All sprawled along the park's bench, Simon's fingers are already reaching to speed dial @Ioveletloose's number on his cellphone with a concerning amount of ease despite being drunk out of his mind. The act itself seems reflexive. Makes anyone wonder just how many times this has
drunk again. Aksel will be miserable again. They will smoke, and Simon will force their pieces together again. Until one of them leaves. It will not be Simon.
Just empty, common words. That's all he has for Aksel.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs, arms crushing Aksel against him until no space is left between their lungs. "I don't know why I keep thinking about you dying. I don't know why I keep practicing your death in my mind. I'm sorry,