Cabin Fever (BXB)

The Night Simon Hopkins Confessed To Me

Simon holds me for the longest while, his hands delicate yet tight, tracing up the back of my head. His chest rises and falls against me. He radiates this sickly warmth of sweat and desperation. His breath trembles, burning on my skin, and he sniffs every so often. He buries his face into the crook of my neck.

And then I'm hugging him, in the same way a child holds their parent after getting lost in a crowd – clinging and suffocating and struggling for some grounding. I can't help myself. Suddenly, everything around us doesn't matter, and I grab at his shirt, pulling and tugging him closer. I'm scared that if I let go of him, that if I'm not touching him, I'll wake up and none of it will be real. That I'll be hiding in a bush somewhere and my mess back at Simon's house will still be waiting for me. That I'll be alone, knowing I can't change that.

"Hi," he says.

I'm ready to break down again. "Hi."

"I-I tried calling you," he whispers.

"I know. I-I'm sorry."

"I – " Something catches in his throat, and he holds me tighter. "W-why did you go? I-I mean, I know why, but-but, God, fuck, Micah. I-I – please don't – I'm so sorry."

And despite everything, I'm crying again. I can only bring him so close to me already, but he smells so good, and my chest swirls with a flurry of rage and absolute sadness. I want it to stop. "N-no, I-I didn't mean – "

"No, y-you have every right – !"

"Simon, I – "

His hands fumble to my face as he presses his forehead against mine. "No," he says, so definitively that it makes me shudder. "Don't. Please don't. I-I'm sorry, Micah. I'm so fucking sorry." His hands clasp me like I'm the last tangible thing in the entire world, and after a minute, he deflates. "Please, please forgive me, Micah. Please."

"Simon – !" But my tongue's paralyzed. I wouldn't know what to say, anyway, if I knew.

His breath matches pace with mine, and shadows start inching up our legs as the sun recedes. The world falls into gold and orange light, washed away until we stood in a cluster of hazy punches of color. A bird whistles in the distance, and leaves hush gently overhead.

We are not alone. Every so often, people drift into this realm of ours and stare, never staying for long. Some avert their eyes, cross the street and fade into foggy oblivion.

"...don't...don't say I should find someone else," I whisper, my words lost into the gentle dampness of his shirt. "Please. Please."

"I...I didn't mean – I mean, I kind of did, but I didn't – uugh." He cups my face, and the ghosts of tears marked their paths down his cheeks. "Y-you were leaving, before, and I got so fucking scared. I knew you'd come back, but I didn't – Micah, I'm so sorry."

"I-I shouldn't have left," I fumble, hands shaking. "I-I shouldn't have – "

"Don't," he says, the single word so firm I could almost hold it. "Don't apologize to me. I – it was all my fault. I'm so sorry. I-I love you, Micah, and I've messed up too many times already for you to, just, forgive me. I jus – I can't ask you to wait around for me to do some of the things you want me to do. I'm scared to dive headfirst like you want me to for everything. You've seen my family. I can't, just, open up and I can't ask you to wait for me to do it."

That spark's back in my throat. "Simon."

"I'm so sorry if there, there was ever a moment you thought I didn't love you. I-I didn't want to come back here. I didn't want to come back with you, so you could see how much of a failure I was and realize how much of a hopeless loser I am."