Wanting what?” 

 

“To move out," Kev deadpanned, craning his head to cock an eyebrow at Simon. This shouldn’t have been shocking information, but maybe the look on his face was from his valid concerns about dinner tonight rather than his sister’s housing plans.

 

Simon felt his already racing heart plummet in his chest, lifting his head to look at Kev in exasperation. But Kev was looking at him like he was crazy despite the fact that this was the first Simon was hearing of anything like this. 

 

“Yeah, with you, dumbass,” Kev added with a roll of his eyes. Patty had talked his ear off with her "one days" and "what ifs," usually when he made her sit with him while he smoked. He was grateful to have anyone to chat with, but he was pretty much over hearing the same girly daydream of Patty running off with Simon to start their own lives as far away from this house as she could get. 

 

Simon shook his head, swore under his breath, and laid back down. He decided to move past the comment for now, something he would undoubtedly lose sleep over later tonight, but had no business stewing over now when he had more pressing matters on his plate. 

 

“So hopefully you and Dad can be cool 'cause otherwise she’s never gettin’ out of here,” Kev continued bluntly.  

 

Simon snapped his head back up to look at Kev, though he was still fussing over the joint. “The fuck does that mean?” 

 

“Well, they’re definitely not letting her move out on her own,” Kev replied, packing the end of the joint. "Is your pack empty enough for me to bum the top?" 

 

“That’s fucked,” Simon grumbled, forced to deal with the implications of Kev's confession sooner rather than later. Though if he couldn't get through this dinner, moving out wouldn't even be on the table, and, as much as the idea of moving in together freaked him the fuck out, he didn't want to be the reason she was stuck here either. He tossed his pack onto Kev's desk with a sigh. 

 

“Sounds like you don’t wanna deal with her,” Kev teased as he ripped the top off and started folding it into a filter. 

 

“I don’t think she wants to deal with me if anything,” Simon admitted. There was no hiding all the shit he had managed to keep from Patty if they lived together. Granted, they already spent most nights out of the week with each other anyway, but Patty hadn’t seen every color of him yet. She hadn’t had to deal with Simon coming home fucked up at 4 in the morning yet, where his moods could range drastically—anywhere from dopey and happy to testy and angry to, what was the most frequent unfortunately, a depressing, sad sack of shit. She hadn’t seen him completely lose his shit yet either, or how spacey and disoriented he would get after not sleeping for a couple days in a row. And that was just the tip of the iceberg.

 

Kev snorted. “You’re a fucking idiot.” 

 

Simon sat up and whacked the back of his head again, making sure to put more power behind it this time. The cathartic release of anger on Kev was exactly what he needed, and he was sure Patty wouldn't mind that he took it out on her brother. She was always complaining about Kev anyway, so he considered it a win-win scenario.

 

“Ow! Fucking asshole.” Kev rubbed at the spot Simon hit again with a scowl on his face. That one actually hurt, and he flung Simon’s pack back at him in retaliation. 

 

“Call me an idiot again, and it’ll be worse than that.”

 

“Jeez, I just thought you’d like to know that you’re her only hope to get out of this fucking nightmare of a house. And,” Kev paused to look over his handiwork, twisting the top of the joint and presenting it to Simon, “she’s like obsessed with you or something.” 

 

Simon gulped and took the joint to look at. It wasn't half bad, though he would bet it ended up canoeing after the first few puffs.

 

He handed it back and put his head in his hands. Patty hadn’t said anything about moving out, but maybe that’s because he hadn’t said anything either. It wasn’t that Simon didn’t want to move in with Patty. A part of him did. But that seemed like too much too fast, especially when he was gonna have enough cash to move out after the next round of drug trials he had coming up. He was looking at one bedrooms instead of studios at least, so he’d have a little extra space if they happened to go that direction. But he wasn’t planning on it by any means. Simon added it to his list of shit to worry about; the number of topics pertaining to Patty evergrowing.  

 

A knock came to the door, and Simon quickly sat up and dusted off his jeans in case it was Connie or, worse, Norm. 

 

“What do you want?” Kev hollered, making no attempt to hide or cover up the supplies on his desk. Simon downturned his lips at how ballsy he’d gotten since he’d been here last. 

 

“It’s me." Patty's muffled voice came through the door. 

 

“Is dinner ready?” Kev shouted, annoyed by the interruption. Admittedly, he was pretty fucking lonely since everyone had moved away for school, and, even if Simon was a total dick, he was still better company than his sister. 

 

“Can I come in?” Patty called again, running her finger along the wood grain on the outside of Kev’s door. Her mom told her she would handle their dad if Patty would herd the boys into the dining room, and she was delighted to have the excuse to have Simon to herself once more before dinner started. 

 

“Depends—ow! Fuck, dude. Stop doing that,” Kev groaned as he gently rubbed his hand across the tender skin at the back of his head.

 

Patty grinned widely when Simon swung the door open, thankful to see his face rather than her brother's. She giggled as he leaned down to kiss her. 

 

“Dinner's ready. I just wanted to see you first,” she whispered with a huge smile, the kind that was infectious and already spreading across Simon’s lips. He could overcome the heavy weight of dread in his stomach for that type of grin.

 

“Sweet on me, huh,” he teased, and she nodded as she leaned back in, allowing Simon to gently part her lips with his tongue. She grabbed onto the front of his shirt for stability, his arm wrapping around her back and scooping her closer to him. 

 

“Come on. I wouldn’t do this in your room, Patty,” Kev groaned from behind. 

 

Patty pulled back from Simon and blinked absently at her brother. “Well, I’m in the hallway.” 

 

Simon cocked an eyebrow at her, shaking his head with a laugh while Kev huffed and puffed his way past them. “You’re a little shit,” he chuckled as he pulled her closer again. 

 

Patty curled her lips in, trying to restrain her giggles to no avail. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she insisted. 

 

“Bullshit. I think you know exactly what I’m talkin’ about,” Simon laughed as Patty tugged on his hand to guide him down the stairs. The playful glance she passed him over his shoulder nearly made his knees buckle. He reminded himself of the finish line, and, with Patty on the other side of it, he felt prepared enough to tackle whatever her parents threw at him head on. 

 

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Simon dropped down in the seat he sat in all those years ago, grateful he was put on Connie’s side to begin with, giving him a little space from the guy who looked like he was two seconds away from calling the cops on him. Simon was glad he had the foresight to thoroughly empty his backpack out before he left in case of such scenario. 

 

Patty pressed a kiss to the top of his head as her mom called her into the kitchen for help, leaving him alone with her dad and Kev. But luckily they were enraptured in some conversation about the start of football season, a subject Simon could give less of a shit about. He restrained himself from idly fidgeting with the silverware on the table, his mom’s voice briefly nagging in his ear to sit still while he waited for dinner to be served. 

 

Patty quickly returned with two glasses of milk that she sat down in front of their spots with a grin. Simon held back a snort at the sight; the last time he was given milk with dinner was easily fifteen years ago, if not twenty. He didn’t understand how Connie and Norm still treated Kevin and Patty like they were children, but, from what he had been able to tell so far, Patty’s parents and his parents had very, very different styles of parenting and expectations of their children. Still, if they were that freaked out about the idea of having an empty nest, they could easily get a dog like everyone else did at their age. 

 

Norm halted his conversation with Kev, sneezing loudly into his napkin as Connie took her seat next to Simon with a smile. Simon immediately took back the dog idea. Norm was probably allergic to that too. 

 

“Looks fu–looks amazing, Connie,” he complimented, trying to hold back a laugh by masking it with a polite smile. It looked like she made chicken cordon bleu again, and while his memory may have been a little hazy, even he couldn’t forget the meal including the freezer-burnt aftertaste. He wiggled his eyebrows at Patty, and her subsequent giggles were better than waiting for the bar to kick in. He leaned back comfortably in his seat and picked up the silverware with surprisingly steady hands.

 

“I made it a little different this time,” Connie announced proudly. 

 

“Oh, yeah?” Simon prompted.

 

“What makes this one different?” Patty asked curiously. Her mom had made her chicken cordon bleu the same way for years and thought it was a little strange she decided to mix it up all of a sudden. Maybe they were out of the kind she usually bought. 

 

“It came from the deli section instead of the freezer,” Kev deadpanned, letting his fork hang loosely in his hand as he poked the food around his plate. This would always be his least favorite meal. And not necessarily because of the last time Simon was here, and he had to find out his life had been a sort of façade. He just thought it was weird to mix pork and chicken like that. 

 

“Watch it,” Norm warned, digging another tissue out of his pocket and blowing his nose loudly. 

 

Connie raised her eyebrows in warning at Kev before she smiled around her bite. “It’s made with gruyère,” she explained excitedly. She hadn’t ever heard of it before and had to ask the woman at the deli counter how to pronounce it.

 

Kev shook his head with an exaggerated eye roll while both Norm and Patty inspected their meals more intently. 

 

“What’s that?” Patty asked, scrunching her nose as she looked up at her mom. She couldn't even begin to guess which part of the dinner that was supposed to be. 

 

“Patty, not now,” Connie sighed as she picked up her knife. 

 

Simon white-knuckled the utensils in his hand. Had this been any other circumstance, he would have called Connie out before explaining it to her. But instead, he convinced himself to take a deep breath and turned toward Patty without so much as a glance towards her mom. 

 

“It’s cheese. Kinda like Swiss but without the holes,” Simon explained to her with a point of his finger at the entree. Patty looked up and blinked as she took in the information then nodded, turning back to her plate to try a bite. 

 

Connie and Norm stopped chewing as they watched the interaction, exchanging a look of shock on Norm’s part and guilt on Connie’s. 

 

Kev didn’t try to contain his laughter. “What are you, a cheesemonger?” 

 

Simon snorted and waved his fork at Kev before taking another bite. “Parents took us to Switzerland one year. Don’t know if Danny told you ‘bout that one.”

 

“What’d you go there for?” Kev asked.

 

“They told us it was to give us culture, but I think they were settin’ up bank accounts,” Simon answered with a devious grin. 

 

Patty furrowed her brows and looked up as she tried to figure out how those two things fit together. She felt Simon squeeze her thigh as he leaned over. “I’ll explain it to you later.” Patty nodded excitedly with a poorly restrained smile and returned to her meal. 

 

“So, Simon,” Connie began delicately. “What do your parents do?” 

 

“Mom,” Patty whined.

 

“We invited him over for a reason, Patty. I’d like to know who my daughter is dating,” Connie reasoned, shoving a forkful of chicken into her mouth. Patty should be grateful that they weren't coming down on Simon for being so dishonest last time he was here, but Connie gave him the pass of being frightened, young, and dumb, acting out of instinct rather than logic. But she was only willing to give him this one chance to be truthful.

 

“Dad took over Grandpa’s medical equipment company, y’know nepo-baby, big pharma shit. Mom hangs around a country club,” Simon answered plainly, not bothering to look up from his plate. 

 

Patty opened her mouth but shut it quickly. She didn’t know that, but maybe that wasn’t a good thing to say out loud. Was that something she was supposed to know? Does Simon know what her parents do? Their letters in the early days got out a lot of that “getting to know” each other talk, some of which was suddenly hard to recollect now that she was thinking about it. But now? Patty realized that maybe they only talked about music and sex, excluding Simon's rants as she often couldn't contribute to them either based on his mood or her lack of knowledge. She wasn't sure if that was necessarily a bad thing though since she didn't mind, but she wondered if Simon did too. She decided to ask him after dinner. 

 

“Oh, so is your dad a doctor?” Connie asked innocently. She had never prodded Danny about their background, but she could tell by the car he drove and the clothes he wore that and the way that he carried himself he had a comfortable upbringing. 

 

Simon snorted harshly through his nose. His dad would probably claim the title in front of people who didn’t know any better. “Glorified salesman at best.” 

 

“So what was the Tanzania stuff about?” Norm asked, waving his hand at Simon with a satisfied smile. He found it the perfect opportunity to dig without his wife kicking him under the table, but Connie arched an eyebrow at his question anyway.

 

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Simon lied. He wasn’t sorry; if he hadn’t given that whole spiel, he wasn’t sure him and Patty would be where they were now. “My parents are involved in the church but, uh,” he laughed, looking back up and gesturing with his fork, “not–not like that. They’d sooner tithe a family of four’s annual income than put in a half day’s hard work.”

 

“Oh! Well, that’s awfully generous of them,” Connie forced out, furrowing her brows briefly as the only indication of how put off she was by that description. She wondered if there was any merit to it. She could always confirm his story with Danny later; she did have his number after all. 

 

Simon huffed a short laugh, biting his tongue to avoid taking it any farther than he already had. Norm was giving him this look that told him that wasn’t the answer he was wanting.

 

“Simon and I made a new tape recently,” Patty announced with a nervous smile as she looked over toward her dad. She had crafted a few, simple lines to help steer the conversation whenever she had the opportunity to do so, hoping to help keep the heat off of Simon and showcase all the good she saw in him instead. “Simon’s very good with music,” she added matter-of-factly around a bite of green beans. 

 

“So we’ve heard. Isn’t that right, Norm?” Connie shot him a look, clearing her throat with a smile, so he’d make eye contact. 

 

Norm raised his eyebrows at her, and Connie nodded toward Patty and Simon. Norm gave her a slow blink of irritation before he sat up straighter and took a drink of his water. He was hoping he could check out during this part of the conversation and leave it to Connie. “We heard you were in a band,” Norm managed, trying to maintain a pleasant tone to the best of his abilities. 

 

“Yeah, well, guess you could say that’s how Patty and I first met,” Simon responded, lightly squeezing Patty’s thigh. He felt her hand immediately slap over his as her feet tapped on the floor excitedly. He figured he’d go ahead and answer that question while there was still some civility in the conversation. It wasn't a lie either, and it was a significantly easier and more wholesome explanation than how they really met. 

 

“What kind of music did you play?” Norm asked as he inspected Simon’s haircut for the upteenth time. He still couldn’t understand what the kid was trying to achieve walking around looking like that. 

 

Connie shot her husband a look of disbelief, picking the battle of Norm's blatant confession of ignoring their daughter over Kevin’s antagonizing laughter. “Honey, it’s what Patty’s always listening to up there,” she explained through a tightly contained smile. This is exactly why she threatened him with everything under the sun to behave during dinner in the first place. The audacity to think he has say in what's good for Patty when he clearly didn't listen to a word she said astounded Connie.  

 

Norm gave Connie a befuddled look. He hoped he surely was misunderstanding her, but his wife raised both her utensils at him instead. “That angry, political music?” he asked, shifting in his seat and eyeing both Patty and Simon suspiciously. Years upon years of asking Patty to turn the same music down over and over again, years of asking her what she saw in the genre, years of watching her collection of the same band grow and grow until she asked for a new crate to store her records in. He didn't want to believe it, but, looking at Simon now, his appearance actually started to make some sort of sense. He still loathed it, but at least it matched the heinous music he created. 

 

Connie and Simon both watched the moment it all clicked for Norm. For Simon, it was hilarious. Connie, however, was bracing herself for what Norm was going to say next. 

 

“I know the stuff I play is a little…brash if you’re not used to it,” Simon interjected around a bite of food before Norm could respond verbally—the look on his face was enough for Simon to get the gist of what he was thinking. “Patty’s the one that has a knack for lyrics anyway—not me,” Simon chuckled, pointing his knife at Patty. He didn’t miss Connie and Norm’s shared confusion, and he squinted at them briefly in the headrush of anger at not knowing the areas in which Patty excelled the best in. “She’s a real fucking genius. Shit, sorry, Connie,” he added as he returned Patty's joyous grin.

 

Norm expected to share the same pinched-eyebrow expression as his wife as they glanced toward each other, but Connie had her eyebrows raised with a look of adoration in her eyes instead. Norm shook his head slightly and sighed. No one had ever referred to his daughter in that sense before, and he wasn’t sure if Simon was being genuine or exaggerating her abilities to try to make him look like a good guy. He quickly decided it was most likely the latter. “Do you do more than whatever that shouting is that you do?” 

 

Connie stopped chewing as she flipped her fork out at Norm. Patty had mentioned it enough times that she had the list memorized herself, but apparently Norm wasn't mentally present for any previous conversation regarding Simon. Connie knew she was going to dig into him later about how often he tuned Patty out and how disappointed she was in him. For pete's sake, he knew all the ins and outs of Kev's world and had this scenario been flipped she was sure he would know all the details and then some. 

 

Patty groaned and rolled her eyes. “Dad, I’ve already told you.”

 

Norm raised both his hands in defense, admitting defeat without saying a word. Even his son was looking at him like it was a dumb question.

 

Simon let out a snort that quickly turned into a cough as he tried to suppress it. He was the one that was supposed to be getting ganged up on, and he hated to admit that watching it happen to someone else, especially Norm, made him understand why Renae enjoyed it so much. It was hilarious while also incredibly relieving for the spotlight to be zeroed in on someone else. 

 

He patted Patty’s forearm gently to break her intense gaze on her dad. “It’s okay. I wouldn’t wanna hear about me either if I were him,” he ribbed, ignoring Kev’s laughter as well as Patty’s dropped jaw. Dan said it would be wise to fall on his sword at least once over dinner to which he told his brother to fuck off with that bullshit. But it looked like he found a way to do it where he didn’t completely hate himself for it, and it made Norm look like a bad father. Fucking perfect. 

 

Norm sighed and turned his hand out toward Simon in a gesture to go on. He could appreciate Simon’s self-awareness. 

 

“Started with piano. When I got fed up with that, Mom made me do upright bass,” Simon began around a chewy piece of chicken. “But mostly guitar nowadays, drums and bass too.”

“Well, I’m sure you two make a great team then,” Connie beamed and immediately sent Kev a pointed look at the bratty scoff he let out. Not that they would have had the money for it anyway, but she wished that Patty had shown an interest in music when she was a kid. She could have figured out some way to get her lessons; she always thought her daughter had a very pretty singing voice.  

 

Norm grinned widely at Patty and Kev, the usual sparkle in his eye returning at the talk of musical instruments. He considered himself very musically inclined. “You know I used to play trumpet back when I was—.”

 

Patty and Kev simultaneously groaned:

“Ugh, Dad, please don’t,” Patty grimaced. 

Kev rolled his eyes. “I thought we agreed to no war stories at dinner.” 

 

Simon snorted in amusement. “Never got the hang of brass myself,” he offered, carefully meeting Norm’s eye to test the waters, check to see how bad he was fucking this up. But Norm wasn’t glaring at him for once, so he didn’t think it could be going that bad.  

 

“You know, Patty, I could try to find my trumpet after dinner. Just like we used to,” Norm grinned. When the kids were little, they loved it when he brought out the trumpet, but now they only whined and moaned when it was even mentioned. While he couldn’t enjoy playing with them anymore, he did enjoy making them both cringe in a way only a dad can make their kids do. 

 

“You’ll spend hours looking for it anyway, Norm,” Connie dismissed with a wave of her hand. She purposely hid it inside several boxes in the basement, in the back corner under a bunch of old blankets and linens, so it would be nearly impossible to find. She could only hear TAPS so many times before she lost it on him, though she was sure the kids would beat her to it if he did find it. 

 

The table was quiet briefly except for the clinks of the silverware against the plates, a noise Simon had always found utterly grating. He could feel his irritation growing second by second, rippling under his skin like squirming larvae, and he reached out to grab Patty’s thigh again to quell the sensation before it blossomed into unwarranted anger. She gave him a shy smile with a small raise of her eyebrows, and he felt all the gnawing aggravation and festering rage dissipate into thin air.  

 

Norm opened his mouth to say something else, but Connie spoke over him, in case it was pertaining to the trumpet once again, or, more likely, something he was about to grill Simon about. “We heard you moved in with Danny,” she prompted cheerfully.

 

“Yeah, yeah I did. Dan’s a good guy,” Simon agreed, rubbing his temple to relieve some of the tension in his muscles. He knew he should have taken some Excedrin in advance; he could already feel the incessant jabbering feeding that ache behind his right eye. 

 

“You should see if he can get you a job where he works. Seems like he makes good money for his age,” Norm chimed in, though he was sure that wherever paid that highly wouldn’t hire someone like him. Danny was financially responsible and mature; Simon seemed like the contrary regardless if he was the older sibling or not. He didn’t understand how Connie and Patty both couldn’t see what he saw in Danny. 

 

Patty felt Simon stiffen next to her as he let out a nervous laugh, and she let her forkful of food hover above her plate in her pause. She was sure her dad just picked a scab that she didn’t even know was there. 

 

“I’m sure Danny forgot to mention that he works for our dad,” Simon explained as evenly as he could. Not only was he nowhere near interested in what Dan or his dad did for that matter, but the idea of working with them sounded like hell on earth.  

 

“What’s so wrong with that?” Connie questioned.

 

Patty stomped her feet as she let her fork clatter to the plate. “Mom, we talked about this.” Patty told her some subjects should be absolutely off the table tonight. His parents were number one on that list, and somehow this was the second time they were brought up.

 

Connie didn't have time to react to Patty's tantrum, flinching as Norm sneezed so aggressively the table shook. She steadied her hands on the table and wished Norm would have taken his allergy pills like she’d asked him to. Probably would have made him less irritable too, but clearly he didn't listen to her either. 

 

Kev cackled at her outburst, and Patty turned to him with fire in her eyes. “Shut up, Kev.” 

 

“Patty, that’s enough,” Norm scolded while wiping his nose with a tissue, but Patty groaned and shook her head and hands instead. Simon tried to speak over her to keep the train from wrecking, but Patty had already left the station. 

 

“No, I told Mom Simon doesn’t talk to his parents,” Patty reiterated, giving her mother an accusing glare. “They’re mean.” 

 

Simon squeezed her thigh gently and leaned in a little closer to her. While there was nothing that his heart and dick loved more than to watch her get her claws out for him, Dan had prepared him for these types of questions. And, at this point, he honestly expected everything to be going a lot worse: everyone was still seated at the table, there was no broken glass, no shouting or screaming, no tears, and no ruined relationships. Simon considered this the smoothest dinner he had in ages. 

 

“It’s okay, Pats. They’re just curious,” Simon murmured to her softly. Patty felt the muscles in her face relax at his tone, and she met his eye in search of any weariness or reluctance. His slight smile said otherwise, and she nodded as she sat back in her chair and picked her silverware up. 

 

Connie blinked in irritation as Norm raised a knowing brow at her. She knew exactly what he was thinking: wonder why they don’t have a good relationship, Connie.  

 

Norm still couldn’t see how his wife wasn’t seeing what he was. All the red flags piling up the more they peeled back. But he could almost hear Connie by just the look she was giving him: let him explain himself, Norm.

 

“We don’t share the same…values, you could say,” Simon started carefully, flipping his charming grin back on. He wasn’t ignorant to the looks on either of their faces at the sound of his strained relationship with his parents. “They’re upper-class snobs who have never had to lift their finger a day in their entire lives and believe anyone who doesn’t bring home at least a six figures is scum beneath their feet. I don’t fuck with—sorry, Connie. I don’t think that’s fair. And I don’t believe in treating anyone as less than.”

 

“Those are some nice morals you have,” Connie pitched in before Norm could comment first. 

 

“So they’re like rich?” Kev asked. He could get used to not being the one interrogated at the table for once. Found it suiting to go ahead and join in on the fun. 

 

“Kevin,” Connie hissed. “That’s not something you ask.” She turned to Simon with apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry, Simon. You don’t have to answer that. I don’t know what’s gotten into him today.”

 

“It’s fine, Connie,” Simon laughed then turned to point at Kev. “That’s exactly what I mean. Treat everyone else like the help. And you should see how they treat their help.”

 

“Wait, so did you have like a butler and maids growing up?” Kev asked, ignoring his mom’s glares. This sounded like one of Jill’s mom’s favorite TV shows, the one about the maid or nanny or whatever with that really annoying voice and ridiculous hair. She was hot as hell though; he could watch the show if it was on mute. 

 

“Simon had a favorite maid,” Patty informed Kev dreamily. She always liked the stories Simon would tell about her, but the best part was the way his face would relax and his eyes would glimmer as he recanted old memories of her. 

 

“Has, Patty,” Simon corrected her softly. “She still works for them. I just went by her place last week actually.” Ms. Rita eventually heard through the grapevine that Simon had been released, and she made a point of calling up Dan’s and getting Simon on the phone to insist he came by and saw her right away, chastising him for not seeing her sooner and, of course, making a request for her usual, any prescription upper he could get his hands on for work and Vicodin for the weekends. Made a good bit off of her too but that’s only because she always gave him a little extra for making the trek down to see her. 

 

“What made her your favorite?” Kev poked again.

 

Connie let it slide as she turned towards Simon; she wanted to know too. 

 

Simon bit his lip as he looked down into his plate in hopes he could find his cool, calm demeanor. This was information that only Danny and Patty were privy to, but he used Dan’s word of advice that maybe being vulnerable would help him for once. 

 

“She was one of the only normal people I could talk to in that house other than Dan. I mean, she’s worked for my family ever since I was, shit, probably 6 or 7. She’s been better to me than my own family. She, uh,” he chuckled as the memory came back to him. “She used to leave me little candies when I was locked in my room. Put ’em in funny places too. Always made me laugh,” he answered, and he wished it didn’t feel like he was being ripped open with a thousand eyes peering inside the open cavity in his chest. He set down his fork as a wave of nausea passed through him. 

 

Connie stopped chewing early on in Simon’s explanation, a brief flash of maybe pain or sadness darkening his features before he caught himself and smiled again. She could see that woman meant a lot to Simon, and, while a portion of it was undeniably heartbreaking for Connie as a mother, she was relieved to see he had a good relationship with at least some maternal figure. She felt like that was important for every young man. 

 

Patty reached her hand out to rest gently on Simon’s arm. She could tell that was a more sensitive subject than he had led on initially, and she felt bad for bringing it up. He smiled and shook his head ever so slightly, signaling to her it wasn't anything to worry about. But it was a little too late for that. 

 

“Danny mentioned you have a sister too. Do you ever talk to her?” Norm prodded, assuming he already knew the answer. He doubted Simon was capable of maintaining any relationships if he couldn’t with his own flesh and blood. That should prove to Connie he wasn’t suitable for Patty. 

Simon sucked his teeth and drummed his hands on the table briefly. “No. Uh, Renae’s a—. Well, she’s—.” Simon stuttered, having a hard time finding a way to describe her without offending Connie or Norm. The last person he expected to be asked about tonight was fucking Renae. He usually called her a cunt and moved on.

Connie laughed at Simon’s valiant attempts; Danny had already given Connie the inside scoop on Renae. He wasn’t too fond of her either. “Danny mentioned she can be a touch unpleasant,” Connie filled in with a knowing smile.

 

Simon heaved a sigh of relief, extremely grateful for the lifeline Connie tossed him. “Yeah, shit. Sorry. Renae doesn’t get along with anybody. She was like Big Brother growing up,” he chuckled. Constantly spying on him, getting him in trouble and laughing when he got grounded, making him take the blame when she would purposely break an heirloom or skip out on her chores. Pushing him and antagonizing him and making fun of him until he’d flip and then she’d scream bloody murder. She made sure whatever the case was that it was always his fault, always his punishment to bear.

 

“So I can’t help but ask,” Connie started with a grin as she turned toward Simon. “But Patty’s had your jacket for so long now. What’s that little patch on the front?” 

 

Simon was surprised when Norm spoke over him. “Eagle scout. Highest rank,” he grumbled, looking up from his plate toward Simon. “Did you earn that, or was it a patch you found and sewed on?” 

 

Simon let out a small frustrated laugh, gripping his fork to help release some of the tension instead of snapping at her dad. He chose to take some pleasure in knowing he'd been able to prove all of Norm's assumptions about him wrong so far. “Yeah, no. That’s all me. Although I am an excellent seamstress,” he replied lightheartedly, elbowing Patty lightly as she giggled. 

 

Simon nodded at Kev. “Were you a scout?” If the kid was, he doubted he lasted more than a handful of days before Connie pulled him. Seemed more like a computer nerd to Simon anyway.

 

Connie gave Norm a raise of eyebrows and darted her eyes toward Simon. If he was going to bring it up, he may as well come clean. She had warned him about verbalizing his assumptions like that, and, if Norm wanted to play with fire, so be it. But Connie had no plans on nursing any burns back to health.

 

Norm blinked slowly back at Connie before he cleared his throat. “No, I was.” 

 

“Mom thought it was too dangerous,” Kev snickered, and Simon grabbed his glass to hide his snort. He wasn’t sure what was funnier: Simon hitting it right on the head with Connie's helicopter parenting, or Norm trying to call him out just for it to be turned around on him instead. 

 

“Yeah? You get your Eagle Scout?” Simon poked, trying to hold back his smirk. He knew it was unlikely. Not many scouts got that far, had the dedication and drive to plan and execute a project to that extent. He had already taken Norm’s apprehension as his answer, but he didn’t mind making him admit to it out loud. 

 

Norm stabbed at his plate again and shifted in his seat as every eye turned to watch for his reaction. “No.” 

 

“Don’t blame ya. Takes a lot of work,” Simon replied with a grin, though he could tell by the look Kev was giving him that he was dancing a little too close to the edge. He raised his eyebrows briefly at Kev in acknowledgment but basked in the momentary joy of volleying it back to Norm and him missing by a long shot. 

 

“What was your project?” Norm asked. He wasn’t convinced that the kid sitting at his table was capable of doing an act of service for the community that was actually beneficial in one way or another. And even if he did, he was certain it didn’t outweigh the indecency he brought to the community.

 

”Project?” Patty asked. Simon wouldn’t tell her much about scouts except for the “real world” skills he learned, like starting fires and how to use a knife.

 

”S’how you earn the badge,” Simon explained as he traced the rim of his glass. He hadn’t talked about this in years, and he smiled fondly at the memory.

 

“Got a cousin that’s basically blind, got some sight but more or less fuckin’ useless. Got tired of having to read the bus schedule to him. Me and a couple friends got together and put up some braille signage at most of the stops in Detroit.” It was crude, even with the materials his parents supplied, but they lasted a good couple years before they crumbled apart. And since he didn't get it approved through the city, it was technically considered an act of vandalism, but it only resulted in a slap on the wrist. He remembered being congratulated for his initiative by the director of transportation, sounded a lot like he was just happy he got to make himself look good for free. 

 

Norm raised his eyebrows as he poked around his plate, and Connie narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s very sweet, Simon. I’m sure that took a lot of work and helped many people,” she replied. Maybe Norm was only mad the more they got to know him, the more human he was becoming. He wasn’t this big bad criminal that Norm made him out to be, and he actually had many endearing qualities, like Connie insisted. 

 

Patty turned sharply to him with big, wide eyes. “That is really nice,” she whispered.

 

Simon rolled his eyes playfully at her. “It was over ten years ago. Barely remember doing it,” he chuckled.

“Did you go to school around here too? Patty mentioned you didn’t grow up far from here,” Connie asked.

 

”Yeah, actually. Ended up graduating from the same high school as Kev and Patty,” Simon answered, strategically leaving out the part that it was only because he’d been kicked out of every other private school in the Detroit area and one or two of the public ones too. Renae dramatically recoiled at the news, spitting as she claimed public school was for the dogs, and he remembered how his mom threw her hands up and agreed. 

 

“We were also in the same music appreciation course at the J.C.,” Patty added quickly. Simon had told her that they only went to the same school for what would have been the fall semester of her sophomore year since he graduated early, which was less about his academics and more revolving his behavior. She didn’t want her dad to start poking around and use it as another strike against him.

 

”And before you ask, I also dropped out,” Simon supplied.

 

Connie downturned her lips with a shrug at Norm. It’s not like he could say anything when Patty dropped out herself, and Kev wasn’t bothering with taking the college route at all.

 

Simon looked around the table to see if it was just his plate that was nearly empty or not, knowing he tended to scarf down his food like a starved animal. And, fuck, he could hardly believe it. They had almost made it through dinner with barely any hitch. It looked like he owed Dan an apology. They were a lot more manageable than his parents, and he was quite impressed with how well he'd kept a handle on himself. 

 

“So, Simon,” Norm began tightly, shifting in his seat as he angled himself to face Simon. 

 

Shit. 

 

“What are your intentions with Patty?” He watched as Simon arched an eyebrow at him in return, turning his lips up slightly like he was surprised by the question. Norm had a strong feeling he only had one thing in mind when it came to Patty and hearing that he was the lead singer of the band his daughter had been obsessed with for years seemed like he was definitely taking advantage of the power dynamic. 

 

“Norm,” Connie warned. 

 

“Your parents asked me the same question,” Norm replied matter of factly with a raise of his hands to prove his innocence. The moment she pulled that card on him, he spitefully recalled every memory he could conjure of those early days and pocketed the questions his father-in-law interrogated him with.

 

But Connie saw right through it and narrowed her eyes at him. She thought it was a stupid question when they asked Norm that, and here he was repeating the cycle. 

 

“Look, I don’t blame you guys for being apprehensive. Can’t say I have the best track record,” Simon started, looking up with a charming smile. He had lots of intentions when it came to Patty, and he couldn’t deny that Norm was probably right on the head with some of them. But certainly not all. 

 

“But I care about Patty. I really do. Wanna make sure she’s happy and taken care of. I promise I want her safe as much as you guys do,” he answered honestly. 

 

Patty reached over to Simon’s thigh, squeezing tightly as she waited with bated breath. She thought that was a pretty good answer, but her dad didn't seem happy with it. 

 

Connie raised her eyebrows at Norm, satisfied with his answer, but Norm furrowed his back at her. “How can we be sure of that? You haven’t given us any reason—."

 

“Simon has always kept me safe,” Patty interrupted, glaring at her dad above her glasses. Simon would always make her walk in front of him when they were somewhere a little sketchy, keeping a hand on her at all times, or when they were walking down busy streets he’d always make her stand on the side furthest from the road. One of the reasons they got caught was because Simon didn't want her riding the bus alone at night, and he’d gone out of his way to defend her, physically and verbally, more times than she could count. She didn’t like how her dad was insinuating that Simon was the inherent danger when he consistently made an effort to ensure her safety above all else, including his own.  

 

Simon gently rubbed Patty's back, trying to signal her to rein it a bit before they both ended up on her dad’s bad side. She leaned back into his touch but didn’t break her gaze.  

 

“For now, Patty. I want to make sure you’re not putting yourself in harm's way,” Norm stated firmly. 

 

“I read that arson is a property crime, not a violent crime, Dad,” Kev spoke up, ecstatic to contribute to the conversation. And there was just something so...so empowering about every head snapping towards him in synchronized annoyance. Kev would dare say it was beautiful. 

 

“You’re pushing it, mister,” Connie snapped. He didn’t need to go stirring the pot any more when her husband already looked like he was two seconds away from exploding. 

 

Norm was actually thankful for Kev’s straightforwardness. Connie said he wasn't allowed to bring it up, claiming it was a breach of privacy for how he obtained some of the information, but she didn't say he couldn't dig if it was a natural subject of discussion. “You know I heard that you were charged with more than arson originally. Sexual assault, battery, trespassing, drug trafficking, destruction of property—.”

 

“Yeah, you know, you’re right, Norm. Originally I was," Simon argued, cutting Norm off before he took it too far and pushed Simon to a place he wouldn't be able to come back from. "I'll own up to the arson all day. Fuck, I'll give you the full story if you want. But I didn't do the rest of that shit they were trying to pin on me. That's why I was found not guilty on all those counts." Sexual assault and battery were bullshit, the rest however he only had his parents’ money to thank. He wasn't going to admit that to Norm though. 

 

“Is that so? You know I got a couple of buddies who were around your case, and I also read up on your lawyer—.” 

 

“Alright, listen,” Simon interrupted as he let his fork clatter loudly on his plate. “I appreciate your research, but let's get one thing clear."

 

Patty registered the rage simmering just below the surface and stopped him. “Simon, you don’t have to—."

 

Simon squeezed her hand tightly several times to let him finish, and she sat back in her chair, allowing Simon to look Norm in the eye again. “I know I've made some mistakes in the past, and I'm not one to hide from them either. But I did my time already, and I ain't goin' back I can promise you that," Simon stopped himself from rambling as he caught Patty's eye again.

 

"And Patty, she means the world to me,” he paused to clear his throat as he felt his voice waver and Patty’s grip tighten around his. “Norm, I meant every fucking word that I said about keeping her safe. Love her too much for that shit. I-I wouldn’t be able to fuckin’ live with myself if anything happened to her to be honest with you."

 

"Love," Norm scoffed, shaking his head with a sarcastic sort of laugh.  

 

"Norman," Connie hissed. 

 

"Now, some young men tend to get love and-and desire confused, so I—."

 

"Jesus Christ. I'm not some sexual deviant here to deflower your fuckin' daughter and take the next train out,” Simon snapped, slamming his hands down on the table. Now he was fucking offended. And Norm had this stupid, shocked look on his face too that just pushed Simon even further over the edge.

 

“You really must think I’m an idiot, huh? Walking into this house again after everything that happened? You think I don’t know you already got your mind made up?" Simon could hear the volume of his voice teetering a little too close to shouting, and he found a crumb of willpower to lower his voice. "But I’m doing this shit for her. And I’d do it for Patty a million more times if that’s what it took to make her happy. I feel like that should be enough to show my intentions.” 

 

“He’s got some good points, Dad,” Kev remarked with a grin. His dad's face was all scrunched with anger to the point where it was almost comical. He wondered if that was his dad trying to look intimidating because he was failing by a long shot if so. 

 

Patty and Connie both chastised Kevin at the same time, though Connie used her words while Patty used a forceful kick to get the point across. That didn’t deter Kev’s shameless glee from the interaction. 

 

“I’m concerned about your stability, Simon. I’m not sure you can provide Patty everything she needs," Norm replied coolly. "And when I say I don’t want her to get hurt, I do mean emotionally too."

 

Patty curled her fingers tighter around Simon's as her dad's words punched the air out of her lungs. Connie slammed her cutlery down, and Kev raised his eyebrows as his eyes pingponged back and forth between his dad and Simon. 

 

Simon looked down into his lap and nodded, racking his brain for something, anything to convince this guy he could be good to Patty. The truth was he wasn’t so sure he could either, but he had won plenty of arguments that he didn’t fully believe in in the past. And this one was arguably the most important. 

 

He looked up and met Norm’s eye again. “Looking at my past is gonna be useless here, Norm. I know I haven’t been the most standup guy, but I’m trying. And I know that actions speak louder than words, so all I can say is you’re gonna have to give me a chance here.” 

The table fell quiet as Norm and Simon found themselves locked in a standoff of intense eye contact, daring the other to flinch or speak first. Simon felt Patty’s hand shake in his grasp and knew his expression softened though he didn’t break Norm’s gaze. Maybe he had taken it too far, but he wasn’t about to shut up and let Norm make assumptions about him when he didn’t even know him. 

 

“Norm,” Connie spoke lowly, and Norm, out of habit, immediately darted his eyes to his wife’s.  

 

“You weren’t the most level-headed guy at that age yourself,” she reasoned. “It’s been two years. Even Patty’s matured since then. They’re happy together, Norm. They’re good for each other.” 

 

The seconds that passed following Connie’s speech seemed like eons. Patty was sure she was gonna have a sore in her cheek after tonight, and Simon held onto Patty a little tighter in case it was the last time he got to feel the squeeze of her fingers between his.

 

Connie raised her eyebrows with a slight shake of her head and several, rapid blinks at Norm, gesturing to make a decision before she made it for him.

 

Norm caved with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew if he were to kick Simon out like he wanted to and wash his hands of the whole thing then he wouldn’t have a bed to sleep in tonight. 

 

He turned to Simon and spoke sternly, “the second I catch you slipping up, I’m done. One chance. That’s it.” He felt a hand come to rest on his arm, and he quickly found Patty looking up at him with tears brimming in her eyes. 

 

“Thank you, Dad,” she squeaked. She watched her dad's anger melt as he met her eye, and the relief that overcame her finally allowed her to breathe for the first time since dinner started. 

 

“Alright, I think it’s time for dessert. I’ve got an apple pie!” Connie exclaimed, springing from her seat and collecting everyone’s plates frantically. She wasn’t sure the last time she’d had a dinner as tense as that was, and she didn't want to give Norm any other opportunity to make things worse. “Norm, come give me a hand, would you?” 

 

Kev snorted through his nose as his mom beelined to the kitchen and his dad grumbled as he slowly rose to his feet to follow behind her. He knew the vent in his bedroom was going to be full of entertainment tonight. 

 

“That was crazy. I can't believe you got away with talking to dad like that,” Kev chortled, still in awe of seeing a side of his dad he’d never seen before. Sure, Kev had poked the bear countlessly, but he’d never seen his dad lose his cool to that extent. Kev honestly didn't know he had to ability to get that upset, to lose the goofy Dad mask he typically wore. If anyone was going to yell or get upset in this house, it was his mom, but he supposed he finally found his dad's weak spot. 

 

“It wasn’t that bad,” Simon reasoned, because to him, it really wasn’t. That was more of an intense conversation than it was an argument. It was a far cry from the screaming matches he'd find himself in with his own father. 

 

“I mean…” Patty trailed off, eyes darting up to the ceiling as she avoided Simon's eye. 

 

“No, fuck that. Lemme hear it. Are we fucked?” Simon didn’t bother hiding the concern on his face as the one in Patty’s made his heart drop. Fuck, maybe he did push it too far. He knew he wasn’t ready to take this step, hadn’t had enough time to prepare, and, fuck, Norm provoked the shit out of him, but the excuses didn’t matter. It was too late to change anything now. 

 

Patty bit her lip as she met Simon’s worrisome eyes. “I’ve never seen him that angry before,” she admitted quietly.

 

Kev couldn’t stand watching both of their faces drop when it really didn’t matter at the end of the day if their dad was mad. “Mom has him by the balls anyway. You guys will be fine,” Kev waved off. 

 

Patty frowned, and Simon opened his mouth, but Connie quickly returned to the dining room with the dessert in hand. Norm was nowhere to be seen. 

 

“Where’s dad?” Kev asked flatly, and Simon kicked him under the table to take the fucking hint and shut the fuck up. He bet Kev was the type of kid to remind the teacher she didn't collect their homework either. 

 

“He’s skipping dessert,” Connie announced curtly. She had told Norm that that was enough, that he needed to take a breather down in the basement, and that she didn’t want him back upstairs until he could think straight again. She hadn’t had to manage Norm’s anger in years, and she impressed herself by how easily it came back to her, like it was only yesterday. 

 

“So, Kev. How was work?” Connie asked as she pointed her fork in his direction. 

 

Kev groaned and rolled his eyes. He was so close to going unseen this entire meal. “It was fine. Nothing new,” he mustered, taking a small bite of the slimy looking dessert. He was never a fan of pie. 

 

“How was your day, Connie?” Simon asked with a grin before Kev could sour her mood too.

 

Connie smiled widely back at him and looked at her children. “Well, I don’t think I’ve been asked that in years, Simon. Thank you. It was fine,” she chirped. She wondered how smoothly dinner could have gone had Norm not been there, how much more she could have gotten out of Simon had Norm let her handle the questioning. He already seemed much more relaxed and at ease without his presence bogging down the table. 

 

“Brown noser,” Kev sneered. 

 

“Wouldn’t kill ya to ask your mom how she’s doing, Kev. You know you’re lucky to have her,” he added, absolutely, undeniably kissing Connie’s ass. Especially after that save. And then sending Norm to bed without dessert like he was a child was the fucking cherry on top. Connie was kind of a bad-ass in Simon's newly formed opinion. 

 

“What’s a brown noser?” Patty asked. 

 

Simon and Kev choked back laughter as they looked towards Connie’s annoyed expression. “I’ll tell you later, Pats. Kev’s trying to be a jerk,” he chuckled.

 

"So, I know it's still a little early, but do you have any plans now that you're, well, you know…?" Connie asked gently. 

 

Simon took a swig out of the glass in front of him to buy some time. He was really hoping with Norm out of the room that the prying questions would have ended, but he supposed if Connie was the one that wore the pants anyway answering her questions were far more important than answering Norm's. "Still trying to get back on my feet for now. Saving up some cash to move out, but, really, it's whatever Patty wants," he answered as he briefly slung his arm around her shoulder and gave her a quick squeeze. Patty giggled and pressed further into his hold as she looked up at him with wide eyes and a gleaming smile. 

 

"Simon also has a gig coming up soon with his new band," Patty added as she shuffled back into her seat. 

 

Simon smiled softly. "I think your mom wanted a more practical answer than that, Pats."

 

Connie waved her hand at him dismissively. He was right, but she didn't want to seem insensitive, especially following Norm's emotional outburst over dinner. "I think it's just wonderful that you both have found ways to express your creativity." 

 

"Have you caught any of Patty's shows? I hear they're kick-ass," Simon replied around a bite of pie. 

 

"Oh, I'm not quite sure we're cut out for that type of scene," Connie admitted with a chuckle. Patty had explained to them the music and atmosphere at the types of shows they played at, and, while she always supported her daughter's interests, her and Patty were both content to leave it at Connie asking how practice and shows went. 

 

Simon frowned as he stabbed at the dessert again. "They've got a show next weekend. Think it would be worth it to pop your head in, give it a go," he suggested.

 

"Simon," Patty complained with a roll of her eyes. Over the past two years, she had managed to steer her parents out of that side of her life, and she intended on keeping it that way. It was the only thing she had that kept her from going insane while Simon was locked up, the only thing she had that was just hers, and she knew she'd absolutely lose it if either of her parents came to a show and decided it wasn't safe for her to do anymore. 

 

"What? I think she'd love it," he grinned as he met Connie's eye. She was smiling ear to ear too. "Maybe not Norm. Might need to get him some ear plugs," Simon chuckled, ignoring the swat on his thigh from Patty. 

 

Kev huffed a short laugh. "Dad wouldn't be caught dead doing that shit."

"Language,” Connie scolded. Kev threw his hands up and gestured wildly at Simon, but Connie ignored his trying flails. 

 

"Shit, my parents hated it, still hate it. Never came to a single show," Simon added lightheartedly as he pointed his fork at Kev. He ignored Connie's tongue clicking at his statement, turning back down to his plate to avoid any sympathy he didn't want. 

 

"You're always welcome to come to my shows, Connie. They're a little rougher though. Think you'd dig Patty's more," Simon explained. He heard Patty give a deep sigh of relief, and he bit his cheek to suppress his teasing grin. 

 

"Why thank you, Simon. That's awfully kind of you. Maybe we will," she replied with a satisfied smile. She doubted she'd ever get Norm on board to ride that train, but the offer was all that counted in Connie's book. 

 

Simon took one last bite of the pie and pushed the plate in front of him. "I’m stuffed, Connie. Thanks again. Haven’t eaten a home-cooked meal in ages."

 

Connie stood up to snag the plates with a warm and sympathetic smile towards Simon. Simon tried to ignore it, fucking despised getting that look, but a part of him knew that that angle could play to his advantage. If Connie felt bad enough for him, he’d probably be able to get away with a lot more. He wasn’t going to push it for now, but it was something he’d keep in mind for the future. 

 

“Meet me out back,” Kev whispered to Simon as he slinked out of the dining room. Patty tugged on his pinky as she tried to pull him towards the living room, but Simon held a finger up to her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, and stepped into the kitchen to find Connie rinsing dishes at the sink. 

 

“Just, uh. Just wanted to say thanks again, Connie." It felt like it was the least he could do after everything she did for him tonight. Shit, not even his own mom had ever stuck her neck out for him like Connie did. If it wasn't for Connie, there'd be a high likelihood he would have sped off in Danny's car by now. 

 

“Of course. You’re always welcome over for dinner,” she replied cheerfully. 

 

“I mean, for everything,” he clarified. 

 

Connie paused her frantic work over the dishes and smiled warmly at Simon. For as rough as his edges were, his manners were impeccable in comparison to her own children. But there was one thing she wanted to get off her chest while she had him one-on-one. “Of course, Simon. Now do me a favor?”

 

Simon raised his eyebrows expectantly at her. “Yeah.”

 

“No more bruises,” she replied sternly, motioning at her neck. She smiled briefly at the slight tinge of red flooding his cheeks as he broke his gaze to look at his feet instead. “And that goes for her thighs too.” 

 

Simon swore under his breath and scratched the back of his head. He definitely underestimated Connie, and he felt so fucking guilty for all the times he waved Patty off regarding her concerns around her mom. “Yeah, uh, no problem, Connie.”

 

“Simon, come on,” Patty whined, stepping into the kitchen to tug at his arm. She wasn't sure what her mom was saying that was so interesting, but she had one thing on her mind and wasn't about to let her mom of all people come in the way of that. 

 

Connie smiled knowingly at Simon in response to her daughter’s impatience and waved him off. “We’ll see you soon.” 

Notes:

listen, two things rq:
- ONE: I have had a lifelong food aversion to cheese (I know, I know what a travesty blah blah blah) so I had to actually do research about my sworn enemy for them. the power of love is real y'all
- and TWO: I do NOT share kev's negative views on the nanny. that is one of my favorite tv shows to fall asleep to n I love fran w all my heart n soul

anyway that's all hope u guys enjoyed this one it was really hard to write lol gimme a sec for this next chapter too im getting married which has thrown off my schedule teehee sorry love u

Chapter 4

Notes:

honestly friends i don't know what happened to the plot. it was supposed to be four chapters. don't ask me how many now. at least two more. maybe three idk i can't stfu about them & I’m trying to keep the chapters under 10k if possible lmao. as always ty for being patient w me sorry this one took ages to come out teehee

enjoy!!!

“Well, your dad fuckin’ hates—oof!” Patty sprang from the threshold at the exact moment Simon turned towards her to speak, sending him stumbling backward off the porch as their torsos connected with an audible thud. Patty’s momentum outweighed Simon’s wobbly attempts at staying on his feet, and the two of them went tumbling clumsily into the wet grass in a cacophony of grunts, swears, and squeals.

 

“Jesus Christ, Patty. Gimme a fuckin’ warning next time,” Simon snapped, all bark and no bite, succumbing to Patty’s infectious giggles as soon as the words left his lips and reciprocating her forceful embrace. 

 

“Thank you, Simon,” Patty hummed, though that wasn't nearly enough to eloquently express her gratitude. She settled on holding him tighter and peppering a series of kisses along his neck, cheeks, and nose to say all the words she couldn't find. 

 

She knew he’d be able to manage her parents between his wit and charm, a trait of his that Patty was both infatuated with and envious of, but what she didn’t expect was how forthcoming he was with them while also resisting the urge to be, well, himself really. The Simon she usually ate dinner with had no regard for any sort of table manners, and he definitely never turned down the opportunity to call his sister a cunt when presented to him. Even when things got heated between him and her dad, she could still see how much he was holding back. She wasn’t sure that she liked whatever “peesincues” meant. 

 

“Fuck, alright, Pats. I get it. Said I loved ya, didn’t I?” he laughed, making no attempt at unwinding her spindly arms from his body or dodging her staccatoed pecks. Allowed himself to revel in it a moment longer, felt like he deserved it after all. 

 

That whole dinner was fucking bullshit. Swallowing his pride sucked, pretending to give a shit was draining, opening up was humiliating, resisting his anger was soul-sucking, and he had to overcome one last hurdle of admitting Dan was right. It was worth it. More than he expected it to be too. He’d do it again as soon as tomorrow to feel and see her this happy, this appreciative of him. Shit, he’d do it again in the next hour if it guaranteed he wouldn’t have to find a way to survive off the memory of her scent, her touch, her sounds, and all her little movements.

 

Patty burrowed her nose into his chest, nodding as Simon's arms brought her closer. “Yeah, you really do."

 

“Alright, let's go." An exaggerated groan erupted from Simon as he hauled them both back into a standing position, ignoring the dull ache radiating from his hip from their combined landing. And before Patty could look up at him with those stupid fuckin' puppy dog eyes that always tore his heart in two, he added as gently as he could, "c'mon, I don’t wanna get too handsy on your parents’ doorstep." He pressed his hand to the small of her back and directed her toward the side of the house. 

 

Simon fished for his cigarettes in his pocket, swearing under his breath as he fumbled one into his mouth and lit it with a sigh of relief. He was fucking tired. Felt like he'd been drained of the last bit of energy he had in him. He put his hand up in a signal to Patty as he threw his body weight back against the house, pinching his index and thumb over his eyes. He needed a moment, a well-deserved moment at that, to just be. And thank god he didn’t have to worry about offending or explaining that kinda shit to Patty. She was probably the only person he had in his life who understood it, didn't take it personally, and didn't force him to ask for it out loud either. 

 

Patty stopped herself a few steps short of where Simon planted his feet, leaning back with her palms out as she bounced against the brick wall. Patty usually didn't mind when Simon asked for a moment to himself; it was something she frequently needed herself, and he never denied her. But tonight, his request felt like the justification behind the guilt weighing heavily on her heart. He wouldn't need space if she hadn't put him in this position in the first place, if she hadn't forced too much on him too fast with very little warning, and adding on that maybe her parents pushed too far with their prying questions and judgmental comments didn't help either. 

 

Patty learned the hard way within those first couple weeks of his release that Simon didn’t like to be prodded about his childhood or his family or his past, unintentionally sending him into a fit of rage after asking one too many questions that started with biting words and slamming doors but ended with Simon apologizing profusely as he gingerly took her hand, explaining that he'd let her know if he wanted to talk about that kind of stuff with her.

 

Though, to quote him, he claimed, "I'd rather fuck my own mom than put that shit on you," and Patty left it at that. She much preferred being Simon’s diffuser than the fuel. 

 

But when Simon would share such details with her, they could be found in the form of a nonchalant comment in passing or as brief background information to a story he was telling. And he had a way of wording it or timing it that ensured it went over her head in the moment, leaving Patty dumbstruck with her chest aching and stomach burning when it smacked her in the face hours or sometimes day later. After the third or fourth time, she had to assume Simon did that purposefully, slipping it into idle conversation when she was barely mentally present as a sure-fire way to prevent her from inquiring further. He wouldn't even give her the chance to prove that she respected his wishes, to show that she could listen without reopening wounds that she couldn't possibly know the width or depth of, that she could silently add it to the teeming vault of puzzle pieces she'd collected of him for quiet analysis later. 

 

At least Patty could take some comfort in that her parents' interrogations stayed relatively surface-level-ish, but she knew it had to have been tough on him to answer all those questions with a smile still plastered to his face. The fact that he did it for her though made her heart buzz in her chest, like too many bumblebees in a confined space. 

 

Patty waited until the crinkles on his forehead started to fade, the crease between his eyebrows softened, and the muscle along his jawline relaxed. “That was really sweet." 

 

Simon took a long drag off his cigarette, arching an eyebrow and perking a corner of his lip. “What was?” 

 

Patty rotated on her shoulder to face him, crossing her arms and lifting her chin to meet his eye. “Well, everything, I guess,” she started softly, a small smile painting her lips. “What you said to my dad, about me. And us.”

 

Simon nodded, smiling as he looked down at the space between them. He could acknowledge he was a pretty vocal guy, but when it came to his feelings, he'd rather bash his head into a fucking wall than try to piece together a slew of words to convey all the shit that Patty evoked inside of him. Although there was the exception of when they fucked or he was fucked up or a mix of both, and the contents of his mind (as he insisted; Patty claimed it came from his heart instead) spilled out against his own will to his dismay and Patty’s delight. But that wasn't the same as looking her in the eye while he said those things, sober and clothed, and they both knew it. 

 

It was easier on him to show her: he'd run an errand she was dreading for her, tuned her guitar before band practice, had a juice box in the cupholder every time he picked her up from work or practice, rubbed her back and shoulders even when she didn't ask but could tell she was in pain, tied her shoes when she didn't notice they came untied, brought her all the weird treasures he'd find when he was running around town, dropped off a stolen snack or a sucker while she was working before giving her a kiss and taking off down the street again. 

 

And he thought that she got it, but, of course, she asked him one day, asked him why he'd go out of his way with this look of intrigue and confusion. And it stunned Simon. He remembered how he smoothed over his facial hair, trying to figure out how the fuck to respond to her when he didn't exactly know himself. Fuck, some of the shit he found himself doing, he wouldn't dream of doing for himself or anyone else for that matter, but for her? Didn't even cross his mind not to. 

 

She was quiet and patient like she always was, and he remembered tipping his hand forward in a shrug, trying to play it off like he always had the answer and it wasn’t an earth-shattering epiphany for him, answering simply, “‘cause I love ya.”

 

She nearly made him wreck the car as she threw herself over the console, taking both of his cheeks in her hands as she pressed their lips together, ordering him to pull over. And Dan would have fucking killed him if he saw how many cars he cut off as he made a break for the nearest exit. 

 

Patty, as to be expected, had no problem not only telling him how she felt but describing it too. She was markedly better at conjuring words to translate her feelings, namely how she felt about him, and that included making him blush or stutter or roll his eyes when she’d thank him with an “I love you too” in return for all his little tasks or gestures he'd do for her. 

 

But Simon felt like he was pretty clear about his feelings tonight, concise about his intentions in a way maybe he hadn't been with her before. And considering his previous appearance at dinner, he didn't want to leave Patty with any doubts in her mind that his answers and explanations were just a means to get him through dinner.

 

“Hope you know I meant every fuckin’ word,” he replied, pushing himself off the house to step towards her.

 

Patty looked up at him with what read as a surprised smile on her face, the one she'd give him when he'd say something unexpectedly sweet in the heat of the moment. But this time it didn’t make him grin back; it made his heart sink. He fucked up by not making it crystal clear to her. 

 

"I know it's kinda gone without sayin', but you know I'll always make sure you're okay, right? Seriously, I mean, I know I do some sketchy shit sometimes, but never at your expense, never put you in—."

 

"I know, Simon," Patty interjected softly, rubbing her hand over his shoulder and pushing away the anger she had at her dad for contributing to Simon's doubts. This was the exact reason she refused to tell Simon what he said about him. But if she wanted to stop him before he spiraled too far, she'd have to stay calm as well.

 

Simon cocked an eyebrow, glancing between her and her hand on his shoulder. He grabbed it and squeezed it tight. “You sure?”

 

Patty nodded briskly and repeated his squeeze as confirmation. "I meant what I said too,” she answered, blinking away from Simon's intense eye contact. She could tell he was scouring her for even the smallest inkling of doubt, but he wouldn't find anything of the sort. Patty had never trusted anyone more than she trusted him, and she wouldn't be able to lie to him if she tried. 

 

Simon released the inner skin of his cheek as she spoke and nodded, leaning his head back against the siding. He brought the cigarette back to his mouth, turning a palm out as he confessed, “I guess your mom’s kinda cool."

 

To be truthful, he didn't know that he believed Connie's whole performance tonight. Sure, he was fucking grateful, beyond grateful really. His own mom hadn't stuck her neck out for him like Connie had, and that wasn't something he was going to forget any time soon. But he couldn't shake the feeling that it was all an act, that underneath her cheery exterior was a viper waiting to attack, waiting for him to let his guard down, share something too real with her that was deemed too scandalous or risky for her daughter, and exacting the plan she had all along, sinking her teeth in and taking the only good thing he ever had away from him. 

 

But he wasn't going to voice that shit to Patty. Used it as a reminder that they weren't out of the woods yet. If they ever would be. 

 

“Yeah, I can’t believe she defended you like that in front of Dad,” Patty balked.

 

“Pssh, I can. They’ve been arguing about this shit for weeks,” Kev snickered as he rounded the corner from the back side of the house. 

 

Patty jumped at Kev’s sudden appearance, grabbing onto Simon’s forearm to steady herself, but Simon hastily shook her off, sticking his cigarette in his lip before shoving the heel of his palm into Kev's shoulder. Some incoherent, confused noises left Patty's mouth as she waved her hands around and cocked her head to the side at Simon.

 

"The fuck, Kev?" Simon shouted, arms raised in disappointment or disbelief or both.

 

Kev rubbed his shoulder halfheartedly with a guilty smile on his face. "What?" 

 

"I've seen you in the last couple weeks, dickhead. Coulda fuckin' said somethin' to me at least," Simon barked, gesturing wildly with his hands and nearly flinging his cigarette in his irritation. If Simon had the knowledge even a day in advance, it would have at least saved himself from taking a handful of fucking k-pins the night before that's for damn sure. He could have spent the evening going over questions, issues, potential comments with Patty instead of insisting on getting her off until she couldn't take anymore. 

 

Well, he probably wouldn't have traded that for the world. But, still. A bigger heads-up would have been fucking nice. 

 

Kev didn't stop the shit-eating grin from spreading across his face. "Yeah, but you would have told her, and this was—."

 

"I haven't heard them," Patty interrupted, yanking on Kev's sleeve to demand his attention after finally processing his initial greeting. She was thankful Simon caught it, or else she probably would have moved on without realizing. 

 

Simon snorted as Kev shot him a look of annoyance at being cut off, tilting his cigarette towards Patty: that's your problem now, kid. Simon could tell by a single glance that she was ready to chew his ass, and he knew better than to get in her way. 

 

Kev rolled his eyes as he begrudgingly turned towards his sister. “Well, lucky you then,” he singsonged. “My room’s right above theirs.”

 

Patty’s jaw dropped, her face screwing up as she tried to make sense of that explanation. “Huh?”

 

“The vents, Pats,” Simon explained. He was pissed no doubt, but he could tell Patty was furious, balling up her little hands into fists as the fiery inferno raged behind her eyes. Simon very rarely felt the wrath of Patty's anger, knew what she was capable of when provoked though, and there was nothing he loved more than watching it come out on other people. Found it hot as hell. 

 

Patty snapped her mouth shut, clenching her jaw and forcefully tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. So that meant everyone in the house knew she was lying, and no one said anything to her. For weeks? “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

 

“It was fun,” Kev shrugged. “The best was when Mom would throw you a bone, and you’d just keep going. You really are a bad fuckin’ liar, Patty.” 

 

Kev's obnoxious laughter tipped Patty over the edge, and next thing she knew, her fist was colliding with Kev's shoulder in the same spot Simon targeted moments ago.

 

"Oh, shit," Simon cackled, covering his grin with his hand. He knew that had to hurt him at least a little by the way Patty was shaking her hand out. He didn't think he could love her more than he did in this very moment. 

 

"Fucking cool it, rager," Kev spat, shoving Patty back before she could get another one on him. Unlike Simon's, that was definitely going to bruise. 

 

"That was fucked up, Kev," Patty seethed. The more she replayed their interactions over the last few weeks, the more she could see he was poking fun of the situation, realized he was egging mom and dad on every chance he got. The little fucking prick. 

 

Kev threw his hands up in the air. "Okay, fine. I'm sorry." He reached for the joint from his hoodie pocket, hoping to mend their shared offense to his continued omissions, and waved it around at them. "Apology joint?"

 

"Fuck you. You rolled that anyway," Simon retorted. 

 

Kev shrugged. "You're either in, or you're out."

 

"I should probably get going. Think your dad might be waiting to hear the car drive off,” Simon admitted nervously, cautiously peeking around the corner as if he’d find Norm looming there. He half expected him to see him out and make sure Simon didn’t get any extra interactions with his daughter, especially after everything he insinuated tonight. But he supposed he had Connie to thank for that too. 

 

Patty frowned, her anger quickly dissipating into disappointment. She wasn't in the mood to smoke, but she was hoping he'd stay a little bit longer. He did imply during their phone call he would at least. “But I owe you one, remember?” 

 

Simon raised his eyebrows as a small, shocked chuckle escaped him. His head had been in such a whirlwind he’d forgotten about the so-called favor. He grinned wolfishly at her, crowding into her space and pulling her closer by the belt loops on her shorts. “Yeah? You wanna tell me what you had in mind?” 

 

"It’s your favor. You pick,” she chirped, sliding her hands up his arms until they were looped around the back of his neck. Patty had a lot of things in mind, but she was most excited to see what he had come up with. 

 

Simon leaned in, brushing his nose against hers and teasing a kiss as he spoke, “Mmm, but I know you've been thinkin' 'bout it all day, huh? Lemme hear what—.”  

 

“Alright, enough,” Kev grimaced, gaze long averted but shaking his hands at them nonetheless. He thought that after Simon’s first couple of weeks back they’d get easier to deal with, once the novelty of each other wore off, but the contrary happened instead. They seemed more on top of each other than ever before, and Kev didn’t need to bear witness to it. 

 

“Fuck that. I don't wanna hear shit from you for the rest of the night," Simon laughed.

 

“C'mon, I don't wanna see my sister getting groped every five seconds."

 

"I think you're just jealous your sister's gettin' some, and you're not," Simon retaliated, pulling Patty closer to him as she giggled into his shoulder.

 

"Just because the two of you fuck like rabbits doesn’t mean I don’t get any,” Kev grumbled. He could admit he definitely wasn’t getting it as much as they were, but that wasn’t exactly a fair statement in itself. Kev didn’t think anyone fucked as much as Patty and Simon did, and he hoped Simon took his fucking hint at his mention of Patty wanting to move out. He didn’t know how the hell they hadn’t gotten caught before now with how loud they both could be. 

 

“Yeah, okay. Sure,” Simon replied condescendingly, releasing his grip on Patty and flicking his cigarette towards the street. 

 

“Fuck you. I’ve been pretty cool about all the shit you guys have been doing behind Mom and Dad’s back.” 

 

"No, what would have been cool was letting us know we were caught fuckin' weeks ago," Simon countered. 

 

"You know I don't have to help either of you sneak in or out of this house, don't have to keep my mouth shut when Mom asks why the bathroom window is open when Patty was the last one in."

 

“Is that a threat?” Simon laughed, eyes crinkling at the prospect. As if this wasn't Simon's exact specialty. "Oh, Kev," he chuckle-sighed, taking a step closer and slapping his hand down on the abused shoulder. "Do you know how easy it would be to tell mommy and daddy you tried to buy some marijuana off of me? Be real good for me too. Could work that angle that I don’t live that lifestyle anymore, but apparently their precious baby boy does."

 

Kev narrowed his eyes at Simon, and Simon met him with the most infuriating smile he’d ever seen, exhaling his cigarette smoke right in Kev’s face with a quirk of his eyebrow.

 

Kev relented. “You’re a dick."

 

Simon released his hold, throwing Kev back some. "Tell me somethin' new." 

 

“Well, I'm ready to smoke, with or without you guys. Park down the street like you usually do if you want in,” Kev suggested. 

 

Patty’s eyes lit up at the proposition, and she nodded excitedly at Simon. “Please?”

 

Simon knew he stood no chance at declining, not when he found Patty’s eyes dancing right up into his. "Yeah, alright," he smiled as he pulled her in for a kiss before turning on his heel to head to the car. He tried not to think about how big of a pushover she had made him into on his walk back. 

 

Kev guided Patty to the back of the house, plopping down in the dewy grass and settling his weight against the foundation. 

 

“Aren’t Mom and Dad gonna wonder where we are?” Patty asked as she slid down next to him. Kev usually waited to smoke until after they’d gone to bed, and Patty didn’t need to get roped into any more trouble.

 

“Nah. Bet they’re too busy bickering or giving each other the cold shoulder,” Kev responded as he messed with the lighter in his hand. In his periphery, he caught all the tell-tale signs of Patty on the verge of asking a question, and he rolled his eyes. “What?” 

 

“I feel bad.” 

 

Kev scoffed. “I wouldn't.” 

 

Patty looked away, shifting her weight between her hips and wiggling her bare toes in the grass. She tried to hone in on the sound of crickets and cicadas echoing around her, the feel of the damp clover grazing her ankles, the heavy weight of the sticky night air condensing on her skin and filling her lungs, the sight of the last fragments of sunlight glowing purple on the horizon as it melted into a deep indigo.

 

Patty pressed her palms into her eyes until neons exploded behind her lids. She could enjoy her surroundings all she wanted; she still felt like a selfish daughter, a shitty girlfriend, and an all-around bad person.

 

Kev nudged her gently. “Hey, chill. It’s fine. Dad’s being a hard ass. Having Mom on your side means you’re right.”

 

Patty shook her head. The issue wasn’t about her being on the right or wrong side of things. She knew being with Simon wasn’t wrong. What she didn’t like was being the wedge between her parents. “I don’t like when they’re upset with each other."

 

“At least they’re mad at each other and not you, ” Kev countered, then chuckled, gesturing at Simon as he approached. “Or him, for shit’s sake.” 

 

Patty dropped her hands, a smile automatically returning to her face as she reached a grabby hand out at him.

 

Simon tossed himself on the ground next to Patty, kicking his feet out in front of him. “What are you school girls gossiping about?”

 

“Patty feels bad because Mom and Dad are fighting over you two,” Kev answered flatly as he lit the joint. 

 

Simon turned to her with one brow raised and the other furrowed, stifling a laugh at her needless concern. “Pats, I caused more fights between my parents than I’d even care to count, and they’re fine.” 

 

Patty shook her head again as she broke Simon's gaze, bringing her legs up to her chest and laying her head between her raised knees. Their words didn’t magically make the guilt go away. Her parents never fought over something Patty did or said before now. She'd heard a handful of arguments they had over Kev and random family drama, plenty of fights over money when she was younger, but she was never the root cause. 

 

“Everything’s gonna be fine, baby. Promise you.” Simon poked her leg with his pinky, relieved when Patty lifted her head at him and smiled faintly as she hooked her finger around his.

 

“So did you actually do all that shit to get your Eagle Scout, or were you trying to make yourself look good?” Kev asked curiously, handing the joint over to Simon.

 

Simon hesitated but ended up taking it, grinning as the smoke hugged his lungs and throat pleasantly. "Both. Left out that it was almost my first vandalism charge. Best part was that my cousin proofread everything, right? Didn't find out until years later he had us put bus 69 arrives at 4:20 every Sunday." 

 

“Now that checks out,” Kev chuckled. He couldn't imagine Simon doing such a grand act of community service without at least a little bit of chaos. 

 

Simon shrugged as he nudged Patty the joint after a single hit. Patty shook her head at him with a scrunch of her nose, and Simon rotated the joint back to Kev. 

 

“C’mon, Patty. You never smoke with me,” Kev whined, trying to hand the joint back over to her. 

 

“I don’t know,” Patty replied, keeping her arms wrapped around her knees while she rocked between her hips and feet. She had already had such a stressful day, and she didn’t want to add to it by maneuvering around her parents high. She was sure if she got caught they’d find a way to blame it on Simon. 

 

Simon snatched the joint out of Kev's hand with a scowl. “Don’t pressure her.” 

 

“Oh, and you didn't?" Kev replied mockingly. 

 

Simon looked at him incredulously. "Fuck no. What kinda asshole y’think I am?”

 

"Really gonna make me say it?" Kev chuckled, cocking a knowing brow at Simon. Kev didn't think it was any coincidence that Patty had turned down his offer to smoke a million times, but suddenly Simon gets released, and here she comes bragging to Kev about getting high for the first time. On top of that, he didn't want to think his dad's accusations about his previous charges had any merit, but he did have every right to worry about his sister. 

 

Simon’s lip twitched in disgust. This was the second time in the last hour he’d been accused of coercing or pressuring or manipulating her. He had made it clear to her that she never had to do anything she didn’t want to do, that she had full permission to kick his ass if she ever felt like he was pressuring her or making her uncomfortable, promised her she could tell him to stop no matter where or what they were doing and he would. And while he typically could give less of a shit about what anyone had to think of him, the thought that people perceived their relationship as this unbalanced scale of power made Simon's stomach churn.

 

"If she says no, she says fuckin' no," Simon replied lowly.  

 

"Simon never makes me do anything I don't wanna do," Patty added quickly, knowing full and well this was the calm before the storm. If Kev pushed one step farther, Simon wasn't going to hold back, physically or verbally. "I had to ask him several times before he let me smoke."

 

Kev blinked in surprise at the second half of Patty's addition, narrowing his eyes at Simon with a scoff. "Before he 'let' you?" 

 

"I don't know what the fuck you're trying to do here, but you're starting to really piss me off, kid," Simon warned with a finger in his face. He'd already had enough of this bullshit for one night. "Wanted to make sure she could stay the night, that I had her in a safe fuckin' place. I wasn't about to get her baked for the first time in the middle of the fucking day and send her home. That alright with you?" he sneered. 

 

Kev raised his hands in defeat. He wasn’t willing to get his shit rocked over this argument. He couldn't take the guy last time, and, by the look of him now and the feel of that shove, he sure as hell wouldn't be able to this time either.

 

"Fair enough. I didn't think about that," he replied truthfully, thanking the heavens when Simon released the joint back to him. He rolled a thick one too, and he had been looking forward to it all dinner. 

 

“I just don't wanna risk it tonight," Patty explained to Kev gently, trying to ease some of the tension. "I'm kinda tired of getting caught right now." She wasn’t sure if she’d tell a lie again after all the fibs she’d told lately. No matter where she went in her mind, no matter how much she concentrated on the present moment or tried to go to her happy place, her anxiety persevered; her whole body felt heavy with remorse. 

 

Simon snorted softly through his nose. She did look tired. He knew deep down that she wasn't handling the daily lies she was feeding to her parents well, and, fuck, was hindsight twenty-fuckin'-twenty because all he could replay back in his mind was the dozens of shitty comments he made to her when it was clearly eating her alive.

 

He should have actually had a conversation with her, one that wasn’t fueled exclusively by the familiar feeling of rejection, that he was someone to be ashamed of, like he didn’t feel like scum standing next to her already. Shit, maybe that would have prevented tonight's bullshit altogether. But that was easier said than done. He didn't have any clue how to start a conversation like that with her, let alone be ready for what would have come out of it. 

 

“Be cool if you kept it up," Kev chuckled. "I’ve been able to get away with fuckin’ everything for the past month." 

 

"See, Pats. There’s the real reason why he didn't say shit," Simon explained with a nudge of his elbow.

 

"Still pretty shitty," she grumbled into the skin of her knees. 

 

"Like you wouldn't do the same," Kev snarked. 

 

Patty squinted at Kev. "I wouldn't." 

 

And if it were anyone else, Simon would have called their bluff, but it was Patty. Terrifyingly loyal, always kept her word, held what was right or wrong heavy on her heart, and was honest to a fault at times like she owed the world the truth. Simon could see the hurt in her eyes shifting quickly into anger, and he swung his arm around her. "If it makes you feel any better, Dan and Renae did that shit to me all the fuckin' time." 

 

Patty pushed her lips to the side, blinking thoughtfully as she looked up at him. If anything, that made her feel worse. She knew whatever Simon was referring to wasn’t an apples-to-apples comparison. Made her wish she could have met him sooner, that way she could have been there to stand up for him while everyone else dog piled on. "It doesn't."

 

Simon chuckled and shook his head slightly. "Okay. Would it make you feel better if I rat him out for smoking to your parents?" 

 

Kev threw his hands up in exasperation. "Oh, come on. Really? I've had both your backs every other fuckin' time." 

 

Simon waved Kev off, awaiting Patty's response. He cocked an eyebrow at her, and she giggled, shaking her head no. "You're safe for now, Kev, but just know all she's gotta do is say the word." 

 

Kev shook his head and kept the joint to himself for a bit. He'd never cross the two of them again, that's for sure. He'd need another joint after this one if they kept it up. 

 

Patty leaned forward to place a chaste kiss against his cheek. He really was her knight in shining armor; she was going to use that against Kev for the rest of time.

 

The feel of Patty’s plush lips against his cheek made Simon brutally aware of how stoned he already was, leaning into her touch with a content sigh. He was ready to ditch the joint, wrap Patty up in his arms, and throw a blanket over them. 

 

“Got some good weed there, kid,” Simon admitted. It was much better than Albert's, though it had an earthier taste and smell to it that most people didn't like. 

 

“Oh, yeah. Jill’s mom grows it,” Kev replied casually, leaning forward to hand the joint back over. 

 

“Huh?”

 

"You got a home-grown connection and didn't tell me?"

 

Kev threw his head back and laughed, shrugging at Simon and deciding to tackle his sister's response instead. “Are you asking because you don’t know where weed comes from or because of who grows it?” 

 

Patty’s lips parted, gaze turning up as she considered his question. “Both?” 

 

Simon kept quiet. When Kev wasn't being a little shit to her, he navigated her better than any of her other friends or family he'd met, and he hated to admit that the kid had taught him a trick or two. And already this instance was no different. If she'd had asked him like that, he would have asked her what she meant, and Patty didn't always articulate that well, leaving Simon lost and confused and dumping all the information he could think of until something finally landed. He never thought to give her a starting point. 

 

“It’s a plant. Like if you want tomatoes, you plant tomatoes in your—,” Kev started. 

 

Patty's lip curled in disgust. “I don’t like tomatoes."

 

“Forget about the tomatoes. Weed has seeds like any other plant. Stick them in the ground and treat ‘em right, and boom. You got weed. Jill’s mom has been growing in her basement for years, makes fuckin' bank doing it too.”

 

Patty narrowed her eyes, flicking her vision back and forth as she processed Kev’s information before turning to Simon. “Did you know that?” 

 

“I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout Jill’s mom,” Simon chuckled with his hands turned out in faux defense.

 

Patty’s mouth hung open for a moment before she shook her head. “But that’s not what I—.”

 

“I'm just fucking with you. You think I haven’t tried to grow my own weed before?” With a big, old emphasis on the word "try.” He admittedly wasn't very good at it; told himself it was because he didn't have the patience for such things, but it was tough to take care of plants that needed to be kept in one spot for 9+ months. 

 

Patty scrunched her nose as she thought about it. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” 

 

While Simon and Kev passed the joint back and forth, having some kind of conversation about "growing techniques," Patty gleefully tuned them out in favor of turning her gaze up, listening to the wind sweep through the leaves as she took in the faint, twinkling stars dotting the sky as dusk settled into night. She took a deep breath and hummed, drumming her fingers on her legs. 

 

Simon found his break in the conversation, shifting his attention to Patty as soon as Kev switched the subject to some petty high school bullshit. He noticed she wandered off in the corner of his eye several minutes ago, and there was a part of him that was a little envious she couldn't hear Kev's bitching.

 

“Whatcha got your eye on?” he spoke over Kev, swaying into the side of her body. 

 

“Lyra,” she answered without looking away, a point of her finger at the sky. 

 

“Don’t get her started on this shit, man. She won't shut the fuck up,” Kev groaned, reaction time too slow to dodge Simon’s boot, leaving a smear of dirt and a raspberry on his shin.

 

“Might actually learn something if you shut the fuck up and listen." Simon held his glare at Kev to make his point before turning back to Patty.

 

Simon loved when Patty rambled excitedly about anything, but the best came out of her weird fixations, like all this shit she'd memorized about the sky somehow. Sometimes it was like busting open a fire hydrant, where Simon felt like he was getting waterboarded with information, but he’d risk drowning every time to see her entire face light up like the fourth of July, how he could see her excitement bubbling under the surface or sometimes exploding out of her limbs when he asked a question or gave his input. 

 

He'd keep doing it too, knowing Patty's interests had often been ignored in the past. It wasn't anything she ever said point blank to him, but she didn't have to. She would pause every so often while she spoke to see if he was still listening, at times apologizing halfway through a rant when she hadn't come up for air in several minutes. Like he had any room to bitch on that front.

But what broke his heart the most was when Patty thought he wasn't listening, and she'd just slowly taper off. Wouldn’t even put up a fucking fight, and that really pissed him off. He tried to nip that shit in the bud early, told her if she ever caught him tuning her out that she should smack him, yell at him, do whatever she felt was necessary to be heard, encouraged her to do it with others too, but he knew this wasn't something that was gonna change overnight. Until then, he’d just have to keep reminding her what she had to say mattered. 

 

He threw his arm around Patty’s shoulder and squeezed tightly. “Where is it? 

 

“There,” she replied with a small smile, taking his pointer finger in her hand and directing it until it landed in the general area. “It has the second brightest star in the sky.”  

 

Simon ignored Kev’s grumbling in the background and kept his focus on Patty. “Lyra? Like the, like the instrument, right?”

 

Patty nodded feverishly, biting at her cheek to contain herself.

 

“Tell me about it,” he murmured sweetly, leaning his head on her shoulder lazily. 

 

“It’s kinda sad.” Patty shrugged. She felt her hand come to rest on Simon’s head like the pull of a magnet, rubbing her fingers along his shaved sides until they snagged on his longer strands. He swirled his hand for her to go on.

 

“Well, it’s named after the lyre that belonged to Orpheus. And Orpheus was a very talented musician and singer. So good that he could charm anything and anyone, even the Sirens."

 

"What, like some Snow White bullshit?" 

 

She giggled softly as she looked away from the sky and down at Simon. "Hmm, kind of." 

 

"Why kind of?" Simon chuckled, leaning forward to pass Kev the joint. 

 

"Well, he didn’t have any dwarves.”

 

“Please don’t tell me that’s the only difference, Pats.”

“No, I mean, animals would flock to him or calm down when they heard him play. But it wasn’t just animals. He could charm people too, especially women. They'd follow him around and beg to be his wife." 

 

"You ever that good?" Kev teased. 

 

Simon rolled his eyes while Patty downturned her lips and nodded. "Shut up," Simon muttered defeatedly, directed at both of them. "Keep going." 

 

Patty wiggled happily, thrilled he was still interested in hearing the rest. “So he fell in love with a nymph. And he loved her more than he loved his music, but she got bit by a snake and died. He was so heartbroken that he journeyed to the underworld, and he convinced Hades and Persephone with his music to release her to him. And it worked, but..."

 

"But what?" 

 

Patty pushed her lips to the side. "She ended up dying anyway."

 

"Unlucky bastard," Kev chortled. 

 

Simon flipped a palm in agreement, swaying back into Patty. "How?"

 

"Hmm." Patty tapped her finger against her lips, thumbing through the folders in her brain for the answer but coming up empty. "I don't remember."

 

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Simon laughed, could hear Kev also let out a short huff as she shook her head unabashedly. "Alright, well, you at least remember how it ends, right?"

 

Patty nodded. "So, he was so sad without her that he wandered the earth playing his music alone, vowing he'd never love again. He eventually gained a new following of women, and he was back to rejecting proposal after proposal. But, one day, the women, they were so upset that they ended up killing him. And then Zeus hung his lyre in the sky, and that's where we get Lyra."

 

Simon sucked his teeth and patted her knee. "Kinda fucked up, Pats."

 

“I told you it was sad."

 

"Yeah, okay," Simon agreed. He did recall the warning.

 

“Seems like a lot of wasted effort to me," Kev shrugged. 

 

Patty scrunched her nose, looking down from the stars to eye her brother. "What do you mean?" 

 

"I mean, it would suck to go through all that bullshit for some chick that can’t stop dying, just to be killed for it in the end. It doesn't even look like anything up there. Fuckin' shitty memorial if you ask me."

 

"Well, none of them look like the thing they're named after," Patty responded thoughtfully. Lyra was technically supposed to be an eagle holding a lyre, and, while she could spot them, she didn't agree with the images they were supposed to be either. 

 

Kev rolled his eyes. "That wasn't really my point."

 

Simon pulled Patty to rest her head against his chest, sliding his hand over the outside of her thigh as she cuddled into him. A past version of Simon would have immediately agreed with Kev, but that wasn’t who he was anymore, and there was no sense in trying to pretend otherwise.

 

"I'd do that shit for you, y'know," Simon yawned, lazily puffing on the joint. 

 

Patty sighed happily as she nuzzled her cheek against his chest. "Don’t worry. I've never seen a rattlesnake around here.”  

 

Simon and Kev made eye contact and promptly burst into a round of laughter. He didn't mean only in that exact circumstance under those specific conditions, but he was too high to spell it out for her right now. He was sure there'd be another opportunity to confess something as sweet and vulnerable as that when he wasn't baked out of his gourd and in front of her whiny little brother. 

 

Patty untangled her limbs from Simon as his stoned giggles rattled her head against his chest, pressing a kiss to his cheek before rising back to her feet. "I'm gonna go inside." 

 

Simon grabbed her wrist, tugging her closer to get a little nibble of her earlobe before he let her go. “I’ll be up once we’re done,” he whispered in her ear with a smile.

 

Patty nodded excitedly and took off toward the back door, carefully sliding the door open just enough to squeeze through and shutting it as quietly as possible. She froze as she padded across the kitchen, snapping her neck towards the muffled voices coming from her parents' bedroom. She could tell it was an argument by their cadence and tone, but their words were completely indecipherable. 

 

She quickly snuck up to Kev's room, frowning when she didn't hear anything immediately. Patty stood with her eyes squeezed shut and head cocked to the side like it would enhance her hearing, letting out a small squeal when it worked. She hightailed it to the closest vent she could find and hovered her ear over it. 

 

“I don't have to make him out to be anything. He's already a felon,” her dad’s voice billowed, hoarse and exasperated and sounding nothing like how her dad usually did. Patty gulped at how intense the conversation already seemed to be. 

 

"He was a boy. He made a mistake," her mom's voice answered back, inflection rising and falling like it was her hundredth time repeating the words. 

 

"Connie, you didn't read the report those poor people submitted. It seemed pretty far from just a 'mistake.' You know the woman he assaulted was your age."

 

Patty furrowed her eyebrows as she tried to comprehend this new piece of information, though she wasn’t convinced it was true. The only thing he'd told her about the whole ordeal was that he set some family's bushes on fire after ruining their dinner, but when she asked why, the only thing he supplied her with was a gruff "I was pissed off" and that look he gave her when he was trying to get her to drop the subject. She could imagine Simon doing a lot of things, but sexually assaulting someone was so far from everything he stood for.

 

"He was found not guilty. You can't hold things over his head he didn't do," her mom replied matter-of-factly. "Besides, did you see the way he looked when Kev asked him about that maid? That didn't look like some 'hardened criminal' to me."

 

“It didn't seem any different than when he was telling us about the missionary work last time,” her dad scoffed.

 

She heard her mom make some noise that indicated she thought otherwise. "What are you talking about? That was a complete 180 from last time." 

 

"How can you trust him after everything?" Her dad was shouting now, and Patty instinctively flinched away from the vent. 

 

"You could see it written all over the boy's face!"

 

"You keep calling him a boy. He's not a boy. That's a—."

 

"Jeez, Norm. Enough with this already. When I was 22, you were 27! We had been married for 2 years already!" 

 

Patty heard her dad stomp to the other side of the room, could hear him shout something in return, but he wasn't close enough to the vent for Patty to catch it. 

 

"Oh, so what if he's a singer in a band? So is she! God forbid they have common interests!"

 

"Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about. You know it's more than just that," her dad replied curtly. 

 

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous," her mom spat, sending them into a match of deciding who or what was more ridiculous than the other. Patty almost got bored and walked away, but they moved past it eventually without a winner.

 

"Well, the second you walked out of the room, he couldn’t have been more respectful. Asked me how my day was, came and thanked me after dessert, for more than just dinner. I think he’s politer than both of our children combined."

 

"You said that last time, too," her dad sighed.

 

Her mom let out a frustrated groan, and Patty suddenly felt very aware that she was eavesdropping on such a private conversation. She couldn’t tear herself away if she tried, but her stomach knotted at doing something that felt wrong. She’d start doing better tomorrow.

 

"I’m still not thrilled about her lying to us for so long, and I know he had something to do with that. I have half the mind to ground her."

 

Patty tensed. She hadn’t been grounded in years, and the thought of being confined to her bedroom after having as much freedom as she’s had was too much to bear. Surprisingly though, her mom laughed instead of agreeing. "This is exactly what I'm talking about! At some point, you’re going to have to let her grow up, Norm.”

 

“Then she shouldn’t have lied!” 

“She’d just find a way to sneak out like Kev does.”

 

Patty felt victorious, grasping onto that golden piece of information like it was a winning lottery ticket. She could finally enact revenge on Kev, pocketing that information, only to be shared with Simon. But Patty realized she may have celebrated a little too long and calmed her little dance to tune back in. 

 

"Honey, when I say this, I mean it nicely…” her mom’s voice became muffled as she moved around the room, and Patty held her breath to eliminate the extra noise. Luckily, her dad must have said something to rile her mom based on her sudden uptick in volume. “She didn't want to hide it from us. No, let me finish," her mom yelled over her dad. "We pushed her to that point. That's on us. Not her."

 

"How can you—."

 

"She's never hidden anything from me until now," her mom bit back, harsh and angry, but her voice cracking as she added, "not for this long."

 

Patty felt like her mom’s words ripped her chest open, hot tears springing to her eyes. If only she could storm downstairs and tell her how badly she wanted to tell her every detail. How she wanted to tell her about the butterflies he made her feel when he held her hand or cupped her cheek, the way he made her heart pound in her chest when he tucked her hair out of her face before he kissed her, or the way he made her stumble over her words when he flashed her a real, genuine smile. She wanted to tell her everything, more than anyone else in the world. She tried to remind herself of all the awful things she said in congruence with her dad regarding Simon, but it didn’t make her feel better. Not when her mom was as upset as she was. 

 

There was a brief pause, some mutterings Patty could barely make out. Nothing coherent, but it gave her time to calm down and blot her eyes with the back of her hand. It sounded like they moved to the other end of the room, and Patty sat back on her legs in preparation to leave when her dad's voice came back, though barely audible. 

 

“I'm worried about her. I think it’s telling enough that his parents don’t want anything to do with him."

 

Her mom must have still been on the other end of the room because she was only able to make out bits and pieces, could hear her mention Danny but not much more. 

 

“Now, Danny," her dad sighed. "Danny’s a good kid.”

 

“Give it up, Norm. It isn't going to happen.” 

 

“But why shouldn’t it? He’s well-off, he’s safe. I think he’s perfect for her.” 

 

"Why shouldn’t it? Why shouldn’t it?” Patty instinctively curled her lips inward. Her dad really pissed her mom off now. “She’s talked about him since day one, even after we said all those horrible things about him in front of her. And you haven’t bothered to listen to a single word she says.”

 

“I did listen—.”

 

“No, Norm. You didn’t. And don’t you think for a second she didn’t catch on to that tonight. So, enlighten me, since you’re the expert. Tell me who you think is ‘perfect’ for Patty." 

 

There was a long, unbearable pause before her dad replied, “well, it isn’t him.” 

 

Patty pulled away from the vent, stomach twisting at the finality in her dad's tone. Despite all of Simon's efforts, despite all the good in him, despite all the ways he made her feel, Patty realized that maybe none of that mattered to her dad. Maybe they’d never be safe around him. 

 

She didn't have time to stew on all the what-ifs when she could almost see her mom's hands flailing in frustration as she countered, "has there ever been another boy to make her smile like that? Have you ever seen a boy look at her like that?”

 

"I don't want her to get hurt. He's got some rough edges."

 

Her mom cackled. "I think she'd break his heart before he did hers." 

“You aren’t worried you’re going to regret letting this happen? After all we went through? After all you went through?” 

Patty’s face contorted in confusion. She wasn't sure what they were referring to, but the tension oozing up through the vent was palpable, almost suffocating. The rushing of blood in her ears was so loud she was half-convinced her parents could hear it too as she waited for some clarification. 

 

"I-I'm sorry. That was too far. You know I just, I didn’t picture this.” 

 

She heard her mom let out a long, frustrated sigh, knew she was rubbing her fingers against her temples in an attempt to calm down. "Look, I'm not oblivious to what you're seeing. She's my baby girl too, but we spent the last twenty-odd years raising her right, and I trust her when she tells me she’s safe with him.” 

 

Her dad must have been pacing again because she didn't hear his response, only her mom's calm reply, "You're right. He does have some baggage. He is a little different, but so is she.”

 

“I don’t know if that’s a good enough reason,” her dad argued.

 

“He handles her so well, Norm. I-I wasn't sure if we'd ever...” her mom trailed off, and Patty narrowed her eyes at the vent, hoping she'd elaborate, but their voices quieted into nondescript mumblings instead. 

 

“I don’t like the way he talks down to her,” her dad’s voice trickled in faintly. Patty huffed and shook her head immediately. Simon could get impatient, but he wasn’t condescending to her. Other people, now that was a different story. If he talked down to anyone tonight, it was Kev or her dad. 

 

“We've already gone over this," her mom groaned. "Answering her questions isn’t talking down to her. You don’t like that he’s more patient with her than you are.” 

 

Patty was thankful that her mom agreed with her and that the yelling stopped, but she couldn’t make out their words anymore. After what felt like eternity, her mom’s laughter echoed into the room, making Patty jump back at the abruptness of it. 

 

“I don’t know. He’s very sweet to her. I bet he answers every single one. I think it’s about time we pass that torch, hmm?”

 

Patty tilted her head as she leaned closer to the vent, but her dad was too quiet or far away to hear.

 

“I want you to do more than think about it. Next time he takes her out, you’re going to wait up for her with me.” 

 

“Oh, come on. You know I work—.”

 

”Just once. That’s all I’m asking. I think you’ll change your tune once you open your eyes and see how happy she is with him.” 

 

Patty could hear the creak of what had to be her dad's weight settling on the bed though she didn't hear him agree or disagree.

 

"You know, every time he's picked her up or dropped her off, he opens the car door for her. Unlike someone," her mom added, and she heard the swing of their bedroom door opening and closing, spurring Patty to her feet before she could wonder how her mom knew that Simon did that every time.

 

Patty scrambled out into the hallway, nearly falling over her feet as she stopped by the bathroom to flicker the lights several times in warning to Simon and Kev. 

 

Patty didn't fully close the door behind her as she scurried into her bedroom, leaving it cracked for Simon and exhaling a deep breath as she threw herself onto her bed, suddenly aware of how tired she was and how comfortable her bed was. The second the adrenaline wore off, she found herself prying her eyelids open as she waited impatiently for Simon, but it only took a few minutes for Patty to lose the battle, gently dozing off to sleep. 

Notes:

ps what patty didn't remember is that the condition hades granted eurydice back to orpheus is that he could guide her out of the underworld but he couldn't look back and on their last step he turned to look into her eyes and poof lost her forever WAHH I wish I didn't remember that part too

Chapter 5

Notes:

the eventual smut has arrived. pls pay mind to the updated tags (& yes u are correct to assume that one ain't for patty). i put a lil break before that part if u prefer to skip it, but that is the bulk of this chapter teehee

“I don’t fuckin’ want that. Feels like we've been smokin' that shit for hours,” Simon groaned as he waved his hand at the tiny roach Kev offered, shifting uncomfortably in the wet grass and squeezing his eyes shut as he focused on forcing all the air out of his lungs and back in again. His mind was racing, a constant burn of baseless anxiety that burrowed and tunneled around deep within his chest, sending sparks over every located fear and doubt and worry that threatened to combust if he so much as glanced at any one of them a moment too long. 

 

He knew he should have called it quits a while ago, probably right after that kiss Patty planted on his cheek that made his heart feel like it got double-bounced on a trampoline. This shit right here was one of the many reasons why he was a pill guy through and through. They were reliable, they were consistent, always fucked him up the same way. Weed, on the other hand, could either have him dead to the world, nearly catatonic for hours after or turned him into a total fucking head-case, as if he wasn't one already, spiraling helplessly inside his own mental prison. Fuck, actual prison was a fucking vacation in comparison to that shit. 

 

"Suit yourself." Kev shrugged, more than pleased to face the rest as he enjoyed the evening. 

 

Simon rolled his lips inward as he looked up at the sky in a shitty attempt to distract himself. The stars didn't look the same or seem nearly as captivating without Patty's narrations, and it only held his attention for what he assumed was 30 seconds at best before the unnerving thoughts crept back. Slowly at first, gaining momentum each time they spun and bounced off the inside of his skull, dredging up feelings he had long ignored and colliding at opposing speeds until they compounded, graduating from an F0 to an F5 tornado in record timing.

 

He swore under his breath, closing his eyes again only for his mind to transform into some fucked up drive-in movie theater where the back of his eyelids were used to repeatedly project each time Patty's dad looked at him in utter disgust, like he was a gnarly clump of dirt staining his perfectly starch-white family. He could have laughed out loud at the absurdity; that was shit he was supposed to be used to for fuck's sake. But maybe that was what got him, how eerily similar it was to the way his parents looked at him for as long as he could remember. 

 

Simon waved his mind's hand at the thought, knowing it was less about the looks of disdain and more so what followed those pinched expressions, having to painfully listen to Norm speak some of Simon's own doubts out loud. Her dad so certain that it wasn't an if he would hurt her, but a when, siding with that fucked up voice in Simon's head that insisted it wasn't within him to be good and stay good to her. A sick lesson from the universe reminding him that an angel didn't end up with no fuckin' demon.

 

Kev was doing his best to enjoy the rest of the beautiful joint he rolled, attempting to blow smoke rings to distract from Simon's constant fidgeting less than two feet away from him, but, after several minutes, Kev couldn't ignore the waves of restlessness fanning off of the guy anymore. 

 

“What’s going on with you? Paranoia's contagious, y'know,” Kev grumped, looking over his shoulder to make sure the coast was still clear. 

 

“Did I-,” Simon paused as he looked over at Kev, realizing his internal meltdown was visible enough to be questioned, which was somehow relieving and shameful all at the same time. His need for reassurance outweighed his embarrassment though. “I didn't fuck up coming here tonight, did I?" 

 

“What? Like showing up altogether?" Kev eyed Simon suspiciously as if he asked him a trick question. But Simon's hand moved to rub the back of his neck, and he answered Kev with a sort of sheepish nod that looked entirely out of place on him, resulting in Kev's eyebrows twisting deeper into confusion. 

 

Kev shook his head definitively. "Nah. Standing mom up woulda been way worse. Woulda really fucked over any chance with them."

 

Simon nodded in acknowledgement, only registering the look Kev flashed him as enough of an answer before taking the time to decipher Kev's words, bringing his thumb to his mouth as he stared off. Shit, maybe Kev was right all along; maybe he was a fucking idiot. He tried to justify his reasoning, tried to blame just getting woken up from his self-induced coma on his initial refusal to come to dinner given that his brain felt like someone had plopped it into a goddamn blender and served it to him in a plastic cup before shoving the phone into his fumbling hands with Patty on the other end of the line. But he could have came up with a million reasons, and none of them would have fucking mattered when it almost cost him her. Thank god she had a stubborn streak as fierce as his and refused to take no for an answer. 

 

With an extra moment of reflection, Simon realized not only was he an idiot, but he was also a fucking asshole for assuming she shed those tears on the phone as a manipulation tactic. He'd give anything to be able to turn that voice off in his head, the one that was always convincing himself of shit outside of Patty's character like that. Of course she fucking cried. She was genuinely scared of losing him, losing what they had. Telling her he wasn't coming was like telling her he was breaking up with her.

 

Simon pulled his thumb out of his mouth, tearing down a strip of skin that immediately pulsed with tiny droplets of blood. “You think so?”

 

Kev snorted. “Oh, yeah. I mean, you really pissed off our dad tonight, but Mom likes you for some reason," Kev cut himself off to take one last puff but quickly succumbed to a fit of coughs, raising a hand at Simon to give him a second as he angled his mouth into his shoulder. 

 

Simon wiped his bloody thumb on his pants, bouncing his foot as he waited. That should have made him feel better, and it did until he allowed himself to stew on it for too long. The idea of Connie genuinely liking him for some ill-advised reason made the processed meats served at dinner roll around like a heavy rock in his gut. He was almost irritated by the whole show she put on tonight, pretending like Simon wasn't exactly what Norm had made him out to be. It would have been easier if she had hated him too. Now he had to try to live up to whatever good she saw in him and try to not shit his pants about the possibility of disappointing a different set of parents entirely and losing Patty in the world's worst two-for-one offer. 

 

"So," Kev started again, forcing one last rattling cough out of his chest and stubbing the joint out. "Count your blessings, and don't fuck that up.”

 

Simon rubbed his hands down his face with a groan. Kev said that like he wasn't the king of Fucking Shit Up island. He shook his head and tried to change the subject, in desperate need to ease the growing pressure in his chest, but his mouth spewed before he could review his words, skipping over to the second anxiety internally wreaking havoc. “You got me a little fucked up about the whole moving out shit too."

 

Kev let a boisterous laugh rip from his body, vibrating his shoulders and chest without a single thought to hide his amusement. He was almost envious; he hadn't gotten so high he'd been scared in a long time. There was something really intriguing about seeing Simon in such a vulnerable, delicate state. Made him seem human for half a second. "Your tolerance has gone to shit, huh." 

 

Simon huffed and glared at Kev for a brief moment before throwing a disgruntled hand up in agreement. Whatever Jill's mom grew was fucking killer. He could make a fortune off it, especially since he would sure as fuck stay away from the inventory. 

 

Kev sucked his teeth, patting his knees awkwardly as he tried to find some way to help the guy out. When he brought it up, he was only trying to encourage the two of them to fuck somewhere that wasn't ten feet from his bedroom. Though there was a part of him that did want to see his sister finally escape after all these years. And, given the time to think on it more, he wouldn't trust Patty moving in with anyone other than Simon. Her only other option being Sissy and Karen who were both fucking obnoxious and tended to bulldoze right over Patty at times. Simon at least respected her, knew how to calm her down, knew when she needed space and when she needed someone to hold her hand through whatever shit she had convinced herself of in her head. Seemed like maybe she did the same thing for him in return. 

 

“She really hasn’t said anything to you? Talked my fuckin’ ear off about it.” 

 

Simon tore up a handful of grass next to his boots. “Not a single fucking word.” 

 

“Huh." He truly didn’t think he was starting shit when he said something by any means. For as much as Patty talked about it with him, he figured it was something already in the works, that she would have said something about it to the person she’d be moving in with. And, as a guy, he'd be pretty put off if he had to find out from the chick he was seeing's brother that she was making these types of plans.  

 

“That’s weird, right?” Simon asked, lifting his gaze from terrorizing the yard to Kev. “I mean, gun to my fuckin’ head, I woulda sworn she told me everything." Simon swirled an open palm around with his eyes wide and his lips turned down to emphasize his point. "Especially something like that.”

 

Kev propped his elbows on his raised knees and tweaked a brow at him. He'd witnessed Simon in a bunch of different moods, but nothing like whatever this shit was. He wasn't sure what the fuck to do or say to him, so he landed on extending a universal Patty truth. “Everything she does or doesn’t do is weird. I wouldn’t let it eat you up."

 

Simon scoffed. There had to be a real reason other than "she's weird," and, if Simon was gonna do one thing about the situation, he was gonna tear over the information until he made himself sick. Which he was already doing, coming up with reason after reason for why she would say something to Kev and not him. Maybe it was only a fantasy in her head, something she daydreamed about, but nothing she actually wanted with him. Or maybe he had done or said something to keep her from feeling comfortable enough to bring it up with him. Or, fuck, she could have misunderstood him when he mentioned in passing that he was looking at apartments; he supposed he wasn't clear that it would be for him and only him.

 

There were a million fucking possibilities with her, and Simon, in this moment, hated that one of the things that made him fall for her was her unpredictability. 

 

“I just, I don't know. I-," Simon stopped himself to gather his thoughts, rubbing his forehead tiredly as his mind started to wonder what else she had in mind about their future that she hadn’t told him, what else she was sculpting for them that Simon didn’t see in his. And Patty spent a lot of fucking time up in her head. She could have the next fifty years all sorted out whereas Simon could barely see fifty hours ahead of now. "I feel like that’s something I should know," he finally replied, throwing his hand out in front of him in frustration. 

 

Kev couldn't bite his tongue any longer. “So this is what Danny meant when he called you a drama queen."

 

“Oh, fuck Dan. Kid never had to worry about shit,” Simon spat, waving his hand dismissively. He felt like he was far from being dramatic; he was being realistic. This was an extremely warrantable thing to worry about in his opinion. Sucked that the only person he knew who wouldn’t tell him he was overreacting was the person making him feel this way to begin with. 

 

Kev furrowed his eyebrows at him. He knew that him and Patty were far from carbon copies of the other, but they weren't as wildly different when put side by side as Danny and Simon were. Danny was a bright, fresh white piece of printer paper, while Simon was the millionth copy of a template that was now skewed and fuzzy and barely legible. It seemed like they came from two completely different planets, vastly opposing worlds. He didn't get it. “How did you guys come from the same place and end up so different?” 

 

Simon swatted at the question like a buzzing pest in his ear, but Kev gave him this stupid half-shrug and downturn of his lips that only served to piss Simon off. "Because Dan’s a goody fuckin’ two shoes who would rather bend over and take it before doing anything to fucking stop it."

 

Kev raised his hands in defense, doing his best to dodge Simon's spittle. “Yeesh. Alrighty then.” 

 

“You asked. There's your fucking answer,” Simon grumbled, rooting around for his cigarette pack in his jacket pocket. 

 

Kev waited until the cigarette was lit before asking another question, especially now that his mom wasn't here to scold him every time. Given the newfound information he received over dinner, he couldn't help but be impressed with Patty. Maybe she was setting herself up for life. That's what he'd be doing at least. 

 

“So, like, how rich are we talkin’? You guys trust fund babies or some shit?” 

 

Simon scowled at him. He had made a point to keep that part of him hidden, even though Simon's connection to his family’s wealth could be likened to a dying tributary that was long cut off from the mother river, set to disappear into the landscape like it was never there to begin with. That shit reminded Simon why he hated what he came from, and not only because it took a special type of evilness and selfishness to hoard that kind of money in the first place, to crank the prices on shit people needed to survive to support the family's spending, drinking, and traveling habits. But because he despised how people turned out to be fucking vultures once they knew. 

 

Simon studied the end of his cigarette, sniffing before he answered. “Used to be. Dan and Renae still have theirs." 

 

Kev frowned. There went his fantasy of living vicariously through his sister. "What happened there?"

 

At this point, Simon was seriously considering whacking Kev upside the head again, and he hoped it showed on his face too. Truth was his parents had so many stupid fucking stipulations that Simon had breached half of them long before he reached adulthood, falling out of grace at the ripe age of 13 when he denounced there being a god at Christmas dinner in front of the whole family, and further solidifying that he'd never have access to it by barely graduating high school when they demanded a college education—and, no, a half semester of community college didn't count in their book despite his desperate junkie brain convincing him otherwise at the time.

 

But even if he had met all the requirements, he still would have refused it. "'Cause somehow Dan and Renae can still sleep at night knowing they took Dad's blood money." 

 

Kev shook his head and tilted his gaze up to the night sky to get away from Simon's intensity. If he had any sort of figurable dollar amount at his fingertips, he wasn't so sure he'd care where it came from. Be able to get himself a car and as far away from this house as he could imagine. “Can’t blame them. Think I’d probably take the money too.” 

 

“See, and that’s why you’re a fuckin’ pussy,” Simon snapped, his lip raised in disgust. “No fuckin’ principles to you.” 

 

“Hey, fuck you, man. You don’t know what we’ve been through."

 

“Yeah, alright. It doesn’t get more middle class than this shit,” Simon dismissed as he gestured towards the house. Sure, they probably didn't have all-inclusive vacations or the newest, name-brand clothing, but none of that shit was a necessity. He highly doubted Kev ever had to truly want for anything. He was just an ungrateful little shit. 

 

Kev rolled his eyes as his mind involuntarily replayed Simon's spiel the first night he was here. “I’m sure she hasn't mentioned it to you, but we didn’t always have this.” Kev waved a limp hand at the house to get his point across. He didn't know they had less at the time, only looking back now and comparing his childhood before and after his dad got a new job and they moved into his house that he could see the stark difference. He remembered asking his mom if they were rich now when he walked into his new bedroom adorned with a bunk bed. Eight-year-old Kev was convinced he had it made then. 

 

And it really wasn’t until his mom made him flip through family albums in preparation for his graduation party a few months back that he realized how bad it was. The photos of his mom stick-skinny brought back faint memories of family dinners without his dad at the table and his mom sat beside him without a plate, a smile on her face regardless. But one picture in particular stuck out to him, and he situated it smack-dab in the middle of his poster: his mom, clothes hanging off of her thin frame, with a warm and beaming smile that could be felt through the flimsy photo, him crying on her lap while Patty clung to her leg facing away from the camera. He supposed it was easy to have rose-colored glasses when his mom made the best of every situation. 

 

Simon studied Kev's expression, trying to get a read on whether he was lying or not. While it may have been hypocritical as fuck, he couldn't stand another confirmation of Patty withholding shit from him. Maybe it was because she seemed like she spoke every single thought that came to her head that he assumed there was no filter on her at all. But maybe he was wrong. And, unfortunately, the longer he stared at Kev, the bigger the pathetic glint in his eye seemed to get. 

 

He took a long drag off his cigarette. “She hasn’t.” 

 

Kev shrugged, unsurprised by his answer. “Don't take it personally. She won't talk to me about it either." 

 

Despite his mind running through what else Patty had kept from him, Simon found himself smiling, huffing a short laugh through his nose. Any time there was something that could be deemed a “memento,” Patty snatched it out of his hands before he could toss it. She always claimed she could use it for scrapbooking or in an art project or as a way to remember the date or a memory by. He always relented and handed it over to her no matter how useless the items seemed to be: a ticket stub, a bottle cap, a button he’d ripped off a shirt or two of hers, a napkin or receipt he was mindlessly doodling on. “Is that why she can’t throw anything away?”

 

“I mean, that shit could be from anything," Kev laughed, "but probably.” He didn't exactly understand his sister's diagnoses, but he knew it could cause some bizarre behavior at times, which could very well include hoarding odd items. But he'd be dense to deny that it couldn't have been a direct result of those early years, especially seeing as Patty got the brunt end of it being four years older than him. 

 

Kev was delighted that Simon's mood seemed to lighten as he joined in with Kev's laughter, and he took the opportunity to see if he could peel back one more layer. A question that had been gnawing at his mind since he'd found out. “So, with parents like that, how the fuck did you end up on the street?”

 

Simon snorted, looking at Kev with what he knew read as a tired and annoyed expression. "What is this? What are you doing?"

 

Kev flipped his palms out with a cheesy smile on his face. Patty refused to tell him too, and, now that he was face-to-face with him trying to have the conversation, he was pretty sure it was because she didn't know herself. "'m just curious."

 

By the grace of god, the lights flickered in the bathroom behind Kev's head, and Simon could have jumped for fucking joy. Truth be told, living in that house was fucking exhausting: being deemed an unruly, ungrateful, and untamable child before he was even born resulted in constant reprimands to the point that he couldn’t fucking breathe without being scolded for doing it wrong, not to mention the arbitrary rules, the impossible-to-reach expectations, their ass-backwards ways of thinking that Simon could never and would never conform to. 

 

Renae was on top of him constantly that is if his mom or the nanny wasn't, could barely hide or let out his emotions in the privacy of his own bedroom, tears and shouts and punches to the pillows—at first, and then the drywall constantly soon after—catalogued and added to his growing list of punishments to then be handed over to his mom and executed by his dad. Though there was no discipline, cruel or unusual, that they could have inflicted that would have reversed the rebellion that had been branded into his soul; nothing they could have done to completely shush the innate craving that itched within Simon for chaos.

 

The only person who had gotten close to quieting that side of him was Patty, and, shit, she rarely saw it as a bad thing, going as far as encouraging it and even participating with him at times. He realized that she was probably the first person to know that side of him and love for him it too. It'd always be a part of who he was, what made him him. And while his parents would always hate him for it, the only person in the world whose opinion mattered to Simon felt otherwise. 

 

Kev knew he probably crossed a line based on the way Simon's features darkened, his eyes glazing over, and not in the glossy way because of the smoke, but in a clouded, tormented kind of way instead. That didn't stop Kev from stalling anyway, slowly checking his pockets in hopes that Simon would elaborate, surprised when it worked.

 

"Y'said it yourself," Simon answered anyway as he pulled himself off the ground, syllables garbled by the cigarette in his mouth. "‘With parents like that.'"

 

Wasn't as satisfying an answer as he was hoping for, but Simon was nearly snarling at him around his cigarette, and Kev didn't feel like getting decked again tonight. "Yeah, I'm just gonna..." Kev trailed off, clicking his tongue while he turned both his thumbs toward the house, taking a few bumbling steps backward.

 

"Yeah, you do that," Simon retorted, swiping his finger under his nose. "Lemme know." He let the point of his finger toward the bathroom do the rest of the talking, lighting a fresh cigarette as soon as he walked away.

 

⋆˙⟡♡⋆. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.⋆♡⟡˙⋆

 

Simon paced the backyard like a restless, caged animal as he waited impatiently for Kev to give him the all clear, blowing through nearly two cigarettes by the time the bathroom lights flashed again. He tossed his cigarette and secured the backpack on his shoulders before hauling himself up the house and through the bathroom window, huffing and puffing as he squeezed through the narrow space. Eating regularly for the past two years had its pros and its cons. 

 

He ducked out of the bathroom, checking both ways before slinking down the hallway, expertly avoiding the squeakier floorboards and slipping inside Patty’s room to find her passed out, body sprawled across the entirety of the bed. Simon snorted, leaning against the doorframe as he contemplated whether or not he should leave her to the clearly fantastic sleep she was getting, judging by her soft snores and drool collecting underneath her chin. But that's what he would have wanted; what Patty would have wanted was an official goodbye at the very least, if not more, no matter the cost to her sleep. He tugged at his laces and decidedly kicked off his boots, slinging his backpack off and dropping it at the edge of her bed. 

 

As soon as his knee dipped into the mattress, Patty stirred, humming as Simon clumsily climbed up the bed, trying to dodge her strewn limbs and jostling the bed in a way that would be sure to wake the heaviest of sleepers. He never claimed to be graceful, giggling apologies when his knee or palm struck an arm or a leg.  

 

Patty rolled her body to face him as he settled down next to her, his usual musk of cigarettes and sweat didn't do much to drown out the overpowering scent of weed, making her nose scrunch as she inhaled. “You stink,” she murmured, eyes squeezed shut and voice thick from sleep. She wiped the back of her hand against the corner of her mouth before curling it up between them. 

 

“Never stopped you before,” he chuckled. Shit, when they first met, Simon very much considered a shower a grand luxury, and, even now, he knew she liked it when he was a little sweaty, always burying her face in his skin with a sharp inhale after a workout or a drum session. But he knew it wasn't the sweat she was turning her nose up to. Patty was still a little turned off by the smell of weed.

 

Patty smiled widely at him. "Yeah, you're right." And with that, she surged forward, flinging an arm over his waist and shoving her leg hastily between his knees, her head tilting forward to rest on his chest with a satisfied sigh. Simon could almost hear the click of their bodies slotting together like the final piece of a puzzle. He dipped his head, a brief peck to her crown as he squeezed her tighter.

 

With Simon assuming his usual position of being her personal heated and weighted blanket, Patty had to resist the heavy pull of her eyelids, having much different plans in mind than falling back asleep in the safety of his arms. She had a promise she intended on keeping, and a favor she would take great pleasure in returning. Patty lightly scratched her fingers down his back, dropping to the pads of her fingers as she traced down his side and hiked her leg a little further up his thigh. “What do you want for your favor?”

 

Simon slid his hand under the back of her shirt, dragging his fingers along the warm notches of her spine. “Don’t worry ‘bout that shit tonight, baby. We have plenty of time for you to make it up to me." 

 

Patty huffed in complaint, pulling her head back to meet his eye. “But you deserve it."

 

The following silence was heavy, cocooning around their locked gaze with Patty slowly blossoming a mischievous smile and Simon raising a brow. "I want to," she insisted, jutting her chin forward as she spoke and easing her leg up his thigh until it pressed into the seam of his jeans. She rolled her hips against his leg to further prove her point.

 

“Fuckin’ alright,” he chuckled, feeling lightheaded as all the blood in his body rushed below his waist. He wrapped his fingers around her hip, grinding her up against him and making Patty softly sigh in a way that made him forget why he was resisting her advances in the first place. “What’d you have in mind?” 

 

“It’s whatever you want,” she murmured, a press of her lips to his collarbone before she looked back up at him with bated breath, excited to see what he wanted her to do when given the opportunity. 

 

Simon scratched the spot behind his ear. If she had said those words to him exactly twenty-four hours ago, he probably would have taken full advantage of Patty's willingness to give him full control, but all those offhanded comments tonight insinuating he would pressure her about anything soured his stomach at the idea. 

 

“Yeah, but see, I know you’ve been running scenario after scenario in that head of yours all day,” Simon grinned, tapping his finger on her forehead. "Show me how one plays out."

 

Patty hesitated for a moment, surprised when he didn't take the reins but rather twisted them around to hand them right back to her. But Simon gave her that boyish, crooked grin of his with a nod, and she knew exactly what she wanted to do. She slid her hand back up to his shoulder, using the leverage to pull herself nose to nose with him and dipping her head forward to slot their lips together briefly, giggling as she pulled away to press slow, sloppy kisses down his neck, pausing every once in a while to suction her lips to his skin and dart her tongue against the reddening rings.

 

Simon palmed his hand down her side as he tilted his neck for her, his hand roaming over her ass and gripping where it met her thigh. He lifted her into a better position, one that gave them both more contact, causing Patty to bite back a moan and Simon to heave a sigh. Patty pulled from her attack on his neck, meeting his half-lidded gaze and reaching for his face, their lips crashing together in a desperate fury, leaving them both oxygen-deprived and wanting more. 

 

Simon bit her lip and lapped into her gasping mouth while Patty stroked the fuzzy line of hair gathered under his belly button with her thumb, smiling smugly when he shivered under her touch. She broke the kiss, nuzzling her face in the side of his neck and breathing deeply. Once she could get past the cloud of weed, he smelled like him: earthy sweat mixed with rich tobacco. She licked the salt off his skin, her tongue trailing up to his earlobe before giggling through a poorly contained whisper, "take your clothes off, please."

 

Simon carded his fingers through her hair, tugging just enough to pull her line of sight to his. He paused as he took in her already flushed cheeks and spit-shiny grin, skirting his lips across hers as he asked, “all of ‘em?”

 

“Uh-huh,” she nodded, sucking at his lower lip before scooting back to give him space. Her hand immediately came to his bare chest the moment it was exposed, dragging her fingertips along the ridges and valleys of his body. “Did you lock the door?” 

 

“What, you think this is amateur hour?” Simon teased, maneuvering around Patty, who had exchanged her fingers for her lips, to unbutton his jeans with fat and uncoordinated fingers and shimmied them off.

 

“Hmm?” Patty ditched her lightly grazed pecks for planting open-mouth kisses across his chest and up to his neck, sinking her teeth into the delicate flesh where the two regions met and awarding herself a breathless fuck out of him. 

 

“Nothin’. ‘Course I locked the fuckin’ door." Simon slipped a hand under the hem of her shirt, mirroring Patty and cataloging every inch of her smooth skin as she did his, swirling his fingers around the dimples of her lower back, savoring the soft give around her hips and along the curve of her ass. He dug his fingers in deeper, clinging to her as Patty palmed across the front of his underwear. He felt her smile against his skin as she swiped her thumb over his head. 

 

“Do you want me to put something on?” Patty asked, nodding toward her boombox and then to her record player. She wrapped her hand loosely around Simon, softly tugging upward. 

 

"No." Simon didn't stop the instinctive push of his hips into Patty's palm, searching for more friction. He looked back down to find her mouth slightly agape in confusion, clearly taken aback by his curt answer. He swept his fingers over her face with a smile. "Can’t stand listening to myself while we fuck,” he admitted. 

 

“I have one of your Misfits albums,” she suggested, bending down to brush her lips right under his ribcage.  

 

Simon shook his head slightly, trying to figure out when the hell he gave her one of those. “Which one?” 

 

“Mmm. The one with the skull on it.”

 

Simon bit his lip as he restrained a laugh. “That could be literally any of them, Pats.” 

 

Patty huffed, stilling her hand. “Do you want me to put it on, or no?” 

 

Simon grinned as his still-clothed cock flexed in her hand, no doubt in response to that hint of brat that came out of her. “Nah. Rather hear you.” 

 

Patty rolled her eyes, alternating pulses of each of her fingers along his shaft in a drumming motion. “We have to be quiet,” she reminded him begrudgingly. 

 

“I know, baby. Come here.” Simon's arms swooped around and hoisted her on top of him. A satisfied grin accompanied by crinkled eyes that scanned her up and down like he couldn't believe she was really there, his sure hands urging her hips to rock forward. Patty felt her heart stutter and her cheeks flood as he looked at her with what could only be described as overwhelming adoration. She brought her lips back to his, rocking herself forward and backward, a high-pitched hum escaping her with every upward thrust.   

 

Simon wrapped a hand in her hair while keeping the other firm on her hip, guiding her stuttered movements and grinning when Patty moaned into his open mouth. “C’mon, take this off. Gimme somethin' to look at,” he panted against her lips, tugging at her shirt.

 

Patty nodded and sat up, taking advantage of the position change to slowly rotate her hips against his, the layers of fabric between them somehow muting and amplifying the pleasure all at once. Simon smirked as he watched her, how fucking hot she looked with her bottom lip falling open in a barely contained moan and her hands crossed at the bottom of her shirt in an abandoned attempt to comply with his request, a thin sliver of midriff visible that taunted the ever-living shit out of him. Simon wasn't sure if he wanted to lick, suck, or bite it more. 

 

"Whenever you're ready, Pats," he teased, sliding a hand from her hip to press his fingers into that strip of skin, mesmerized as white halos formed around each prod. Patty bit down on her lip in a smile as she continued with her original task, tossing her shirt behind her and unclasping her bra. Simon sprang up to circle his lips around one breast while kneading the other, feeling Patty squirm and jerk her hips as she cupped her hand around the back of his head. 

 

"Mmm, Simon. This is-this is supposed to be about you," Patty interrupted breathlessly, yanking back on his hair harshly. 

 

He looked up at her through the fan of his eyelashes, his eyes pink and glossy as he gave her a toothy grin. "Baby, this is about me," he chuckled and pressed his face back into her chest, teasing his tongue around one nipple and making her gasp when he rolled his thumb and forefinger around the other. 

 

Patty felt herself melting under Simon's hands and mouth roaming her body. She wanted to be annoyed at his divergence from her selected scenario for him, but Simon always took her to a place where she couldn't think straight, too enraptured in whatever bliss he was giving her to pull herself away immediately. She pushed him back when he brought his head up for a breath of air, keeping her hand out to steer them back on track. "Let me," she half-whispered, half-panted.

 

Simon, pupils blown, nodded feverishly and laid back down for her. His dick twitched in anticipation as Patty combed her eyes hungrily over his body, situating herself between his legs and skating her palms over his thighs. She ran a curious hand down and along his clothed length, stopping to cup his balls and smiling softly. 

 

Simon adjusted his hips as her hand teased him. "Want the Polaroid?" 

 

Patty flicked her eyes back up to him deviously as she grasped him through the fabric. The way want glazed over his eyes, pinked his cheeks, and parted his lips in desperation, and all for her, was a bigger turn on to Patty than his physical attractiveness, albeit a wonderful addition. She'd love to have a physical copy of it. "Will you let me take one of your face?"

 

Simon snorted, though he pressed into Patty's hold with a grunt. "What, like just my face?"

 

Patty nodded, dropping her head to mouth over the front of his underwear and batting her eyelashes back up to his with a smile. 

 

Simon shook his head, leaning back on the pillows and focusing on her ceiling instead. "Hate when you make me tell you no, Pats," he complained, snapping his neck back down as she circled her lips around his tip and lightly sucked him through the cotton, her tongue finding the already-formed damp spot. Patty didn't pause her mouth at his answer, but the fingers that were wrapping around his waistband stilled.

 

Patty knew he was going to say no, but a small part of her was holding out hope that maybe the reality of everything they had being on the line would convince him to let her do the little things. She only wanted one, not a whole photo album, but she didn't want to persuade him. She wanted him to want it too.

 

Patty brought her gaze back up to meet his, smiling as she pulled her mouth off of him. "That's okay."

 

"You sure?" 

 

"Mhm." Patty bent over to kiss along his hip bone, grasping onto his thigh and circling her thumb along the coarse hair. "I just want you to feel as good as you make me feel," she hummed as she peppered a series of kisses into his skin before sinking her teeth into his thigh. 

 

Simon stifled a yelp, biting his lip as he looked down. "Pats, I promise you that's not somethin' you have to worry about." She pulled back to proudly rub her fingers along the indents her incisors left behind, his dick bulging against the strain in his underwear didn't go unnoticed by either of them. He raised his hips for her as she tugged them down. 

 

Patty reflexively wetted her lips as she watched his cock slap against his belly. Her small, satisfied smile quickly transformed into a huge, bubbly grin as she drank in the sight of her real boyfriend, naked in her bed, slack-jawed and flushed, waiting to see what she'd do to him next. Patty had found that she really liked having him in that position. 

 

"Look like you're 'bout to eat me whole," Simon chuckled as she crawled between his legs.

 

"Is it bad that I kinda want to?" she breathed against him, swiping her thumb across the little drops of precum around his tip as she swiped her tongue up his shaft. 

 

Simon sucked in a sharp breath as her hot breath cooled the line of spit she formed along him. "Is it bad that I’d let you?" He snapped his mouth closed as she took his head into her mouth and dropped her hand to grip firmly around the base, slowly stroking up to meet the downward bobs of her head.

 

Patty hummed around his cock, enjoying the broken little gasps from Simon whenever she swirled her tongue around his sensitive head. She squeezed her thighs together as he slapped his hand over his mouth to muffle a moan from her suctioned lips and her wrist corkscrewing along his shaft. She was trying to make a point to only get him off, but those little noises were starting to get the best of her, heat pooling in her lower belly. 

 

“Fuck, Pats. That's it. Just like that,” he moaned as he bucked his hips to increase the pump of her hand around his dick, her grip loose enough to barely give him the friction he craved. "You like gettin' me off, huh, baby. Know exactly what you're doing too."

 

"I had a really good teacher," Patty nodded, pressing his head against her tongue as she answered him and causing Simon to swear under his breath again. She slowly eased her mouth down until she could feel his curly, dense hair tickling her nose and her throat started to reject the intrusion. She hummed as Simon let out a particularly lewd groan, felt his thighs tense under her as she dipped her head up and down, teasing the tip at the back of her throat. Just as his breaths were starting to quicken, Patty lifted back up, letting him pop out of her mouth with a grin and wiping the slobber collecting around her chin.

 

Simon pulled her into a wet, sloppy kiss, tongue swirling into her mouth so abruptly she let out a little squeal. Patty pressed her hands against his chest, shoving him back lightly, and gave him the sternest look she could muster. "I'm not done yet."

 

"God, you fucking kill me." Simon tightened his grip in her hair as she went back down, teasing him with slow, shallow sucks. He fought against the incessant urge to grab her head and pump his hips into her warm mouth until he was slamming into the back of her throat, forcing those choked, wretched noises out of her. He wanted to hear her gag, wanted to see her drool, but the shame he felt from Kev and her dad's words held him back. He opted to gently guide her head further and further down his dick, easing up when her crown pressed back up against his palm.

 

Patty peered up at Simon as she slowly pulled her mouth off of him, dropping a glob of spit on him and replacing her mouth with her hand. “Thank you again, Simon,” she smiled shyly, fluttering her lashes at him in a way that felt like it was sawing his heart in half. 

 

“Anything for you, baby,” he choked out, words constricting in his throat as her hand other came to gently cup and squeeze his balls. “Fuck, do anything to make you happy, but I think you know that already."

 

Patty grinned, alternating her view from his flushed face to the sight of his cock twitching in her hands. She sighed contentedly. "You're the best boyfriend ever." 

 

“Don't know about the best."

 

Patty tightened her grip almost painfully around the base. "I do," she reiterated firmly, waiting for the nod of his head before easing her hold or continuing.

 

"Fuck, okay, baby. I believe you,” he breathed out. Patty released her iron grip and stuck her tongue back out to tease the underside of his head.

 

“Fuck, Pats,” he groaned, toes curling from the feeling of his head sliding across her tongue and the subsequent spasming as she gagged around him, something he hoped she'd never figure out how to stop doing. 

 

Patty lifted her hand to Simon’s mouth and raised her brows as an instruction. Simon grinned and spit into her palm, and she popped her head off to spit into her hand before swirling it down and around his head and shaft. Patty watched in awe as she let him fuck up into her fist for a few thrusts, watching the reddening head slip between the ring of her fingers. She couldn’t resist darting her tongue out to lap at the tip every time he pumped up. 

 

“Jesus Christ,” he panted as she took him back into her warm, velvety mouth. Wet, sloppy noises escaping her suctioned lips as she worked him, letting the drool pool and drip over his balls. He wasn't sure when she had gotten so messy with her blowjobs, but that was far from a complaint. “Gotten so fuckin’ good at that, baby. Look at you. Fuckin’ pro.” 

 

Patty felt a swell of pride flood over her from Simon’s words, the feeling of him bundling her hair to pull it out of her face making her heart pound in her chest. She could tell he was getting close already from those desperate little pants he was making, and she took her free hand to prop underneath Simon's thigh to shift his hips down into a better position. She removed her slick hand from his shaft to slide her index finger down and rested her fingertip with a barely-there pressure on his hole, spreading their combined spit around.  

“Fuck, Pats. Not here,” Simon groaned, shaking his head but pushing against her finger as she pressed it forward. He whined as he forced her first knuckle inside of him, chasing the burn despite his words.

 

Patty pulled her head back up and furrowed her brows, looking between his dick and his eyes in confusion. “But you always cum harder like this."

 

Simon reached out to cup her cheek, swiping a thumb across the spit dribbling down her chin as he looked at her with what he knew had to be pure admiration in his eyes. “I fucking love you,” he chuckled around a pant, unable to hold back a high-pitched whine as she pressed deeper into him. Simon brought his knuckle to his mouth and bit down hard, pushing back down on her finger despite his mind telling him how bad of an idea this would be. He threw his head back against the pillows as she simultaneously took his head back into her mouth while her finger bottomed out. 

 

Simon tried to be good, tried to bite his cheek and his tongue, his knuckle and the meat of his palm to muffle the wrecked noises she was pulling out of him, but he was slowly losing himself on the combination of Patty's mouth, tongue, and finger. "Holy fuck, Patty. That feels s-so, fuck, so good," he encouraged, groaning loudly as she adjusted her wrist to brush a teasing finger against his sweet spot. He brought both his hands haphazardly to her hair, yanking her off with a whine. 

 

"Too much?" Patty asked, concern written all over her drool-smeared face as she slowly pulled her finger out to properly look over him. He was a little red and splotchy like he always was when he was close to cumming, but she didn’t see any signs of pain or distress otherwise.

 

Simon smiled as he tried to find his breathing again. "No, not that. You-that was, fuck, that's always fuckin' tits, Pats,” he panted, shaking his head at the confusion in her eyes.

 

“But why—?”

 

“I can't be fuckin' quiet when you're workin' me like that," Simon admitted as he threw his head back against the pillow. 

 

Patty rolled her lips around her teeth, darting her eyes around the bed as she tried to find some kind of alternative. She reached for her discarded shirt and bunched it up in her hands. "I mean, you could try," she suggested with a nonchalant shrug and a contradictory, amused smirk, bringing the fabric closer until it was hovering over his mouth. 

 

Simon couldn't open his mouth fast enough, moaning at her instructions; his grin splitting at the corner of his lips as she stuffed the dry cotton into his mouth, soaking up the slobber and blocking part of his airway. He nodded and grunted his go-ahead before she could ask if he was okay. 

 

Patty slipped back down to his waist, wiggling her finger around as she spat between them again, slowly easing open the tight band like he taught her, but Simon, per usual, was impatient, jerking his hips downward with an arch of his eyebrow. Patty downturned her lips and nodded, adding a second finger next to her first as she wrapped her lips back around his leaking cock. Simon huffed through his nose, bucking his hips further into her mouth as she flicked her tongue up and down his shaft while slowly scissoring her fingers.

 

Simon couldn’t stop the guttural noise that ripped from his throat, piercing through the cotton as her fingers crooked around and danced right against the little nub inside him, raising his hips while also shoving himself further down on her, his mind going blank and throwing all precautions out the window as she worked him right to the edge. Fuck, if she did that one more time he was a fucking goner already.

 

Patty grinned and hummed around his cock as she felt Simon’s muscles clench, his breathing falter, his hands gripping her hair in desperation. She braced herself as she wiggled her fingers across the spot that always made him come completely undone, and, sure enough, Simon lost the ability to maintain any sort of volume control, choking and moaning around the cotton as his cock throbbed in her mouth.

 

Patty sucked every last drop as she rocked her fingers inside him until he was pulling her off with a grunt, his head still thrown back and chest rising and falling as he tried to suck air back into his lungs. She sat back on her legs, wiping her hands on her shorts and her mouth on her shoulder as she waited for Simon’s breathing to come back to a normal rhythm. He met her eye, glancing down toward the shirt with a raise of his eyebrows that barked are you gonna do anything about this at her. Patty felt her eyebrows pinch forward. It's not like she had his hands bound or anything, but she reached over to remove the shirt from his mouth anyway. 

 

“You okay?” Patty asked, mimicking his typical question and cadence to her. 

 

Simon rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands. “Fuck," he shuddered. Coming back from something like that always took him a second. "Yeah, fuck yeah. More than okay. C’mere,” he replied, voice hoarse and strained. Patty quickly snuggled up next to him and nuzzled her face into his sweaty chest. 

 

“Lemme catch my breath, and I’ll return the favor,” he sighed, squeezing her tighter and kissing her head. But Patty shook against him. 

 

“You always get me off, even when you don’t. Let me do this for once,” Patty murmured dreamily against his skin.

 

Simon chuckled and turned onto his side, pressing their sweaty foreheads together as he stroked her back. He appreciated the sentiment without a doubt, but, after worrying himself sick over the possibility that he'd never get to be this close to her again, how he would have done things differently the last time he had her like this, he wasn't about to pass up the opportunity. If he'd known the night before was potentially their last, he would have really taken his time, savored everything about her. And while that wasn't an option tonight, he still wanted to make her feel as good as she'd let him. 

 

“Gimme, like, ten minutes tops,” he promised, chest still heaving. It was a promise he wasn't sure if he could keep, but he knew she wouldn't turn down his tongue between her legs worse comes to worse.

 

"But—." 

 

"Hush. Let me hold you for a second," he murmured against the top of her head, pressing his body closer, his skin slightly tacky against hers. He kept all the words he wanted to say to her left unsaid for now, not wanting to disturb the blissful peace that always washed over him when he could spend his afterglow in her arms. 

 

Patty gave herself over to Simon's hold and flung an arm around him in return. It was a little rocky in the beginning, but Patty was pleasantly surprised by how big of a cuddlebug Simon turned out to be. No longer rigid when she asked him to stay in bed with her for just a little bit longer; in fact, he was the one pulling her back under the covers and into his arms again when she tried to wander to the bathroom or find some much-needed water. He even seemed more comfortable asking for it now, though she could still make out the reddish blush that would settle on the crest of his cheeks from time to time, especially when it was a request for Patty to spoon him or lay his head on her chest instead. Patty sighed as Simon rubbed his fingertips up and down her spine soothingly.

 

"If you keep doing that, I'm gonna fall asleep," she yawned into his chest after what felt like either seconds or hours. She pried herself from Simon's arms, if only to alleviate the tiredness with a full body stretch. 

 

"Then I'd better stop," he chuckled lightly back to her, pulling her back to him and moving his lips over her neck. 

 

Patty giggled, meeting his eye before throwing her body around, reorienting their limbs to press her back to the flat of his stomach, an ankle wrapped around his while she wiggled her butt until it was flush against his hips.

 

“You sure you’re good with nothin’?” he teased quietly in her ear, ghosting his lips along the pressure point next to her earlobe. Simon ran a hand down the side of her body and rested it on her hip. He suckled onto her neck and pressed his half-hard dick against her cheeks where her shorts had rolled up, dipping his teeth into her skin that resulted in a whimper from Patty. He reached his hand around, stroking across the flat plane of her belly, thumbing at the waistband of her shorts. "Don't pretend for me, baby. If you want somethin', you know all you gotta do is ask."

 

Patty's hand wrapped around his wrist, rolling her hips towards his teasing hand. "Will you touch me?" she asked breathily. "Please?"

 

"There she is," Simon chuckled against her skin and tugged on her shorts. “Take ‘em off."

 

She nodded and hooked her fingers under the band to kick them off. He slid his hand down between her legs, not shocked to find the cotton damp already, and let her take the lead while he enjoyed the twitch and jerk of her hips as she rutted herself shamelessly against his hand. Patty grabbed his hand, shifting to rest firmly on her clit and looking back at him with a plead in her eye that made Simon eagerly lap into her hungry mouth as he rubbed soft, circular motions between her legs until he had her panting more into his mouth. He flipped his palm into her panties and dipped his index finger into her, sending Patty's head knocking back to his shoulder with a gasp. 

 

Patty shook her head and stilled his hand, hopping up before Simon could question her. She made a quick break for her closet, searching for the box of condoms that were now neatly stacked on some old books rather than tossed carelessly into the corner. She pulled one out, spun on her heel, and tossed it in the general direction of Simon’s open hands, missing by a long shot.

 

"I don't know why we even try," Simon laughed as he leaned over the bed to scoop it off the ground. Patty quickly returned, slipping off her panties and brimming with giggles that she buried into his chest.

 

Patty felt Simon’s fingertips trail along the outer edge of her thigh, watching his relaxed, parted lips perk into a grin as goosebumps raised along her flesh. She was two seconds away from snapping at him to stop messing with her like that when he yanked her closer, legs slotted between each other as his lips crashed clumsily against hers. 

 

Patty was more than happy with making out and grinding up against each other until they both passed out, but Simon’s soft touch on her thighs transitioned to rough grasping of his fingers around her hips, rocking her against him in a steady rhythm that had her wanting more, needing more. She jerked her hips forward in time with his pace, both groaning into the other's mouth. 

 

Simon pulled back from her with a gasp, refilling his lungs and spinning a finger at her. “Turn around,” he instructed, grinning at her enthusiastic nod as she rolled over. 

 

Simon fumbled with the condom in the dark, rolling it on his mostly hard dick and pressing himself between her cheeks. He ran his hand over her thighs, around the curve of her ass, up her hips and rolled over her waist until he had a handful of her tits between his fingers. Patty squeaked at his tugging, rolling her hips out and back to try to make contact.

 

“Shh,” he reminded her, pecking her shoulder and nuzzling his nose into her soft skin before sinking his teeth in. 

 

“Mm! Simon,” she hissed.

 

“You’re fine,” he chuckled. “Bite ya harder on your thighs than that. Shit, you just bit me harder than that.” 

 

Patty rolled her eyes and palmed behind her in search of his hips, pulling herself back to meet his once found. Simon took her hint, impatient himself, and rubbed his cock between her lips before pressing his head inside. She threw her head back against his shoulder, bottom lip between her teeth and back arching as he slowly sank in. He turned her chin to his, muffling his moans inside her mouth as he bottomed out. 

 

“God, Simon,” she groaned, rolling her hips back to meet his slow, teasing thrusts, relishing in how full she felt when he slammed his hips all the way forward, reaching depths that both his and her fingers could never reach. She felt his rough hand snake between her arms and up her chest until his hand was hovering over her mouth. 

 

“Gotta be quiet, Pats. Didn’t put in all that work for nothin’,” he teased lightheartedly, though he meant every word. If they got caught like this, they were fucked. She nodded as his hand closed around her mouth, simultaneously snapping his hips and pushing a muffled groan out of her. 

 

As he picked up the pace, swallowing her noises with either his mouth or his hand, he found himself thinking about how much easier this shit would be if they did live together, how much more of her he could break down and build back up, and let her do the same to him. Shit, the idea that he could roll over to her in the morning instead of his fucking hand was enough to make him visibly downturn his lips at the thought. He could maybe get his brain on board with the concept if he started dick first, his cock reacting to the bombardment of possibilities they’d have if they didn’t have to worry about siblings or parents. He smiled into her skin as she rocked her hips back to meet his, biting her shoulder to resist asking her to move in with him now. 

 

Patty moaned hot and humid into his palm as his dick stroked right up against her gspot. The muffled noise wasn't as good as what he knew she could sound like, and, fuck, if he wasn't gonna be able to hear her, he at least wanted to see her. He clamped his hand harder around her mouth as he quickly pulled out and rolled her onto her back.

 

Patty’s legs wrapped around his waist, impatiently raising her hips at him. Simon chuckled as he shifted her body down and readjusted her legs, falling back onto his hands around her head and meeting her lips as he pushed back inside. Patty whined against his lips, and he broke the kiss, meeting her intense gaze as her arms came to wrap around his neck, trying to hold back his own moans at her clenching walls. 

 

A brush of her nose against his. "Simon?" 

 

His lips skirted across hers as he answered. "Yeah, baby." 

 

Patty was quiet for a spell, and Simon felt a teasing grin form below him before she surged forward into a kiss that was more tongue and teeth than anything else, murmuring I love yous between kisses. And even though he told her she could say it whenever, Patty had this insistence on reminding him when he was quite literally balls deep in her, and he always had to pretend like it didn't feel like she dropped a bucket of gas on his chest, lit a match, and walked away. 

 

But, like all things with Patty, she slowly coaxed it out of him, patient as a goddamn saint as he struggled with the contradictory push and pull of his emotions wanting to run toward the feeling and away from it at the same time, like a stray that wasn't sure if the open palm was really going to feed him when he had only been smacked in the past.

 

Simon found himself returning her radiant smile. “Love you too, Pats. Love fuckin’ you, love holdin’ you, love kissin’ you, love makin’ ya smile, love everything about you.” 

 

Patty reveled in the feeling of his sticky skin pressed against hers, his hot breaths as he panted along her neck, his humming as he quieted moans into his throat, the feel of his fingers between her hair, even the droplets of his sweat that dripped onto her skin as he worked over her. The reality that all of this was almost yanked out of both of their hands at the drop of the hat came crashing harshly down on her as she met his eye again, her chest constricting as she couldn't bear to think what it would be like if she never got to have him like this again—or at all for that matter. She dug her nails into his back and pressed her face as hard as she could into his body, trying desperately to fight off the flood of emotions. She wasn’t sure if it was the sudden wetness against his skin or the sob that burst from her lungs on a particularly deep thrust, but either way, Simon immediately stilled over her.

 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he demanded, swiping his thumbs over her tear-streaked cheeks, her skin boiling under his touch. Patty slowly blinked at him, tears burgeoning over as she bit her wobbly bottom lip. “Jesus Christ, did I-did I hurt you?” He started looking her over frantically, at every spot he was holding or grabbing at her and began to pull his hips away to make sure he didn't hurt her somewhere worse. 

 

Patty made a noise of protest, throwing her arms around his neck and digging her heels into his back to keep him from leaving. The thought of him peeling away from her in this moment, no matter how big or small, was far too devastating for her to face. She shook her head against his shoulder and jerked her hips in a gesture to tell him it was okay to keep going, but Simon didn’t budge. 

 

“Ain’t no fuckin’ way I’m fucking you through these types of tears, Pats,” he managed to say around a chuckle despite his worry. Truth be told, if either of them were going to cry during or after sex, it was going to be Simon after one too many beers. But Patty had never gotten quite like this before, and this was way more than just shedding a few tears out of pleasure. This was gasping, snot running down her nose type of crying, and maybe if he didn't love her, he would have kept going at her instruction. But it was Patty. And he couldn't stand the thought of hurting her in any regard, but especially this one. 

 

He grabbed his drool-free shirt and patted her nose and cheeks dry, all while Patty kept jerking and rotating her hips the whole time. Simon rolled his eyes playfully at her impatience, stopping to press a peck to her forehead. “Tell me what’s goin’ on first. Can you-can you talk to me?" 

 

Patty looked up toward the ceiling as she tried to blink away the tears, taking in a huge breath to try to calm herself down, but she knew there was no way she was going to find her voice this quickly through the onslaught of emotions. She shook her head at Simon again, her knuckles rubbing up and down her throat in a signal Simon now knew as her communicating her inability to speak.

 

"Okay, just let me, fuck, hold on, Pats," Simon griped, trying to pull out but instead getting attacked by Patty's limbs once again. He wanted to pry her off, get to the bottom of what was going on, but the moment her face hit his shoulder, she really let the levee down, and he knew better than to try to wrench her from whatever comfort she needed from him. He cupped his palm to the back of her head, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb while she worked out whatever was going through her head. 

 

“C’mon, Pats. You-you’re kinda fuckin' worryin’ me here,” he pleaded as he squeezed her back. And because his dick was a sick bastard and had a mind of its own, his hips surged forward as she shifted around, a wet laugh bubbling out of her throat as she looked down between them with a devious grin. Patty took it as a green light, grinding her hips against him and throwing her head back as she moaned, tears slowly springing from the corner of her eyes and cascading onto the pillow below her. 

 

"God, you drive me fucking crazy," Simon murmured as his lips came back to suction at her neck, dropping most of his weight to pin her hips and stop her movements. He internally groaned at himself, his dick trying to figure out what the fuck he was doing while his heart was panicking at whatever was going on in her head. "We're not doin' shit til you got your voice back."

 

Patty nodded against him and took a shaky breath. Even though he wasn't moving, the feeling of him resting fully inside her, her muscles spasming every so often in response or spurring his own twitches, was driving her quickly towards desperation. She was appreciative of his precautions, but she wasn't about to break by any means. She was just so relieved that she didn't have to lose him tonight, that she got to keep being his real girlfriend, even if she wasn't always perfect, even when she made mistakes. That he always made her feel this good, no matter how difficult she made things at times. 

 

Simon waited and waited and waited, resisting every urge to say fuck it and resume pounding into her until they were both cumming. He could tell the pause was driving her insane too based on her squirming and clenching around him, and he allowed her to sneakily get a few rolls of her hips in, meeting her gentle rocks in spite of himself. 

 

“I-," Patty paused as she wiped the tears from her face, the syllables feeling foreign and awkward in the back of her throat. She was going to force it out though; she was starting to get frustrated which was certainly going to transform into pissy if he didn't finish what he started. 

 

Simon held his breath, relief and worry both overcoming him at the sound of her voice. He could see the struggle in her eyes, the way her mouth tried to form around the words like the muscle memory had been wiped clean. He bent down to give her a sweet peck on the lips, rubbing a thumb across a dried tear path. "Take your time, baby. There's no rush," he reminded her, giving her a crooked smile. "I'm not goin' anywhere."

 

Patty bit her lip and nodded, tears welling up in her eyes again. She slammed her forehead back into his shoulder, a part of her needing that verbal reassurance, but the other part mad at him for saying it out loud and sending her dangerously close to square one again. She dug her fingernails into his back as he squeezed her closer, using him to ground her back to reality. 

 

"That what this about? Hm?" he whispered, gently stroking her hairline and pretending like her reaction didn't feel like she took a scalpel right along the edge of his scar and reopened his chest. 

 

Patty nodded briskly against his shoulder, squeezing her limbs around him tighter. She fell back onto the pillow and closed her eyes, avoiding his eye contact. "Yeah," she squeaked out softly. 

 

“I was scared too, y'know," he admitted, pressing his lips to her neck gently. "Think I'm fuckin' addicted to you or some shit 'cause I was ready to go off the deep end if shit went sideways," he chuckled, relieved when she giggled softly back, a finger twirling around the curls at his nape. "And even if it did, nothing's gonna keep me from you at the end of the day, Pats."

 

Patty nodded against him, taking a deep breath and exhaling as her breaths started to even out. "Do fuckin' anything to make sure you stay mine,” he added sweetly, pressing his lips from her cheek to her neck to her shoulder and back up until Patty was giggling again. She batted her eyelashes up to his, cocking her head to the side to ask him to keep going. 

 

Simon bit back a groan as she laughed, lifting himself back up and readjusting her legs as he pumped into her slowly and deeply. He kept his eyes locked on hers in search of any indication to stop, though she closed them tightly as he pressed his pelvis flush with hers. “Mmm, you sure you’re okay? You know I really don’t mind—.” 

 

“Y-yes," she interrupted, voice back and hands flat on his chest in warning. She needed this more than she could put into words. Everything was fine. They were going to be fine, they weren't going to lose each other, and all Patty really needed right now was for him to stop teasing her and let her cum. "Please, Simon. D-don’t stop."  

 

Simon grinned widely at her, snagging one of her pillows and shoving it behind her bedpost while Patty’s eyes tracked his movements with a curious smile. The second he had the pillow secured, he ran his fingers through her hair, over her face to swipe away any remaining tears, and then pulled her bottom lip down with his thumb. Patty giggled and opened her mouth, and Simon dipped his index finger inside as he picked up the pace. 

 

Patty swallowed a shocked gasp as she suckled around Simon’s finger, sucking the salt off from her lingering tears. The harsh snap of his hips sent her eyes rolling to the back of her head as he reached that spot in her that exploded with pleasure, and she cried out around his finger. She loved when he had her like this, when he overwhelmed her senses, when she couldn’t focus on anything but his touch, his scent, his taste, his airy grunts. 

 

“Fuck, you're perfect,” he gasped. “And mine. All fuckin’ mine." Patty knew this meant he was close, the beginnings of his ramblings. It was her favorite part. "Always take it so good. Fuck, you’re so good. Too fuckin' good for me, baby. Gonna get me off twice in ten fuckin' minutes, that's how good you are,” he moaned in her ear, his words alone pushing Patty closer to the edge, the muscles in her legs trembling as her tongue swirled around his finger.

 

Simon suddenly stopped the drive of his hips, dropping down and rocking against her to give her as much friction as he could. “Want you to cum first though, baby. Think you can do that for me?"

 

Patty moaned, nodding feverishly through blurred vision. She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, shifting down while lifting her hips for more contact as Simon slowed to steady, deep strokes that had her pulling his finger out of her mouth to bite down on her knuckle as hard as she could to restrain the whines threatening to tear from her throat. It took only a cheesy grin coupled with a brutal slam of his hips to give her what she needed, her back arching, thighs clenching, and her nails digging into his back as she found release.  

 

Simon swore under his breath the moment he felt her walls buckle and spasm around him, thankful he had the foresight to stuff a pillow behind the bed to cushion his thrusts, burying his face into her neck to muffle his grunts and moans against her sweat-soaked skin as she tore his own orgasm right out of him. 

 

After several moments of their chests heaving against each other, Simon lifted himself back up, clumsily wiping the hair out of her face as they both shared sleepy, fucked-out smiles. "Christ, Pats," he chuckled. "Fuckin' favor returned and then some. Goddamn." 

 

Patty giggled proudly in return, but Simon's grin turned serious very quickly as he scanned over her face, eyes darting wildly. "You sure you're okay? Scared me there for a second." 

 

Patty rubbed over her hot cheeks and turned her head to look away for a second. She was hoping he wouldn't have brought it up, feeling like they had already worked through what needed to be worked through. He wasn't going anywhere no matter what, and neither was she. "Mhm," she nodded, rolling her head back to meet his eye with a tired smile. "Are you?"

 

Simon narrowed his eyes at her, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from snapping at her blasé response, but the longer he studied her, the more genuine she seemed. He assumed she probably got overwhelmed, and he couldn't fault her for that. "Me? Couldn't be better," he boasted, rolling off of her and immediately yanking the condom off, tying it and tossing it in the general direction of her trash can. He stretched and sprawled across her bed, letting his eyes fall shut as he reached blindly for her. 

 

"Simon!" she gasped in disbelief, swatting his arm as she watched the used latex slap the back of her desk chair and fall to the ground with a wet slap. 

 

"What?"

 

Patty made several jumbled noises as she gestured wildly at the scenery before her. Simon lifted his head just enough to peer over and see what she was going on about. He rolled his eyes and waved his hand at it. "I'll get it when I leave. Just come here for now," he mumbled, patting her designated spot on his chest. 

 

Patty pouted her lips but conceded, wiggling her way into his arms with a happy sigh. She pressed her lips to his chest before tearing her glasses off and setting them onto her nightstand. 

 

“Hey Simon?”

 

Simon managed a grunt in acknowledgement, sinking further into the mattress as the tension that had been holding him up all day finally started to ease. He cracked his neck and groaned in relief, sighing as Patty curled up into him. 

 

“Don’t fall asleep,” she yawned.

 

”Just restin’ my eyes,” he murmured, rubbing her back lightly and feeling the heavy pull of sleep taunting him with every slow blink of his eyelids. Simon finally permitted them to close, his arms and legs and chest feeling like they weighed a hundred pounds each under Patty's comforting weight. “I’ll get up in a sec. I promise.” 

Notes:

just to be so real with you all, these next chapters I only have like a rough outline for (i usually have combed through the chapters at least twice before getting to this point lol), so it may be a little bit before I have it ironed out enough to post.

thank you for all the love so far! i kick my feet at every kudos n comment y'all leave, so thank you thank you thank you!!! 💖

Chapter 6

Notes:

sorry i couldn't help it. here's another smutty one (if you prefer to skip, the last half is decently smut-free-ish)

 

also i think we can all agree that me trying to keep chapters under 10k was ridiculous but at least im trying okay lol

Patty stirred from her peaceful slumber with a groan as the grating screech of her alarm echoed throughout her room. She blindly darted her arm out of the cozy confines of the blanket to disdainfully smack the snooze button, missing once, twice, three times before her fist met the button with success. She hastily tucked the blankets back over her, soothed back to sleep by a light snoring in her ear.  

 

When her alarm inevitably sounded the second time, Patty angrily kicked her feet with a defiant noise of protest, fueled entirely by the thought of having to leave the comfort of her bed in exchange for a few paltry bucks an hour at a place she had come to loathe.

 

Patty didn’t feel like she found her purpose at the parlor, far from it, and part of her wished she would have heeded her mom’s warnings when she applied. She hated scooping ice cream or mixing milkshakes for screeching children, or loud, bumbling teenagers, or, her least favorite, tired middle-aged women who seemed to complain about every little thing, especially shit Patty had no control over. She could only point to the locked thermostat so many times as an additional explanation as to why the inside of an ice cream shop was cold before she wanted to pull her hair out. And, on bad days, Patty walked into the back and did exactly that. 

 

But she wasn't going to admit any of that to Connie anytime soon, didn't want to hear an "I told you so.” Besides, summer was coming to an end soon, the shop would slow down, and she'd have more time to scribble in her notebook rather than having to tend to ungrateful patrons. She just had to get through this last hump.

 

None of that made her want to go into work though. 

 

Expelling the last bit of anger with a final thrash of her feet, the ball of her foot came down hard on what she thought was maybe her camera or a book left in the bed, but the supposed inanimate object grunted and the bed shifted behind her. All frustration was instantly replaced by fear, and Patty stilled her movements, her heart threatening to beat out of her chest as she slowly turned. Though her vision was still fuzzy without glasses, she could easily make out the sight of Simon blissfully snoozing away next to her. 

 

Patty shot upright and snagged her glasses, breathing a sigh of relief when she confirmed her door was still locked. She rubbed her fists in her eyes, and, through splotchy vision, she was able to make out the time on her clock, decidedly settling back into bed once more to take advantage of Simon’s presence. She could have jostled him awake, went off on him for throwing a wrench in her usual Monday morning routine, but she didn't want to. Not yet at least. She'd much prefer starting her work week with an extra fifteen minutes of cuddling than yelling. 

 

A monstrous grin consumed her face as she combed her eyes over him: his plush lips parted, his bare chest rising and falling with even breaths, the crease between his brow smoothing over in a way it never came close to when he was awake, his hair spiking in every direction—not to mention Patty’s favorite, the tight coils that formed along his hairline from sweating throughout the night. He looked younger too, especially with the faint speckling of freckles he had developed over the course of the summer. If she knew it wouldn't have pissed Simon off, she would have snapped a picture of him right then and there and promptly hung it on her wall right next to her bed. 

 

Patty hummed a giggle as she basked in the familiar flutter of emotions that would overwhelm her system any time she let herself study Simon's features: an addicting warmth that bloomed magnificently in her chest, curling around and hugging her heart delightfully like warming her hands over a fire after spending an afternoon out in the Michigan snow.

 

She nudged herself closer to him, taking a deep breath and sighing happily as his radiant body heat and scent surrounded her. Everything that compiled together to form him was beautiful, breathtaking even. Every freckle, mole, scar, blemish, and wrinkle. She knew Simon would never accept those words if she spoke them out loud, so she thought them as hard as she could, hoping, maybe, somehow, telepathically, the message would seep into his subconscious. 

 

Like a spring day in the Midwest, the sunny skies shifted to a gray overcast in the matter of seconds, the hot, bubbly warmth that had enveloped her chest dropped to a bone-rattling cold, sour and bitter in her stomach, rising up her throat and forming a dense lump that she struggled to swallow around. She should enjoy every second she got with him this morning; it very well could be the last time she got to have him like this for quite some time. 

 

Before Patty could spiral too far, her thoughts were interrupted by Kev's heavy footsteps booming down the hallway, the sound of the bathroom door slamming, and the shower turning on. There went her only chance at snagging any of the leftover hot water, but, today, she didn't even think to put up a fight and go pounding her fist on the door like she usually did. A cold shower was the least of her concerns. 

 

Patty smiled softly as Simon heaved a snore and flopped a leg over hers, parting the clouds and returning the euphoric heat that thawed the ice in her chest as he pulled her closer in his sleep. She carefully brushed the hair out of his face, having become an expert in executing those delicate touches without waking him. It took multiple instances of accidentally receiving a ring of bruises around her wrist or a smack to her hand—to which he always profusely apologized—that she finally figured out she needed the touch of a butterfly’s foot when it came to a sleeping Simon. It was one thing to have the weight of her arm or leg or head on him, but a pinprick touch was always sure to set him off. 

 

“Patty!” Her mom’s shrilly singsong of her name was accompanied by three aggressive knocks that rattled the doorframe. “You need to get up and at ‘em!” 

 

Simon jolted awake, a noise of confusion leaving his lips that was quickly silenced by Patty slapping her hand over his mouth, putting a finger to her lips with easily the meanest face she’d ever given him. Heart racing, he grabbed her wrist instinctively, trying to pry the suffocating hand off in his panic, but she held firm, clawing the pads of her fingers into either cheek. 

 

“I’m up, Mom!”

 

Simon darted his tongue out, slathering a thick stripe of saliva on her palm. Patty immediately dropped it with a grimace and wiped the targeted hand on the comforter. “Ew. Gross, Simon.”

 

“Be glad I didn’t bite you,” he croaked as he rubbed his face, his shoulder popping audibly from the position he slept in. Simon threw himself back down on the pillows, shielding his eyes from the blinding morning light with his hand. “Fuck, what time is it?”

 

Arms crossed, Patty peered over at her alarm clock. “It’s 7:48. You were supposed to leave right after,” she whispered-yelled with a fierce look in her eye that told Simon she would be actually yelling at him if she could. “I told you not to fall asleep. You promised, Simon.”  

 

Simon rolled onto his stomach, shoving his face into her pillows to muffle his morning ritual of hacking his lungs up and mumbling a halfhearted apology in between, effectively employing what Dan would call “picking his battles” despite the incessant urge that roiled within him to fight against her exaggerated scolding. This shit was small potatoes out of all the promises he had and could have broken, but he wasn't awake or willing enough to put them both in a shitty mood first thing in the morning. 

 

Besides, Simon knew they had been walking a fine fucking line when it came to him crashing at her place anyway, but he was admittedly never all that good at quitting while he was ahead. And if Simon was one thing it was confident, always managing to sneak out without waking her up or getting caught. And even if he did pass out in her bed, Simon could depend on his inability to sleep through the night without a pharmaceutical sleep aid to ensure he’d never put them in this position.

 

Patty inhaled sharply, cocking her head at him, her knuckles dragging loosely across the other. “What happened?”

 

Simon snorted as he rolled back to face her, a corner of his lip turning up. “What do you mean what happened? You happened,” he chuckled with a jab of his index finger to her shoulder. “Wore me the fuck out.”

 

Patty pushed her lips to the side, glancing down at the spot he poked before returning her gaze to his. “But you never sleep that long.”

 

“Yeah, no shit,” he replied curtly, rubbing his eyes one more time before fully sitting up. There was no use dwelling on what should have happened when he needed to use all the juice he had to get themselves out of this mess. Simon threw his hands out in front of him. “So what’s the game plan?” 

 

Patty blinked rapidly at him, her eyebrows pinching together as she studied his expression. First, he was sleeping through the night, and now he thought they were playing some sort of game? She found it a bit concerning to say the least. Maybe he took something last night, and that’s why he was so out of it. “What are you talking about?” 

 

Simon didn’t think he deserved the look she was giving him, but, with only a quick shake of his head to express any sort of annoyance, he revised his inquiry softly. “I meant what should we do?” 

 

“Well, I have to leave soon to go to work." 

 

Simon squeezed his eyes shut instead of rolling them. “Yeah, okay. What do you want me to do?” 

 

“Oh. Well, Dad’s already left, but Mom doesn’t leave for her book club til 10:30. You’re gonna have to wait until then to sneak out.”

 

“So what? I gotta sit here with my dick in my hands and fucking pray your mom doesn’t come barging in?” 

 

“I don’t see why your dick has to be—.”

 

“I'm just trying to say I’m concerned about her comin’ in here, Pats."

 

Patty shook her head. “She won’t. But you can lock the door after I leave if you want.” 

 

Simon eyed her suspiciously. He believed that she believed that, but Connie seemed like the type to be unable to resist coming in and tidying up after her children. He was about to ask how she don’t know that her mom got a key even if he did lock it when she bent over in front of him to rummage through one of her drawers. All previous thoughts out the door, Simon raised his eyebrows and leaned over to catch a better look as she took her sweet time digging through the drawer, her hips swaying side to side while she hummed along to some melody he'd never heard before. Fuck, she always looked so fucking good wearing nothing but his T-shirt and a pair of panties. He hoped she never found what she was searching for. 

 

Simon brushed a hand over the strain his morning wood was causing in his briefs. "So what time you gotta leave?” 

 

Patty could recognize that tone of voice on him anywhere, a wave of heat pooling in her lower belly as she whipped around to face him. She watched his tongue dart out to wet his lips, his eyes at a half-lid as they scanned her up and down, hips shifting restlessly under the blankets. Patty smiled, abandoning her clothes on top of her dresser and taking a step towards him. “In about an hour."

 

Simon grabbed her wrist once she was in reach and pulled her on top of him with a small squeal from Patty. That was plenty of time, about 4-5 times the length that he would need. “Let me make this up to you?” His lips skirted over her neck as he spoke, peppering kisses as he awaited her answer.

 

Patty leaned into his touch, nodding feverishly and bringing her fingers to further tangle his bedhead. Simon roughly pawed his hands down her side, slipping his fingers underneath the tshirt to grope her chest, and slotting their lips together. His lips were supple, moving soft and sweet against hers, but Patty was already desperate, rolling her hips against his thigh and turning the kiss from chaste to sloppy with a messy, wandering tongue. She felt him smile against her lips, his calloused fingers swapping from kneading her breast to tweaking a nipple, and she sighed into his mouth, arching towards his touch. 

 

Simon bit back a groan as her thigh grazed his aching dick, her teeth nibbling at his bottom lip. He drifted his fingers down and across her tummy until he found the pronounced little nub tucked behind her cotton panties. A whine from Patty when he tapped on his destination followed by a desperate nod and gasp once he started drawing slow, teasing circles. 

 

Patty broke the kiss with a pant, resting her head in the crook of his neck while Simon worked his fingers expertly outside her panties, alternating between featherlight brushes and firm strokes that had her sinking her teeth into his neck. He hooked a finger in her waistband. "You wanna take these off for me?" 

 

Patty hesitated, glancing between Simon and the locked door. It was one thing when they had sex at night. Her parents were usually already in bed, and, if not, downstairs at the very least. But her mom tended to run up and down the stairs in the morning. She wasn't about to say no, but they would have to be much, much quieter than last night to avoid getting caught. 

 

A gentle hand came to her cheek, and she brought her eyesight back to his, blue eyes shining as he smiled and nodded toward her turntable. “Want me to put on that album of mine you got?” 

 

Patty nodded enthusiastically, wrapping her arms around his neck and thanking his quick thinking with a soft and tender kiss. Their lips melted against each other, locked in an embrace of warm limbs and unhurried, open-mouth kisses that left both of them lightheaded. She chased his lips as Simon extricated himself from her arms, making a beeline for her bin.

 

She watched Simon’s half-smirk transform into a real smile once he found the album, a downturn of his lips when he flipped over the cover and reviewed the song list. She’d only listened to it once and wasn’t the biggest fan, but she already decided to give it another try based on that look alone. She promptly yanked off her panties and patted the spot next to her. 

 

Simon knew he was smiling ear to ear, already pleasantly surprised to see what album she'd snagged from him, but the cherry on top was turning back around to find a look of awe and hunger on Patty as she spread her legs and beckoned him to the bed. He couldn't get to her fast enough, rearranging her pillows, stacking and shifting them down a couple inches from the headboard before laying down and reaching for her hips. 

 

"What are you doing?" Patty asked tentatively.

 

“You know what I'm doing,” he chuckled, gesturing to his face. “Come here.”  

 

Patty curled her lips inward and nodded, a blush and a smile creeping across her face while she straddled Simon’s head, his strong grip latching onto her thighs with a quiet hum. Patty shuddered from the feel of his hot breath against her. “Wouldn't wanna start my day any other way, Pats.” And that was the only warning she got before his fingers urged her hips forward, his tongue meeting the space in between. 

 

Patty bit down hard on her knuckle, grasping onto the headboard with her other hand as his tongue dipped in and out of her before traveling north, sending electric currents down her spine with every skilled swipe. She tilted her hips forward with a low moan as Simon mimicked his move from earlier, switching between soft kitten licks until she was shaking and begging silently for more and broad strokes of his tongue that had her throwing her head back and grinding her hips harder on his face, chasing a rapidly approaching orgasm. 

 

Just as Patty was really starting to lose herself on Simon's tongue and lips, her core began to quake and her thighs trembled from holding herself upright in a rigid position. She knew Simon always told her he wouldn’t wanna go out any other way, but she was still understandably apprehensive of letting her full weight down and potentially suffocating him. 

 

Simon slapped her thigh, not hard enough to really hurt but enough to get his point across. "Will you relax? I've got you."

 

Patty sighed as she gave in and let her weight drop, earning a raunchy moan out of Simon before he returned to lapping at her clit, swirling his tongue against her, slowly at first, and increasing his speed with every moan and gasp that escaped her. 

 

Simon groaned into her at the sound of choked-back squeals, his name a repeated, breathy mantra on her lips. His hips reflexively bucked upward in desperate search for any friction, his cock pulsing helplessly with every tantalizing sound she made, a symphony he wanted to listen to on repeat. He needed to speed this along, teasing the tip of his tongue across her clit before rolling his lips and lightly sucking on the nub, a low groan rumbling in her chest.

 

“Godfuckingdammitsimon.” Patty buckled over as sparks of pleasure travelled from deep within her belly outward all the way to her fingertips. Simon slowed the flat of his tongue long and hard against her, lapping obscenely. And even though she was right on the edge, she palmed either side of his head and jerked her hips up and away. 

 

"Hey, I wasn't—."

 

“I want to cum with you inside me,” she demanded, looking over her shoulder nervously but back down at him with a devious smile. “Please?” 

 

Simon nodded weakly, jaw slacked while a pathetic “okay” left his lips like some dumbstruck virgin. He loosened his grip on her hips, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and rolled off her bed to head toward her closet. He carded a bumbling hand around, swearing under his breath and sticking his head in when he couldn’t find the box. “What the fuck? Did you fucking move it or some shit?”

 

“No, I thought you moved it. It’s in the back left now. On top of all those—.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Found it,” he grumbled. Simon spun on his heel, and, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the used, slimy condom from the night before still sitting disgustingly outside of her trash can. Snorting at the sight, he bent down with a groan and flung it into the trash. 

 

“Hip fuckin’ hurts,” he complained, crawling back into the bed. 

 

Patty's bottom lip jutted out in concern as she looked him over. “Why?” 

 

Simon looked at her incredulously. “Remember when you fucking tackled me like a goddamn football player yesterday?” he teased, dipping his head to nip at her neck. Patty giggled and nodded against him. “Got more power than you realize, baby.” 

 

Patty angled her head to give him more room, his tongue and teeth tearing over the delicate flesh, sending shockwaves right between her legs. He gave her one last love bite before he pulled off with a sigh, stroking his thumb over the yellow and purple bruises he left on her neck. “Gonna miss these." 

 

And that was the fucking truth. Simon loved taking her out in public, especially shows, with a bright purple hickey or two on her neck. He adored watching her go off and do her own thing anyway, but it was incredibly gratifying when she'd interact with other people and their eyes would flick down to her neck before returning to either her face or his. The best, though, was coming up behind her while some fuckhead was talking at her and hearing her giggle as she introduced him as her boyfriend while he sucked along her skin. 

 

If he wanted to be really honest, Simon was still grappling with how to deal and manage his possessiveness and jealousy. He was careful to never take it out on her, knowing it didn't stem from a lack of trust in Patty but rather other men. Logically, he knew not every guy that came up to her was interested, especially with clear bruises on her neck, but that had never stopped him from pursuing someone in the past. So he kept his guard up, barking and snapping at anyone the moment Patty's face turned sour, leaving him sickly satisfied when it would escalate and leave his knuckles bloody. 

 

Simon wasn't sure how he was going to react when the last mark that tied her to him finally faded, but he was sure it wasn't going to be good. 

 

“Me too,” she gasped as Simon dipped his head to nibble and suck along the tender area. She didn't love them as much as he did, mostly due to the stares she would get from customers or from people on the bus, but she did enjoy trailing a finger over them in the mirror, reminiscing over how each one came to be.

 

Okay, and maybe she also really liked the way Simon behaved around her when he caught anyone staring too long or throwing disapproved glances towards them. But she didn't want to encourage anything that would potentially lead to him getting into more trouble, so she kept her lips sealed. Her facial expressions, however, she couldn't hide to save her life. She was pretty certain Simon knew how she felt based on that alone. 

 

“Simon,” she whined playfully when he didn’t stop sucking. She wrapped her fingers in his hair and yanked him off. She could only hope he didn't leave fresh marks.

 

Patty shoved him back playfully before he could make some smart-ass comment, and flopped around on the bed, hiking her hips into the air. She heard Simon murmur something indistinguishable behind her, one hand coming to her rub along the curve of her hip while the other slid a pillow under her tummy. 

 

Patty heard him rip open the condom and wiggled her hips in anticipation. He slipped a finger between her folds, and she pushed her hips back for more contact, restraining a low moan the moment she felt him replace his fingers with the tip of his cock, teasing the head at her entrance. 

 

Patty stuffed her face into the pillow to help silence her gasps and groans as she felt Simon press inside and slowly ease his way in, giving them both time to adjust to each other. Patty tilted her hips back and up to meet his gentle thrusts, clawing her fingers in the bedsheets when he filled her entirely with a whiney moan.

 

But, just as it started to get good, Simon stalled. “Can I get you to flip around?” 

 

Patty snapped her head to face him, nose scrunched in confusion. “But it feels better like this.” 

 

Simon laughed lightly through his nose, smiling softly at her. He knew her retort was going to be along those lines, and he didn't blame her. Could always rock up into her g-spot from this angle, always get just a little bit deeper than usual too. But his request wasn't coming from his dick, this time.

 

“I know, baby. Please? I just—,” he shook his hand out in front of him, trying to spit out the words. In his effort, it sounded more like him snapping at her than a confession though. "Wanna see your face, alright?" 

 

Patty reached her fingertips back to stroke his thigh lightly. “Switch me instead?” 

 

“Yeah, okay,” Simon breathed out, pulling his hips back sharply and hoisting Patty on top of him. As soon as she was situated, Simon’s hands began tearing over her skin, his eyes roaming hungrily up and down her body as she rocked their hips against each other. She felt his fingers digging into her hips, urging her upwards, but Patty wasn't going to let him off that easy. 

 

“Do you want the Polaroid?” she teased, mocking him from the night before. She lifted her hips and wrapped her fingers around him, guiding his cock to slide against her clit, dragging her hips along his shaft while she waited for his answer.

 

“I mean,” he slipped his fingers under the shirt and tugged it over her chest, cupping his hand around her breast. “Yeah, fuck yeah. Hand it over.” 

 

Simon laid back down as Patty pushed the camera into his hand. She sat up straighter, tugging his shirt over her head and squeezing out a big, toothy smile, cheeks flushed and eyes glimmering devilishly down at him. 

 

Simon brought the viewer up to his eye, swearing under his breath. Her milky skin was glowing, bathed in strips of golden sunlight, the rays filtering through her chocolate brown hair formed a fiery halo around her. “You look like a fuckin’ angel, Pats,” he murmured right before he pressed the trigger, capturing the moment she giggled at the compliment. Satisfied, he ripped the picture out and threw it on her nightstand. 

 

Now far past the point of impatience, Simon lifted Patty’s hips, grabbing a hold of his cock and circling his head around her clit before pressing himself inside. He forced his eyes to stay open, watching Patty’s mouth drop open, a slight perk to the corners of her lips as he slowly sank into her heat, her walls clenching and stretching around him as he bottomed out. 

 

"God, you feel fuckin' good, Pats. Always feel so fuckin' good." Simon threw his head back on the pillows, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to calm himself down.

 

Patty sighed in response, resting her forehead on his shoulder and panting lightly as she raised her hips inch by inch until only his head was inside. She leisurely lowered herself down again, finding a shared rhythm once Simon began jerking his hips upward to meet her languid movements. Patty focused her lips on sucking little love marks along his chest to keep herself from squealing every time their hips met, him pounding his full length up into her with her hips slamming down to meet halfway combining in a blissful ecstasy. 

 

“Hey Simon?” 

 

“Mm, you okay?” 

 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” she grinned, dropping her hips down to meet where he stopped his thrust, forcing a groan out of him. “Don’t stop.” 

 

Simon snorted at her, guiding her hips to sink back down on his cock with a controlled exhale out his nose. He was having a hard time thinking about anything other than how perfect she felt, so hot and wet and squeezing him just right, but he wasn't too far gone yet to circle back. “What is it?” he pressed, brushing her hair out of her face.  

 

"Hmm? Oh, yeah," she panted, pushing herself up to look him in the eye which didn't last long, sparing a glance down to watch their bodies smack against each other. “Is it bad that we only talk about music and sex?” 

 

Patty forced her gaze from watching his cock disappear inside her to gauge Simon's reaction. Face contorted in confusion, he shook his head briefly and gave her this look like she'd grown a second head, tightening his grip on her hips to slow her movements. “Fuck no. Why? You think it's bad?"

 

“No,” she answered breathily, slamming her hips down to meet his soft thrusts, quickly growing frustrated by Simon's deceleration. She placed her hands on either of his shoulders and set a steady pace, raising her hips about halfway up his shaft and dropping her full weight on him again, scooping her hips forward on the down thrusts. 

 

Simon's hands left her hips to flip his palms out. “Okay, so what the fuck," he laughed. 

 

Patty brought her hand to the back of his head, biting at her lip. “Do you—oh god, Simon, yes,” she groaned as he rocked into her at the perfect angle, reaching that special spot inside her that made her vision explode. "Right there," she moaned quietly, bouncing her hips to maintain the delicious friction and pressure.  

 

“Do I what?” he teased in her ear.

 

Patty took in a huge gulp of air, the edges of her mind growing fuzzy as Simon held her hips still, taking control. Each thrust sending waves of pleasure from deep within, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. “Do you, mm!—do you think I’m a, fuck—I’m a bad girlfriend?” 

 

A noise of disbelief broke free from Simon's lips as he clasped his hand around her waist tightly to still both of their movements. "What the fuck did you just say to me?” 

 

Patty felt her already warm cheeks burn and fizzle as she met his eye, realizing that this may have not been the most opportune moment to ask, but she already let the question fester overnight. She didn't need to stew on it all day at work too. “Do you think I’m a bad girlfriend, Simon?”

 

Simon stroked his thumb over her cheek, searching her eyes in a desperate hope that maybe she was just fucking with him. But the longer he studied her, the more her expression confirmed it was a genuine inquisition. Simon felt his heart sink. “Jesus Christ. Fuck no, Pats. Thought I made it obvious you weren’t,” he grumbled. “Why the fuck are you asking that?”

 

Patty looked down at him and shrugged. The words felt jumbled in her throat, and she wasn’t sure how to piece them all together yet. All she could feel was the pit of dread reigniting in her tummy. 

 

Simon scoffed. “No, no, no. There’s a fuckin’ reason. And I wanna know. Tell me,” he demanded, index finger thumping against her sternum. 

 

Patty chewed on her lip, tracing little shapes on his chest while she thought through what she wanted to say. “Well, I-I didn’t know what your parents did, or what you’re allergic to. And I didn't know all that stuff about how you got that badge, and I feel bad for bringing up Rita to my parents when I didn't realize how much she meant to you. And I don’t know…" she answered as quickly as she could, chest heaving slightly from forcing it all out in one breath. "I think there’s a lot of stuff I don’t know about you."

 

Simon opened his mouth to contest her statement, but she wasn’t exactly wrong. Patty may have not known his full history, but, in Simon's head, there was nobody that knew him better than her. Knew his mannerisms and what he liked to eat and how to handle him and what his favorite songs were and how to make him laugh and where and how to kiss him in the way that made him putty in her hands and when to hold him and when to give him space if he was in a shitty mood. Shit, the girl could take one look at him and read him like an open book, could look past all those walls he put up and reach directly inside like no one else had before. 

 

But that wasn't the same as knowing where he came from, what led him to being in her arms today. Instead, he strategically fed her bits and pieces when he could stomach it, though he scared her off from asking any type of follow up question. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if she looked at him differently if he just came out and laid everything out on the table for her. Didn’t want her doubting him and his ability to maintain what they had when everything had been so, so good. 

 

“Shit, I’ve only been out for fuckin’ three months. Cut me some slack,” he chuckled, easily taking her misplaced blame. “There’s alotta shit I didn’t wanna tell you on a recorded line or through pen and paper. Fuck, clearly can’t even spit it out in person.” He stroked her face sweetly and mustered a smile. “That’s not on you, okay?” 

 

Simon watched as Patty narrowed her brows, could see her brain trying to plug in all his words, but it was obvious it wasn’t making her feel any better if her persistent frown was anything to go by. She shrugged her shoulders again and rocked her hips back and forth. 

 

He dug his fingers into her skin to stop her movements with a huff. Why she had to wait to have this conversation until they were fucking, he’ll never know. “Fucking Christ. Do you think I’m a bad boyfriend?”

 

Patty’s mouth dropped open in shock of the question. Simon raised his eyebrows and blinked at her in a way that said, see, that’s what it felt like when you asked me. She reached down to brush her fingers along his pinked cheeks, running a fingertip over the cluster of moles on his right cheek. “No. You’re the best boyfriend,” she answered with a sure smile.

 

“Thank fucking God," Simon sighed, leaning his cheek into her touch. "Is there somethin’ else you want to talk about then?” He shifted his hips, raising his knees to get a better angle to pump up into her. 

 

Adequately reassured, Patty shook her head and let out a giggle that transformed into a moan as Simon plunged his hips upward. “No. Keep going."

 

Simon didn’t need any further instruction, a choked noise escaping his throat as he increased his speed, watching her face scrunch in inaudible bliss, her lips parting to expel a breathy swear that made his cock throb. Her nails bit into his skin with every upward thrust, the faint pain entangling with every bit of pleasure she was wringing out of him. God, he hoped she left marks. 

 

Simon wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, pulling her close and occupying his lips along her neck to help quiet himself. He inhaled deeply. She smelled like home, or the closest thing he had to home in a long fucking time. Of all things, that's what made his hips stutter, losing his rhythm as he toed dangerously close to the edge of his orgasm. He paused, playing it off for teasing her. He wasn't ready to be done with her quite yet, never minded prolonging his gratification to ensure hers. 

 

Patty bit her lip to suppress a giggle. She thought it was funny that he thought he could still hide that from her. She snaked her hand between them, pressing her middle finger firmly to her clit. She moaned, but it was far more in response to the look of adoration and need on Simon’s face than the added self-pleasure. 

 

Simon bit his lip as he watched her eyes roll to the back of her head, her hands quickly abandoned her clit, coming to his chest to meet each of his thrusts. Her eyes darted down between their bodies before they bore right back into his. 

 

“Simon,” she breathed, barely above a whisper, almost like a warning. Patty raised her eyebrows with a cocky grin as Simon’s hips stuttered again, swearing under his breath through gritted teeth. She used her leverage to slam her hips down, the music barely loud enough to cover the sounds of sticky skin slapping wetly against each other. 

 

“Mm, mhm.” 

 

Patty waited until he met her eye again, disregarding her previous request and surging forward to ghost her lips against his. “Don't hold back. I want you to cum.” 

 

Her words short-circuited something in his brain, forgetting all previous intentions while the muscles in his stomach and thighs tensed as she met his thrusts. “Fuck,” he groaned, colliding his lips against hers, the tug in his core pressing his hips upward erratically. The mixture of her breathy demand, throaty gasps, and her walls clenching and massaging his cock just right sent him hurtling towards his climax, pouring moan after moan into her mouth as he let go. 

 

Simon’s chest heaved against hers for quite some time, his head buried in her neck, eventually releasing his hold on her and angling his face to give her a look of mock annoyance. He poked her chest. “Don’t fuckin’ do that.” 

 

Patty bit at the inside of her lip, but her smile persisted anyway. “What?” 

 

“You know what,” he chuckled, ignoring her whine as he pulled out, and pushed her softly onto her back, sliding his body down her frame. He grabbed her legs and threw them over his shoulders, dipping his teeth gently into her thigh. “Was tryin' to hold out for you,” he huffed, pressing two fingers into her and lapping at her clit. 

 

Patty slapped her hand over her mouth, forgetting the retort she had in mind with Simon drawing long, teasing licks up and down her, burying his fingers as deep in her as they could go and curling up to tap her sweet spot. She whined as he slowly rocked them in and out of her, keeping the same pace with his tongue. A slow, gradual rhythm that built up, up, up before slowly easing back down, working her right to the edge and backing off again. 

 

“Simon,” she hissed after the third time. Her thighs were shaking involuntarily from his teasing, frustration growing and desperation rising.

 

He looked up at her through his eyelashes, smirking in a way that was somehow both annoying and endearing at the same time. “But you always cum harder like this.” 

 

Patty narrowed her eyes at him, flustered at him using her words from last night against her. She let her head drop back to the pillow, sucking in a deep, shaky breath. She wanted to argue, but he swirled his tongue just right, making her toes curl and her thighs clamp around his head. Simon moaned into her as Patty arched her back, begging please over and over again. She felt Simon's free hand snake up her body until it found her breast, lightly pinching her nipple. 

 

“Oh, please, Simon. D-don’t stop. I-I’m gonna–I’m gonna—,” she pleaded, her head rocking back and forth, hands pressed to the back of his head as she finally dove over the edge, biting her cheek until she tasted ruddy iron in her mouth while Simon lapped and licked her through her climax. 

 

Patty whined at the overstimulation, shoving the heel of her hand against his forehead to pry him off. She didn’t bother looking down, knowing he had that smug smile on his face like he always did. She caught her breath, forearm dangling off her forehead while she slowly came back to reality. 

 

“Good?” Simon chirped, still nestled between her legs, head resting on her thigh. 

 

“Y-yes. Always,” she panted, finally looking down at his red cheeks and slobbery mouth, his moustache glistening. She reached down to wipe his face off for him like he’d do for her, and Simon leaned into her touch, pushing his cheek into her palm like a housecat. Patty wanted to put little kitty ears on him in that moment, but she kept that vision to herself for now. 

 

Simon climbed back up the bed, rubbing a hand down his face and grinning over at her. “Sure you hafta go in? Could do this all day if you wanted.” 

 

“Yes, Simon,” she sniped, pulling herself to the edge of the bed. If she called in every time he asked, she’d probably only work one day a week. Patty knew that she was letting her jealousy show, but it was hard not to when she’d seen Simon make her weekly paycheck in the matter of a few, short hours numerous times. 

 

Simon grabbed her wrist before she could get up. “Hey, you mad at me?” 

 

Patty smiled gently as she turned around. “No,” she said softly. “Not at you.”

 

Simon furrowed his brows at her, waving an exasperated hand around. “Okay, but you are mad.”

 

Patty made a little humph of a noise, neither confirming or denying, and focused her attention on getting her panties back on. 

 

“C’mon, don’t fuckin' do this. Tell me what you’re mad about.” Simon had wanted it to come out as more of a command, but it sounded a lot more like a plea when it reached his ears. 

 

Patty huffed as she bundled her work clothes in her arms, trying to recall the terms that Simon used when he would go on his rants regarding this subject. “I think if I tried to explain it to you, you’d tell me to be mad at Reagan instead of you.” 

 

Simon slapped his palm over his mouth to stifle a barking laugh and shook his head. “Fucking Christ. Probably.” He had subjected her to one too many rants on the detrimental toll of unchecked capitalism, but at least she knew to be mad at the man instead of him. “If I had it my way, you wouldn’t have to work either, baby. You know that, right?” 

 

"I think you don't want me to work more than I don't wanna work," Patty snarked, threading her arms through her robe and cinching it shut. 

 

"Yeah, okay." Simon smoothed down his moustache to contain his smile. She wasn't wrong; he was honestly a shitty influence on her when it came to that arena specifically. He'd never pass up the opportunity to roll around in bed with her all day and ignore the outside world even if that meant utilizing some careful words of persuasion.

 

But that wasn't always his motivation. Patty was proof that the whole system was fucked, that it achieved the goal it set out to do: to beat down, exhaust, and squeeze the life out of a person. Simon would probably be a little less insistent if she worked somewhere that brought her at least some joy. Not the fucking ice cream shop that had her in tears half the time—he could only get in her manager's face so many times without the cops getting called on him.

 

So, yeah, on days that he could tell her patience was wearing thin or seemed more tired than usual, he did convince her to call out. Better that than catching another charge. Felt like he was doing his part of being a decent partner, but maybe it was more irritating to her than she initially led on. 

 

Patty bounced over to the bed again to plant a wet, sloppy kiss on his lips. “I'm gonna hop in the shower. Stay here.” 

 

Simon grabbed her wrist with a cheesy grin and a wink. "Hey, I mean that, you know." 

 

Patty arched a brow at him. "Thanks," she replied slowly, knowing it came out as more of a question than anything else.

 

Simon rolled his eyes and wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, pulling her in for one more kiss and biting at her bottom lip before she could pull away again. “Any shot you’d take the Polaroid with you?” 

 

Patty glanced back at the camera sitting on its side on her nightstand, pursing her lips together to hide her grin. She wrapped her robe around her tighter, snagging the camera and leaving the room without a word. 

 

The instant the shower turned on Simon's mind began racing, wondering what she'd come up with for him. Shit, he was almost giddy with excitement; the pictures Patty would typically take for him were either in her bed or his. When he asked, he didn't think she'd agree, especially seeing as he already got one of her this morning. Not that he was complaining by any means. Simon had been lucky to share a shower or two with her at Dan’s, enough memorized to piece together how she looked when the hot water cascaded down her body. 

 

If he closed his eyes, he could see her hair first, waves formed by the water and curling up around her shoulders, a dry spot on the top of her head frizzing from the humidity. Her cheeks were next, pink and perked into a smile. Simon then followed the trail of water droplets, starting on the tip of her nose, trickling over her lips, down her neck and chest, over the skin of her tummy, and settling onto her bush. In his mind's eye, he spun her around, watching the stream of water that ran over her shoulders, sliding down her waist, and around the curves of her ass.

 

Simon snorted at himself, shifting in the bed and adjusting the front of his underwear, his spent cock somehow twitching with interest at the scene he formed in his head. He was always a horn dog at heart but never quite like this before, to be this consumed with one singular person, still wanting more after getting his rocks off. There was no shame in his post-nut clarity anymore which was fucking weird but relieving. He could only hope she felt the same way.

 

Simon heard the shower turn off, grinning at the subsequent banging on the bathroom countertop. He knew Patty hated his curiosity with her routines, and he never poked or questioned her about it. Though he did make sure to always mention that he adored it, found it endearing, and honestly was relieved there was some predictability when it came to her. Based off his previous experience, he had about two minutes before she was gracing his presence once again if he timed out her knocks, taps, and bangs correctly. 

 

Patty snuck back into the room shortly after with a sly grin, padding over to the bed and leaning over to drop a wet smooch against his lips. Simon chuckled lightly as one of her damp ringlets dribbled leftover water onto his face and neck, something that at one point probably would have irritated him. But now, it just made him want to pull her back into bed with him and continue the great "going to work" debate, unbothered by the wet hair if it meant he could keep her in his arms a little longer. 

 

Patty beat him to breaking the kiss, a glimmer of mischief in her eye as she whispered, "close your eyes.” Simon didn’t hesitate to squeeze them shut, though he kept his ears out, expecting to hear the fabric of her robe slide across her skin and hit the ground. Instead, he heard her stomping around the room, opening and closing her drawers frantically, a rip of a piece of paper, and what had to be a pen uncapping by the clattering on the desk. Simon bit his cheek to hold back a smile. 

 

“No peeking!” she called, like she had eyes in the back of her head and could tell Simon had barely squinted open his left eye. 

 

“I’m not,” he grumbled, pressing his knuckles into his sockets as proof should she turn back to check.

 

With a triumphant hum, he heard her cross the room, her excited heavy breathing as she neared, a gentle press of her fingers to his chest, a barely noticeable weight on his sternum. “Open!” 

 

Simon's eyes flickered opened, pupils dilating as he grasped onto a black envelope, sealed with exactly 2 pinks hearts and an admittedly adorable kitten with a pink ball of yarn in the middle. A rush of anticipation, excitement, joy, and maybe even a dash of love, comparable to some of his best highs, came over him all at once. "Patty, baby..."

 

“I know it’s not the same, but I missed sending them, and—mm!” 

 

Simon couldn't get her lips to his fast enough, one hand wrapping around the back of her head while the other gripped onto the envelope as tight as he could, as if it would fly away if he loosened his grip even the teensiest amount. Simon slid his hand to her cheek, breaking the kiss, and brushing his nose against hers in the way she always did to him. “You got any idea how much I love you?"

 

Patty was quite pleased with herself. Her best ideas always came to her in the shower. “Yes, I think I do,” she giggled. “I love you too.”

 

Simon leaned forward to close the distance between their lips again, but Patty placed her hand flat on his chest. She couldn't get sucked into this back and forth with him, or she'd have to walk to work. And that was the absolute last thing she wanted to do this morning. "I have to finish getting ready. You’re not allowed to open that until I’m gone,” she instructed decisively, standing back up and dropping her robe. 

 

“Goddamn, givin’ me a whole show today, huh.” He sat up to watch her pull on a pair of butterfly panties and a thin bralette. The one that he could always see her nipples poking through. It was his favorite of hers, and he was suddenly very envious of whoever dared to indulge in ice cream today. He'd have to stop by on his way home.

 

Patty ignored him, glancing up at the clock and tugging her uniform on. She darted her eyes at the camera and back at him, her tongue wetting her lips. “Will you leave me one too?” 

 

Simon raised his eyebrows at her, a permanent grin on his face that didn't fade even when he scrubbed his hand over his mouth. “Think I could do that for you."

 

“Good,” Patty chirped, pulling her wet hair into a ponytail before crossing the room and placing a sweet peck on his lips. She tried to mimic the face her mom always put on when she was being firm with her and Kev, dropping her hand to his thigh and gripping hard. “Don’t leave this room til 10:30, Simon. No matter how antsy you get.”

 

Simon knew she was trying to be serious, but her grasp and tone only accelerated the flow of blood to his lower half. He bit his lip, though his teeth couldn't contain his smirk. "And you're sure you have to go in?" 

 

Patty looked down at where her hand was on his thigh, rolling her eyes playfully. “I’ll take the bus back to your place when I’m off, okay?” 

 

Simon nodded and let Patty guide him back in the bed, tucking the blanket back over him and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. They both knew he wasn't going back to sleep, but she wanted to do it and Simon'd be a liar if he said he didn't like it at least a little bit. He pulled her in for one last kiss and gave her butt a smack as she turned away. 

 

Simon listened to Patty stumble down the stairs, heard her hollering to her mom and the front door slamming shut, and sprang to his feet. In one long stride, he reached the door, promptly locking it before frantically pulling his clothes back on. He knew it wasn't possible, but a part of him felt like Connie would be able to see through the walls and floor, catching him buck ass naked in her daughter’s bedroom. And even he couldn't sweet talk his way out of that one. 

 

Simon sat on the edge of her bed for a while, jiggling his leg up and down while he listened to what he assumed was Kev coming and going as well, footfalls too heavy and careless to sound like Connie’s, until they disappeared down the hall and out the front door. He stayed as still as possible, hoping maybe, just maybe, that Connie would leave a bit early, but it seemed like luck wasn't on his side today. 

 

The reality was that Simon was never any good at sitting still, and he needed to do something other than watch the clock tick by. He fidgeted with his backpack, combing through the little contents left in it after emptying it almost completely the day before. As he suspected, he found nothing to keep his mind and body preoccupied.

 

He ended up on his feet, pacing the room for quite some time before he decided rather than dodging the clothes and belongings littering Patty's bedroom floor that he could stand to help clean it up instead. They had kinda wrecked it last night: half of the bed sheet pulled off and exposing the mattress beneath, her stuffed animals in a sad looking pile on the floor, and clothes thrown haphazardly across the room. They both weren't exactly the tidiest people in the world, but it was significantly easier to convince himself to clean her room instead of his, even if it was just to keep his hands busy. 

 

Once the bed was made and the floor was cleared, he moved onto straightening the tops of her nightstand, dresser, and desk. Fuck, she had a lot of shit.

 

Before he could think to stop himself, Simon pulled out the chair at her desk, inspecting her trinkets and other bizarre items she kept around. His eyes had glazed over her belongings enough times that the forms and colors were familiar, but he had never stopped to study each individual item. It was more entertaining than he would have thought to imagine how she acquired each and every one. He'd have to ask her about them sometime. 

 

Unbeknownst to him, the seal was cracked on his curiosity the moment he sat down, and he couldn't resist diving deeper, pulling open the top drawer of her desk. His eyes immediately landed on an open notebook page that he looked away from the moment he figured out it was the list, numbered far past what they had initially shared with each other too. He felt his heart do this weird skip-jump thing as he thought about her taking the time to continue it, that she was still finding more reasons she "kept him around for" as the days went by. He kinda felt like a dick for not doing the same. 

 

Simon fumbled his fingers around the notebook, flipping it over and deciding against snooping in it. He would bet she’d want to have another rendition sooner or later, and he was glad he had the heads up. He easily had a dozen reasons he could add to his too. He'd pull it back out when he got home. 

 

With the notebook out of the way, he shuffled through the first drawer, finding at least five other filled notebooks going back only god knows how far, stamps, the user’s manual to her boombox from five years ago, an open pack of pens and pencils, a pair of purple glittery scissors, tapes and glue sticks, and a stack of butchered magazines. 

 

He slid the first drawer shut, quickly moving onto the second. This one seemed more like her art supplies drawer: some loose ribbon, several bottles of glitter, a bag of nail polish that included a bright pink polish he'd never seen her wear and did not include any black polish to his disappointment, several bottles of acrylic paint, a corked jar of random buttons of all shapes and sizes, some rocks, a box of crayons and colored pencils, paint brushes, and some other supplies he wasn’t sure what they were used for but was sure she did. 

 

Simon knew Patty was artistic, but he guessed he never really asked her or saw her doing anything outside of music. He saw the posters on her walls, the little doodles she’d do in the corners or at the bottom of the letters she’d send him, hell, she'd talked about her high school and junior college art classes enough times that he knew it was the only thing she enjoyed at school. He didn't have a good excuse for not knowing, and now, more than anything, he was dying to see her in that zone. He wondered if she stuck her tongue out like she did when she was plucking at a guitar, or if her brow furrowed in the same way it did when she tapped a pen to her lips while contemplating lyrics.

 

Moving onto the very last drawer, he found a stack of black envelopes that were sitting on top ready-to-go, covered in stickers and addressed to him. He assumed Patty had prepped them for every week he was supposed to be cooped up behind bars, springing his early release on her meant that there would be a handful leftover. He smiled fondly at them, his heart and dick simultaneously jumping at the reminder that he had another one waiting for him once he was done being nosey. 

 

Selfishly, Simon wished she still sent them, but even he knew that was a crazy ask when they took pictures of each other all the time and worked on music together weekly. When given the option, he'd take what they had now over pining over faceless pictures of a chick who wrote arguably the best lyrics he'd ever read. But, still, there was something different when the poems were meant for his eyes only. Made him feel special. 

 

Underneath long discarded notebook pages, scribbled-on sticky notes, and strewn sticker sheets, Simon uncovered a shoebox with a single label reading “music boyfriend” on the side. He instinctively looked over his shoulder as if Patty was moments away from barging into her room and catching him red-handed. But was it really getting caught when the damn thing had his name on? Plus, Patty went through his shit all the time without asking. If she somehow found out, he could claim that they were even now.

 

He lifted the box out and set it on her desk, drumming his fingers on the lid, and tried to prepare himself for what he was about to uncover. Simon took a deep breath and opened it, his eyes darting around the contents in confusion. It looked like a bunch of random shit at first glance. He tilted the box to confirm he read the glittery label correctly and shook his head when his eyes hadn't deceived him.

 

Letting the box fall back flat on its bottom, he pulled out the first familiar thing he saw: a stack of neatly folded, yellow-lined papers, the ones he'd sent her while he was in jail. He felt a corner of his lip drag up as he unfolded them, finding what he assumed were her hand-selected favorites. He wasn't shocked that the infamous blowjob one was sitting on top, nearly too worn to handle anymore. He chuckled at the little notes she had made in the margins. She really took that shit seriously, and he could tell with that first one she gave him. Definitely better than other people's first, and certainly better the first time he went down on a guy.

 

Combing through the rest of the letters, he found that most of them involved some kind of sexual fantasy that she clearly used to get off to, but there were a couple of sappy ones in there too. After he swallowed the embarrassment of how cheesy his own words were, he kind of surprised himself with how sweet he was to her, painting visions of what life could look like once he was out on the other side. He made it clear it didn't matter where they were or what they were doing, he just wanted to have her by his side no matter what. As he kept reading, he realized he hadn't followed through with everything he entailed, but there was still plenty of time and this was a damn good reminder. 

 

He set the letters to the side, eyes glazing over a handful of visitor passes from each time Danny brought her up to see him and settling on the rock he gave her at the bus stop what felt like a lifetime ago. He grinned as he picked it up and admired it. It was a pretty neat looking rock, considering he picked it out himself. On initial glance, it just looked like a boring, beige rock, but upon further investigation, there were strips of dark, navy blue paired side by side with iron red deposits. He smiled faintly as he remembered how she wanted to tell him she loved him instead of the rock when he handed it to her, a stark contrast to now where she never hesitated to thank him with those three little words. 

 

While it took him a second to remember where it came from, the next item his eyes landed on were the keycard from the hotel they stayed at that first night of freedom. If there was one thing about Patty, the girl was sentimental down to her core. He never would have thought to keep this shit, just like the ticket stub from the movie theater sitting next to it. He didn’t remember a single plot or story line, far more preoccupied with trying to keep Patty quiet to avoid catching a public indecency charge than caring about some chick flick playing in the background.

 

A napkin he had doodled on had made its way in here. And so had a piece of cardstock he had ripped from some junk mail, biting back a smile as he flipped it over and found his own handwriting looking back at him: WENT 4 CIGS. BE BACK SOON. LOVE YOU

 

He snorted as he untucked a Chinese menu from the bottom of the box. His amusement shifted quickly into adoration once he realized not only was it his favorite Chinese takeout spot, but, when he flipped it open, his order was circled with a heart sticker next to it. 

 

Next to a cherry sucker and a guitar pick he had given her was one of his old lighters and a nearly empty cigarette pack. He immediately recognized the packaging as what was the half full pack he had when he had gotten arrested. And he knew that for a damn fact because his trusty brand had changed its packaging by the time he was released.

 

He flipped open the pack and found two lonely cigarettes left. He knew she picked up the habit there for a while, and while he didn't mind sharing one with her after they banged it out, a part of him was relieved Connie and Norm had put a stop to that. He hated that his dirty habits rubbed off on her like that. 

 

His fingers brushed over what looked like a printed picture of a flower on it, but as he looked closer, he realized it was actually an imprint. "What the fuck," he chuckled under his breath, wondering how and why she knew how to do that. It was a dainty, vibrant purple flower, though Simon wouldn't have been able to identify it to save his life. It had caught his eye on his way back from Albert's one day, hard not to with it peeking out through the gray cracks of the crumbling concrete in a long abandoned lot, not all too different from how Patty popped into his life. 

 

Simon grinned as he picked up a single black drawstring. He knew exactly what this was from, considering it was only a week or so ago now.

 

It was long after sunset by the time they left Donnie's place, the usually warm summer air turned chilly after a storm that had blown in earlier in the day. Patty had asked to borrow one of his hoodies before they left Dan's in preparation, and he gestured to his closet and told her to have at it.

 

“Hey Simon?” 

 

Simon looked over at her pulling the hood over her head to combat the nippy weather, her hand coming back to wrap around his as they strolled down the sidewalk in no real rush.

 

Simon pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, swaying into her side. “Yes, baby?” He remembered hearing the rise and fall in his inflection, made his cheeks burn at how soft he’d gotten looking back on it now. 

 

“Why don’t any of your hoodies have the strings?” She asked, fingers hovering over the two holes at the collar of the hood. 

 

Simon grinned, swinging their clasped hands as they rounded the corner to the bus stop. “Same reason none of my sweatpants or basketball shorts do either.”

 

“Huh?”

 

Simon stopped to lean against the pole, turning to face her head on. “They strip that shit from you when you get detained, Pats." 

 

Patty looked down like she was very concentrated, chewing on the edge of a fingernail. “What’s detain mean again?”

 

“Arrested.” 

 

“Oh,” Patty nodded, looking up at the sky and back at Simon. He watched her face carefully, preparing himself for a grimace that would never come.

 

She smiled. “How many times have you been arrested?” 

 

Simon took a long drag off his cigarette, scratching his head. “Uh, before or after I was 18?” 

 

Patty shrugged. “Does it make a difference?”

 

“Fuck yeah it makes a difference,” Simon laughed. “You see, everything before 18 doesn’t count. They expunge it, take your record and seal it, and it don’t count against you as an adult.” 

 

Patty nodded. “So how many before 18?”

 

Simon gave a good effort to count for her, giving up quickly once he ran out of fingers and realized he wasn't coherent for all of them anyway. “Somewhere between 15 and 20. I don’t fuckin’ remember honestly. Cops knew my car, usually pulled me over 'cause they knew they'd find something."

 

“Oh." Patty blinked at him. "You had a car?"

 

Simon raised a brow at her, flicking his cigarette and readjusting his backpack on his shoulders. "Yeah, that's a long story," he lied. It wasn't long. He owed his dealer so much money that the next time he showed up, he had a gun pointed at him and was forced to hand his keys over. End of story. But looking back on the memory now, he wished he would have just told her. He already thought she deserved better than him, the least he could do was be fucking honest about it. 

 

Patty nodded as she pushed her lips to the side, looking down at her toes while she rocked back and forth on her feet, fingers reaching for drawstrings that weren't there. Simon smiled at that then, admittedly a little fucked up from hanging with Don, but now he could only see that he made her anxious for asking a pretty reasonable question. 

 

But, as always, Patty recovered quickly, inhaling sharply as she looked back up at him. "So, how many times after you were 18?"

 

“Twice." He learned somewhere between 16 and 17 that no one was coming to bail him out anymore or help him drop the charges, and that kept him on a decently straight path there for a while. And by straight path he meant too strung out to be terrorizing the city. "Once right on my 18th birthday and the other, well, you know," he chuckled. 

 

When Patty came over a couple days later, she arrived with several replacement drawstrings proudly in her hand, one for each and every one of his hoodies and then some. Simon didn't hide the confusion on his face or with his words for that matter.

 

"What the fuck do you want me to do with these?" he balked at her. 

 

Patty huffed and rolled her eyes, dragging him into the bedroom, gathering all his hoodies, and tossing them on the bed. And she got to work, meticulously threading them back through the little holes.

 

Simon tried to stop her, told her it wasn’t necessary, but she looked up at him with a grin and insisted that it was as much for her as it was for him. And he left it at that. Now all his hoodies had the little strings again. He could only hope she didn't jinx him with that shit. 

 

Before Simon could continue the rest of his snooping, the door to her bedroom rattled, causing him to jump and drop the next folded up piece of paper in his hand. He stilled himself, holding his breath as he heard Connie muttering outside the door. He wished he would have followed through with Patty earlier regarding a potential spare key.

 

After he heard Connie retreat down the stairs again, Simon scrambled to return all the items back in the box, setting it gently in the final drawer and easing it shut. He didn't dare to move from his spot though, not wanting to risk any additional noise for now. He risked a quick glance at the clock, deflating when it told him he still had at least 30 minutes before she dipped.

 

He twiddled his thumbs, his gaze eventually drawn to the black envelope sitting next to his backpack. Simon kept his ear out, decided it was quiet enough for his liking and padded over to her bed, tearing opening the sticker-lined seal the second he got it in hand. 

 

He knew he could hear her rummaging around, but he was still surprised to pull out a folded piece of notebook paper with a big heart on it and their initials smack-dab in the center. He shuffled the Polaroids out of the page, folded it back up, and stuffed it into the envelope. Normally, he wouldn't have paid any mind to that shit, but going through Patty's shit had him feeling extra sentimental. It was clear how much she treasured what they had; hard to leave any doubt in his mind after sorting through a box of things that reminded her of him. 

 

Once her notebook page was tucked away, he pawed over the Polaroids, instantly feeling spoiled that she took two for him. The first one was Patty fresh out of the shower, hair curling in tendrils around her chest, marked red from the heat, her torso lined with beady droplets of water, and a huge, undeniable Patty grin right at the very top. He felt both his lips and his dick perk at the sight of her.

 

Simon adjusted himself in his jeans as he picked up the second one. It was Patty in her robe, with the sleeve of it dangling off one shoulder and her arm brought underneath her breasts to lift and smoosh them together. Simon felt like he was practically drooling over her, wanting to bury his face in her chest and have her close the robe around him while he soaked her all in.  

 

He reached over to her nightstand to grab the camera and unbuttoned his jeans. He shuffled his clothes halfway down his thighs, stroking his cock a couple times and leaning back onto one elbow. He watched himself tug on his cock through the viewfinder, purposefully leaving her photos on his thigh as he snapped the picture. Simon had no intentions on following through though and quickly flipped his dick into his waistband as he yanked his clothes back up. 

 

Simon returned to her desk, sliding open the bottom drawer and stealing one of her black envelopes. He tore off a piece of notebook paper from the blank one sitting on top of her desk and picked up the pen she had used before she left. 

 

Simon tapped the pen to his lips as he tried to think of what little note he should leave her with a picture of his dick of all things. Everything he thought about writing felt brash and unromantic, the complete opposite of Patty. He ditched the pen and pulled open her second drawer instead, reaching in for the box of colored pencils and getting to work. He donned the page with bubble letters that sloppily spelled out "For my real music girlfriend" coupled with little watermelon slices, crossbones, lightning bolts, and even a couple of black hearts. It looked like a fucking kindergartener drew it, but he knew Patty would appreciate it nonetheless. Part of him hoped it made it in her music boyfriend box. 

 

As he looked it over, he decided it was missing an important visual component. He returned the pencils to her drawer, exchanging it for a couple of sticker sheets. He handpicked what he thought would be her favorites and folded his creation, tucking the Polaroid inside, and inserting both of them in the envelope. He sealed it with the gaudiest, glitter heart sticker he could find and laid it square on her pillow. 

 

Simon looked up at the clock, thanking god he found himself so preoccupied in his little drawing for her. Connie should be leaving any minute now. 

 

After the longest twenty minutes of his life, Simon swore that he could still hear footsteps and rumblings throughout the house despite Patty’s insistence that the house would be empty at this point. Simon was ready to get the fuck out of there, pacing up and down her room as quietly as he could. He even looked out her bedroom window for quite some time, seriously considering how to jump and land without breaking anything but deemed it far too risky.

 

It'd be one helluva way to get caught though. Yeah, sorry, Connie. I did jump from Patty's room. No, it doesn't matter why or how. Do you mind dropping me off at the nearest hospital? Thanks. 

 

The second her clock struck 11 AM, Simon was pissed off, far past the point of antsy and had graduated to an aggressive form of frustration. Maybe their house was draftier than he remembered. Either way, Dan was gonna kick his ass for not having the car back to him on time. Hopefully the kid found a way to work without it.

 

"Fuck it." Simon tightened the straps on his backpack, double checking his pockets as he hovered by the door. The house seemed silent enough, and he took a deep breath, slowly easing the door open. He peered through the crack, satisfied with the empty hallway and quickly slinked out.

 

He only made it two measly steps before Kev's door flew open with a shocked gasp from both parties. 

 

“Simon?” 

 

Fuck.

Chapter 7

Notes:

sorry about the word count again. i did my best. y'all know i can't shut up by now yeah? okay cool lol

please pay mind to the updated tags. This chapter's kinda a doozy: some descriptions of child abuse/abusive parents (physical & emotional), drug addiction/overdoses, death of a loved one, brief mention of miscarriage/infertility. overall, just a tough conversation is had, so pls take care of yourself!!! love u!!

The basket of laundry flew from Connie's arms with a shriek-like gasp, trembling hands abandoning the thin plastic in exchange for protectively clasping them over her racing heart. This was it. She was home alone. The phone was downstairs. She had no weapons on her, no way to protect herself—unless the foul scent of Kev’s dirty clothes counted, but she was sure it didn’t. 

 

A deep, shaky breath brought her wits back to her, the initial wave of unadulterated fear subsiding, and she blinked; once in disbelief and then again incredulously. “Simon?”

 

“Shit, my bad. Sorry.” Before she could register his presence, let alone process his words, Simon was at her feet, scooping the clothing that had spilled out of the basket and setting it upright again with a nervous grin. 

 

“Good Heavens, Simon. You scared the ever-living Christ out of me,” she snapped. “What are you doing here? Were you in Patty’s room?” 

 

Hands on her hips, foot tapping in agitation, she scanned him up and down: still wearing the same clothes from the night before—and wrinkled to high heaven at that, his hair a mess like he’d just woken up, what seemed to be a fresh hickey poking out the collar of his shirt, and not to mention the crooked and very guilty-looking grin he was wearing. Pairing all of that with how Patty’s door was suddenly locked this morning, she had a distinct feeling the young man never left the house last night. 

 

With raised palms, he took a cautious step backwards, tripping over his feet and nearly barreling into the shelving in the hallway. “Well, uh,” Simon chuckled nervously, scrambling for a believable excuse but coming up dry. Hard to get creative when the only thing he could think was RUN, RUN, FUCKING RUN.

 

He pointed down the staircase. “I’m real sorry, Connie. I’ll get out of your hair now.”

 

“Uh-uh.” Connie put her palm out flat to stop him. She hadn’t decided which direction she wanted to take this yet, but she did know that him clambering out of the house without any consequence wasn’t going to be an option. She had half the mind to give him an earful, kick him out, and relay the message to Norm, but she also knew she could play this to her advantage, get some well-deserved answers out of him.

 

“We’re going to have a little chat first. Let me throw this in the wash, and I’ll meet you in the dining room."

 

Simon’s stomach dropped to his knees; his heart thumped so hard against his sternum he was sure she could hear it, and, if she couldn’t, he was pretty certain she watched all the color drain from his face in real time. But this wasn't Simon's first rodeo, wasn't the first time being caught in this exact scenario before, albeit none that weighed as heavy as this, but still, he knew not all hope was lost. Connie wanting to talk meant he had a chance to weasel his way out of this with some careful and precise diction. The only downside is that he really didn't know how to sweet talk a woman her age without massive amounts of flirting and bedroom eyes.

 

“Here, let me,” Simon stuttered, snatching the loaded basket out of Connie's arms and nodding down the staircase for her to take the lead.

 

“Oh, well, thank you,” Connie chirped, her stern expression lifting into appreciation. She waved a hand to follow her, turning back with a slight smile. “You know I never get any help around here. It’s nice for a change.”

 

“Sure, Connie. Happy to help," he grinned, forcing all his charm into his tone and smile. And while he may have looked the part, he wasn't falling for her sudden chipper attitude—that shit wasn’t adding up with how she found him. He had a sinking suspicion she was only playing up the niceties to corral him downstairs, where she would then not only lay into him but also bar him from seeing her daughter again. And, the worst part? He couldn’t blame her. Finding him like this only further fed into whatever “intentions” Norm was convinced he had with Patty. 

 

“Set it down here,” she ordered with a point of her finger once they had toddled to their destination. “I made a fresh pot of coffee about 10 minutes ago. Help yourself. I’ll be just a minute.”

 

Simon nodded, sidestepping out of the narrow space and briskly heading toward the kitchen. He ran his fingers through his hair to try to ground himself, desperately searching for a modicum of control on his warring thoughts. His eyes flitted toward the front door first and then to the sliding glass door as he crossed into the kitchen. 

 

He could make a break for it while Connie was preoccupied. 

 

Simon secured the backpack on his shoulders, zipped up his jacket, and tightened the laces on his boots. But, as his fingers brushed over the handle to the back door, he froze. His inner voice of reason, which was sounding more and more like Dan nowadays, made sure to let him know that if he dipped now, there was no coming back. 

 

So, that’s how he found himself begrudgingly pouring a cup of shitty, lukewarm coffee with shaky hands and a grumble under his breath, resisting the urge to bask in the sparkly shatter of the filled cup as it exploded in the sink before getting the fuck out of there. Instead, he made his way back into the dining room and pulled out the chair that had become “his spot,” the thought in itself made his heart stutter and his stomach churn, and threw himself down with a huff. He sneered at the romance novel on the table and shoved it away from him. So much for fucking book club, huh. 

 

Connie swiftly entered the room, signaling with her index finger to sit tight before disappearing into the kitchen. It didn’t go unnoticed how Simon’s back straightened and his palms instantly shot to his lap the moment she returned with her own cup in hand, his head slightly bowed like a dog that knew it was about to be punished. She almost wanted to laugh; she hadn’t even used her mom voice on him yet. 

 

“Now, I need to make one thing clear. I never want to catch you in this house uninvited ever again, Simon. And especially not in Patty’s room. Do you understand?” 

 

Looking up through his lashes, he nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

 

Connie clicked her tongue in amusement, allowing her features to soften into a relaxed smile. She never liked wearing her tough face for too long. Gave her a headache. With a flick of her wrist, she insisted, “Connie is fine.” 

 

Simon peered up hesitantly with a slight nod, darting his eyes back down to his mug when they made eye contact. 

 

She sighed and reached her hand across the table slowly as if approaching a skittish stray. “Listen, I’m not gonna be the one to take what you two have away from each other. But if Norm catches you in here, there’s not going to be much that I can do,” she explained gently. Now, that didn’t mean that Connie wasn’t mad about the whole ordeal—she would even dare to use the word “pissed” to describe how she felt about finding him the way she did. But she needed the kid to open up some, and she was always told she’d catch more flies with honey than vinegar. 

 

Simon couldn’t believe his ears; his face following suit and screwing up in astonishment. There was no fucking way. That sounded like he was already getting out of this scot-free without having to plead his case. He lifted his chin and looked Connie dead in the eye, searching for something, anything that would give him any reason to not trust her. Unfortunately, he couldn’t find anything past that annoyingly warm and sympathetic smile.

 

“Uh, okay. Yeah. Sure thing,” he managed, shaking his head in disbelief. “I am really sorry, you know. And this one’s on me, okay? Was all my idea. So don’t go after Patty for this shit. She don’t deserve it.”  

 

The corners of Connie’s lips twitched. He was awfully sweet, willing to fall on the sword for both of them. “Oh, please. You think I don’t know my own daughter?” 

 

Simon chuckled softly, flipping his palms out and shrugging his shoulders in defeat. “Yeah, okay. To be real with you, Connie, I did have every intention of, well, you know, sleeping in my own bed last night.” 

 

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me. I believe you,” Connie laughed. Anyone with a pair of eyes, besides maybe her spite-blinded husband, could see that she had that boy wrapped completely around her finger. “She can be hard to say no to.” 

 

Simon blew air out of his nose, grinning down into his coffee. He couldn’t deny her shit. If she asked, he was gonna give it to her, maybe not right away, sometimes had to work himself up to it. But he would. He always would. “Yeah, tell me about it.” 

 

“Speaking of which, I know you two weren’t just sleeping in there last night.” 

 

“Jesus, Connie. What? No,” Simon floundered, eyes wide and hands gesturing frantically between them as if he could combat her words with the action alone. “We haven’t—shit. I mean, I would never—.”

 

Connie shook her head disappointedly, a wag of her finger in disapproval. “Simon, please don’t lie to me. I need to be able to trust you if this is going to work.” 

 

With a raised brow, he scoured her expression, trying to determine whether or not this was a trap. He didn’t trust Connie not to pull the rug—or, rather, Patty—out from under him if he fessed up. But Connie's gaze didn't lessen, matched his intensity if anything. She even gave him a small, annoyed shake of her head to spur a response. 

 

Simon relented with a deflated sigh and a brief nod. He reached for the coffee, though he didn’t bring it to his lips. His thumbs anxiously smoothed over either side, stowing the mug securely between both hands. “We are being safe,” he muttered, hitting Connie with a hint of that boyish attitude she had become very familiar with over the last few years, cadence and tone reminding her eerily of Kev’s.

 

“I know," she chuckled. "They’re not exactly hidden.” 

 

A surprised chortle erupted from Simon, shocked she was finding humor in the situation—a stark contrast to what he was sure her husband's take would have been. The air between them shifted, the pressure lifting, the room brightening. He could almost breathe again. Shit, even his shoulders relaxed a bit. “Then stop movin’ them, yeah?” 

 

Simon regretted the words the moment they left his lips, but thankfully, it only served to make Connie laugh—and not a cute, flirty laugh that he was used to from moms. No, this was genuine, throwing her head back with a cackle and sighing as she came back down, breathing out a giggly apology in between. 

 

“You know, she came to me a few months ago asking for birth control. And looking back on it now, that probably lined up right around the time you were released,” she chuckled through her words as Simon visibly cringed. “And it just seemed so out of left field, I immediately shut it down. And, as you can assume, Norm, well, he’s quite traditional about things. Always has been. He’s gotten… better over the years. But, anyway, what I’m trying to say is I don’t think you two are remotely ready to handle the responsibility of a child, so I’m going to do my best to get him on board and get her an appointment. But until then, I don’t want to hear a single thing about—.”

 

“Y-yeah, Connie. I got it. Read you loud and clear,” he grimaced. Simon considered the very realistic possibility that Connie actually had a gun, shot him on sight out of fear in the upstairs hallway, and sent him straight to hell where this shit was his eternal punishment. 

 

“Good,” she chirped with a tap to the back of his hand, though she frowned when Simon flinched away from her touch. She retracted herself and spun her spoon in the hot beverage with a soft sigh. Connie had been avoiding this very subject with her daughter for a long time now. Not out of embarrassment or being uncomfortable, but rather the pain it tore through her any time she so much as looked in its direction. 

 

Connie loved nothing more than being a mother; all the cliches were true when she first held Patty and then Kevin in her arms. The all encompassing warmth that overcame her both times were uncanny, addicting, purposeful. Her heart expanded far past what she ever thought herself capable of, reaching thresholds of love she hadn’t known the depths of before, her whole world narrowing down to these two, beautiful beings. And, even with all the trials and tribulations they faced as a family, she would do it all over again in a heartbeat. 

 

And that included the journey it took to parenthood. Norm and Connie were incredibly blessed and grateful to have come out in the end with two children, and she thanked God daily that she was capable of carrying one biological pregnancy. She couldn’t stand the thought of Patty going through what she went through: test after test, injection after injection, heartbreak after heartbreak, putting them in thousands of dollars in medical debt just because Connie’s body couldn’t seem to do the one thing she felt she was made to do. 

 

It was a miracle when they finally did get pregnant. But, like everything else, it wasn’t as simple as that, and their trek was far from over.

 

There were four miracles before they were finally blessed with Patty.  

 

All Connie could do now was pray that it wasn’t something she passed down to her daughter, and, in the case that she did, she directed her prayers toward the field of medicine, hoping with modern advances it wouldn’t be something Patty would have to worry about. 

 

Connie knew she should have broken the news to Patty long before they had gotten to this point. But, as proof with Kevin, she didn’t exactly have the best track record for timing out telling these truths. 

 

Simon narrowed his eyes at Connie as he watched her release the spoon she was relentlessly swirling in her cup and plaster a warm smile back on, but he saw it. Saw the way her whole face clouded over before she caught herself. As if he wasn’t the master of such a charade. At least it made her seem a little more human, proof that underneath the plasticky grin there was still flesh and blood. 

 

“I have a feeling Danny put you up to it, but I do appreciate it all the same,” Connie finally spoke again, forcing a cheeriness to her tone. 

 

Simon shook his head. That's it. He was confident in saying every member of this family had issues with speaking out of context. “What?” 

 

Connie tilted her head toward the mug in front of her with a soft smile.  

 

“Oh. Oh, yeah, ‘course. Least I could do,” he replied dismissively, taking the opportunity to steer the conversation toward some much-needed sweet talking. “Danny may have mentioned that I broke your favorite one. Mentioned a lot of things about you guys actually. Had a lot of good things to say about you especially.” 

 

Connie hummed. She adored Danny; it wasn’t a shock to hear the feelings were reciprocated. “He had a lot to say about you too.” 

 

“I don’t even wanna know what he said,” he chuckled.

 

“All good things,” Connie answered simply, but Simon didn’t seem convinced, rolling his eyes and scoffing at the remark. “Truly, Simon. If it wasn’t for him, I’m not sure we’d be having this conversation right now.” She watched him purse his lips together and nod, studying his hands with pinched brows. “He loves you a lot, you know. It’s good to have someone like that in your corner.”

 

“Yeah, um,” Simon cleared his throat. “Dan’s always been good to me. Even when I haven’t been good to him and don’t deserve it. Kid’s a saint really.” 

 

“You know, Kev and Patty were always tattling on each other growing up, getting into fights, bickering. I think they just now started to get along,” she confided. She couldn’t see either of her kids going to the lengths that Danny did for Simon. Shoot, she was lucky if they remembered each other’s birthdays for goodness sake.

 

“I dunno 'bout that. They were at each other’s throats last night after dinner,” Simon laughed, lovingly replaying Patty's swing at her brother. He kicked himself for not checking on her knuckles this morning before she left for work. 

 

All it took was a perfectly arched brow from Connie for him to realize that was a blatant confession that he never left the residence following dinner. He could only hope that she wouldn’t ask what all three of them were doing. But Connie had proved to him that not much actually got past her. There was no fucking way she didn’t know about her son’s smoking habits at this point. Especially seeing her coming from his room which reeked like the inside of Simon’s backpack right after he reupped. 

 

“Dan and I still fight over everything too. Acts all mother hen with me. Drives me up the fuckin’ wall to be honest,” he smoothed over quickly, loading up a plethora of excuses at the back of his throat should the change in subject not deter her.

 

“I’m glad you brought that up actually,” Connie replied, skirting over after dinner activities she’d rather be ignorant to and honing in on the main reason she brought him down here to talk. “What’s this I hear about you not speaking to your mother?”

 

Simon was stunned speechless. He didn’t prepare for that. A further interrogation or brief chastising regarding the previous evening sure, but not this. God, anything but this. “I, uh. Well, um—.”

 

“Simon, that has to be heartbreaking for her.” 

 

Simon’s lips came to a thin line as he clenched his jaw, nodding slowly, his left eye twitching, hands drumming on the table. Already taking the bitch’s side without knowing the fuckin’ story. He tried to funnel all his rage into his tapping fingers, but, fuck, he just wanted to explode. 

 

He needed a fucking cigarette. 

 

Maintaining his fury at a simmer, he responded coolly, “let’s just say that’s a long story. We don’t need to get into all that.”

 

Connie raised her eyebrows, nonplussed. This wasn’t negotiable. This was the equivalent to Norm wanting to know his “intentions” or whatever it was he was going on about. It would be in his best interest to answer, and truthfully at that. 

 

All of that must have shone on her face because Simon rubbed the back of his neck and looked away ashamed. “Jeez, Connie. I haven’t really told Patty all of it yet. I–it’s a lot, okay? It wouldn’t be right.” 

 

“It just breaks my heart to hear. I would be devastated if Patty or Kev stopped talking to me,” Connie retorted, hands over her heart once again, slathering on the thickest layer of mom guilt she could muster.

 

“It’s a mutual thing. Trust me when I tell you she don’t wanna hear from me either." He hoped the glare he was throwing across the table told her to back the fuck off. He fucking knew he sensed a viper, and here it was, sussing him out, backing him into a corner like some prey animal, a venomous fang perched to his jugular. If she really wanted to know, he’d tell her eventually. Forcing it out of him like this was fucked. But she already made it crystal fuckin’ clear he couldn’t refuse to answer her questions, not if he wanted to keep Patty in his life.   

 

And he really, really wanted to keep Patty in his life. 

 

“Well, have you tried to talk to her since you’ve been out?” Connie prodded. Not that she entertained her husband’s conspiracy theories regarding Simon, but if she did, he should have at least phoned them up and thanked them for paying off the judge. 

 

Simon swayed his head back and forth in anguish, his fingers absentmindedly feeling for his front pocket and then behind his ear for a cigarette that wasn’t there. “No, but they haven’t tried either. S’not like they don’t got Dan’s phone number. Shit, Mom calls him every other fuckin’ day,” he muttered. And even though it was the truth, Connie didn’t look very convinced. “Look, this shit’s not just on me,” he continued, slamming his finger down on the table, his voice raising slightly. “You can ask Dan. He’s even told me to stay away.” 

 

Connie tsked at him, taking another long sip of her coffee as she held Simon’s gaze. “I just can’t imagine any mother not wanting to hear from her child. Especially after, how long has it been again? Two years?”

 

Simon bit the inside of his lip, cruel and vicious remarks sitting right on the tip of his tongue, his legs tensing as they ached to stomp out of the house, getting himself as far away from her as possible. She might as well tell him she thinks everything coming out of his mouth was horseshit, reminding him of his own parents with that shit. Why bother asking at that point? Waste of everyone’s fuckin’ breath. 

 

Luckily, Simon could see the problem as clear as day: Connie was looking at the situation like she was an easily transferable figure with his mother. But that was so far from reality. Simon may have had many disagreements with Connie’s ways of thinking or parenting tactics, but he couldn’t say she didn’t care. Couldn’t say she didn’t love the shit out of her kids. His parents weren’t like that. As he got older, it was clear they only had kids for their reputations, to conform with the societal norms of their peers, to sustain their “legacies.” And when it came to his mom specifically, there wasn’t a maternal instinct in that woman’s body, but he had a feeling Connie wouldn’t believe him if he said that. 

 

Despite his anger, despite his rage, despite everything he held himself by, he had to work this from a different angle, albeit one he hated to fall back on. He thought of Patty’s thighs collapsing around his head this morning, swiped his tongue over his moustache where he could still faintly taste her. Gave him the push he needed. 

 

“Shit, Connie, I think you could probably assume I wasn’t an easy kid, yeah?” He chuckled, keeping it more on the side of lighthearted than bitter. “It’s better for everyone involved for me to keep my distance.”

 

“Forgive me, but I can’t imagine what you could have done that would warrant not speaking to each other. I think Kev or Patty would have to commit, I don’t know,” she flung her hands up in the air, “murder, and even then I would still send care packages.”

 

And that was the shit he was talking about. The last time Simon saw his mom was when she was sobbing at his sentencing—and most certainly not sobbing for him, but for how it would affect her reputation amongst her elite circle of friends. And the last time she spoke to him was when she was kicking him and Patty out with some very choice words. She didn’t put a single dime on his commissary, let alone send care packages. Thank god for Dan and Patty. He wasn’t sure how he would have survived that hellhole without them. 

 

Simon forced himself to smile though it felt a lot more like a grimace. “Nothin’ like that, but nothin’ good. Believe me. It’s better for both of us if we left the past in the past.” 

 

Connie wasn’t sure why he was being so resistant. Sure, it may be an uncomfortable subject to broach, but it was no worse than her husband the night before. But maybe Norm was right to be wary. Maybe what he did was something really awful, something she couldn’t see past, and there was no doubt in her mind she would go back on her word in an instant if she felt like he posed any risk to Patty. But, she wasn’t ready to give up just yet. 

 

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her fist with a small grin. “Well, now I’m curious.” 

 

Simon was no longer trying to smile, expending most of his energy on holding back a scowl while he silently seethed under the surface. His grip on the coffee mug tightened, funneling all his anger and frustration into the ceramic rather than verbally at Connie. His eyes darted to the back door, planning his escape.

 

Connie kept herself from laughing. She could see how he got caught; the boy wasn’t exactly subtle. She reached her hand back across the table, tapping next to his mug lightly to bring his attention to her and away from the back door. “I know you said it’s a long story, but I don’t have anything to do for the next couple hours, and I’m assuming you don’t either, seeing as you weren’t in any rush to get out.” 

 

Simon glanced up toward the clock, shifting anxiously in his seat. “I-uh, well, I was supposed to—.”

“Oh, if I’m keeping you, by all means,” Connie interrupted, gesturing toward the door, a casual downturn of her lips, but the fierce look in her eye was undeniable. They both knew if he took Connie’s out, he wasn’t going to be able to return, maybe ever.  

 

Simon swore under his breath, throwing his hands up in defeat. Reminding himself this was all for Patty, he grumbled, “no, no you’re not. Got nothin' goin' on 'til Patty gets off work.”

 

“Wonderful! I’m going to top off our coffees first,” Connie declared, springing to her feet and snatching Simon’s emotional support mug out of his hand before he could respond or tighten his grip. 

 

He was grateful for the reprieve, laying his hands flat on the table as he racked his brain on where he could start and how he could angle shit, so that Connie didn’t think he was a complete fucking monster. He worked his way backwards, descending onto dark and dusty two-lane highways and dirt roads that he usually kept empty but were suddenly congested and overburdened the more and more he ventured back, pile ups along the road that he detoured around just to end up in mazes he couldn't navigate without getting trapped in another one. 

 

There was so much shit to sort through, so much he didn’t bother looking at anymore, skirting over memories as much as he could and numbing them when he couldn’t. And now he had the expectation of forcing all of it back to the surface? Looking them each dead in the eye and somehow translating them into words? To his girlfriend’s mother of all people? Fuck, maybe he should have jumped from Patty’s window instead. A broken ankle hurt less than this shit. 

 

Simon shook his head frantically with a swear under his breath to clear his head, but it was too late. Acrid bile rose up in his throat, his stomach tied into knots, his ribcage constricted in on itself. He shoved the heels of his palms into his eyes until the black and gray static morphed into spiraling neons. 

 

Connie returned to her seat, sliding the warm mug over to him, but Simon didn’t acknowledge her presence, his head kept cradled in his hands while he sucked in uneven, ragged breaths. She stood no chance at fighting off the guilt, knowing she pushed him to such a point of distress. But she couldn't let that bog her down. This was for Patty. No matter how much she felt for him, no matter how much she already felt protective of and maybe even a little responsible for Simon, her daughter would always come first. 

 

Still, the least she could do was grant him the time he needed. So, for the first time in years, Connie kept another company without uttering a single word, allowing her presence to be enough and take peace in the quiet that settled between him, ignoring the overwhelming need to fill the silence with her voice. 

 

Eventually, Simon glanced up at her, sighing heavily with a toss of his hands between them. "Fuck, Connie. I don't-I don't think I can do this." His voice was small, defeated, slightly cracking as he spoke. “I mean, I don’t even know where to fuckin’ start.” It was a fine line he was trying to balance, giving her enough information to where she was satisfied, yet he didn’t lose Patty in the process.

 

The quick and easy option was just to come out and say it: he was a dope fiend that stole, cheated, and lied, betrayed everyone's trust in his selfish desire to numb himself from the entire world. But he had no doubt in his mind that he'd lose Patty in an instant if he took that route.

 

The other path, riddled with broken glass and cactus spikes, was to start at the beginning. She’d be able to see that it wasn’t all roses and daisies, that he was pushed and pushed and pushed until he became the monster his mom always insisted he was. But even that path still risked the possibility that Patty would slip between his fingers because of who he used to be, who he was innately at his core, that there were some things he had said or done that just couldn't be taken back, no matter the justification. 

 

“Start wherever you’re comfortable,” Connie offered, her eyes glowing with kindness and compassion that, to Simon, felt like her striking a match in a confined space filled with combustible fumes. And he exploded. 

 

“Yeah, well, I don’t feel comfortable with any of this shit, but it doesn’t look like you’re giving me much of a choice here, huh,” Simon snarled. And he didn’t care when Connie’s jaw dropped, could give less of a shit when her head shook in what seemed like denial. He was pissed. He hadn't looked at this shit in years, had been making do just fine without disturbing dusty pieces of the past, able to keep on keepin' on without so much as a glance as to how he got to where he was today. And here Connie was, all sympathetic smiles and understanding eyes, shoving him face first into soiled carpet like a fucking dog. 

 

“You wanna know? Here’s the run-down: Mom’s had a fuckin’ problem with me since day one, said I nearly killed her, said I didn’t come out right. She talks about it like it was some Rosemary’s Baby type shit. Had the whole family praying over me like I’m some devil’s spawn since the day I was born. I might call her mom, but that woman didn’t fucking raise me. She couldn’t pawn that shit off fast enough.”

 

“Oh, my. Simon, I’m so sor—.”

 

“No, don’t—don’t do that,” he snapped, shaking his finger at her. “You asked, you wanna know. And I ain’t riskin’ losin’ her over this shit. So I’ll talk, but I can’t do no fuckin’ ‘sorries,’ yeah?” 

 

“I suppose I’m only trying to apologize for—.” 

 

“Nope. Uh-uh. No apologies either.”

 

Connie folded her hands on the table and nodded. “I understand.”

 

Her acceptance of this rule dulled his anger down to a mere fizzle that was much, much more tolerable. He relaxed his jaw and his hands into loose fists, not realizing how much he was clenching them until he felt the achy strain on his tendons as he allowed them to unwind. 

 

A short huff of a laugh escaped despite himself before he continued, a thumb running down the vertical scar that bisected his chest. “She was kinda right, y’know. Sayin’ there was somethin’ wrong with me. Said I screamed for months and months non-stop after I was born.” But Simon cut himself off there before he could word vomit more. This part wasn’t necessary. Patty knew where the scar came from, but he didn’t like telling anyone that would listen. Didn’t need to feel like a survivor of anything. Maybe a survivor of shit genetics, but that’s it. 

 

“Patty was a colicky baby too. Norm and I didn’t get a full night’s rest until right before we adopted Kevin, and then we were back at square one,” Connie chuckled. “But, I highly doubt that’s why you two don’t talk. If that was the case, no parent would talk to their children.”

 

Simon pushed his lips around his teeth, glad she incorrectly filled in the blanks, and sighed. “Connie, listen, I was a little shit. Always gettin’ in trouble, annoying the shit out of everyone, gettin’ into things I shouldn’t have been, couldn’t fuckin’ sit still to save my life, always talkin’ back,” he could go on and on and on, his mom’s voice behind every reason he could think of. “And I never fuckin’ listened to them. And why the fuck would I? Only saw them when I was gettin’ my ass beat or screamed at most days.”

 

Simon didn't notice the look of shock on Connie's face, smiling fondly as he was bombarded by a pleasant memory for once. “Shit, I remember my Grandma getting onto my dad that he was whacking me upside the head too much, said I was gonna end up slow if he didn’t stop,” he chuckled. It was crazy how he could fucking hear her clear as day too. If he closed her eyes, he could almost watch the interaction word for word, scene for scene. 

 

Simon fucking missed her. 

 

That woman was the only person, up until he met Patty, that always had his back, always stuck up for him, always saw through everyone’s bullshit the same way he did. But Simon hadn’t allowed himself to think about her in years, kept under lock and key in the cobwebbed depths of his mind, the corner he shoved everything in until the door was busting at the seams. And these days, those hinges were liable to fail should the wind blow the wrong way. But, today, Simon was the one that purposefully picked and prodded, plunging headfirst into her memory. 

 

It was intense, bittersweet, and extremely overwhelming; Simon could see that the best moments of his childhood were spent with her, especially the summer he spent at her house. 

 

No grandchild had ever stayed with Grandma for extended periods of time. She let it be known that she liked her peace and quiet and intended on keeping it that way. But she broke her own rule one day when she had caught Simon fresh off a lashing, limping down the hallway with his head down as the nanny escorted him to his bedroom. And when she took a look and saw how many fresh welts and old bruises he had on him, his bags were packed not even an hour later. An hour in which he spent listening to his Grandma scream at his dad, where he got to be in the audience rather than an active participant in a screaming match for the first time in maybe ever. It was nice. 

 

He remembered the peaceful mornings on her porch together, the smell of the rich summer breeze when he would toil through the woods behind her house, the feel of the rugged burns on his palms from climbing trees, the sharp stings from scraping his knees on the gravel, the golden warmth of sunlight on his face as he poked around her garden, and that feeling of being full, not in his stomach, but in his heart, especially when they would reconvene on the porch together after supper, surrounded by the cacophony of insects and frogs harmonizing in the humidity and fireflies twinkling amongst the trees and bushes like Christmas in July.   

 

Grandma always said that the city air had something to do with his behavior, though sometimes she would smile and whisper to him that his parents “just had sticks up their asses and could stand to loosen up a bit.” Which would always make Simon smile, relieved someone finally saw things from his perspective. 

 

And every night before bed, Grandma would gently pat his head, giving him a kiss on the forehead, and a smile that warmed his heart thinking about it now. And she would tell him, without missing a beat, “you’re a good kid, Simon. Remember that.” 

 

But he hadn’t. Hadn’t allowed himself to think about her in nearly 14 years at this point. But he remembered now, and that had to count for something, right? He rubbed the dull ache sitting behind his chest at the thought. 

 

As that summer came to an end, he noticed Grandma sleeping in longer, coughing all throughout the day and night, asking for more help around the house. And he remembered that last day at her house, his visit cut short as she, what he now realized, finally got checked out, and the news wasn’t any good. 

 

It's weird; what the brain will remember in extremely vivid detail. He was presented with this crystal clear image of the remnants of his breakfast sitting cold at his grandma’s Formica table while he hastily stuffed his duffle bag with his belongings, his dad behind his back watching him the whole time like he was going to set the house aflame. He was dragged out by his elbow, with only a brief turn of his body to wave at her while she rocked on her porch, looking frail and pale and utterly exhausted. 

 

He remembered overhearing his mom on the phone with one of her girlfriends, “Linda, I swear. It’s that boy. He spent two and a half months with her, and next thing you know she’s on her deathbed.” Simon swallowed dryly as all the guilt came rushing back to him, warped in his little kid brain that the bad in him seeped out and into her, that he was the cause of her demise, that he was inherently poisonous and would destroy anything good around him, including the only person he could really trust, the only one who loved him wholly and completely, even the worst parts of him, that still found a way to celebrate him everyday. And he had killed her. 

 

The morning of her funeral came, and he didn’t get out of bed. Head shoved under pillows, he was threatened with everything under the sun, but there were no string of words or threats of punishments that could pull him away. And it all came to a head when he was finally pushed to tears, full body sobs that he buried into his mattress, yanking the covers over his head as he tried to block out the whole world. That finally got his dad off his ass. Nine was far too old for his son to be acting like such a crybaby. 

 

His sobs turned into wails when he finally heard the front door shut. Simon never got to give her a proper goodbye. 

 

Connie wasn’t blind to the way the smile and laugh died on his lips soon after he spoke. That was one thing her and Norm both agreed on never doing, although both his and her parents found it entirely controversial, called them hippies for it. But, after a beat, she couldn’t hold her tongue any longer. “Did they always use corporal punishment?” 

 

“What?” Simon blinked his way back to the conversation. He had been so lost in his head he couldn’t even remember what they were talking about. And that’s why he stayed the fuck out of there to begin with.  

 

Connie winced as Simon met her eye again. “Their discipline. Did they–was it always physical?”

 

"Well, yeah, for the most part. We all had to pick out a switch from time to time if Dad didn’t feel like using his belt, or if Mom didn’t backhand us right there and then,” he answered simply, but the look on Connie’s face made him backtrack. “But we’d also copy bible verses sometimes.” That was a punishment often reserved for Dan or Renae, though even he could admit those sharp smacks to the back of his hand with a ruler for poor penmanship stung more than what his dad would inflict at times. 

 

Connie opened her mouth and closed it, and then did it again. An apology was sitting heavy on her tongue. 

 

“Don’t, Connie,” Simon warned lightheartedly, shaking a finger and forcing the corner of his lips upward into what he hoped resembled a smile. “I deserved it for the most part. Trust me. If you were at your wit’s end and your kid was laughing, saying it tickled while you whooped ‘em, you’d probably hit harder too.” 

 

Connie shook her head tightly. “We never laid a hand on Patty or Kev. Even when they were really acting out.”

 

Simon snorted. It was common for most kids he knew, even more so for Connie and Norm's generation, and he was pretty surprised for how traditional Norm seemed to be that there wasn't a paddle somewhere in the house. But, even if it was more socially acceptable then, there was no denying Simon received discipline and punishment more than anyone in that house or on his block for that matter. 

 

“It was all shit I deserved for the most part. I mean, I probably didn’t deserve when Dad broke my fuckin’ nose, but I definitely egged that shit on,” Simon chuckled, fondly recalling the time he cut all of his dad’s tighty-whities into thongs. 

 

He was doing what he did best, antagonizing the shit out of his dad, pushing him past his limits when he went to change out of his golf attire and found he only had the lingerie version of his former underwear left. And it didn’t stop there. Simon couldn’t stop pissing him off, even while he was getting his ass beat, insisting his dad should be thanking him so his golf buddies would have easier access for a hole-in-one, telling him he needed to get a better belt if he actually wanted to show him, and that's when his dad actually listened to him for once. Belt tossed to the side, Simon remembered the transition from leather into fists, and then Dan was on top of his dad, and Mom was screaming about blood on her white carpet. 

 

Simon spent the next several hours on his hands and knees with paper towels stuffed up his bleeding nose while he tried to scrub the iron stains from the fibers. His nose wasn’t set until he went to the school nurse the following Monday after sneezing so hard it burst the vessels and gave him a raging migraine. 

 

Connie furrowed her brows, cocking her head to the side as she tried to gauge whether he was lying or not. She reminded herself that Simon had the ability to play to her heartstrings, just like he did that first time he was over and claimed he was crashing on the church's couch. “And nobody said anything about that?”

 

Simon curled his hands into fists and clenched his jaw so tight he swore he heard a tooth crack. That shit right there was one of the many, many, many reasons he refused to bring any of this shit up. What was the point of telling the truth if everyone just thought he was lying?

 

“Connie, come on. Ain’t nobody sayin’ shit about the kid that was always getting into fights anyway. It was kind of my thing.” He gestured down himself. “It was a rare occurrence when I didn’t have a black eye or busted lip. A broken nose didn’t raise no red flags. And I wasn’t about to say shit when I knew it would come back to him, and I’d just get my ass whooped again for ‘airing the family’s dirty laundry.’” 

 

Simon watched Connie open her mouth to apologize, but he couldn't stand to hear it. So he spoke over her, quickly changing the subject. “It wasn’t all bad either. They put me in scouts when I was real young, y’know wanted me to burn off all that energy I had, so I wasn’t buggin’ the shit out of them.”

 

“It sounds like you quite enjoyed it. It was lovely to hear about your project last night,” Connie replied, tone light, treading carefully. 

 

“Yeah, didn’t really like the other kids but loved all that survival shit. I was the one always settin’ fires—I mean, starting the fire, that’s for sure.” Simon had to rein in it, try to tie shit back to the topic at hand. He didn’t need to be confessing more shit that only made him look worse, but his brain was starting to feel like scrambled eggs, hard to tell where and when to stop and how much to give. And, fuck, did he have a tendency to ramble once he got started.

 

Connie raised her eyebrows at the confession. If it wouldn’t have lost him points with Norm, she would have brought that back to him as proof that scouts were just as dangerous as she thought, that she had every right to pull Kev from it. 

 

“They also had us all in private school, and I just couldn’t deal with that shit. Kids were stuck up as hell, wanted to brag about how much their mommy and daddy’s brought home, show off their name-brand clothes, gloat about their latest all-inclusive vacations. I fuckin' hated it. Was in and out of detention for fighting or losing my shit on the stupid classroom rules. Finally booted me from the first school when I set a fire in the science lab.” 

 

“Oh, my,” Connie gasped. She supposed he did warn her, but she underestimated how bad he really meant, was hoping that her husband's assumptions of his violent tendencies were farfetched, but maybe he was right. 

 

“See, I told ya I was a bad kid,” he chuckled. “With all that shit I was doing, they threatened me with military schooling. And there was no fuckin' way I was gonna let them ship me out like that. Wasn't cut out for it. So I got the fuck out of dodge.”

 

Connie blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, I got the fuck out of dodge," he repeated, palms flipped out like it was obvious. "Ran away.” 

 

Connie swallowed hard, picturing Patty or Kevin running off like that. She rubbed her hand over the lump in her throat. “How old were you?”

 

“First time, think I was around 12. It was on and off until they finally didn’t let me come back a few years later,” he answered, smoothing over his facial hair, fingers itching for a cigarette he knew Connie wouldn't let him smoke in here.

 

Connie’s bleeding heart was dripping all over the table, unable to be contained by clasped hands and compassionate glances and worried lips. Simon restrained rolling his eyes. “Where would you go?” 

 

He shrugged. “Anywhere. A friend’s couch, a park bench, an abandoned building. Had a couple more reliable spots once I was a little older. But, s'long as I had my backpack, my jacket, and somewhere to lay down, I was set.” 

 

“But how—when would you—why couldn’t you—.” 

 

“Didn’t care about whatever you’re tryin’ to say as long as I wasn’t under that roof, Connie.” 

 

“But, how did you live?” 

 

Simon laughed bitterly. He knew this part was coming, but that didn't mean he was shitting his pants any less. He looked her hard in the eye, knowing good and well this could be her breaking point with him. He already saw a few threads snap loose from what he mentioned already. This might send it all over the line. 

 

“It was the second or third time that I ran off that I, um, I ran into an old friend from scouts. His older brother was making a killing sellin' dope downtown. Looped me into it. They just had me movin' pills for the longest time. But, you know, you move up. You get greedy. You want more. And it didn’t—.” Simon stopped himself and glanced up at Connie, knowing he was hurtling himself past the point of return. 

 

Luckily, she didn’t seem pissed, just grossly sympathetic, which he knew was as good as it got all things considered. Meant he wasn't about to lose Patty, but that look was making his skin crawl, the sensation coming from underneath so that his nails dragging along the top of his skin did nothing to quell the incessant squirming. He thought about asking her to close her eyes or look away, so he could get the rest of it out. Instead, he pressed his palms into his eyes and took another deep breath. 

 

“It didn’t take long for me to start using the extra product. And then it wasn’t me using the extra product, it was just me buying for myself. And when the money ran out, I found a way to get more, no matter what that meant. Stole, cheated, lied. Whatever. It didn't fuckin' matter. Didn't care s'long as I got my fix. And I-I fuckin' struggled with that for a long time.” He paused, removing his hands from his face, and looked Connie in the eye once again. “And you told me not to lie, so I’ll admit I still do at times. Haven't touched that shit in years, but, you know, some days...some days are harder than others.” 

 

Connie knew that she should be worried about what all this meant for Patty, but, in the moment, all she wanted to do was reach around the table and pull him in for a long, overdue hug. But she knew better, so she tried to straighten her features instead and fidgeted with the cup in her hands to restrain herself. "I do appreciate the honesty, Simon. Really," she replied quietly, a faint smile on her lips that she hoped show she wasn't about to use his vulnerability against him. "I'm sure it took a lot of strength to do it all on your own." 

 

Simon chuckled at the absurdity of it all, scrubbing a hand over his face, blatantly ignoring the comment he couldn't stand to face or dissect. “I don’t even fuckin’ remember what their breaking point was,” he confessed, bringing his hands back to drum on the table, leg bouncing wildly below. “It could have been when I moved back in at 16, and they woke up one morning to me gone, wallets and jewelry boxes emptied. Or it could have been the first time I OD'd, or the second. I mean, Dan will even tell you. I put everyone through hell.”

 

“You weren’t yourself, Simon,” Connie interjected. 

 

“Doesn’t matter. Still made my sister clean up after me while she was dealing with two toddlers. Shit, Danny was just a kid, had to walk in on me half alive with a goddamn needle stuck in my arm on the basement floor more times than anyone ever should, picking me up from places I shouldn’t have been. Fuck, the kid literally saved my life at least two times that I can remember, if not more," Simon sighed, shaking his head as he fought against the overwhelming guilt.

 

Quieter, he continued, "I made my shit everyone's fuckin' problem and didn't give a fuck how it affected anyone as long as I got my next high. Just, please. You have to know I'm not that person anymore. If I-if I lost Patty, I don't know what the fuck I would—.”

 

“Simon,” Connie interrupted gently, reaching an open palm towards him. Not only could she see the ache in his eyes, but she could feel the remorse rolling off of him in waves. She waited until he locked eyes with her. “This stays between you and I.”

 

Simon noticed the tears forming in her eyes and yanked his hand away in disgust. “Don’t fuckin' do that," he snapped, shaking his finger at her again. He may have spent years upon years ruminating, devoted dozens upon dozens of songs to blaming his parents for every little thing that went wrong in his life, but, enough time locked up in those four walls over the last two years really opened his eyes. At the root of all of his problems was him. No one else. There were very few scenarios he could think of where he was completely innocent. "Don't need your fuckin' pity. It was my bed, I laid in it.” 

 

Connie could hardly believe her ears, shaking her head as she reached her hand across the table once more. “You were a child, Simon,” she insisted firmly.  

 

Simon shoved himself back from the table, standing up sharply and swinging his backpack over his shoulders. “I need a fucking cigarette.” And with that, Patty's house was a swirl of beige and neutral colors as he stomped his way outside, letting the door slam shut behind him and sucking in a huge gulp of fresh air.

 

“We can’t keep doing this with you, Simon. You either stay clean, or stay gone. That's it.” 

 

Simon choked and sputtered from the spit he inhaled in his lungs, desperately shaking his head to combat the memory. With trembling hands and ragged breaths, he fumbled a cigarette into his mouth, swearing far too loud for such a nice neighborhood when he accidentally crumpled it in his hand. 

 

"Please, Simon, for the love of all that is holy, sit still and be quiet. And where did this stain come from? Good God Almighty, why can't you be more like your brother and sister?"

 

He pulled out another one, carefully this time, though his hands were barely steady enough to light it. He squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could, as if that could stop the bomb that was already detonating inside his brain.

 

“Something’s gotta give, son. Any day now we're gonna get a call from the morgue rather than the station."

 

Simon threw himself down on the porch, rubbing his temple and praying the nicotine would soothe his mind, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. There was only one thing that was ever enough, and he swore on his life and Patty's he'd never touch that shit again. 

 

“Not now, Simon. I don't have time for this. Go find the nanny.” 

 

He sucked on his cigarette a little harder, the burn in his lungs grounding him back to reality for a brief moment. He wasn't granted with silence, the memories replaced by his recurrent tinnitus. But at least that was better than the voices. It only lasted halfway through his first cigarette.

 

"They had to pump your stomach again last night, Simon. And don't think they didn't say anything about the marks up and down your arms. We're admitting you first thing in the morning." 

 

"Another fire, Simon? Really? What were you thinking? You're gonna kill someone. What then?" 

 

God, he could have sworn he just lit that cigarette. With uncoordinated fingers, he pulled another one out of the pack, lighting the new one with the old one. 

 

"Yeah, it's the Stryker kid again. Go ahead and call in the K-9s. I'll need at least another squad car."

 

“I don’t even know who you are anymore, but whatever this is, it's not my son. You’re a junkie, Simon. A thief. A liar. A criminal. A monster.” 

 

The feeling of his chest collapsing in on itself forced Simon back to his feet. He inhaled deeply, tried to focus on the cigarette, how it felt between his fingers and in his mouth and lungs. Tried to pretend like the neighbor's lawn mower was louder than his mind, but it wasn't. The levee had busted, and his mind was spewing the contents of years and years and years of pent up memories that he couldn’t ignore anymore. And he was drowning. God, was he drowning in it all. 

 

“Mom! Simon’s gone psycho again!”

 

“I’m not coming to Christmas if he’s going to be there, Mom. I don’t trust him around my babies. Last time a baggie fell out of his pocket, and thank God I found it before Renault or Carmen could get to it.” 

 

“You’re a dog. A fucking loser. It’s embarrassing to be seen with you, to be related to you.”  

 

“It’s you, Simon. You came back, and everything’s gone to shit again. God, can’t you see we’re all happier when you’re not around?” 

 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with him, Mom. It’s dope today. It’ll be crack tomorrow.”  

 

"Fucking cunt," Simon grumbled under his breath. Renae didn't deserve to hold this type of power over him, couldn't allow it. So Simon squeezed his fists as tight as he could, biting his nails into his palms to keep him from throwing a fist at the siding or worse the brick. But that didn't stop the toe of his combat boot from connecting with a corner of the brick. The sharp sting of pain radiating down his foot brought him back to the surface, but it wasn't enough. He would need something sharper, deeper to rid the mental anguish, and he was trying really hard to keep himself from going down that path. 

 

“Sorry, bro. You know I'd love to help, but Mom’s gonna have my head on a platter if she finds out I gave you any more money.”

 

“Come on, Simon. Please wake up. Mom’s gonna kill us both if you don’t.” 

 

“You’re starting to really freak me out, man. You don’t look too good. When was the last time you ate something?” 

 

“All you care about anymore is that fucking needle, dude. You need help. Before it’s too late.” 

 

Fucking Christ, okay. He’d take Renae’s overdramatized bullshit over Dan’s genuine concerns, felt like open-heart surgery without anesthesia then and even worse now. Simon sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. Trying to find a single spot of solace in his brain, but every corner he turned to there was just more, more hurt, more shame, more pain, more guilt, more remorse. There was no way out.

 

“No, we’re done. We told you, Simon. We’re not doing this anymore. You’re going to have to figure it out on your own.” 

 

“Please. I'm begging you. Just for once. Act normal.” 

 

“You can't just turn up here after disappearing for months. You look like shit. You fuckin' reek. You're high as a fucking kite, can't even stand up straight. And you still owe me 100 bucks. I'm not letting you inside like this.” 

 

“I said it then, and I'll say it again now. You're never going to amount to anything.” 

 

"Danny had to walk in on you choking on your own vomit last night, Simon! He's only twelve years old. You have to think about someone other than yourself at some point!"

 

“Once a dope fiend, always a dope fiend.” 

 

“You ruin everything.” 

 

And with that, Simon slumped back onto the porch, a choking gasp shot out of his lungs as he squeezed his eyes as tight as he could, shoving the lump in his throat as far down as he could force it without spewing all over Connie’s flowers. But it wasn't enough. A single tear finally broke loose, the anchor holding down his heart cracking his chest wide open as a pathetic, quiet sob broke from his lips just once before he slapped his hand over his mouth, cracked his neck, and sat up straight. He relit his cigarette and told himself to get it together.

 

 

Connie knew better than to chase after the boy following an outburst like that. It was one thing when Kev threw a fit, but that was in response to asking how his day was or why he doesn't talk to that one pretty girl anymore. Kev's explosions were unnecessary, overdramatic. Simon's...she felt was more than warranted.

 

Danny had alluded that Simon’s childhood differed from his in a lot of ways, but Connie was never sure what he had meant by that. It was clear to her now why he kept everything so tight to him, why he wore the armor that he did, and Connie, well, she couldn't justify her actions. She could pretend it was okay because she caught him the way she did, that she was only trying to protect her daughter. But she saw herself pushing too hard and still didn't stop, let her nosiness and curiosity get the best of her, saw it as a ploy to one up Norm in their ongoing argument. She could already tell this was going to sit heavy on her heart for years to come. 

 

When Simon didn't return after a good ten minutes, Connie couldn't push her concern to the side any longer. She hoped that he didn't take off before she could apologize, though she wouldn't be surprised if he did. If her father-in-law had ever pushed her like that when her and Norm had been dating, she wasn't sure she would have came around again. And here she was worried that Norm was going to be the one to chase him off. Patty would never forgive her once she found out, and Connie wouldn't blame her. 

 

She approached the front door, peering through the glass to find him sat on the porch, head in hands, unsteady breaths contorting the rise and fall of his back, smoke rising from the dwindling cigarette between his fingers. She sighed deeply as she looked away, disgusted with herself, but accepting the fact that she messed up, had to make things right, and give the boy what he never got. He deserved a little comfort, a little grace, a little understanding. 

 

She gently pushed open the door and stepped out beside him on the porch. “Can I join you?”

 

Simon’s head untucked from his hunch, squinting up at her. “Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure.” He waved dismissively and tilted his head to the space next to him on the concrete. 

 

Connie climbed down, knees together, toes perched as she gave them both a moment to readjust to the other's presence. She patted his knee gently. “I know you said you didn’t want to hear it, but I do want to apologize for pushing.”

 

Simon didn't bother to look her way, halfheartedly flicking his hand at her. “Nah, it’s fine. It’s just…” he trailed off, intently studying the cherry of his cigarette. “Think I just forgot how much there was.” He let his eyes unfocus, that familiar sensation of drifting away from his body. That was the first time he had ever recounted the majority of his childhood out loud to anyone, and, fuck, he skipped over so much and was already completely and totally drained, felt like the devil himself fucked his skull open. 

 

They sat in silence for awhile, and Simon was grateful Connie didn’t feel the need to fill the emptiness with pointless conversation. Helped him to come back to himself, focus on external inputs instead of internal. The sun was still creeping toward the top of the sky, a few clouds lazily moseying on by. It was humid but not unbearable yet. They both watched a squirrel climb down a tree and run toward the driveway. Several songbirds squeaked and cooed in the distance. 

 

“It’s, ahem. Sorry,” Simon cleared his throat, voice rough and phlegmy from chainsmoking. “It’s not one little thing, Connie. There’s a million fuckin’ reasons why we don’t talk. And a lot of it is on me."

 

Connie smiled, but Simon could see the sadness behind her eyes as she clicked her tongue and shook her head slightly. “Well, I’m not so sure about that.” 

 

Simon sighed deeply, flicking his cigarette and rubbing the back of his hand against his left eye before turning to look at Connie again. “Look, I know you’re worried about Patty, and what all my bullshit means for her. But, fuck, Connie. I really don't know what I would do without her. Seriously," he nearly pleaded, desperation rising as he was certain there was no way Connie concluded anything good from his past and what that potentially meant for her only, beloved daughter. "Just know I’d never put that shit on her. S’why we haven’t really gotten into it. S’my weight to carry—not hers.” Simon shuffled another cigarette out of his pack. 

 

“Oh, Simon. Don’t say—.” 

 

“And, you know if it wasn’t for her, I’d probably be stuck doing the same old shit too. Didn’t give a fuck about what would happened to me, wasn't ever thinkin' about a tomorrow, was kinda hoping something would come along and take me out, but, shit,” Simon chuckled as the pieces came together right in front of his eyes. “She came along instead and fuckin’ everything changed.” Simon puffed on his cigarette, small traces of a smile appearing at the corner of his lips. “Didn’t wanna be taken out anymore. Started to care about shit again. Actually made me want to wake up, y’know? She, uh, she's kinda makin' me someone I don’t recognize but it's... it's in a good way I think.” 

 

“I know I can’t speak for Patty, but it seems like you did the same for her,” Connie admitted. Simon's brows furrowed deeper in confusion, his expression already demanding the question before he could open his mouth. 

 

“After she dropped out of the J.C., I mean, I could tell she wasn’t happy. All she did was go to work and come home. And sure, she did things around the house, played outside like she always has. But she, well, she didn’t have friends anymore. Didn’t have anything to pull her out and into the real world. And I'm sure you've noticed by now that she can get sucked into her own little world in that head of hers."

 

Simon chuckled; a palm flipped in agreement. 

 

"Everything she wanted, I was too scared of, didn't want to let her go, afraid she'd get hurt, that something would happen, and no one would be able to help her. But, still, I wanted it for her. All of it: normalcy, friends, family, fun, love. Every parent wants to see their children spread their wings and fly. But sometimes I worried I—we may have clipped them, her wings, I mean. Held on too tight.” Connie wasn’t sure why she was admitting this all to him, caught somewhere between feeling like she was out of line and also like she owed Simon the vulnerability, but it did feel good to get off her chest.

 

“But then you came along. And truthfully, Simon, I didn’t like it at first. Or, really, up until recently,” she confessed, thankful that Simon’s snort seemed amused rather than frustrated. “Those first few months, the growing pains were awful. It felt like we were losing her. She was finally putting her foot down. She wanted to be an adult, she wanted to mature, she wanted to grow, and I don't know. I know she was ready. I guess we weren't.” 

 

Simon scratched the back of his neck, smiling as he recalled the way he’d snap into the tinny phones in the prison that Connie needed to cut the umbilical cord at some point. All the lines he concocted for her, all the words of encouragement and pushing he gave her. Seemed like it paid off. “I may have helped influence her wording here or there.”

 

Connie laughed, patting his shoulder lightly. “Looking back now, I can see that’s obvious. I mean, Patty could get an attitude but she had never been so…” 

 

“Abrasive?”  

 

Connie shook her head. “No. Confident. She wasn’t asking anymore, she was—.”

 

“Telling. Yeah. If I can be honest, Connie, she’s got this kinda fucked up sense of what she’s capable of. Thinks she needs permission for everything, doesn't trust herself to make decisions sometimes. But we’re workin’ on it.” 

 

Connie hated to hear it so plainly, but she was appreciative of his honesty nonetheless. Supposed Simon wasn't the only one facing some hard truths this morning. She should have heeded the advice she'd given Norm about playing with fire. 

 

Simon swayed into her side with a smile and a tilt of his cigarette. “Y'know, I think you and my mom have the opposite fuckin’ problem.” 

 

Connie looked at him curiously, an arch of an eyebrow and a perk to the corner of her lip in question. And Simon sighed, chuckling as he smiled at the ground and threw his hand out between them. "Think you care too much. Way too fuckin' much. But that’s not a bad thing. Trust me. Patty’s got way less fucked up shit goin’ on in her head because of it.” 

 

And Connie took that right on the chin. It wasn't anything she didn't know, already hearing it enough from her husband, her children, shoot, her own mother when she was still alive. But what ate at Connie louder than the the critique were the words left unsaid by him. What he was insinuating about his own mother. Before Connie realized what she was doing, she looped her arm around the boy's shoulders, tugging him closer and letting his head rest on her shoulder. He tensed, so tight that Connie was sure he was on the verge of thrashing and throwing her off. But then he relaxed, a deep sigh blown from his nose as his muscles settled and allowed the moment of comfort. She bit back another apology, but she was still going to say something.

 

Connie cleared her froggy throat, rubbing her hand soothingly down his shoulders and turning her head away from the smoke billowing up into her face. "I do owe you a thank you." Simon pulled from her grasp sharply, the crease between his brows deepening. "And I mean that. From the bottom of my heart. I think we all needed that push, and if it wasn't for you, I'm not sure we ever would have made it this far." 

 

"I don't know—."

 

Connie shook her head and wagged a finger at him. He needed to hear this, especially if he didn't believe her. “Her spark came back the day you were released. And I didn’t know that’s what was going on then, but I could feel the difference in her. Every time she skipped through the house, danced in the hallway, sang in the shower, or hummed while doing the dishes—and Patty hates doing the dishes. She was glowing. I hadn’t seen her like that in, I don’t know, years, Simon. Maybe ever. And that was you,” she insisted. “All you.” 

 

Simon huffed an unconvinced laugh. It was hard to think he did anything but bring her down at times. 

 

“It's the truth," Connie reiterated, her tone short and snappy. "You need to be a little nicer to yourself."

 

“S’hard," he grunted, turning his attention to his cigarette to get away from Connie's burrowing eyes that felt like she was reaching directly into his soul. "Feel like I don’t deserve her, y’know. Probably don’t fit the picture of what you had in mind for her either. Wish I could, Connie. But that just ain’t me.” 

 

Connie frowned, her hand returning to lightly pat his shoulder. “Don’t say that,” she sighed. “You know, it’s not that you don’t fit the picture. It’s–we didn’t have it in the picture at all.” 

 

Simon couldn't contain the scowl on his face. “See, that’s the shit I’m talking about. Underestimating her like that.” 

 

Connie snatched her hand from him, brows furrowed and a raging heat behind her eyes. “Don’t fight me, Simon. We’re on the same team for now.” 

 

Simon felt his eye twitch, his jaw clench. In his heightened state, he tried everything to keep his mouth shut, but he couldn't lay complacent in that statement. “I'm not trying to fuckin' fight you, Connie. I know she’s more capable of what you guys give her credit for. It might take her a little longer to get the hang of shit, but she always gets there.” He held her eye contact. "Always."

 

Connie blinked rapidly, her hand coming to rub over her chest in shock. If this were Patty or Kev, she'd be immediately shutting the conversation down. But, there was a small part of her that knew he had a point. “I–the doctors always said—.”

 

“Oh, bullshit. Fuck the doctors," Simon threw his hands up, furious. "Always telling you what you can and can’t do, sticking you in a box. Putting you on a mountain of meds until you don’t feel like a human anymore. Dull you to shit so you can’t fight back. Give you all these stupid fuckn' restrictions. I mean, seriously—.” He felt Connie’s hand come to his knee, and he quickly snapped his mouth shut, realizing he’d gone overboard. 

 

“Shit, sorry." He was all over the fuckin' place today. Blamed it on the fact that he was stone-cold sober. 

 

Connie sighed, recalling every instance Patty fought and screamed and resisted going to the doctors, always ending up on some new medication with some new diagnosis and sometimes sending her off to treatments or facilities for weeks on end. It was all for her own good though, usually coming back in better spirits. Usually. “It sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” she said quietly. 

 

Simon barked a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, guess you could say so.” 

 

And while Connie could take some comfort in knowing that her daughter was with someone that could understand her challenges, she needed to make it clear that the precautions and especially the medications weren't some conspiracy theory formed by her doctors. That they were actually needed, that they helped her, not boxed her in. "I'm going to need you to understand that her struggles, her experiences, they're different from yours, Simon. Patty, she, well. There's some things she's always going to struggle with—.”

 

“And there’s plenty that I’m going to struggle with too,” he interrupted before she could get any further. Before she said something that would piss him off to the point he said something he couldn't take back. 

 

Connie nodded. She was tired at this point, which meant that Simon had to be exhausted. She slapped him on the knee and stood up. “Come on. I’m sure you’re hungry. I’ll make you a quick bite, and let you get home.” 

 

And that's how Simon found himself back at the dining room table once again to his great dismay. Well, when he put it in perspective, he'd rather be sitting here knowing he still got to have Patty instead of storming back to Dan's knowing he ruined the only good thing he had going for himself. He let himself relax in the seat, rubbing over the aching throb behind his right temple.

 

Connie quickly returned from the kitchen, sliding a sandwich over to him. “Thanks,” he mustered, inspecting the meal. Seemed like just ham and cheese. Easy enough. He was starving. 

 

Connie took her seat across from him once more, smiling as she watched him tear into his food, glad to see he was getting something in his belly. “Why don’t you tell me more about that grandma of yours?” 

 

Simon stopped chewing, caught off guard by the question. But Connie was smiling so sweetly and so genuinely at him, the twinkle in her eye reminding him so much of Patty in that moment he felt his heart skip a beat. He could tell she was just curious, and, the weirdest part of all, he kind of wanted to. 

 

So he did. 

 

He told her everything he knew about her, everything he could remember: the color and feel of her favorite sweater and how she smelled and how she loved the color yellow so much that she painted her whole house this bright, sunshine color that made his heart warm thinking about it and how she taught him how to sew and till a garden bed and let him wander the woods behind her house. Oh, and sunflowers. She adored sunflowers. She had sunflower doilies, and ceramics, and throw pillows, and sunflower wallpaper in the kitchen, and hand towels, and anything and everything else in between. 

 

She never yelled at him when he came home muddy or scratched up, as long as he was home when the streetlights flickered on, he’d earn himself dessert after dinner. He remembered the first night he turned up caked in dirt and mud and god knows what else, and all she did was ruffle his hair and send him to the shower, letting him know little boys were supposed to get dirty, have fun, and explore the earth. That a speck of dirt wasn’t something to be ashamed of, but rather something to take pride in, that it represented a day of joy and learning rather than unachievable pristineness. 

 

He told her how she shaped his world view, guided his moral compass, saw his parents for who they really were, taught him to be wary of "the man," and how she lived humbly despite taking half of grandpa's money in the divorce settlement. Taught him to respect nature and all the bugs and birds and creatures that played an important part in sustaining the ecosystem around them. And, Simon’s favorite takeaway, how it was okay to relax, have fun, and get dirty doing it. 

 

“Sounds like she was a really special person," Connie smiled warmly.   

 

“Yeah. I was lucky to have her,” he agreed. It felt like Connie had him under some sort of truth serum, and he briefly considered maybe there was something in that shitty cup of coffee that forced it out of him. But, mostly, he felt like an asshole for getting onto Patty so much about her difficulties lying to her mom. It was hard looking into that woman's eyes and giving her anything but the truth. 

 

“And I know I said I’d let you get going, but I do have to say one more thing,” Connie demanded, a firmness in her tone that made Simon sit up straighter and look her in the eye once more. 

 

“I don’t like what you said earlier. About not deserving her,” she began. “I wish you thought more of yourself than that.” While she knew Norm would throw a tantrum over this, she had already decided that she was taking Simon under her wing too, seeing as he had been lost, alone, and directionless for who knows how long at this point. A little love could go a long way, and she was more than happy to step up to the plate. 

 

“Well, shit, Connie. Look at me,” he sighed, gesturing to himself. 

 

Connie crossed her arms. “I am looking at you. Simon, you weren’t here to see her before. And, besides, I really don’t like this pedestal you’re trying to put her on when she’s a growing, learning human herself.”

 

Simon sighed heavily, swiping his index finger over his eye as he tried to figure out how to either respond to or digest those words. Either way, they weren’t going down well. 

 

“And you deserve to be happy too, you deserve to be—.”

 

Simon put his hand up. “Okay, alright. Please, Connie. That’s–that’s enough. You don’t need to do this,” he interrupted desperately. He couldn’t stand to hear it. “I appreciate it, but—.” 

 

Connie drummed her fingers on the table and frowned. “You really need to be easier on yourself. I hope you’re not this walled off with her too.” 

 

Simon flung his hands in the air. “I’m fuckin’ trying. It’s not easy.” 

 

“It’ll get easier,” she promised. “You know I appreciate how patient you are with her.” 

 

“Me? Patient with her?" Simon snorted. "No, you got this ass-backwards, Con. She’s patient with me." Connie raised a brow at him, a curious smile painting her features that pushed him to elaborate. "If you're talkin' about the questions, yeah, sure. I know she's got alotta of 'em. Don't mind it though. Shit, fuckin' love it actually. Love that she's not afraid to ask anything. I know so many fucking idiots that would rather pretend to know what's going on and live in ignorance instead of swallowing their goddamn pride and actually learning something for once." 

 

Simon scratched the spot behind his ear and laughed lightly. "Me, on the other hand? Connie, I made her wait two fuckin' years for starters. And I think you can probably figure out I'm not exactly an open book," he explained through a self-deprecated chuckle. "And sometimes, sometimes she'll ask a real tough question, somethin' I might not know the answer to right away, but she never rushes me. Never minds waiting, never gets mad at me for it either." And that was just the tip of the iceberg of the patience and grace she extended to him. 

 

"Oh, Simon," Connie sighed. "That's really sweet." 

 

Simon felt a slight rush of warmth flood his cheeks. Think Patty and Connie were the only two people to ever refer to him that way. God, he couldn't believe the outcome of this whole situation, so fuckin' far from what he had expected when she was scolding him in the hallway just a couple hours ago. But, once again, Dan was fuckin' right. Connie wasn't so bad after all, much better than his mom that's for sure. And a part of him was actually starting to feel lucky that he had someone like Connie now to take his side, understand where he came from, know his intentions were always well-meaning even if the execution was wonky at times. 

 

Connie stood up and collected Simon's empty plate. "Alright, think I put you through the wringer enough for one day. I'll let you get goin'," she smiled softly. 

 

Simon nodded, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and hovering awkwardly over the table. He could feel Connie's eyes scan over him once again, but it wasn't out of judgement this time. Something closer to concern.

 

“You know you’re awfully skinny. Why don’t you come by Thursday for dinner?” Connie offered over her shoulder, making her way back to the kitchen. 

 

Simon scoffed, hands flung in exasperation as he followed her. “I'm not skinny."

 

Connie’s head snapped behind her, eyebrows furrowed as she purposefully looked him up and down again. “Bullcrap. You’re nearly skin and bones.”

 

Simon looked down at himself and back at her in confusion. “Connie, this is the most I’ve ever weighed.” 

 

Connie clicked her tongue, a wrist flipped to solidify her point. “And that’s why you’re coming to dinner Thursday.” 

 

“I don’t know—.”

 

“I insist,” she reiterated, switching her firm tone and gaze back on. This wasn’t a request; it was mandatory. “Besides, you were probably eating 3 times a day in there like you should, huh?”

 

Simon blinked several times in disbelief before he laughed, throwing his hand in the air. “Sure. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

 

“And now?”

 

Simon swayed his head side to side. “Yeah, okay. Usually once a day.” 

 

Connie laughed lightheartedly as she flipped on the faucet. “Patty’s bad about that too. Swear she'd forget to eat most days if I didn't make her. Promise me you’ll be mindful of that?” 

 

Simon nodded, hand coming to rub the back of his neck as he smiled at his shoes. “Yeah. Yeah, I promise.” 

 

Connie abandoned the dishes in the sink and guided him to the front door, stopping at the threshold to smooth out his shirt and jacket with a smile. 

 

“Uh, thanks, Connie. Seriously,” he repeated, messing with the straps on his backpack, needing something to do with his hands as she fussed over him. Not something he was necessarily a stranger to, but she did it out of some sort of affection rather than annoyance and disdain. And that made Simon feel all sorts of emotions he wasn’t ready to deal with head on yet. She wetted her thumb and brushed off a crumb on his cheek. 

 

Connie felt an undeniable wave of that maternal love wash over her, and she couldn’t help herself any longer. “Oh, come here,” she gushed, pulling him into a tight hug. He resisted for a moment, unsure what to do with his arms but eventually returned it. “If you ever need anything, and I mean, anything, please don’t hesitate. I’m always here, and as long as she’s happy, you’re always welcome over. Announced, of course. And if you ever stay the night again, it best be in Kevin’s room.” She released her grip and rubbed his arms up and down with a wide smile. 

 

“Yeah, yeah. I got it. I’m really sorry ‘bout all that again. I know it doesn’t change anything, but I-I am.” And Simon was surprised that, for once, he really was. 

 

“Well, I’ll see you Thursday, Simon. Be safe getting home. Let Danny know I said hi. And, please, get Patty home on time tonight.”

 

“Yeah, no problem, Connie. See you then.”

Notes:

okay phew I know that was a lot i hope u don't hate me (special s/o & a sincere apology to my brother who inspired most of simons backstory sorry bro mom n dad suck lol)

and, just preemptively, I’m sorry about the next chapter too… 😇

thank you sosososo much for all the kudos n comments so far!! Makes my heart skip a beat every time I get a lil interaction from y’all so thank you again!!

Chapter 8

Notes:

sorry about the wait!!! endings are hard!! also decided last minute to split this chapter in half so it wasn't like 20k words lmfao home stretch friends!!

tw: brief mention of vomit (it is not described) and conversation with a deceased loved one

Simon wiped the sweat from his brow as he threw himself into the driver's seat, car groaning beneath his sudden weight. He pulled at his shirt, unsticking the damp fabric and puffing a column of air up his chest. The heat was already unbearable, hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk, but it was suffocating inside the car, amplified by the mid-afternoon sun piercing through the windshield. Muttering under his breath, he fiddled with the air conditioning and flipped on the radio before pulling out onto the street. 

 

Simon angled the vents as the air finally kicked in, directing one up the inside of his shirt, another against his sweat-dripped face. A sigh of relief. With his brain still halfway scrambled from the heat, he struggled to make sense of what the fuck just happened. He shouldn’t have walked out of that one at all, let alone with Patty still, invited to dinner again, and somehow in better standing with her mom than when he initially "left" the night before. Shit, Connie even thanked him at one point. He snorted. 

That simple stream of air huffed out his nose was a tipped domino, the slight chuckle morphing into uncontainable giggles that bubbled up and out of him until he was guffawing like a madman. He couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe he got a simple slap on the wrist, the way Connie took his side, the way she believed him, the way she insisted he was good for Patty—and that was after she got him to open up.

 

And then there was that. How she got him to talk about shit he hadn't talked about with anyone, hadn't even thought about in years, how all that chatter resurfaced memories he had forgotten about for his own sanity. The maniacal laughter died on his lips in exchange for choked, sputtered noises. 

 

The brief euphoria was gone, leaving him cold and achy and sick, stomach twisting and turning, bitter and acidic much like Connie's choice in coffee. His head was throbbing like he had been drinking all night; a sour aftertaste lingered on his tongue that threatened to gag him if he noticed it for too long. He felt disoriented and floaty, like the tether between his mind and body had been severed, wrung out in the way spending days or weeks on the floor of Don’s place would do to him. But, most of all, he was dog tired. 

 

Simon clumsily pawed around for his cigarettes, dropping them on the floorboard twice before ripping the top open. It was empty. 

“Fuck!” Tires squealing, he cut a sharp left turn and made a detour for the closest gas station. 

 

With the much-needed nicotine in hand, he returned to the car and stuck a cigarette in his lip. He gripped the wheel, knuckles white, the sound of blood pulsing incessantly in his ears. 

 

He glanced up at the payphone sitting no more than ten feet away from him. Stared it down for a good minute before throwing his hands in the air. “God fucking dammit.” 

 

Simon slammed the door behind him hard enough to shake the car and scare the fuck out of some old woman walking out of the store. She jumped away from him, hand clasped over her chest and eyes wide in scrutiny. 

 

“The fuck you lookin’ at, lady?” 

 

She tucked her purse closer to her body and scurried past him to her car. 

 

Grumbling under his breath, he stomped back inside for a different pack of cigarettes, grateful he pocketed Danny's five from the day before. He picked through his last bit of change as he approached the payphone. He looked up at it, back at the car, and made his move. 

 

Information in hand, he ended the phone call with a satisfying "fuck you" and peeled off onto the main road, following the barely legible directions jotted down on the back of his hand. Car after car was cut off, a symphony of horns and middle fingers left in his wake as he navigated out of the congested streets through bleary vision. 

 

Simon drove until the decaying suburbs bloomed into forests and overgrown plots of land. And then he drove some more, finding himself surrounded by fields upon fields of corn, only broken up by cow-dotted meadows and humble farmhouses. He rolled down his window, the heat combining with the sweet crop to form a pleasant and nostalgic aroma that brought a faint smile to his face, numbing the ache in his chest if only for a moment. 

 

Huh, city air must get to his head.  

 

He'd been driving for nearly an hour when he began to seriously consider the possibility that he may have been sent on a wild goose chase. Had no real way of vouching for the reliability of the directions given to him. On the verge of giving up and turning back around, he finally rolled up to an open-gated pasture tucked off a dusty, gravel road. Looking between the back of his hand and the sign in confirmation, he pushed forward.

 

The spiderwebbed asphalt guided him up a hill where he was met with a fork in the road. Simon squinted at his scrawled notes once again: lft sd willow/pond. He leaned forward, wheel cutting into his ribs as he scanned over the estate, pressing his foot back down on the gas the moment he located the landmark. 

 

He parked, eyeing the weeping willow warily. Pretty tree and all, but he found it a touch on-the-nose to plant something like that in a place like this. He shook his head and glanced over the last set of smeared instructions: tree → 10 pond, 2 lft. 

 

He stuffed his pockets, turned off the car, and peered out the window again. His hand froze on the door handle.

It hit him like a sucker punch, where he was, what he was doing, why he was doing this—like he’d been stuck on autopilot for the last hour. His breath caught in his throat, his stomach churned, and he barely opened the door in time to spew his lunch all over the road. 

 

Wiping his mouth with a ragged groan, Simon knocked his forehead against the sunbaked steering wheel. He didn’t know if he expected to feel relieved or absolved by any means, but he guessed he was hoping that some of the ever-increasing weight would be lifted off his shoulders. He knew doing the right thing didn't always feel good, but was it supposed to feel this bad? 

 

The nausea waned eventually, and Simon forced his eyes open, zeroing in on a crumpled receipt paper sitting in the well of the passenger seat. A pleasant snck of his lighter, and the paper was engulfed in flames, enveloping the vehicle in a sickly, sweet scent, heat licking the pads of his fingers as it disintegrated in his hands. A corner of his lip twitched into a half-grin. 

 

This time when he looked out the window, he didn’t feel sick exactly. No, that wasn't the right way to put it. Felt like stage fright more than anything, and he scoffed at himself. That was about as pathetic as it got, considering he was the one that fucked up in the first place, waiting this long to come see her, to say goodbye to her. 

 

And yet, he still couldn't bring himself to get the fuck out of the car. Simon wanted to make this right; he really did. But he couldn’t help but think that maybe he didn’t deserve the closure after all these years. Maybe he was meant to suffer, a deep, unhealing wound, bleeding and oozing as a reminder of who he really was. And he didn’t want to forget what he was capable of, didn’t want to forget that the one constant, the one thing he could rely on was that he would inevitably hurt the ones he loved the most. If he made this right now, would it make things wrong elsewhere down the line?  

 

He reached for the keys to start the car back up, but, before he could bring them to the ignition, Connie's voice barreled through his brain, louder than any other thought buzzing between his ears: “I hope you’re not this walled off with her too.” 

 

“Fuck.” His head smacked against the seat, and he shoved the keys back in his pocket. She cut him deep with that one. It was a valid concern, read him like an open book really. Not only was he that walled off with Patty, he was worse. So bad that she warped it in her head that she was a bad girlfriend, that it was her fault that she didn't know much about him. Shit, that dinner was probably the longest he’d talked about himself in years, let alone with her. 

 

Anger was familiar, easier to deal with and a comfort in the sadness, so he was pissed. Briefly at Connie, but mostly at himself. For letting himself get splayed open like that, for not listening to his gut instinct that he should have left after dinner, for giving Connie more of his past than he had with Patty. And she was the one that deserved it. She was the one who had stuck by his side, the one that looked at him like he hung the moon, the one who always handled him with so much care, so much patience, the one that listened to him, validated him, the one who loved him—even if it was ill-advised, even when it was tough. 

 

Shoulders sagging, his hands loosened around the steering wheel in defeat. Running away was preferable, something he was good at, but leaving would only shove another wall up. And if he wanted to avoid spiraling down the same path that Patty deserved better, so much fucking better than what he had to offer, then the least he could do was try to be better.  

 

And that’s what she originally asked for, right? She didn’t want him to pretend, didn’t want him to change, liked him as he was, but she wanted him to try.

 

So he’d fucking try.

 

Simon stumbled out of the car, narrowly avoiding his own mess. He peeled the soles of his shoes off the searing asphalt, forcing his feet forward slowly, taking the time to glance over each and every marker along the way. Some were legible still, pristine, well-kept, and flower-adorned, while others were so caked in dirt and moss and lichen that the engravings were no longer decipherable. The dichotomy made his heart lurch. He wondered what hers would look like, and there was only one way to find out. 

 

Swearing under his breath, he situated himself under the willow tree, lit a cigarette, and leaned his head against the bark. It was significantly cooler, an oasis under the long, drooping branches. He closed his eyes and listened to the wind rustling between the leaves. 

 

The peace didn't last long before his sister’s voice came flooding back in, her nasty tone and the way her words dripped with poison: “Why do you even care, Simon?” Like this was so out of character for him, like he wasn't capable of anything more than destruction, like he wasn’t even human. Fucking bitch. 

 

Fueled by spite, he counted out ten steps towards the pond, then shuffled two to the left. He hovered, hesitating, looking anywhere but down. In that moment, he’d rather burn his retinas out staring directly into the fucking sun than risk a glance toward his feet. He paced back and forth until the cigarette burned down to the filter. 

 

Hand over his mouth, he looked down. "Shit."

 

He dropped to his knees, gazing up at her marker, some big erected thing that was still glossy and fresh, the grass well-trimmed and neat. Her birthdate, her death date stared back at him. Loving mother, grandmother, and friend, an emblem of a sunflower under her name. His vision swam, his heart seized.  

 

He gently laid his hand in the grass, curling his fingers between the blades. Fuck, she was here, under him, surrounded by dirt and worms, and that was it. She'd been gone so long it shouldn't have felt like an earth-shattering revelation that he'd never be able to see or speak to her again, it shouldn’t have, it shouldn’t have, it shouldn’t have.

 

But it did anyway.

 

Knuckles shoved deep into his sockets, he centered his focus onto evening out his stuttered breathing before it got too far.  

 

Pins and needles blistering down his shins to his toes, Simon sat back, got himself a little more comfortable. He rifled through his pocket, revealing the second, unopened pack and tossed it at the headstone. “Virginia Slim 100s, right?"

 

He snorted as he caught a taste of those shitty cigarettes in his mouth. "Like I could forget. They were the fucking worst to bum. You know, first time I stole one from you I coughed for a fuckin’ hour, threw up all over mom’s bushes?” He opened his pack and stuck a fresh one in his mouth. “Now those are like smoking fucking air. Might as well not even fuckin’ smoke,” he huffed, cupping his hand around the end of his cigarette to shield it from the breeze.

 

“Now these,” he gestured to his cigarette, “these are the shit. Cost way too fuckin’ much, but they're worth it. Believe me.”  

 

A long drag off his cigarette, and he found himself thinking back to all the times she’d thank him for emptying her ashtray for her with a knowing arch of her brow. “Mom ‘n Dad would probably kill you if they knew how often I snuck your cigarettes. I think you knew though. No way you fuckin’ didn’t.” He laughed, and he could have sworn he heard her gravelly cackle laughing along with him. It felt good, really good, until it didn't, and all he was left with was a burrowing emptiness in his chest, sending him into a fitful bout of coughs. 

 

He firmly shook his finger at the stone. "If that's you tryin' to tell me to stop, s’not gonna work," he managed once he caught his breath. "Shit, I remember Dad getting on you for it. And, yeah, I'm gonna use your words against you: we’re all gonna die someday, and I plan on goin' out happy rather than miserable." He directed his line of sight to the cherry, rolling the filter between his pinched fingers. "Kinda took that shit to heart if I'm bein' honest with you." 

 

Simon knew this was going to be difficult, but he didn't expect for the silence that followed to be excruciating, how hard it'd hit him that she was never going to respond, that he was really sitting out here talking to himself. Despite all the religious notions he had rebelled against, despite all the post-death theories he claimed to be nothing more than a fairytale, he understood why, why people would cling to the concept of an afterlife, to a pathway of connectivity between the tangible and intangible. And logic be damned, he wanted to believe she could hear him. So he spoke to her like she could. 

 

“Sorry it took me this long.” It was a quiet admission, one that caved his chest in and blurred his vision. “Kinda just realized today that I never really got to, you know, say goodbye. And, uh, I-I didn’t—. Shit, fuck me. Fuck this." 

 

The internal ache had become unbearable, chewing him up from the inside out. He threw his head into his hands, fingers wrapping around the long strands and tugging. Simon didn’t have any experience with this feeling beside pushing it down, distracting himself with music or sex, numbing himself with whatever he could get his hands on. But, here, he had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, nothing in his backpack to help him swallow it all down. And the sorrow was intense, the grief blinding. He didn’t expect for it to be nearly equivalent to the day his dad relayed the news. 

 

“I just, I couldn’t fuckin’ go, okay?” he spat. “S’not like Dad would have let me anyway, probably woulda left me in the fuckin’ car. You know how he was about me and Dan crying.” Simon shook his head in disgust. “Even if I had managed to get my shit together, I wouldn't’ve been able to deal with everybody lookin' at me like it was all my fault. Oh, yeah. Should probably mention that." Simon punctuated his sentence was a toss of his hands.

 

"Mom, god, she sucks. Had me all fucked in the head, saying shit like I killed you. To this day she’ll tell fuckin’ anyone that’ll listen that you’d still be here if they never—if I never—.” The sound of his voice breaking stopped him, and he turned his attention to his cigarette for a few puffs while he regained some composure. “For whatever reason, I believed her. Think I still kinda do.”

 

He knew it was impossible, knew she wasn’t going to reach out and ruffle his hair like she used to, couldn’t gently kiss his forehead and forgive him, wasn't going to pat him on the shoulder and tell him everything was going to be okay, that it wasn't his fault. But some irrational part of him was still holding on to that hope with a knuckle-white grip. Bottom lip wobbling, Simon pressed the heels of his palms sharply into his eyes before any tears could fall. 

 

“I know none of that makes up for it or makes it okay, but I’m here now, and, fuck, that has to count for something, right?” 

 

And maybe it did count some way, somehow, but he wasn’t convinced it was enough. The effort may have been appreciated, but perhaps it was too late to be forgiven, too late to make things right. Wouldn’t be the first permanent consequence of one of his mistakes coming back to bite him in the ass. He’d have to learn to live with it like everything else. That he let her down. 

 

“Don’t think I realized how much losing you fucked me up," he admitted quietly, mindlessly plucking the grass at his feet. "S’like I can draw a fuckin’ line in my life. And I’m not sayin' it was good before, but it all went to total fuckin’ shit after you left. And I hope wherever you are you didn’t have to see it. And if you did, I-I’m sorry. Really. I’m so fucking sorry.” Hand clasped over his mouth, he curled in on himself, trying to hold everything back, but the infrastructure was rapidly deteriorating, a dam that had nothing on the rising flood waters. A stuttered and pathetic sob broke from him, and the tears fell whether he wanted them to or not. 

 

He missed her. He missed her so fucking much it hurt. And the only thing that overwhelmed him more was the guilt. The fact that he spent years blocking her out, refusing to look at it, to look at her, whatever it took to not deal with the pain head on. And, shit, he was fucking exhausted. Sick and tired of holding everything back, keeping everything and everyone at arm's length. So much time and effort wasted for it to explode in his face like this. 

 

He had to admit that it felt good to let it out, not good in the sense of happiness or joy, but in the sense that he felt better, lighter. He wiped at his wet cheeks and under his runny nose before fumbling for another cigarette. He leaned back on his hands, head tilted toward the sky, and let the sun warm his cheeks. 

 

Simon spent many mornings and afternoons on her porch sat just like this, sunshine on his face, listening to the creak of her rocking chair against the weathered wood and the sounds of birds and insects chittering in every direction. It was easy to imagine her sitting a few feet back from him, and he kept his eyes closed, let himself believe it. 

 

“You know, I was tellin’ someone about you today. S’how I ended up here,” he started. The little hooks Connie had sunk into him tugged and yanked, and he let himself peer inside, met with gratitude only time and age could grant him. "Think you were the only one who ever saw any good in me, stood up for me, and just let me be a fuckin’ kid. Saw past all that bullshit with my parents too. I owe you one for that. Seriously.” 

 

He was quiet for a moment before he huffed a short laugh. “Shit, that's kinda a lie now, Grandma. Ask me two, three years ago and that'd still be the case, but not-not anymore." 

 

And though the pain in his chest was bone deep, he grinned, resting his cheek against his hand. “Swore I'd never be sayin' this shit, but I met someone. Met someone really fucking special. Dunno what I did to deserve her, all the shit she does for me, all the bullshit I make her put up with. But she always does. Always. And with this genuine fuckin’ smile on her face that just rips me apart sometimes. Is that fuckin' normal, or am I going insane? You know what, do us both a favor, and don’t answer that.” 

 

His smile faded quickly, and he cleared his throat. “It’s, um, it's hard. Hard to have someone look at me like that, like I’m not, like I’m—.” Simon swore under his breath, palms returning to his eyes. “And I know you know what Mom ‘n Dad thought of me, all that shit they said to me. Makes me think she shouldn’t be with such an asshole, such a piece of shit like me. She deserves someone good, someone solid. I just, I don’t know if that’s me. But I wanna be, you know? For her, I mean. Everyone else can get fucked for all I care.”

 

Simon sighed and straightened back up, looking square at her name. He leaned forward and trailed a fingertip over the engravings. He could hear her voice then, that fond bitching he didn’t realize he missed so much, could see her swirling her wrist around impatiently at him. Guessed that's where he got it from. 

 

“Shit, sorry. Her name’s Patty,” he chuckled. “She’s really something else, think you’d love her. Shit, I know I fuckin' do. Lemme put it in perspective for you: first time she met Mom 'n Dad she told them off. It was fucking awesome.” He laughed, though it didn’t take long for the airy noises to turn to tears again. He wiped them away hastily. 

 

“Haven’t had anyone go up to bat for me like that since you I think. Sees everything you saw, you know. All that shit I still can’t see today, but somehow…somehow only you and her have been able to pull out of me. Like there actually is something good inside me. That I’m worth all the trouble.” 

 

Simon chewed his lip and ashed his cigarette. “Fucking sucks you can’t meet her though. She’s a little different. Hell, to be honest, you’d probably think she’s weird as fuck. And she is,” he admitted, hands raised in defense. “But so am I. You know that. You've always known that.” 

 

"She’s creative as hell too, a real fuckin’ genius when it comes to music, complements all the shit I don’t have a knack for. Wish you could hear some of the shit we worked on. Think you’d love it,” Simon paused, smiling into his hand. “And, the best part, she says whatever is on her mind, just like you would. Think you two would really hit it off.” And he could see it, his mind conjuring up vision after vision of the two, bantering, teaming up against his parents, shit, teaming up against Renae. 

 

Simon rolled his eyes as his mind crossed his sister again. “Fucking Renae," he grumbled. "You know she had to go and convince everyone she’s on dope, that she's some ditz, just because she's with me, just because she asked a fucking question?" He shook his head, deciding his nearly depleted energy shouldn't be wasted on his sister. "That's the other thing about her, about Patty. Girl's got questions, and she might not get everything, but she gets me, and that's all I could give a fuck about."

 

He rested his forearms on his knees, looking at the grass between his legs. “I miss you,” he murmured, the truth bleeding out like an open wound in his chest, and he didn’t bother applying pressure. “Really wish things could have been different.” 

 

“Think that summer was the happiest I had ever been if I think about it too much. And, shit, I’m not that fuckin’ stupid. I know I didn’t kill you. I know it was the cancer. I know that’s not something I could have brought on, but that’s not makin’ it any easier. And I know you’re calling me a dumbass for that right now, but it's fuckin' hard not to blame myself.”

 

Simon took a deep breath once he realized how worked up he was getting. Quieter, he continued, “can’t help but think how things woulda played out if you were still here.” 

 

Simon sparked a fresh cigarette and smoked half of it in silence, eyes glazing over the picturesque surroundings. He had to admit it was a really nice plot. Birds chirping in the distance, rolling hills of emerald grass as far as he could see, the pond wasn’t a completely murky green from fertilizer runoff for once, and she was nowhere near Grandpa either—thank god. There were fresh flowers on her headstone, some baby pink daisy type shit. He guessed the thought was nice, but they weren’t really her. And as much as he wanted to be pissed at whoever was coming out here with the wrong fucking flowers, he knew he could only be mad at himself for not coming at all. 

 

“Put you in a real pretty spot, Grandma. At least they got that right. But these fuck ass flowers have to go." A disgruntled hand tossed toward the arrangement. “Pink was never your thing. Should only ever be bringin’ ya sunflowers. And I feel like an idiot for not thinking of that before I headed out here, but at least I did bring you somethin’, somethin’ that’s a little more you.” Simon reached for the pack he flopped on the grass and, though his fingers trembled slightly, he thoughtfully nestled it next to the flowers.

 

“Promise I’ll come more often. Bring Dan with me. Maybe Patty too eventually if she wants to. You know me ‘n Dannyboy are livin’ together nowadays? Kid's puttin’ me up while I get back on my feet, work through all my bullshit. And, fuck, I got a lot of it,” he chuckled, taking another long drag. 

 

“I know you’d be pissed to hear that I got myself locked up, but I think…" he trailed off, apprehensive to confess it out loud, didn't wanna jinx himself, but the image of Patty grinning widely in his mind spurred him forward. "I think shit’s finally starting to fall into place for me right now, and I’m really, really trying to not fuck it up.” He bit his thumb. “That’s all you can do, right? Is try?”

 

Simon pushed himself off the ground, lighter on his feet and in his heart. He looked down at her with a smile. “But you know how I am, so watch my back? Could use all the help I can get out here.” 

 

⋆˙⟡♡⋆. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.⋆♡⟡˙⋆

 

Danny sat on the edge of the couch, a bowl long-forgotten in hand, leg bouncing up and down. His eyes dashed between the clock, the front door, Simon's bedroom, and back again. A clean, even rotation—the most efficient route to eye each spot with little drag time. Simon may have physically made it home in one piece, but Dan wasn't sure that he did mentally. 

 

Clock, front door, Simon’s door. His left leg stilled, and his right started up in its place. 

 

While Dan felt he was owed a proper explanation for Simon's sudden disappearance, he couldn't abandon his post and miss Patty, who was bound to walk in at any second now. He had to give her some kind of warning before she got her hands on whoever was in Simon's bed right now; he’d be a shitty friend and brother if he didn't. And based on his brief interaction with Simon earlier, he was hoping her appearance would trigger Simon to fess up, and Dan intended on being right there when it happened. Clock, front door, Simon's door. 

 

Dan barely got a wink of sleep the night prior, was up till nearly 2 in the morning before he called it quits and went to bed. Wouldn't have been the first time Simon went missing by any means, but it was the first time he'd gone off with Dan's car for this long, had never been more than a few minutes late getting it back to him on time before. And Dan spent every minute since a hair after midnight running every bloody and dramatic possibility in his head to the point they manifested in his dreams, startling him awake every thirty minutes.

 

By the time 7 AM rolled around and still no sign from his brother, Dan was forced to call into work, car troubles being his honest to God reason. He then spent the better part of his day anxiously pacing the living room, debating at what point did he have to report his car stolen, when to file a missing persons report, and exactly what he was going to say once Simon did come back home. Because he was going to come back home. Dan was sure of it. So sure that every hour, every minute that ticked past, his frustration, his anxiety, his anger compounded, and, by the time his car rumbled into the driveway in the late afternoon, Dan was livid. 

 

Stomping over to the door, he swung it open in a fury before his brother could think about grazing the handle. “What the hell, Simon? Where the fuck were you? You can't just disappear like that, man. Had me up all fuckin' night, scared the shit outta me. And I'm getting pretty fed up using all my sick days on you. You were supposed to—."

 

Dan halted his prepared monologue. To put it simply, Simon looked like shit. But Dan’s disgust and annoyance quickly dissipated into concern when Simon pushed past the threshold and didn’t reek of alcohol. Deep purple bags under his red-rimmed, puffy eyes and an exhaustion that weighed down his limbs made sense for a righteous hangover, but it didn't make sense in any other context, especially not the remnants of tears.

 

Dan had seen Simon cry once sober. One time. Fifteen years ago. It was unsettling to say the least, caused a pit to form in his stomach, and he was left to assume the worse-case scenario unfolded. Dinner did not go as planned. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” 

 

Keys dangling off his finger, Simon shoved his hand towards Dan. “Uh, sorry ‘bout the car. I–it’s, well…” Simon shook the keys into Dan’s hand impatiently. “I’m gonna go lay down for a while, yeah?” Simon slapped him on the shoulder twice and pushed past him. 

 

Danny blinked absently at the keys then back at his brother. "Were you abducted by aliens or some shit?" 

 

Simon waved him off, disappearing into his room and leaving Danny momentarily stunned in the entryway. He briefly considered returning to the couch, giving Simon some time to decompress, but Dan's well of patience was bone dry. He couldn't handle not knowing what was going on, not when it meant Simon might have screwed up the only thing that was going right for him. If shit went south last night, Dan was the one that would be dealing with the fallout. And maybe it was selfish, but he felt he had a right to know what he was up against. 

 

With a proper justification, Dan sprang towards Simon's cracked door, eyebrows twisting at the sight of him stripped down to his underwear, face down on the bed. He rapped on the door hesitantly. “Hey, uh. You’re kinda worrying me, man.” 

 

He received a muffled “leave me alone” in response.

 

Dan leaned against the doorframe, kicking a foot out to get comfortable. "Everything good with you and Patty?" 

 

An incoherent grunt of confirmation came from Simon, but Dan remained loitering in the doorway anyway, hoping he'd actually say something. 

 

And he did. "S'fine. She'll be over later." 

 

Dan narrowed his eyes at his near motionless brother. "Where the fuck were you all day then?"

 

Simon snapped his neck up, eyes like daggers. "Leave me the fuck alone, Dan. You wanted to know about Patty. I told you about Patty. Go." 

 

In hindsight, Dan knew he should have walked away after that, but he was far past the point of exhaustion, patience dead and gone, anger flaring. "You don't get to hold my car hostage all day and not fuckin' say a word to me, dude."

 

"Jesus fucking Christ, Dan," Simon groaned, smacking both hands on the bed. "I'm sorry about the car, alright? But I can't—we're not talking about this right now. Just, please. Gimme a fucking minute." 

 

The desperation in Simon's voice sliced through Dan’s fury, and he relented with a heavy sigh. "Alright, well, you know where I'll be. I'll have a joint ready." And with a slap on the doorframe, Dan gave him his space.

 

That was about an hour ago. Simon still hadn't crawled out of his room yet, not even for a beer. Though knowing him, he probably had a few stashed under his bed for cases just like this. 

 

Clock, front door, Simon's door. 

 

Dan tried to reorient his mind, told himself to focus on the positives: his brother was alive, his car was intact, everything hadn't completely gone to shit overnight despite all the scenarios he concocted while he laid in bed or paced the living room. But gratitude was hard to obtain when Dan couldn't get past the way Simon looked when he first walked into the house or the slight wobble in his voice as he nearly pleaded with him to leave him alone. Something happened, and Dan wasn't going to feel better until he received the explanation he was rightfully owed. He brought the half-smoked bowl to his lips and sparked it in hopes that it'd bring him clarity to navigate the delicate situation. 

 

Choking on his hit, Dan jerked his head up as the doorknob rattled. Patty bounced into the house with her usual gait, a bright smile on her face as she scanned the living room. At least she was acting normal. 

 

"Hi, Danny. Is Simon here?" Patty shifted on her feet to peek over into the kitchen and down the hallway. At this time of day, she could typically find both of them out here playing video games or bickering about something, but the TV was off, it was dead silent, and Simon was nowhere to be seen. 

 

“Oh, yeah. But, wait,” Dan croaked through the smoke, coughing into his elbow and putting a finger up with his other hand as Patty peeled off her shoes and started down the hall. “Something's not right with him."

 

Patty stopped dead in her tracks, taking two baby steps back and squinted at him. “Like he’s in a bad mood?” That wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle, and Dan knew that. Sure, he would usually warn her beforehand, but there was something different about his tone this time, worry etching the corners of his eyes in a way she hadn’t seen before. It made her nervous. 

 

He shrugged. “Eh, I don’t know that it’s bad. Just…” Danny gestured toward his room as if that would translate the gap in his words. Patty scrunched her nose. “Go in. You’ll see.” 

 

Patty paused at the door, tilting her head to the side and biting her lip as she took in the sight of her boyfriend half naked, leg hiked, head buried in the pillows. She was thankful for Danny’s warning. She did have quite an excellent view of his broad shoulders and cute, little butt from where she was standing, and her normal response would have been to pounce on top of him. But she restrained herself, tapping her fingers lightly on the door before stepping inside. “Simon?” 

 

“Baby?” Simon jolted upright at the sound of her voice, relief washing over him as he rolled over and extended sleep-heavy arms to her. “C’mere.”  

 

And she was there in a blink of an eye with the sweetest smile and a wet smooch before settling down on his chest. One arm stretched over his shoulder, wrapping around his neck, while the other spanned his torso, fingers curling into his side. A sneaky leg of hers slipped over one leg and under the other, a foot curled around his ankle, and he could have sworn he was in heaven, tension unspooling from his rigid muscles and overworked mind under her touch. He sighed, cathartic and dog-like. 

 

Patty smushed her face into his chest, inhaling deeply. Simon seemed sleepy, quieter than usual, but not necessarily off. She disregarded Danny’s message, assuming he said or did something to set Simon off unknowingly. There had been plenty of instances she had gotten “warnings” from him only for Simon to be perfectly fine. 

Simon tugged the loose ponytail out of her hair and stroked a hand down her head, receiving an encouraging hum from Patty. “Lemme see your hand."

 

Patty untucked the left one from his side. “Why?” 

 

“No, your other one,” Simon qualified, slinging her arm out from around his neck and taking her right hand in his. He glanced over her knuckles, not a crack or a bruise in sight, and swiped his thumb across them. “Hurt?”

 

Patty shook her head proudly. A little sore, sure, but nothing she couldn’t handle. Slugging a shoulder didn't hurt as bad as noses did. 

 

"Good." Simon mustered a half-grin for her, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. "How was work?" 

 

Patty shrugged and laid back down. “Meh. Kinda wished I woulda called in."

 

“See, told ya," he chuckled, though—and it’d be the first and only time he’d admit this—he was glad she didn’t. He'd bet if Connie had caught the two of them together rather than him alone that the encounter may have not gone over the way it did, probably wouldn’t have played out to his advantage. He loved her, shit, it was one of things he loved about her, but Patty would have definitely added fuel to that fire, and too much at that.  

 

"How was your day?" Patty chirped, her cheek nuzzling back into his chest. 

 

Simon laughed weakly. He had originally intended on working out an angle to deliver the news to her without completely freaking her out before she got here, but, clearly, he never got around to it. Now, more than anything, he was trying to keep himself from freaking out. "Uh, it was...it was weird, not gonna lie to you."

 

Patty furrowed her brows and peered up at him. "Weird how?" 

 

Simon smirked, tapped a finger to the tip of her nose. "I have to tell you something, but you have to promise to not be mad.”

 

Every muscle in Patty's body tensed, and though he felt a little bad, it only proved his point. That's how he felt when she said it to him too. "See, s'not a great introduction, now is it?" he teased. 

 

Patty sat up and looked him square in the eye. "Are you fucking with me right now?"

 

Simon sighed, heavy and anxious. He rubbed his forehead before throwing his hand out. "Yes and no." 

 

Patty groaned in frustration, collapsing back onto his chest, a small oof escaping him on impact. Okay, Danny was right. There was something going on with him. 

 

It might have been the pussy move, but Simon committed, ripping off the bandaid while he didn't have to look her in the eye. “So, your mom’s book club, Pats. Either it don’t exist or it got cancelled or some shit.” 

 

“Wh–?” Patty's head snapped up, the top of her crown ramming into Simon’s chin, teeth clinking from the force.

 

“Owww,” she moaned, clutching her head, the spot pulsating in small bursts of pain. 

 

“Jesus, Patty,” he gritted through his teeth, rubbed over his chin. He stuck his tongue out and dabbed it for blood. If that was the universe’s sick way of advising him to not open up, he was tempted to take the bait.  

 

Danny had already been keeping half an ear out for them and jumped to his feet at the commotion. “You guys good?”

 

Simon groaned again, not in pain, but in annoyance. With a grunt, he sat up, palming either side of Patty's head as he looked her over. "You okay?"

 

"Uh-huh, but—."

 

"Good.” He tilted her head forward, pressed his lips gingerly to the tender spot, and pulled himself to the edge of the bed, glaring at Dan who was, yet again, darkening his doorway. "We're fine, Dan. Go find someone else to peep on." 

 

"What? I'm not fuckin'—. Whatever, man." Dan took a deep breath, ignoring Simon's attempts to rile him up. "What's goin' on with you?"  

 

Simon stood up sharply, squeezing his hands into fists, and fished out a pair of shorts and a shirt from his dresser. He really didn't want to talk to Dan about this; he barely wanted to talk about it with Patty for shit's sake. He was only now considering that he’d have to dish it out to an audience, to them, arguably the two people who worried about him the most, the two people who would have the most questions, the two people who wouldn't be satisfied until they wrung every last detail out of him. He felt trapped all over again. 

 

He looked over his shoulder at Patty, gave her a smile that he hoped didn’t look like a grimace. “I’m gettin’ a beer, baby. I’ll be right back, okay?” 

 

Patty shook her head, the room spinning as she reached towards him in confused desperation. “But, Simon—.”

 

“I said I’ll be right back,” he barked, shoulder-checking Dan on his way to the kitchen.

 

“Jeez, dude. You don’t have to be a dick,” Danny grumbled as he rubbed his shoulder. Simon immediately mocked him, repeating his words in a whiney, high-pitched voice. They both could hear the fridge opening and slamming shut, the popping of a tab. He sighed, passing Patty a sympathetic look. “Sorry my brother’s an asshole."

 

Patty didn't hear him. After she punched out of work, she stopped by the manager's office to borrow the phone and let her mom know where she was going, and, instead of the usual interrogation, her mom was encouraging, said it was a good idea. Patty was in such a rush to make it to the bus on time, she didn't stop to question it.

 

She also didn't question when her mom advised her, "just be gentle with him today, honey."

 

Simon announced his impending arrival with a belch. “Would it kill you to just shut the fuck up for, like, I don’t know, five fucking seconds, Dan? Think you can handle that for me?” And Danny made that stupid fucking face he made when he was pretending like he wasn't just poking the bear, hands in the air and stepping away from him like he was a ticking time bomb. Simon's glare didn't waver, even when he shot the juice box he snagged for Patty onto the bed. She gasped when it landed in front of her. 

 

“Simon,” Patty whispered, a quiet plea.

 

In an instant, all of the rage and fury simmering under Simon's skin evaporated. And though his features softened, his line of sight locked in at his feet rather than towards Patty, a detail that didn't go unnoticed by Dan. Gave him that sinking feeling in his gut again. Guy was acting guilty as hell, and he could only hope Simon didn’t do something he couldn’t take back. 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

Patty inhaled sharply, tapping on the juice box as she looked toward the ceiling. “How do you know about my mom’s book club?” 

 

Simon swore under his breath, smacking his head against the doorframe. If he was gonna get backed into a corner, he was gonna get properly suited up first. “You said somethin’ about having a joint?” 

 

Danny sighed and patted him on the shoulder, nodding toward the living room. 

 

“Wait, Simon!” Patty scrambled off the bed, tripping over her feet and landing on her knees with a loud thud. Patty had a lot of thoughts and emotions bouncing around the inside of her skull, but the fall only served to bring anger to the forefront. How could he drop that bomb on her and run away, not once but twice? 

 

Patty picked herself back up and headed to the living room, plopping down on the couch with crossed arms. Simon wouldn’t look at her.

 

“Told you somethin' wasn't right with him,” Dan muttered. 

 

Simon huffed, opening his mouth to lay into Dan for the shitty comment, but Dan was a step ahead, pacifying him with the lit joint. He gladly accepted it, reminding himself he only needed a couple puffs, just something to slow down the thoughts in his head so he could actually fucking think straight. Find a good path to walk so that he didn't freak either them out more than was necessary while also avoiding the doghouse.

 

“Alright, that's enough." Danny snatched the joint out of his hands. "Talk." 

 

“Fuck, it’s really not a big deal. I swear,” he groaned, rubbing his forehead. 

 

A chorus of resistance echoed from the two of them, and Simon couldn't take it. He stole the joint back from Dan and pushed himself off the couch. “Jesus Christ. Can a man smoke first? Goddamn.” He made a beeline for the fridge, grabbed another beer, chugged it over the sink, crushed it, and tossed it in the general direction of the trash can. 

 

Patty looked to Dan, silently begging him to do or say something. She didn't mind that Simon drank, but she did mind when he drank like that. Something happened, something with her mom, but that was as far as she had gotten. And whatever that something was, it was hurting him, and she had no idea what to do to help. 

 

“You’re freaking us both out, man. Just spit it out,” Danny sniped. 

 

“Fuck, it’s nothing, okay?” Simon threw himself back onto the couch, cracking open the fresh can he brought back with him and taking another hit off the joint. Patty's hand slowly snaked over his thigh, and, without thinking, he laced his fingers through hers. 

 

"Simon?" She was so quiet he was sure Dan couldn't hear her. He lolled his head to the side in response. "I don't think it's nothing.”

 

The firmness in her tone and fierceness in her eyes made Simon's heart jump. "Baby, I swear—."

 

Patty's grip tightened on his hand. "My mom said something about you on the phone before I came over." 

 

Dan pinched the bridge of his nose with a defeated sigh. Not again with the mom shit. 

 

“Yeah?” Simon passed the joint and reached for a cigarette. He could only hope neither of them noticed the shake in his hands. “What’d she say?”

 

Patty's lips pressed into a tight line as she rewound her mom's words again in her head. “That I should be gentle with you today.”

 

Simon blinked at her, then blew a short laugh through his nose. He wasn’t sure how to feel about Connie looking out for him like that, didn't wanna dissect it, so he flung his hands wildly at his brother instead. “You mind passin’ that info along to Dan?” 

 

Stubbing out the joint, Danny rolled his eyes. This was him being gentle. 

 

And that was Patty’s breaking point, a frustrated groan erupting from her. She was done being patient, done with him not fully answering her questions, done being left more confused than when she started. “But why do we need to be? Simon, why would she know that?” 

 

Dan and Patty both waited with wide, impatient eyes that demanded a response, but Simon purposely kept his attention locked on his cigarette. 

Hands squeezed into fists, Patty leaned forward to catch his eye. Simon tilted his head away from her, but she wasn't going to let him ignore her. Not this time. “Simon?” 

 

Simon threw his hands up. “Fuck, okay, Patty. Fine. I got caught, alright?” He reached for his beer, tipping it back and letting it slowly pour down his throat.  

 

It was quiet, the air charged and thick with the confession. Patty clutched a hand over her racing heart, her face hot all of a sudden. “What do you mean you got caught?” 

 

Simon smiled weakly, hazy eyes on hers. “I mean exactly that. I got caught sneakin’ out of your fuckin’ room.” 

 

Patty’s jaw dropped, and a loosely curled fist ran from the center of her chest up to her shoulder and back again, panic rising as she processed his words. Simon clumsily leaned over to reach for her hand, but Patty shifted away from him, shaking her head. She was too overwhelmed to deal with anyone touching her right now, even Simon. “Then why—? But how did—? I told you not to—. Wait...what—?” 

 

Simon’s reaction time may have been impaired, but he caught the moment Dan opened his mouth to speak over her. Whacked him upside the head before he could utter a single syllable. “Let her finish." He stared Dan down long enough to make his point and returned his attention back to Patty. 

 

Patty's eyes darted all over his face, looking him up and down, turning back to the floor, to the ceiling, then to him again. She didn't understand in what universe he got caught and her mom allowed her to come over here without any fuss, didn’t understand how he got caught yet he was still sitting here in front of her in one piece. It wasn’t adding up at all. “What happened, Simon?” 

 

“Well,” he began, stroking over his moustache. “Waited like you told me to, waited til 11 actually before I couldn't take anymore. Seriously, Pats. It was either that or your goddamn window." He laughed, but neither of them so much as cracked a smile. Alright, tough crowd. He sat up straighter. "Only managed two fuckin' steps before she caught me in the hall, scared the shit out of each other. Then she made me have coffee with her, made me a sandwich, and sent me on my way." 

 

“Bullshit. You just got home like an hour ago, dude. Tell us what really happened,” Danny pressed. And Patty was glad he did. Did Simon forget she spent the last 22 years of her life with that woman? She wasn’t going to call him a liar, but there was no way it went down the way Simon was describing. 

 

Simon rolled his eyes and leaned forward to put his cigarette out. “That did happen."

 

“Yeah, but there’s no way that’s all that happened,” Dan reiterated. 

 

“Jesus. Alright." Hands tossed in defeat. "We just…she made me talk to her about things."

 

There. Patty knew it. The confirmation wasn't a win though, and she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “What things?” 

 

“We’re still good, baby. Don’t worry about that,” he assured quietly, rested a heavy hand on her thigh. He squeezed gently. 

 

Patty wished it was that simple, wished she could just drop it and trust his word, but there wasn't a chance in hell that she was going to be able to relax until she fully comprehended how he managed to walk away after getting caught the way he did. He might have been the most charming person she had ever met, but that didn't stand a chance against her mom when she was upset. Catching her boyfriend, who they already had their doubts about, leaving her bedroom the morning after he had come to dinner should have been pretty high on the list of things sure to set her off. “Did she yell at you?” 

 

Simon snorted. “I mean, yeah, kinda. A little in the beginning, a little bit at the end there, too,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “She didn’t even raise her voice or nothin’, just got all stern. Told me if I stay the night again it’s gotta be in Kev’s room, gave me a talkin’ to ‘bout not knockin’ you up, you know, shit like that.”

 

“Oh, god,” Patty groaned, face in hands, tips of her ears burning red-hot. 

 

Dan raised a brow at his brother. He'd seen Simon use this tactic before, but never on her. And boy did she fall for it hook, line, and fucking sinker, keeping her focused on small details by being brash enough to deflect her attention from the issue at hand. He wasn't about to let him get away with that shit, not in front of him. "She spend the whole time lecturing you about the birds 'n the bees, or what?" Dan asked flatly.

 

Simon sighed and scrubbed his hands down his face, a small, dejected "no" a murmur on his lips. 

 

"I'll get the pliers if every question is gonna be like pullin' teeth from you, man."

 

"Fuck, Dan. Okay. She wanted to fuckin' talk, so we talked. She had her questions, got on my case for a lot of shit, got in my fuckin' head too." He sighed, shaking his head, and reached for Patty's thigh. "Feel like a dick for not believing you when you said you couldn't lie to her, Pats. The bitch had me cornered." 

 

He immediately received a swat from Dan for his choice of words, but Simon barely registered it. His attention was stuck on Patty, could almost see all her thoughts zooming around in her head. He watched the confusion flicker to worry in her eyes. "What'd she get in your head about?" 

 

"Fuck, be easier to ask what she didn't get in my head about," he groaned, then stood up abruptly, paced in front of the coffee table while he chewed on the edge of his thumb. He reached for his nearly empty beer and poured the rest down his throat. When that didn't work, he took the joint out of the ashtray to relight it.

 

Three puffs later, he was gesturing down his body, eyes wide. “Do I look fuckin' skinny to you guys?” 

 

Danny cracked a smile and shook his head. Connie said the same thing to him.

 

Patty downturned her lips as she looked him over. She thought he looked fantastic, and he definitely weighed quite a bit more than when they first met, filling out his jeans and shirts more than he used to. "I think you look good." 

 

“That’s what I said!”

 

Danny glanced over at the clock, jumping through hoops and bending over backwards to make up for all the time Simon had been gone. But no matter the excuse he came up with, it still wasn’t adding up. Lord knows Connie could talk, but not for five hours non-stop. “Did something else happen?” he asked carefully, not wanting to heavily insinuate anything in particular and set him off again. 

 

Simon collapsed onto the sofa again and sucked hard on the joint, eyes fixated on the cherry. “I, uh, I also went and saw Grandma today."

 

Danny choked. Surely he misunderstood him. “Grandma?" he balked, breathless. "You mean like the—?” 

 

“Yeah, the fuckin’ dead one, Dan. You know the other one hates my fucking guts,” he barked, hands flung and voice climbing to a shout. “Had to fuckin’ call Renae to find out where she was. Knew you’d freak the fuck out on me, and I just, I had to, okay?” 

 

Patty was struggling to keep up, lost to begin with—Simon had never said anything about his grandparents; she didn't even know he had any that were alive—but the mention of his sister was something she could grasp onto, and it blindsided her. “You called Renae?” 

 

“Yeah,” Simon breathed out, running a hand through his hair. 

 

Danny's eyes narrowed at him, skeptical. “How’d you get her number?”

 

“Are you being fucking serious? Don't act like you weren't right there with me prank-calling the shit out of her when she first moved in with that douchebag.”

 

“Oh, yeah," Danny laughed, not deterred by Simon's festering rage. At least he knew Simon wasn't lying; he did remember the phone in Simon's hands, not his. "How the hell did you get her on the phone though?”

 

Simon chuckled to himself and slapped Dan on the knee. “Told the guy I was you, had to talk to her ‘bout somethin’ important.” 

 

Simon had glared at the base of the payphone after whoever the fuck they had answering their phone nowadays went to fetch his sister. He was halfway tempted to waste the change and hang up, maybe call Dan instead. But the problem with calling Dan was that he’d wanna yell at him about the car, then Simon’d have to explain what the fuck happened, and he wasn't in the fucking mood for all that, wasn’t ready. He only needed answers right now. And that left him with two options: calling his mom or calling his sister. 

 

“Danny? What’s wrong? You know I have my pilates instructor over right now, and I can’t get my money back for wasting time on the phone. No, wait, wait, wait. Let me guess. It’s Simon, isn’t it. Of course it is. I told you not to let him in, Danny. I told you. That was the dumbest thing you could have ever—.”

 

Simon pulled the phone away from his ear, eyes rolling so far into his head he wasn’t sure if they’d come back as Renae squawked into the phone. Good to know she was just as insufferable as she used to be. Begrudgingly, he tuned back in. 

 

“So, tell me, what did he do this time?” 

 

“He just wants to know where you fucking assholes buried Grandma.” 

 

“Simon?” she spat his name like it was rotten. “How did you get my number? Did Danny give it to you? Why aren’t you asking him? But, if you’re not asking him, that means…that means you’re up to something. Nope, I won’t do it. Uh-uh. You’re not dragging me down too. I’m not facilitating—.”

 

“Jesus Christ, Renae. You’re not facilitating shit,” Simon snarled. 

 

“Why do you even care, Simon? Thought you didn’t believe in that kind of stuff anyway.”

 

“God, you’re the fucking worst. Do you know that? What do you think I’m up to? Wanting to desecrate her fucking grave?”

 

“Yeah, I do think you want to. Actually, I think that’s exactly what you want to do. Either that or worse. You know she was buried with—.”

 

“I don’t give a fuck about what she was buried with,” he snapped. It’s not like he would know anyway. “Just, come on. For once. Don’t be a cunt. Please.” 

 

The line was silent for a long time. Simon would have been convinced she hung up if it wasn’t for the absence of the dial tone. 

 

“I’m taking down the date and time right now in case this backfires, and I got the cops showing up on my doorstep for questioning again.” 

 

“Fine. Do what you gotta do. Just tell me, alright?”

 

“Tell me why you wanna know first.”

 

“Why do you fucking think?” 

 

“I told you what I think already.”

 

Simon swore under his breath, pulling the phone away from his ear as he tried to sort through his thoughts. He banged his fist on the top of the payphone, shaking his head as he brought the phone back. “Wanna say goodbye, alright? That okay with you?” 

 

“You know you could have gone—.”

 

“Don’t, Renae,” he warned, a growl. “Don’t fucking go there. Not right now. Not today.” 

 

It was quiet for a beat, an exaggerated sigh, and then she ceded, “alright, you got a pen?” 

 

 

Dan studied his brother closely, shifting forward on the couch. It had been long established that Dan wasn’t allowed to mention that grandma in Simon’s presence, conditioned by years of punches, kicks, and harsh words. It was an explanation alright, at least the tears were starting to make some sort of sense, but now he didn't know if he should be thrilled his brother was finally working through some of his shit, or if he should be concerned that these were last ditch efforts before he completely crumbled. “Are you okay?” 

 

Simon dismissed his question with a wave, but he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone. Patty's hand came back to his, and she squeezed. Hard. 

 

“Be honest, dude. It’s just us,” Dan tried again. 

 

“Yeah. I’m fine for the most part. Just fuckin’ tired,” he answered truthfully, swiping a finger over his heavy eyes. “Think seein’ Grandma made me feel a little better, felt right. But I don’t know, man. Can't stop thinkin' how Connie looked at me when I was talkin' 'bout Mom 'n Dad, like I was someone's pet turned roadkill. And the more she made me talk, the more I remembered, and I-I—. Fuck." Simon threw his hands down, avoiding Patty's eye at all costs. "Was it like that for you? I mean, like when we were kids? 'Cause I know I blocked a lot of shit out, and—.” 

 

“Mom and Dad are no angels, but it wasn’t—we didn’t have it as bad as you,” Danny interrupted quietly, fiddling with the lighter in his hands. Guilt weighing heavy on his conscious, he peered up to meet his brother's eye. In that moment, all he could see was the kid that used to switch jeans with him when he came home with grass-stained or muddy knees, rubbing the dirt off his face with his spit, tucking his shirt in, or fixing his hair before Mom could see. His older brother that took the fall for every broken vase or plate or cup, every stain or mishap. Shit, still will take the fall for him, constantly telling Dan to blame him when he was running late to dinner or when he spaced an event they insisted he attend. 

 

Danny could come up with every parent-approved excuse in the book, could try to justify his silence with his brother’s past actions, or claim his involvement would have only made it worse for both of them to warrant Dan’s place as nothing more than a bystander in those early days, but the fact of the matter was Simon had always been there for Dan. And Danny wished he could say the same. 

 

“You talked to my mom about that?” Patty wasn’t sure what she was feeling. Was it anger? Yes, maybe a little. Was it shock? Sure, that too. Concern? That was on the back burner for now. But it was the betrayal that was overpowering, felt like a stab to her heart that he'd finally opened up, and it was to her mom of all people. It made her feel small, insignificant. She had been sitting here, ready and willing to be a good listener when the time came for months, no years. Isn’t that what girlfriends were for? Did he not trust her? 

 

Dan sat back and looked away to give them privacy, contemplating whether or not he should leave the room altogether as the tension between the two grew. He resisted hounding Simon himself, for as many times as Dan talked to the guy about opening up with her, giving her full truths instead of half truths when she asked questions, he knew it would take something extreme for him to spill his guts. Still, he felt for Patty. He knew firsthand how hard it was to love his brother.

 

Simon pinched his nose and sighed. “I didn’t want to. Shit, I even told her I didn’t wanna tell her nothin’ til I talked to you,” he clarified, though that look of hurt, of disappointment didn't fade from her face. “Look, I wasn’t about to lose you holdin’ my ground over some stupid shit like that, okay? She mostly wanted to know why Mom and I don't talk.”

 

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I already told her why."

 

Danny raised an eyebrow at Simon. 

 

Simon shook his head. 

 

Simon thrummed the tab on his empty beer, trying to figure out what the fuck to even say to her that wouldn't crush her. "Fuck, Pats, I-I didn’t—. Shit." Simon broke her eye contact, feeling like the biggest asshole in the world. "Didn't give you the all out, explicit version, okay? You got the cliffnotes." 

 

"Huh?" 

 

"He's trying to say he didn't tell you everything," Dan explained gently, his tone contradicting the heated glare he was giving his brother.

 

Patty blinked at both of them, clenching her jaw as she plugged in what they were saying. She leaned away from Simon. "So you lied to me?" 

 

"No, no. Didn't lie, baby. Promise.” He desperately reached for her hand, but she snatched it away. Despite all the downers in his system working overtime to combat it, he was on the verge of panicking. She looked ready to walk out that door. "Whatever I told you wasn't necessarily wrong. Just wasn't all of it. Swear to you." 

 

Patty squinted at him. She could tell he wasn’t lying, could see how badly he needed her to believe him, and she did. But it wasn’t as simple as that. Sure, he didn’t lie, but he wasn’t honest with her either. And that really hurt. But through the pain, she could acknowledge whatever he told her mom must have been pretty bad when the only reprimanding she received was an advisory to take it easy on him. “Okay.”

 

Simon's heart sank. “Okay? That’s all?”  

 

Patty shrugged. “I believe you.” 

Simon sat back, hands together, gnawing at the inside of his lip. It shouldn’t have been that painless. 

“Don't take it easy on him on my account,” Dan chuckled. His warning earlier was to protect her, not him. “Let him have it.” 

 

Patty shook her head at Danny, eyes darting back to Simon. She didn't want to yell at him; she wasn't angry anymore, not at him at least. She was hurt more than anything, disheartened, and a little frustrated, and she found only one solution to rectify it. “Well, will you tell me the truth now?” 

 

“What, like right now? No. No fuckin’ way,” he chuckled, earning himself an elbow and a pointed look from Dan. “Shit. Okay, I mean, I will, Patty. I swear to you, I will. But I don’t got it in me to do it again. Not tonight at least.” 

 

She responded with a silent nod, but the absence of her words, the look on her face, it said everything. 

 

An awkward tension settled over the trio: Simon hung his head, Patty chewed her lip, and Dan shifted uncomfortably on the couch.

 

Maybe Dan was being an optimist, but personally, he didn't see how any of this was a bad thing, besides Simon having to openly admit to Patty he hadn't been entirely honest with her in the past. And he knew the two of them were too wrapped up in the details to pull their heads out of their asses and see what happened at face value. 

 

Dan stretched his limbs, patting his brother on the shoulder. "Might have sucked goin' through it, but I think this is good news, guys." 

 

"Huh?"

 

Simon hooked a thumb towards her. "Yeah. Huh?” 

 

“Okay, yeah, you got caught. That sucks. Boo-hoo. You both will live. But I know if you left with a sandwich, you left with a hug too." Simon flipped a palm, and Danny grinned. "Yeah, exactly. Connie's got a big heart, and I'm sure whatever you confessed only helped you both in the long run."  

 

Simon wasn't the only one irritated by Dan's viewpoint. Patty rolled her eyes. She didn't want to talk about her mom in a good light, not when she was this pissed at whatever she said or did to get Simon to talk when he clearly didn't want to. 

 

While he knew he was in the hot seat, Simon couldn't deny how cute she looked when she was mad with her button nose creased, her pouted lips, and crossed arms. He reached for her, pulling her into his arms. Patty resisted, though settled the moment his lips pressed to her crown. “You know me well enough to know I wouldn't say this if I didn't mean it, but he's right, babe,” he murmured in her ear. 

 

Patty made a noise of protest and pushed against his arms, but he only made them heavier. “That’s not fair, Simon." It wasn't fair to her, and, more importantly, it wasn't fair to him. She knew she had an ass chewing waiting for her at home, but her mom should be ready to receive one too. 

 

"Yeah, you know what? You’re right, Pats. It isn’t. I’m sorry, okay? Lemme–let’s get into this tomorrow or some shit. You know, be ‘gentle’ with me for the night?” 

 

Patty stopped squirming, turning her head up to find a very vulnerable expression on Simon’s face. She nodded, closing her eyes and drawing in a deep breath to calm herself down. She didn't bother clarifying that she meant whatever her mom did wasn't fair, but if he wanted to promise to talk, she was more than happy to go along with it. 

 

“Look at it this way, Patty,” Danny started, relighting the joint, a giggle in his voice. “If it wasn’t for your mom, you’d probably never get him to talk.” 

 

Simon chucked the nearest throw pillow at his brother. “Oh, shut the fuck up, Dan.” 

Notes:

thank you for all the patience n kudos n comments!! i appreciate it more than i can put into words!! forehead kisses for everyone!

Chapter 9

Notes:

sorry about the wait!! august was one helluva month for me lol hope u enjoy!

 

tw: mention of death from overdose

“Bees.”

 

“Bees?”

 

“Bees.” 

 

“Oh.” A slight nod, a small tilt of her head, then she whipped to face him. "Well, what about honey?" 

 

"What about it, honey?" he teased, chuckling at the way her nose wrinkled. "Yeah, baby. Honey's fine. Only allergic to the little bastards that make it."

 

Patty repeated the information several times in her head, dutifully filing it away in her long-term memory. Tapping on his arm, she wondered, “have you ever seen that movie—?”

 

“If you’re talkin’ 'bout My Girl, fuck that movie. Seriously.” Stupid fuckin' movie. Snuck him and this chick in to see it, thinkin' he'd get lucky, and all he ended up with was a sobbing girl and his worst nightmare projected on screen. 

 

“Yeah, that’s a sad one.” Patty rubbed over her heart, the sting of the story still fresh after so many years. “At least you don’t wear glasses.”

 

Simon blinked, squinted at the road then at her. “Glasses?”

 

“Yeah, you know, at the end?” 

 

A scowl overtook Simon's face. "I didn't stay til the end."

 

Patty nodded and stuck her hand out the window. She liked the noise of her hand breaking through the air, enjoyed the pushback and the glide of it against her palm even more. Speaking her subsequent train of thought out loud, she asked like one would about the weather, “if I died, would you bury me with my glasses?” 

 

Simon choked on his cigarette. Wide-eyed and breathless, he gawked, “Jesus, Patty. What the fuck kinda question is that?” 

 

Patty hummed, pretending her hand was a dolphin as it rode the waves of the wind. "A 'what if' question, I guess."

 

Simon frowned. “Yeah, 'course I would, Pats. Why? You know what, no. Never mind. Fuck that. I don't wanna know.” He laughed, but the pang in his chest was undeniable. Patty remained unfazed. 

 

Adequately tormented by the subject matter, Simon pointed to the bag of cassettes sitting in Patty’s footwell. "Pick somethin' out."

 

With a small squeak of joy, she rifled through the plastic casings and swapped out the music before firing off her usual line of questioning: who the band was, how old the tape was, if he bought or stole it, which songs were his favorites, how Simon discovered them, why he liked them, any other tidbits he could throw her way. It had become so routine that he probably could have rambled off the answers before she asked, but he told her once he liked hearing her speak her curiosity out loud, said something about a spark in her eye. Whatever that meant. 

 

Simon stuttered over his answers as the first few notes of the track played, a dull ache forming behind his sternum. He shoulda checked which tape she was popping in. Too late now. The guitarist was a close friend of his, ended up overdosing several years back. Story was told to him that his chick had run out on him when she noticed he wasn't breathing, didn't call for help or nothin', just fucked right off the selfish bitch. And if that wasn't bad enough, it took a couple days to find him and only 'cause he didn't show up for a gig. Simon remembered getting the news, remembered the denial, the heartbreak, the fury. And, given his current reaction, he was still feeling the last two. 

 

He didn’t wanna tell Patty any of that, didn't wanna think about it at all really. So he chose to reminisce on all the good times instead, the songs and melodies and riffs they created, all the parties and fucked up nights he couldn’t remember the endings to but could easily recall the way their laughter always morphed into wheezing when they got together. He cranked the volume during a solo, told Patty about how the guy's fingers used to glide across the neck like no one else he knew, why everyone called him Buttah. 

 

"Butter?" she laughed.

 

"No, not butter. Buttah. You know,” with an over-exaggerated accent, he flipped his wrist, “'like buttah?' Mike Meyers? SNL? No?”

 

Patty gave him a look that told him she thought he was batshit crazy. Shouldn’t have been any surprise that Connie and Norm didn't let her tune into such "controversial" television, not that she'd stay up late enough to catch it anyway. He tsked, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “You think I'm talkin' outta my ass, don't you?" 

 

She shrugged with that cocky, little half-grin he adored. "You said it, not me." 

 

"It's a thing. Just trust me," he chuckled, fondly squeezing her knee. 

 

They had been ambling along backroads and side streets in an extended detour out of the suburbs and into the city ever since Simon had picked her up after dinner. Unlike most evenings spent side by side in Danny's sedan, tonight he wasn't aimlessly cruising them around town. And when presented with the on-ramp to the highway that could have had them to their destination in five minutes flat, he panicked. Cut another right turn and prayed Patty didn't notice he was looping them back around the same block for a third time. He still needed to work himself up to it first. 

 

Reaching into the cupholder, he plucked out a sucker, tore the packaging off, took a lick, and offered it to Patty.

 

"Oooh! Thank you, Simon." Inflection rising and falling, she grinned at him, stick held delightfully between her teeth. God, she took his heart right out with that kind of smile. Felt like getting kicked in the back of the knees, that gut-dropping feeling at the sudden loss of stability, a rush of adrenaline making his heart thump like a drumline. It was addicting too. Always had him coming back for more. 

 

His hand naturally gravitated to the back of her neck, circling his thumb along her smooth skin, her muscles relaxing one by one, a small sigh expelled through her nose as she leaned further into his touch. Made him wish he could press pause, bottle the moment up and stick it in his back pocket. Wanted the ability to shake it around like a snow globe and watch the golden flecks of contentment and tranquility swirl and flutter to the base like artificial snow whenever he damn pleased. 

 

But that’s not how this worked. And though he would have much preferred to bask in their shared state of bliss for the rest of the evening, he forced himself to uncurl his hand from her nape and cleared his throat. "So I've been thinkin' about it."

 

Patty yanked the candy out of her mouth with an audible pop. “About what?”

 

Simon leaned back in his seat, fingers tapping on the wheel. “You know when we were fuckin’ yesterday morning?”

 

Patty smiled and nodded, stuck the sucker back in her mouth. “Mhm, I like being on top.” 

“Yeah, me too.” Simon smirked, imagining her head thrown back in pleasure, spit-shiny lips parted with breathy gasps and low moans, the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips, the comforting weight of her body on top of his, the way she moved with intention, their bodies finding a shared rhythm, hunger and affection entangling into one. 

 

A rush of blood below his waistline had him tugging at his jeans, brought him back to the task at hand. Shaking his head, tone firm, “that’s not what I wanna talk about though. Y'said somethin’ that I can’t stop thinkin’ about. Didn’t sit right with me.”

 

The sudden shift in his voice was jarring. Patty gulped, pressing her palms into her kneecaps and locking her elbows. “What was it?” 

 

Simon smiled softly, took the sucker from her, and pocketed the candy in his cheek. “When you said we only talk about music and sex. Did you mean that shit?"

 

Patty squeezed her lips together as she thought about it, but Simon's eyes were intense, boring into her soul, searching for an answer that she didn't have quite yet. She looked away to mull it over.

 

"Yeah, I think so," she replied after some time, then moved to look at him directly. "You said it wasn't a bad thing though." 

 

Simon nodded, left hand braced flat on the steering wheel. "S'not, but the problem is I don't think that's true."

 

Patty cocked her head to the side. "Well, what do you think is true?" 

 

Simon shifted forward in his seat, gesturing animatedly, "Shit, Pats, I think we talk about more than that. Fuck, a lot more than that. We talk about your day and about the stars, or about the bugs and squirrels and birds you see on your way to work, or, like, all the weird shit I see when I'm runnin' around town. And you tell me about your daydreams and your art ideas, and I’ll tell you a story about an old building we pass by or some fuck shit I used to do. Or-or how I’ll bitch about Dan, and you’ll tell me what shitty thing of the week Kev’s pulled. And how about when we people watch, yeah? You always find something nice to say about what they're wearing or how they're talkin' or who they're with while I sit over here and make fun of ‘em. And-and then you'll call me out on it, and I know I give you shit for it, but please, for the love of all that is good in this world, Pats, never stop doing that shit. I fuckin' love it. Really, I do."

 

He chuckled, gripping her knee tightly as he came to a stop at an empty, 4-way intersection. "Anyway, do you see what I'm sayin'? Am I makin' any sense?" 

 

Patty answered him by plucking the sucker right out of his mouth with one hand and fisting the front of his shirt with the other, pulling him in for a slow but heated kiss, soft yet ravenous all at once. A gentle swipe of his tongue against her bottom lip had her reeling back only to press forward with a playful nibble to his. He moaned into her open mouth, tongues slotting together, wet and hot, artificial watermelon coating both of their taste buds. Patty slid her hand down his chest toward his belt; Simon slipped a hand up the back of her shirt toward her bra. 

 

A honk from behind startled both of them, noses and foreheads knocking together. 

 

Patty giggled against his lips, a flicker of mischief in her eye. She tangled her fingers in his hair and yanked his head to the side. A pleasant noise of surprise slipped from Simon's lips, graduating into a moan as she mapped her lips down his jawline to his neck. The fuzzy contrast of his stubble against her smooth lips made her smile, the smell of sweat and cigarettes and him filled her nostrils and fanned the flames growing in her lower belly. She sank her teeth into that spot on his neck he always liked, soothing the flat of her tongue over his skin before suctioning her lips.

 

"Shit." He blindly put the car in park and reached for her hips. 

 

The car behind them laid on their horn and didn't let up. 

 

He tore away from her with a frustrated grunt and stuck his hand out the window, waving the car on impatiently. "Go the fuck around, asshole! I'm busy!" But the car didn't stop honking, not when he flipped them the bird, or when he blared his horn in retaliation, or when he shouted a whole slew of obscenities out the window. Patty didn't stop laughing. 

 

"Jesus fucking Christ." Moment sufficiently ruined, he shifted the car and slammed on the gas. He didn't let that dickhead get the best of him though. Didn't have the chance to with Patty's constant tittering remedying his sour mood before it could stew and rot. 

 

He crudely wiped over his mouth, adjusted his hips, and looked back at her with a huge grin. He knew it was gonna come off a little hypocritical considering he was ready to pull her into his lap and fuck her right there in broad daylight, but nonetheless: "Anyway, my point is there’s more to us than just music and sex. Hope you know that.” 

 

Patty smiled smugly at the sight of his ruffled hair and pink cheeks, plopping the candy back in her mouth and coming back to Earth. Wasn’t until halfway through the next song that she heard what he said, and she turned to him, mouth agape and eyes teeming with adoration. There was no denying their physical or musical chemistry, couldn't argue that a lot of what they bantered about was surrounding the two topics, but Simon was right. What they had ran deeper than that, that their foundation consisted of more than their respective talents and complementary libidos.

 

She felt guilty for suggesting otherwise.

 

She felt thankful for Simon's detailed reminder.  

 

"I love you," she blurted. 

 

He grinned, wide and real, the kind that left his cheeks aching. "Love you too, Pats."

 

Patty wiggled excitedly in her seat, all the love she had for him with nowhere to go. She stuck the lollipop at him. "You want the last bit?" It would have been too much for her to chew, but for Simon...

 

With a twitch of his brows in confirmation, he leaned over and crunched the rest of it in one bite, prompting another round of giggles from Patty. Getting candy stuck in his molars was a small price to pay to make her laugh like that, made him feel soft and gooey all over. He was in the middle of dislodging a chunk from his teeth, thinking about how he wanted to be the only person to make her laugh like that, when Dan's voice cut through and sucked all the joy from his thoughts.

 

“I told you you needed to talk to her about this weeks, no, months ago, dude.” Dan had begun his lecture while he darted around the kitchen in a frenzy. Simon could only assume Mom was coming over from the way Dannyboy was speed cleaning the house. "She wants to be there for you. I don't know why you're so worried about her running off. If she was going to leave, she would have when you got sentenced." 

 

Simon groaned, ignoring the call of his six-pack sitting idly in the fridge. He wasn't so sure of that. It was easy to convince himself she waited because their relationship prior consisted of weekly one-way letters, a habit Patty could easily continue and more so once it was reciprocated. Told himself it was less to do with him and more to do with an easily kept routine. 

 

And if that was easy, it was child's play to convince himself that she stayed for the person she thought he was, the person he was in his letters and phone calls, or, better yet, his stage persona, and not really him, not Simon. The fear should have subsided after his release, but it didn't. Stayed lurking in the dim corners of his mind, and when the delusion bobbed to the surface, it made it really fucking easy to tell himself, if she only loved the idea of him, there’d be no way she could stomach his past, the person he was, the shit he had done. And even if she did, what would it mean to the trust they had between them? He couldn’t deal with another person, and especially not her, deeming him incapable because of stupid decisions he made as a drugged-out teen. 

 

“You gotta be honest with her. If something happens with you, God forbid, I don't wanna be the one that has to crack open that can of worms," Danny chided, turning to point around the room. "Open that window, will you? And light that incense? It reeks in here.” 

 

“I know," he sighed, rising from the stool he was perched on. 

 

“I don’t know that you do though, man. You can’t keep putting this off—.”

 

“I said I got it, Dan," Simon barked. "What do you think I’m doing today, huh?” 

 

Danny pursed his lips, glowering at him before returning to the spot on the counter he was trying to scrub off. “From where you were sitting, you probably didn’t see the look on her face, but she’s hurt, Simon."

 

“You don’t know what I saw.” He saw it alright. Couldn't stop replaying it in his head last night. Couldn’t stop inserting that same devastated expression into every scenario he could imagine spilling his guts in to her.

 

Dan ignored him. “What’s holdin’ you back so much? If anyone deserves the truth, it’s her.”

 

Simon scoffed, hands tossed in the air. “What, like I don’t know that? It’s–it’s fuckin’ risky, man.”

 

Dan laughed as he directed his attack on the dishes. “S’not riskier than anything else you’ve put yourself through.”

 

Simon raised his voice. “Bull fucking shit.” 

 

Dan dropped his scrub brush and turned to lean against the counter, arms crossed. “Then explain it to me.”

 

Simon squeezed his hands into fists, clenched his jaw, and ground his teeth into dust, all to keep the anger at bay. But it wasn’t enough, found himself popping open a beer without really thinking about it. Felt good going down his throat though, gave him the momentum he needed. “Back then, when I was doin’ all that shit, the worst thing that could happen was losing the clothes on my back, losing my backpack, a wad of cash—.”

 

It was Dan's turn to throw his hands in the air. “And not, I dunno, your fuckin’ life, dude?” 

 

Simon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you really wanting to get into all that?”

 

Dan’s silence was his answer, and it only served to heighten Simon’s anger. He paced the length of the kitchen, stomping as he shouted, “this is exactly why I didn’t want to get into this shit with her in the first place, Dan. S'why I don’t do this.”

 

Dan raised a brow. “Do what exactly?”

 

“This!" Simon gestured frantically around his body and at his brother. "Relationships! Fuckin', I don't know, lettin' someone in. I mean, fuck, man, I don’t-I don't even let myself in.” He sighed heavily as he collapsed back into his seat, rubbing his forehead tiredly. “It’s a high reward, sure, fine, whatever. But it's also high fuckin’ risk. And now? Now it’s too late. Now I’m in too fuckin’ deep. And–and if it’s too much for her, and she fuckin’ leaves…” Simon trailed off, shaking his head, wasn't ready to confront those emotions head on. 

 

He felt Dan’s hand on his shoulder, and he peered up to find a softness in his brother's gaze he didn’t often see. “Come on, Simon. You know her better than that."

 

He chewed his lip and gave a small nod.

 

Dan shook his shoulder. "You trust her, yeah?" 

 

Simon sneered at him. "Of course I fuckin' trust her. What the fuck are you—?"

 

"Then trust that she's gonna stay, like she's stayed through everything else. Trust that she wants to be there for you, that she loves you. All of you. Trust that she's just gonna be happy you're finally opening up, dude," Dan tapered off into a chuckle and turned back to the dishes. "I see the way she looks at you. She's not goin' anywhere. But I dunno how to get it through your thick fuckin' skull that the longer you hold onto this shit, the more it’s going to hurt. For you and her."

 

Simon shot daggers into the back of his brother's head, hated being told what to do, made him want to do the exact opposite. 

 

Seemed like Dan was clued in on that. Kinder, he continued, "I'm not saying it has to be everything all at once, especially with the Mom and Dad shit. Believe me, I get it. But you really need to come clean about how bad you got, man. She deserves to know, not just for her sake but for yours too."

 

Dan's tone was light, but his words packed a heavy-hitting punch. Simon shuddered at the thought of slipping back into his old ways, didn't know if he'd survive another round of withdrawals if he was being honest. Vowed to himself after the last time that he'd never do it again. And though he wanted to be furious at Dan for suggesting he'd ever fall off the wagon like that, he could see the merit in warning Patty. 

 

Simon pressed his fingers against the wheel, popping his stiff joints and bringing him back to the present. Patty was humming away, enraptured by whatever daydream she was playing out if that glazed over look in her eye was anything to go by. He smiled crookedly at her. No time better than the present to test the waters before he dove in head first. 

 

“One time only deal,” he offered, jostling her knee to get her attention. “Pick a question. Anything you want. And I’ll answer it. Promise you.” 

 

Patty's eyes lit up, a finger coming to her lip as she looked up in consideration. "Anything?"

 

“Anything. Just, take it easy, yeah?” he chuckled. Her excitement was palpable, felt good to be doing something right. Felt worse knowing giving so little of himself made her this happy. 

 

Patty's eyes went wide suddenly, grasping onto his forearm. “Wait, that didn't count as my question, right?” 

 

"No, but that one does.”

 

“Simon.” 

 

“Okay, fine. Go ahead.”  

 

“So, I know how my mom is,” she started slowly, still piecing together her thoughts. Patty knew firsthand what it was like to be on the receiving end of her mom’s wrath and was no stranger to the way that woman could instill the fear of god into someone with just a look alone. She thought her dad was bad enough at dinner, but the fact that her mom's questioning drove Simon to the mental state that he was in yesterday was even worse. She wouldn't blame him if he never wanted to see them again.

 

But there was also a selfish part of her that hoped he still would. 

 

Deep in thought, Patty started prying Simon's fingers apart, thumping each digit on her thigh rhythmically, gaze cast towards the ceiling with that concentrated expression he always found incredibly endearing. He let her do it until he was sure steam was gonna come out of her ears from how hard she was thinking. He wiggled his fingers free and squeezed her thigh. "Yeah? Hope so. She is your mom."

 

Her brows furrowed briefly before she managed a small smile for him. She grabbed onto Simon's hand, eyes focused on her thumb sweeping relentlessly across his knuckles. "I was just wondering, I mean, I know she can be a lot, and I know she feels really bad. Not that that makes it okay or anything, and I told her that. But I guess I wanted to make sure that you'll still, you know..."

 

Simon raised a brow at her, tried to fill in the blanks to no avail. "That I'll still what?" 

 

Patty brought her legs up on the seat, replanted his hand on her knee, and rested her cheek on his hand. "That you'll still come around." 

 

Simon barked out a laugh, wishing he had the Polaroid to capture how precious she looked. “What? You think Connie can run me off that easy?”

 

She nodded sheepishly, still avoiding eye contact.

 

Simon flipped his hand, smoothing his thumb over the curve of her cheek. “Baby, I already told you. Ain’t nothin’ keepin’ me from you. And that includes your psycho mom.”

 

Patty finally met his eye, firmly asserting, “she's not a psycho.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” he agreed, running his finger down the slope of her nose where it scrunched; Patty playfully swatted him away. “You know she's makin' me come to dinner on Thursday, right?”

 

“Really?” She assumed he'd never agree to dinner again, and so soon was unbelievable. 

 

“Yeah,” Simon huffed, lit another cigarette. “She was kinda actin’ like my—,” he stopped himself and shook his head with an empty laugh. His mom would have never treated him like that. First of all, she woulda made some backhanded comment about how much weight he had gained if anything. And second, if she did think he was too thin, she woulda accused him of being on dope, which would have sent her into a rant about how she wasn't about to pay for his drug addiction or some other bullshit, and then Simon would have yelled at her, and she would have cried, and then his dad would have gotten involved, and yeah. Not what he meant. 

 

Patty was horrified. "Like your mom?"

 

"No, c'mon, Pats. You know my mom don't care like that. Now your mom," he poked her shoulder, "your mom's convinced herself I'm too skinny or some shit. Insisted on me comin' to dinner. About fuckin' twisted my arm, too," he chuckled. 

 

Patty was quiet while she traced the ligaments on the back of Simon's hand. “Was it too much?” 

 

"Nah, it was alright." Connie backing him into a corner fucking sucked, but it didn't come close to grazing the top of his list of the worst things he'd seen or dealt with. In fact, after a day to think on it, he had to admit it did feel good to get some of it off his chest, move past shit that he didn't know was weighing him down so much. Shit, Dan had even said it was good to have someone there for him other than him and Patty. Not that they weren't enough, but Patty was too soft on him and Dan was too hard at times. Connie fell somewhere in the middle. 

 

Caught Patty picking at her bottom lip despite the reassurance and took her hand in his. He smiled as he pressed his lips to her fingers, thinking back to her story about Lyra, how poor Orpheus dragged himself through hell and back for whatever mystical creature it was that he fell for. “But just so we're clear, there's no one else in this entire world that I would ever do that shit for.”

 

Patty peered up at him with a proud smile. “Not even Danny?”

 

Simon released her hand to wave his dismissively. “Fuck Dan. He’s on his own.” 

 

And that got her to laugh again, the joyous noise filling the small space and warming over his body. Riding the high, he nudged her gently. "You know, you didn't really phrase that as a question, babe." 

 

Patty squinted at him, unsure why that mattered. "Oh."

 

With a poorly executed wink, he loudly whispered, "I’m lettin' you go again." First one wasn't so bad, was kinda a cop out as far as warm-ups went. He needed something that pushed him harder, something that gave him a better preview of what was in store for their evening. 

 

"Oh! Okay." This time she didn't have to think about what she wanted to ask. This was her runner-up question. “So, remember when you and Kev were smoking after dinner the other night, and I went inside before you two?”

 

“Uh-huh.” 

 

“I kinda overheard my parents fighting." Patty tugged on her fingers, gauging his reaction before continuing. 

 

Simon narrowed his eyes but kept them on the road. “Yeah?”

 

“Mhm,” she nodded and reached over to pluck the cigarette from his fingers, taking a couple of drags before passing it back. Like that didn't scare the absolute shit out of him.

 

“They have somethin’ to say about me?” And though he asked as softly as he could, it still came out more as a growl. 

 

“Yeah, sometimes my dad will say some crazy stuff, and I know he was probably making it up, but he said something about this report and how you assaulted some lady that was like my mom’s age—.”

 

Simon didn’t want to hear her question, didn’t want to hear what else her dad spun on top of that, or how much he really knew. Norm had made one too many comments that were a little too accurate, especially considering his parents had paid off Beth's family to drop all the other charges against him, wasn't even part of his case. “Pats, is your dad a fuckin' cop, and you didn’t tell me?” 

 

Patty laughed. The thought of her dad in a position of such authority, and with a gun no less, was hilarious. “What? No. He works in an office. I don’t…I don’t really know what he does. Something on a computer. But he's not a cop.” 

Simon sucked in a deep breath, paranoia running rampant. “You sure.” 

 

“Yes, Simon. I know he isn’t.” She held his gaze, refusing to back down on such an outlandish claim. 

 

Simon's eyes drifted back to the road, cursing Dan under his breath. He should have fucking stopped while he was ahead, but no. That little shithead just had to get under his skin. If he hadn't, Simon wouldn't have felt compelled to push himself this hard, and he wasn't about to break a promise. Not to her anyway. “I didn’t fuckin’ assault her.”

 

"Huh?" 

 

Simon sighed and rubbed his temple as he figured out how best to tackle this. He flipped his palms out against the steering wheel, eyes locked ahead. “You remember why I was in jail, right?”

 

Patty narrowed her eyes. “You told me you set someone’s bushes on fire.” 

Simon snorted, clapping his hand on her thigh. “Sure did. But that wasn’t the only thing that happened, alright? Came over to this chick's place, some girl I used to run around with. And her dad was pissing me off, her brother was a fucking moron, and her mom was flirting with me, and I dunno. She made a move. I thought she was hot. We made out. So what?”

 

Patty's silence paired with this unreadable expression on her face made him think she wasn’t buying it. “I didn't do anything she didn't want, Patty. C'mon, you know me," he reiterated, his voice raising slightly, a light slap of the back of his hand to her shoulder.

 

Patty looked at her shoulder and back at him. She already believed him; he didn't need to explain himself. She was just stuck on the fact that it was a lady around her mom’s age. Kind of thought it was gross more than anything. She wouldn’t wanna get with someone around her dad’s age. But she didn’t have a chance to voice any of that.  

 

"And let’s get one thing straight: I was gonna burn those stupid bushes anyway. Racist fuckin' assholes deserved it. She just sped up the process, blamin’ me when she was the one that got caught. Honest to god, Pats. If they'd done a real investigation, it woulda been easy as fuck to see I doused their bushes way before I let that floozy tongue-fuck my mouth.” 

 

Patty downturned her lips and nodded. 

 

Knuckles white around the wheel, he gritted out, “your dad say anything else you wanna ask me about?”

 

“No,” Patty replied, smiling softly. She had enough for now, and by the looks of it, so did Simon. “Is there anything you want to ask me?” 

 

Simon didn't expect for her to turn the tables on him. Scratching the back of his head, he admitted, “uh, yeah, actually. While we're talking about your dad, he kinda got me fucked up about how we got together. The whole, y’know," he swirled his hands around, "power dynamic thing. Do you, uh, do you think it's weird?”

 

Patty’s nose scrunched in confusion, and she shook her head. It was her literal dream come true; she didn’t know how that was supposed to be weird. “How?”

 

Simon pulled off into a rotting parking lot overlooking the skatepark he used to frequent in his early teens and turned to face her head on. “I mean, look at it plainly, Pats. I was the lead singer of your favorite band for years. Shit, you were my biggest fan, baby. Still are. Y'sent me letters, fuck, sent me pictures, collected all my shit, came to so many shows, and now we’re together. And I think—I think some people perceive me as taking advantage of you because of the whole thing, and fuck them, but I wanna make sure you don't feel that way too.” 

 

The crease between Patty's eyebrows deepened the further Simon went on, her face completely screwed up by the time he finished. "But that doesn't make any sense, Simon. That's not why we're together." 

 

Simon was stunned silent, his mouth opening and closing, brows pinched together. Flustered. He was cute when he was flustered. Patty's features relaxed into a small smile, and she reached out to gently brush his hair out of his face. Simon's memory was a weird thing; she had found it didn't always work right. But that was okay. She liked reminding him. "I know you know I loved John Q, but I didn't actually know John Q. What I wrote back then, I didn't—it wasn't love. Well, a different kind of love. I might have thought it was love, like what you and I have, but I know what that really feels like now, and that wasn't it," she explained, pausing to make sure he was following.

 

A sharp nod of his head urged her to continue.

 

She grinned, heart swelling. "John Q was never real to me. You were. That's why I fell in love with you, with Simon. That’s why you’re my real—mm!” 

 

Simon sprang forward, their lips crashing together, a burning sensation in his throat, a pressure behind his eyes, a heat blossoming in his gut. His mouth was frantic against hers, threading his fingers through her hair, licking into her mouth, desperation and relief fueling every movement. She tasted like candy, and he couldn't get enough. 

 

There was no way she could have known what that would do to him, how much he needed to hear that, how it felt like finally mending an old wound, satisfying and warm and right. He cupped her cheek, slowing the kisses until they dissolved into little pecks and gently tugged her back. He stared at her, soaking in every last detail, the way she giggled and smiled up at him, the way the sunlight trickled in and turned her rich brown eyes into a decadent caramel, her pink tongue wetting her lips as her gaze drifted to his mouth once again. And, fuck, he loved her. Loved her so much it hurt. Loved her so much he didn't know what the fuck he was going to do if she left after tonight.

 

Lips swollen and pupils blown, she leaned back in, but Simon tightened his grip in her hair. “Let’s go. I gotta get the fuck outta this car.”

 

Simon slammed the door shut behind him, leaving Patty hot and bothered and frustrated. She huffed, tracking Simon's movements outside the car as she fumbled with her seatbelt. 

 

“Simon?” Patty called as she stepped out of the car. “Why are we here? You don’t skateboard.”

 

Simon spun on his heel, walking backwards to keep moving. “The fuck are you talking about? 'Course I do. How I got around for years, babe,” he replied dismissively, spinning back around and waving an impatient hand to follow him. 

 

Simon turned his head to glance over the concrete park, slowing his pace to give Patty’s little legs a chance to catch up. Musta been his lucky day because he looked over just in time to see some scraggly-looking teenager absolutely eat shit on the grind rail. He cackled, felt like an old man for how nostalgic the scene felt all of a sudden. Remembered how he used to come home all black and blue and limping from landing wrong, rips and holes in his clothes, reeking of sweat and weed and cigarettes, a hickey or two on his neck, his wallet full. Best part of selling in those early years was spending the whole day at the skatepark and making bank. 

 

“Oh,” Patty responded, grimacing as she watched some kid wipeout on the pavement. “You never told me that.”

“Was faster on wheels than these two feet. Haven’t picked up a board in years though,” he chuckled, swaying into her side. “Why, you wanna be my skatepark girlfriend and my music girlfriend too?” 

 

Patty never considered this a possibility. When she was in high school, she never really fit in with any of the groups, often floating between cliques rather than finding her home in one, but she did like lingering around the skaters and punks the most. She had a massive crush on this skater boy with a nose piercing that didn't know she existed, resulting in many nights spent fantasizing about being his skatepark girlfriend. She'd seen the other girls, how cool they looked with their cigarettes and dark hair, how lucky they were to be greeted by sweaty, long-haired boys that only took breaks from skating to suck face. But that was then, and Patty now knew what it was like to be a music girlfriend and a real girlfriend, and she wouldn't trade it for the world. 

 

But she also wouldn't mind tacking on the additional title if the opportunity presented itself. “I would like to see you skate at some point."

 

Simon snorted at that look she had in her eye, like she was already undressing him. Shit, he woulda brought her here sooner if he knew she'd get all worked up over it. “I think you just wanna see me bust my ass,” he teased. “Now, keep up. Wanna show you somethin’.”

 

Patty put up a halfhearted argument, far more interested in the imagery of her boyfriend, preferably shirtless, with sweat-coiled hair, carting around seamlessly on a board unlike the other teenagers in the park. Simon didn't entertain it though, waving her on and guiding her down a trail that wrapped behind the skatepark and through a thin patch of trees once the paved path had come to an end. But Patty stopped and raised a brow when he started up what seemed like the biggest hill she'd seen in her entire life. Tonight was not the best night to wear sandals. 

 

She took her first step up the hill with a groan. "Simon?" 

 

“Yeah,” he hollered back, not bothering to turn around.

 

“Where are you taking me?” 

 

“Somewhere special. Promise you it'll be worth it.” 

 

Skepticism instantly replaced by anticipation, Patty kicked it into high gear. Simon knew of all the best hidden gems around town, to the point that she thought he could be some kind of off-beat tour guide. She could rally though the burn in her lungs and the ache in her calves to see what he had in store.

 

Patty was about ready to collapse to the ground when she finally breached the top of the hill but instead found herself frozen in place. The secluded spot was surrounded by cozy trees and downy grass which was pretty enough on its own, but what was really captivating was the view—the city's skyline amplified by fiery bursts of orange and pink from the sunset, painting the flora in golden hues and highlighting Simon's features warmly. She giggled as she spun around, taking in the picturesque surroundings. 

 

Her momentum was halted mid-twirl by Simon scooping her into his arms. A surprised squeal escaped her, quickly shifting into a symphony of giggles from the two. Simon set her down with a wet smooch, holding her tight to his body. "See? Told ya it'd be worth it."

 

"Simon, this is really pretty," she enthused, irises skittering across the horizon once again. She met his half-lidded gaze and, with a wiggle of her eyebrows, she added, "and very romantic." 

 

Shit. God fucking dammit. Now she had the wrong fuckin' idea altogether, had expectations that he wasn't gonna be able to fulfill in the slightest. Felt like a complete dumbass for not thinking this through. This was going to be anything but romantic. His hands dropped from where they were comfortably resting around her waist to light a cigarette. The least he could do was let her enjoy the view for a while longer before he ruined the mood.

 

Patty squatted, wrapping her arms around her knees, watching the tiny, little cars zooming down the highway and through city streets, taillights washing the road in a blurred red. She was curious what everyone was out and about doing, if they were driving alone or if they had a car full of people, if they were simply trying to get home or going out for a night on the town. She wondered if any of them could see her and Simon up here if they knew where to look and squinted hard enough. 

 

Simon had settled against an old tree, silently smoking as he watched her. Felt a small smile creep across his face as she rocked on her feet, head turned slightly to the side. He always thought she was beautiful, but goddamn tonight she was glowing, radiant, brighter than the sun itself. She could burn his retinas to a crisp, and he'd thank her for it too. 

 

God, he really hoped he wasn't about to fuck all of this up.

 

He tried to think back to Dan's pep talk, reminded himself that dipping his toe in the water earlier wasn't all too bad. The worst part was him getting worked up—like that was anything new. Reflecting on it now though, he did find it a little fucking unsettling that it didn't turn into a screaming match or some sort of fight. He had gotten used to hard conversations ending with nasty remarks and explosive fury over the years. But Patty wasn't like that. Patty loved him. Even the ugly parts of him. She wouldn't take the bait if he tried. 

 

Patty cocked her head to the side at him. She had asked him his opinion on her theories regarding what the bustling city was up to, and, when her questions went unanswered, she turned to find Simon with a thousand yard stare and a thumb in his mouth.

 

"Simon?" she called again, rising to her feet and making her way over. He was usually so highly attuned to his surroundings that Patty would go as far as describing him as “jumpy.” She crouched down in front of him. "Are you okay?" she asked, resting her hand lightly on his shoulder. 

 

"Jesus fucking Christ." Simon flinched at her touch, smacking her hand away reflexively. "Fuck, sorry, baby. Y-yeah, I'm, yeah. Good. Fine. Come here." He patted the grass beside him.

 

Patty narrowed her eyes at him, a corner of her lip quirking into a curious smile as she nestled in next to him. "You're nervous. Why are you nervous?" 

 

Fuck, nervous didn’t even begin to cover it. He was a mess. Simon swore under his breath, hanging his head and rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, Patty, I, um, I wanted to bring you here when I told you everything, so, you know, if it’s too much for you, at least you had something pretty, something nice to remember me by rather than all the bullshit I’ve put you through.”

 

The playful smile on her face plummeted, and she clasped a shaky hand over her chest. Surely she misheard him. “What?"

 

Simon bent the leg closest to her at the knee, resting his forearm on top. That extra little distance he put between them made Patty feel miles away, her blood turning ice cold, the golden glow surrounding them darkening into a dingy hue and casting shadows in all the wrong places. “I told you I was gonna tell you what I told your mom and then some,” he muttered quietly.

 

So it was true. She did hear him correctly. Patty tried not to panic, but those horrible words played on an endless loop in her head: "to remember me by." Something that was said when things ended, when people left. She cupped her hands over her ears, but the phrase repeated over and over again like a demented form of tinnitus. He couldn't leave. Not again. Not when there wasn't any reason to. 

 

"Don’t fuckin’ do that, Pats," Simon sighed, gently unpeeling her hands from her head.

Patty snatched her hands away, shaking them at her sides, eyes squeezed shut. She was overwhelmed, by the touch, by his words, by her feelings. She wanted him to take it back. Surely he'd take it back, right? "But why would you say something like that, Simon? What's going on?” 

 

Simon swayed his head back and forth, then threw his hands in the air. “Why do you think it's been so hard for me to fuckin' open up, Pats? Wasn't always who you know now. I'm not exactly sittin' over here proud of my past, who I used to be, and I know I'm not much better now, but, fuck, I think back to some of the shit I did, and it's too much for me, Patty. For me. Do you get what I'm saying?"

 

Simon wasn't yelling by any means, but he was loud, words tumbling out of his mouth quicker than Patty could register them. She watched him hastily rip his pack of cigarettes out of his backpack. His hands were shaking as he lit one. "I don’t—I don't think I do." 

 

Simon knew he needed to calm down, and the cigarette in front of him was a good enough distraction. Breathed in, felt the warm air soothe his throat and swirl around his lungs. Breathed out, watched the tendrils of smoke curling around him. "There's, um, shit, I mean. Fuck, goddammit. Fuckin' give me a minute," he spat, running his hands through his hair. Usually when he started talking, it was easy to go from there, but this time the vowels and consonants felt foreign and sticky rather than natural and languid on his tongue. "I guess," he sighed, ashing the cigarette off his boot, "I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is I've kept a lot of shit from you 'cause I'm...'cause I'm fucking scared, Pats." 

 

The raw emotion in his voice cut Patty like a knife, fear splayed across his features in a way she’d never seen before. She longed to comfort him, desperately wanted to bring him into her arms and tell him there was nothing to be scared of, but Patty knew better than to touch him when he was riled up like this. She opted to rub her hands over her forearms instead. "What are you scared of?" 

 

Simon huffed a short, self-deprecating laugh, fiddling with the lighter in his hand. "Scared that you're gonna look at me differently, or, worse, scared you're gonna leave once you know. And like here's the whole thing: I wouldn't fuckin' blame you, Patty. Seriously. Wouldn’t even be mad. S'why I brought you here, wanted this to be special if it was, you know, if it was the last.”

 

“Simon,” Patty started calmly, speaking through the lump that had formed in her throat. While she knew now wasn't the time to be angry, the fury stirred within her regardless, and it was hard to keep contained. “I've already told you. I don’t care about who you used to be when all I have is you now.”

 

“Yeah, you say that, but—.”

 

“No.” 

 

“No?”


Patty shook her head, crossing her arms. “No. No 'but.' We've talked about this. I don't care, Simon. I-I don't like what you’re saying," she stated, maintaining a serious expression on her face despite the tremble in her voice. She didn't know where any of this was coming from. She never judged Simon, always respected his boundaries, and was always supportive when he did decide to open up to her. There was no reason for him to consider she'd up and leave him over things he said or did years ago.

 

Well, unless she unknowingly broke their trust along the way. "What did I do?" 

 

"What?" It came out of him as a breathless chuckle, more out of fear from how she was looking at him. 

 

"What did I do?" Patty repeated, firmer, fiercer, the flame in her eye coming to roar. "What did I do that makes you think I'm going to react that way, Simon?" 

 

Patty watched the confusion ripple over Simon's face, palms raised in defense. "Jesus, Patty. You didn't do nothin'. That's-that's not what I meant."

 

“Okay,” she drew out the syllables, swirling her hand at him like he would to her. Patty didn’t understand why it made him laugh. 

 

He scrubbed his hand down his face with a sigh. “It’s just, you’re so good, Pats. Shit, I think your pinky toe has more good in it than I do in my entire fuckin' body." 

 

Patty looked down at her exposed toes and wiggled them. “Well, that's not true.” She was full of flaws, full of wrongdoings, and notorious for bending rules of morality at times to justify her actions. Sure, she didn't actively break the law as frequently as Simon did, but that didn't mean she was perfect. And that didn't mean Simon wasn't full of good too, so much good that she found it admirable. 

 

The silence that blanketed them was stagnant and suffocating, the air between them so dense that Patty felt like she was drowning in it. “I just wanted you to feel like you could talk to me,” she mumbled, tucking a rogue strand of hair behind her ear. She could see how heavily the weight of the world hung on his shoulders, could see it in the bags under his eyes or when he would take too many pills or down all his beers in just a couple hours. She could feel it when he'd come to bed in the middle of the night, clumsy and sniffly, his damp face buried in her chest. She only wanted to lighten the load, she only wanted to help, she only wanted him to know he wasn't alone. 

 

“Yeah, okay. Me too,” he sighed. Found the courage to look up at her only to be met with that very expression he was hoping to avoid, the image of her burned into his mind from the previous evening. But that's when it clicked for him. That wasn't a look she gave him in response to his actions necessarily, no. It was for pushing her away. And he couldn't have that, couldn't keep doing that to her. 

 

In an effort to keep his hands busy, he started plucking blossomed clovers out of the patch they were sitting by, slipping the tiny stems into knots at the base of the petals and repeating. It took him a while to work up to it, talked in circles for a good ten minutes, but, once he got going, it all spilled out of him like a kicked can of paint, soaking the earth below them. And Patty, god bless her, didn't mind the clean-up. Let him unleash everything without a trace of judgment or ridicule or disgust. She didn't badger him when he was clearly glossing over heavier details and didn't utter a word when his voice cracked or a tear sprung to his eye. Had her questions, of course, but nothing that dug the knife in deeper. She silently offered a hand about halfway through, one in which he was grateful for, squeezing onto her for dear life. And she squeezed back.

 

Fuck, he didn't deserve it, but she squeezed back. 

 

The sun was long gone by the time Simon covered what Patty had to assume was his main talking points, sparking up a cigarette and staring off into the distance, silent and brooding. Patty took advantage in the lapse to sit quietly and think about everything he said objectively. But that quickly proved to be an impossible feat. There was nothing objective about the way she felt about Simon, and she found it an inappropriate time to employ such a practice when she never had before. 

 

He wasn't kidding when he said it was a lot, far more than what she could have imagined or what he alluded to, but none of it made her want to leave. Didn't cross her mind once while he was speaking. There was one thing he was right about though: she was going to look at him differently now. Now that she knew the strength and perseverance it took to overcome the addiction, the traumas, the self-doubt. Most of which he miraculously did on his own. Life had been cruel and unfair, but the important part was that he was still here, alive and well and him. In a perfect world, Patty would magic away all the pain and suffering, but this was the real world, and those darkened pieces of the past played a crucial role in who he was today.

 

The person she loved today. 

 

Patty nudged her pinky toward the outer edge of his hand. Simon's head snapped sharply to the distance she had closed between them. He stared at their hands for a while, chewing at his bottom lip before finally looking up at her with wide, fearful eyes. She smiled softly back, tilting her head to side to communicate that the gesture was intentional and solidified her mission by threading her thumb under his palm and squeezing tightly.

 

He laughed, a wet and broken sound, and slipped out her grasp. "Need you to promise me somethin’.”

 

Patty nodded feverishly. She'd promise him the whole world if he asked for it. 

 

Simon took a deep breath and tilted his head back to focus on the sky. Had they been here under different circumstances, he would have prompted her to point out a constellation, liked closing his eyes and listening to her talk about shit like that. But they weren't here for pleasure, and he had to get one thing straight while he was level-headed, something she had to hear especially if she intended on staying. “If I ever—if I ever fall back into that shit, you gotta promise me you’ll leave. Get the fuck away before it ruins you too. And if I—.”

 

Patty’s jaw dropped. “No way, Simon. That’s crazy. I'm not—.”

 

“Let me finish,” he snapped, and he could hear the way it came out way harsher than he intended. And Patty reacted accordingly, jerking away from him with parted lips and those big, brown eyes like he'd smacked her. About tore him to shreds right then and there.

 

He sighed and took her hand. "Patty, if there's one thing I want you to take away from all this shit, it's this, okay?"

 

Patty narrowed her eyes but nodded, albeit reluctantly. 

 

“If I get back on that shit, if I turn into someone you don’t recognize, or if I fuck this up,” his hand gestured in the space between them, “and I'm sure I'll find a way to fuck this up. Don’t fuckin' stay, and, if you really, really think I deserve another chance, don’t just take me back with open arms. Make me work for it.” 

 

Patty drew her knees to her chest. His words settled thick and goopy at the bottom of her stomach, and she didn’t know if she was going to cry or puke. “Simon…”

 

With a frustrated huff, he grabbed her by the shoulders. “No, Pats. I need you to listen to me. Really listen to me." He couldn't poison her like he did everyone else in his life, lucky a few of them stuck around to see him through to the other side. But Simon lost a lot of people, a lot of good people, through his selfishness, his addiction, his apathy. He didn't know what he'd do if she became another victim in his war-torn path. 

 

"When I'm on that shit, I don't think right. I don't care about nothin' or no one. I'm not me, okay?" Patty was shaking her head vehemently, and he squeezed her shoulders a little harder, desperation in his voice as he pleaded, "I love you way too fucking much to put that on you. Baby, I can't wake up one day knowing that you took the brunt end of it. I won't be able to live with myself. You gotta promise me. Please.” 

 

Patty's bottom lip wobbled, her vision growing cloudy as tears pricked the corner of her eyes. With her fingers crossed behind her back, she nodded, refusing a verbal confirmation. Patty didn't want to lie to him, but she knew good and well that he couldn’t be reasoned with when he was like this. And one thing she was certain about was that she'd never, ever let him do it all by himself again. 

 

Not when she was here. 

 

“Alright, good." He patted her shoulder and turned away.  

 

Patty studied his face. He didn't look like her Simon in that moment. He looked like the Simon the rest of the world got, guarded, irritable, unfriendly. He was only sitting a few inches away, but the distance between them felt immense. She missed him. "Simon?" 

 

He braced himself. "Yeah." 

 

Arms outstretched, she asked so sweetly and so softly, "can I have a hug?" 

 

Relief surging through his veins, he tossed his cigarette and tackled her into a warm embrace full of giggles and gasps and squeals. He pressed sloppy kisses up her neck, and she sighed, hands scrambling to bring his face to hers, lips melding against the other. Her tongue slipped past the seam of his lips, fingers coming to toy with his longer strands of hair at his nape. It felt so fucking good. Too good. Didn't know how he'd gotten so lucky. Couldn't believe she still wanted him and everything that came with him. Her reaction wasn't running away or criticizing him or thinking less of him, but to have him as close as possible instead.

 

And then she swung her legs around his waist, hips rolling against his, fingers clawing into his shoulders, a throaty moan funneling past her lips. He smiled against her, and though he knew she'd be disappointed, he hoisted them both upright before they got too carried away. 

 

Grinning wide and feeling giddy, he pointed at her. "Your turn." 

 

She scrunched her nose at him, cheeks flushed and hair askew. “Huh?”

 

“I mean it’s your fuckin’ turn,” he laughed, shaking her shoulder gently. 

 

Patty was bobbing her head like she did when she was pretending to listen, and he took her chin between his index finger and thumb. “Hey, eyes up here," he chuckled. She giggled, leaning towards him, eyes flicking to his lips again. He cocked a brow at her and tapped on her forehead playfully. "You know Kev told me a couple things the other night that were news to me, so I know you got some things locked in there still.” 

 

Patty blinked at him, a small look of shock grazing her features before she looked him up and down one last time and nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. "Okay, but can we talk on the way back?” 

 

Simon narrowed his eyes at her, a slight grin ghosting his lips. “S’long as this ain’t you tryin’ to weasel outta this." 

 

Patty frowned, pointing at both of their bare arms. "It's getting cold, and I don't have a jacket. You don't either." And for a reason unbeknownst to her, that made Simon laugh, a hearty sound that shook his entire being. He sprung to his feet, extending his hand out expectantly.

 

He felt something click into place when she grabbed onto him with a shy smile. He tied off the end of his clover chain and looped it around her neck with a kiss. He lingered in her space for a bit longer than necessary, smirking as he shifted excitedly on his feet. “Hope that makes it in the boyfriend box.”

 

Simon bit his lip as she fumbled over several excuses, none of which made it past a few stuttering syllables, cheeks burning bright red. He rolled his eyes. "I was stuck in your room for hours, baby. What did you want me to do?" 

 

Lips pushed to the side, Patty shrugged at him. Sissy & Karen had strongly advised her that the last person that should see her collection of Simon-related memorabilia was Simon himself. Sissy insisted it was creepy, and Karen thought it was childish. Both declared that it would freak Simon out. But he didn't seem to be freaking out. She knew what that looked like, and this wasn't it. This looked more like love. 

 

Simon smiled wider, lacing his fingers through hers. “Hey, don't look at me like that. It was fucking adorable. Now, c’mon. Let’s beat it.” 

⋆˙⟡♡⋆. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.⋆♡⟡˙⋆

Two weeks later

“Oh, hush, Norm. He’ll have her home any minute.”

 

“Well, we'll see about that. He’s been late to dinner the last two nights you’ve had him over. He hasn't exactly been the poster child for reliability.”

 

Connie clicked her tongue and shook her head disapprovingly, not bothering to look up from the magazine perched on her knee. He had turned into such a grumpy old man over the years. "Honey, I know you're tired, but it's only 10 'til."

 

Unfortunately, her response failed to pacify him, spurring Norm on what had to be his fourth or fifth rant regarding punctuality in the last thirty minutes. Connie glanced up from the tabloid once his rambling ceased, removing her reader's as she caught her husband's eye. “You know it wouldn’t kill you to have a little faith in him.”

 

Norm closed his eyes, shaking his head and taking a deep breath. Truthfully, he couldn't recall the last time he stayed up this late and was fighting his sleep tooth and nail. He hadn’t a clue how Connie did it so often, especially considering she always woke up with him to his morning alarm. Had they been in any other situation, all this thinking would have prompted him to thank her for making sure the kids got home while also teaching them the importance of being on time. But there'd be plenty of opportunity to express his appreciation, and now, when he was defiantly standing on his last leg, wasn't the time.

 

Norm’s eyes didn’t reopen, head lolling to the side, mouth slightly agape. Connie snickered to herself, startling him awake with a clap of her hands as she sprang to her feet. "Here they are now!" 

 

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he found his wife peeking through the window, headlights far too bright for this time of night flooding the driveway. He glanced over at the clock and sighed heavily. They made it. Barely. He'd have to have a discussion regarding punctuality with Simon one of these days: ten minutes early was on time, arriving on time was late, and getting to the destination late was unacceptable.

 

“Oh, Norm,” Connie gushed, hand over her heart as she looked over her shoulder. "Come look. Hurry." 

 

Norm begrudgingly hoisted his sleep-deprived limbs off the couch to peer over Connie’s shoulder, finding a certain greasy punk opening the passenger door of Danny’s sedan, palm outstretched with a grin on his face that Norm pointedly ignored. Grumbled about how he'd still prefer if it was Danny over Simon any day. 

 

Connie smacked his chest. "Norman,” she seethed, though her attention was immediately drawn back outside by Patty's shrieking laughter. She watched as Simon set Patty down from a big embrace, pressing a peck to her forehead that made her smile shine like a beacon in the dark night.

 

“What? Let's see if he walks her to the door like Danny does, like a proper—.”

 

The words died on Norm's lips as he watched the young man gently press his hand to his daughter's lower back and nudge her forward. Patty grinned back at him, causing her to trip and stumble over the porch step. Connie gasped and Norm took a step toward the door in preparation for an inevitable injury, but Simon caught her by the elbow, steadying her on her feet with a chuckle. Something happened inside Norm’s chest that he couldn't make sense of, something warm, something tingly. 

 

He didn't have much time to stew on the newfound sensation with the front door swinging open in a cacophony of giggles and sickly sweet words. Norm noticed the look on his daughter's face first, the sparkle in her eye, the ease in a smile so big that it reminded him of when Patty was little, hadn't seen such unbridled happiness on her face in so long he almost forgot what it looked like. Connie arched a knowing brow at him; he kept his mouth shut.

 

Thanks to Kev's intel, Simon had come prepared for Norm's appearance at drop-off tonight. While it was still a work-in-progress, he had since figured out that he could convince himself to be on his best behavior around her dad if only out of spite. He was determined to prove him wrong. 

 

He stepped a heavy boot halfway into the entryway, poking his head in with a wave. “Hiya, Connie. Norm.”

 

Norm let his wife handle the greeting and small talk, quietly analyzing every minute interaction, every facial twitch, and every touch that landed on his daughter. And when his wife stopped yapping, he watched Simon turn back to Patty, expression softening into something he wouldn’t have expected out of the young man, watched the anger that usually shadowed and warped all of his features melt away in a single second. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he could see why Connie always referred to him as a kid. He swallowed the realization down thickly. 

 

“I’ll pick you up around 5 tomorrow, baby. Help ya get ready. Get some sleep tonight, alright? Can’t wait to see you kill it.” Simon tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. They'd gone over the plans at least a dozen times, but he knew Patty liked the extra reassurance. He liked making a point to her dad too.

 

Patty whispered something indistinguishable in his ear, something neither Connie nor Norm could initially make out, but it was quite easy to deduce from Simon's response, murmured just loud enough to ensure they heard, “I love you too, Pats.” Connie sighed happily; Norm crossed his arms. 

 

Simon backed up toward the door, smirking as he reached into his jacket pocket. He caught Norm's eye and tossed a velvet cinched bag at him. "Found this in a pile of equipment. Thought you could use it."

 

Norm narrowed his eyes at him before tugging it open and dumping the contents to find, "a mute? For my trumpet?"

 

"Never been used," Simon grinned. He planted one last kiss on Patty’s cheek, hollered a brief goodbye, and slipped out the door before Connie could force a thank you out of Norm. 

 

Norm was still squinting at the gift in his hand with conflicting emotions when Patty bounced into the living room and threw her arms around him. “Thanks for staying up for me, Dad.”

 

Speechless, he hugged his daughter back. Connie downturned her lips at him, eyes flicking between the bag in his hand and Patty: I told you so.  

 

Norm shook his head and palmed either of Patty's shoulders. “Did you have a good time tonight, kiddo?”

 

“Any time with Simon is the best, Dad,” Patty replied dreamily, pulling from his grasp and making her way over to Connie. 

 

“You two barely got here in time. What were you doing?” Norm asked suspiciously.

 

Patty hummed thoughtfully, spinning on her heel and shaking her wrist at her dad. “We made bracelets.” Which was the only thing that they did that she could tell her dad without him freaking out. She didn't think it wise to inform them that Simon had found a loophole to their hickey rule: your mom said no more on the neck or thighs, that means the rest is fair game, baby. She had at least three hidden under her clothes, and she couldn't wait to get in front of a mirror and trace over them. Maybe she’d take a few pictures, add them to her scrapbook.

 

Norm raised a brow as he looked over the beaded band, finding it rather, well, dismal. “All black?”

 

“Oh, let me see, honey,” Connie interjected, stepping in to grab Patty’s wrist before Norm could ruin the mood. Patty used to make these types of bracelets all the time, except this one was a little more crudely constructed, black pony beads crammed onto thick elastic, the letters MG in the middle, a pink heart on either side and a watermelon bead next to the very big, very noticeable tie. Connie smiled; she found Simon’s effort very endearing.

 

“What’s MG mean?” Connie asked curiously, spinning the beads around her wrist. 

 

“Oh, that stands for music girlfriend,” she replied, a faint blush filling her cheeks. “The one I made for him has those glitter rainbow beads I like instead.” 

 

“How sweet,” Connie crooned, stroking down her daughter's hair, strategically flipping the strands behind her shoulder to examine her neck. The relief she felt finding both sides clear for the first time in months was indescribable.  

 

Connie pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “Alright, you’ve got a big day tomorrow. Go get some sleep.” Norm might have had his qualms with the boy, but Connie couldn't express her gratitude enough to Simon. It was already worrisome when Patty was simply attending these rock concerts, but now that she was performing at them too added a whole extra layer of anxiety for Connie. She could breathe a little easier knowing that Simon was there to keep an eye on her though. She trusted him to protect her. 

 

With a nod, Patty pressed a kiss to her cheek, then Norm’s, and skipped up the stairs. Connie folded her arms across her chest, and, before she could utter a single word, Norm raised his hands in defeat. 

 

“I'm going to bed,” he muttered. “Goodnight.” 

 

Connie scoffed and shook a finger in his direction. “Uh-uh. You're not getting off that easy.” 

 

He stopped halfway down the hallway, palms out with his eyes squeezed shut. “Connie, please.” 

 

“You're not going anywhere 'til I hear you say it,” Connie grinned mischievously, flipping off the tv and living room lights. She bundled their drinking glasses in her arms to take to the kitchen and stepped in front of him, toe to toe. He talked a big game earlier just to fold the moment Patty stumbled through the door. 

 

“Alright. Okay. Maybe he's-he’s not so bad,” Norm stammered. 

 

Connie arched a brow. “And?” 

 

“Really?” 

 

“Come on. Is it that hard? He brought you a really nice gift, Norm.” 

 

Norm looked down at the bag in his hand and sighed. It was a name-brand mute too, cost a pretty penny Connie would never let him dish out. Showed that the kid was a little thoughtful, that he remembered the instrument he played despite the two of them exploding at the dinner table a few moments following the exchange. And if he was that considerate with him, he could only imagine how he was with Patty.

 

"You're right," he said quietly, features softening slightly. "She does seem happy.” And with a tweak of Connie’s brow, he added, “with, um, with him." 

 

“See? Not so bad,” Connie smiled, squeezing his hand. “And you have to admit the bracelets were so sweet. I would have had to beg you.” 

 

Norm shook his head. Connie could find it sweet all she wanted, but what concerned Norm was the ease in which Simon ceded to a rather feminine activity. Decided to keep it to himself though. He might have been far from thrilled with the situation, but this wasn’t a fight he wanted to continue having. Simon didn't seem to be going anywhere any time soon unfortunately, he desperately wanted his wife back, and Patty seemed happy and safe enough for the time being. He would have to trust this would all play out okay. 

 

Connie pressed a kiss to Norm’s cheek to bid him goodnight before she headed to the kitchen, a smirk spreading across her face as she found Kev leaning against the counter scowling. Kevin had walked into the kitchen earlier following her and Norm's rather heated discussion regarding him staying up for Patty tonight, how Connie insisted he'd feel differently about Simon once he did. Connie hated that Kev had to overhear it, but, before she could apologize, her son very arrogantly and adamantly proposed a bet that Norm wouldn't come around, and, well, Connie couldn't resist. 

 

“You owe me five bucks, mister,” Connie singsonged. 

 

With a huff, Kev dug into his back pocket and flipped through for a fiver, sticking it between his fingers just out of his mom’s reach. “To be fair, I only bet against them 'cause Simon pissed me off.”   

 

Connie raised a brow but decided she didn't want to know, curling the bill back into his hand and pressing a kiss to her youngest’s forehead. “Next time I’m not letting you keep it. Goodnight, Kev.” 

 

Kev exited the kitchen, grumbling under his breath and wiping his forehead off. Might have been the one to make some cash tonight if he'd kept quiet about the whole ordeal, didn't expect Simon to come in buttering up their dad like that, but Kev didn't wanna risk getting caught withholding information from him again. Plus, when Simon was around, Kev wasn't the subject of his parents' interrogations, and for that he would always be grateful. 

 

Connie rinsed and set the dishes in the sink, wiping her damp hands on a tea towel with a sigh. The contentment she would usually feel at the end of a night knowing both her babies were safe, sound, and incredibly loved under her roof had grown bittersweet to the taste as the days went on, the darkened flavor overpowering the sweetness the more she chewed. Her babies were no longer babies. They were growing up, had grown up, and Connie knew to soak in these moments while she still had them. It wouldn't be long before one of them was taking that plunge into the real world without her, and she hadn't a clue which one was going first. 

 

⋆˙⟡♡⋆♡⟡˙⋆

 

Patty burrowed into her pillows and blankets, slinging a leg over Chomby and squeezing her eyes shut, hoping that sleep would come to her. She tried counting backwards from 100, tried imagining some of her best sleep-inducing scenarios, but her brain wasn’t cooperating, zooming at 100 miles per hour with no signs of rest in sight. This was more than the normal pre-show jitters she was used to. Tomorrow's show was different. She had been dreaming about this for years now, finally getting to flip the script and bring Simon to one of her shows, where he got to be in the crowd while she stomped around and sang her heart out.

 

Part of the problem was that she still hadn't decided which song to dedicate to her music boyfriend yet. It was hard to pick when most, if not all, of their set could be dedicated to him. What could she say? She was a sucker for a good ballad, and he was a fantastic muse.

 

Burying her face into Chomby’s fluff and rubbing her ankles together, Patty released the bubbling excitement with a high squeal. These were good problems to have. Patty had spent many nights in this very bed, kept awake with problems far less interesting and far more depressing looking back on them now.

 

It was no secret that Patty was a daydreamer, often told that the visions she imagined were just that, merely fantasies. That the type of love she craved only existed in movies and storybooks and had no chance of becoming a reality. But they were wrong. Not even some of her most saccharine sweet visions came close to the reality she was living, and she felt lucky, more than lucky. Not every day was picture perfect, but Patty didn’t want perfect. She just wanted Simon, on his good days and the bad ones too, through the ups and the downs and everything in between. She wanted someone to love and to be loved, someone that understood and for her to understand too. He was her dream come true, and she intended on holding onto him for, well, forever if possible.

 

₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊

 

Several hours after Patty had finally succumbed to sleep, Simon dragged himself to bed. He had a pretty productive night after he dropped her off. Though he knew Don was gonna give him shit for it, he was starting to get a hang of writing and crafting songs that were less about the state of the world and more about her. Swore he’d never turn into one of those mushy songwriters, but he swore he wouldn't do or say a lot of things before he met Patty. And, for the first time in his life, he liked being proven wrong. Not that he'd ever admit that out loud, of course. 

 

Simon smiled as he curled himself around the pillow that had become hers, thankful her scent still lingered as he inhaled deeply. The past few weeks had been tough on him mentally and emotionally, but Patty was his rock through it all. She proved time and time again that she wasn't going anywhere, no matter how big of a headcase he was. Just like he wasn’t going anywhere either. Once he accepted that as truth, the brighter the world became, the brighter his future became. And that was new too, the future no longer some impending doom or inevitable consequence of his actions but rather something he was genuinely looking forward to, knowing she'd be by his side. 

 

His eyes drifted shut and his muscles slowly began to relax. He needed all the rest he could get before Patty's show. After all, he’d be a pretty shitty music boyfriend if he wasn't in the front row, jumping around and screaming along to every damn lyric, just like she had done for him. 

Notes:

raise ur hand if u were ever personally victimized by the movie my girl 🙋🏼‍♀️

 

thank you sosososo much for following along, for the kudos, the comments, the subscriptions, and the rereads!! hope its been as fun for y'all as it has been for me teehee til next time!!

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 3 of P ♡ S