I Want You, Simon

Chapter 9

He didn't really know what was wrong with him. Well, he knew what was wrong. But he didn't know why he was feeling this way. He liked dancing with Samira, it made him feel...needed, in a way he hadn't felt in a while. But he was confused on whether it was bad for him to want to feel that way, or if it was bad of him to feel happy about feeling that way, as if any of that made any sense.

Here he was again, lying in his bed feeling bad, when he could've been out having a new experience. Why do I always do this? What's the point of realizing that you're worthy of life if you don't try to live?
He stares at his phone and Samira's number in it. His chest felt tighter and tighter as his finger hovered over the button to call her. He quickly presses it and looks away.

"Please don't answer, please don't answer." he mumbled to himself
"Hello?"
Ah voicemail. He ends the call, before realizing that was Samira's voice he was hearing.
"Wait!" He fumbles and drops the phone, which starts ringing, with Samira's name on the screen. He's frozen in place for a moment before picking up the device, and pressing the answer call button.
"Hello?" He answers nervously
"Hello? What the hell? Why did you hang up on me?"
"I'm sorry, I thought it was your voicemail. I know that doesn't make a lot of sense, but I was nervous. But..I'm so terribly sorry for how I acted this evening. I just have a lot of things going on in my mind at this point in time."
"Okay....?"
"So, if you'll allow me to, I'd like to come over and maybe explain? I think maybe it's gone on a bit longer than I think you should be forced to tolerate. So I'll explain, if that's alright with you."
There was a beat of silence as Simon waited with baited breath.
"Okay...I'll let you come over and explain...if you put up this bookshelf for me."
"You haven't put it up yet?"
"Obviously not."
Simon nods "Um, okay. Will do. I'll bring my tools," he spoke facetiously and he heard Samira giggle, but then return to a stern tone.
"Okay. Come at 12. Don't be late." she hangs up the phone

Simon holds the phone to his chest like a little schoolgirl, and lays back down on his back and breathes in. He had a second chance. Now he had to actually tell her.

Today he was out for a job, so he decided that the best outfit for the job would be another sweater and overalls that Marceline had gotten for him a while back that he had never worn, and a headband to keep the hair out of his face. The loose fit was something he would have to get used to. But he didn't take long dawdling, as he had somewhere to be.

He gets to her house and rings her bell, it took her a bit of time to come to the door. In that time, Simon touched up his hair, brushed off his sweater, and tightened his overalls. When Sami opens the door, she's dressed casually; in a tank top, an open cardigan, and a pair of leggings and fuzzy slippers. Her hair is down and she's wearing her glasses. A brush of wind that Simon was sure that only he could feel, hit his face and warmed up his cheeks upon seeing her. She had a blank look on her face, so he couldn't tell what she was feeling. He wanted to know how she felt about him, but he was too afraid to ask.

"Hi," Her voice was even. Not displaying any emotion at all.
"Hi," His voice shook, betraying his anxiety.
She stepped out of the doorway to let him through and it took him a bit of a moment to register for him to enter, but when it did, he did.
She closed the door behind him and led him into her living room, where she had moved the bookshelf.
"Gosh! You moved this by yourself?"
"Yup" She walks over to the open box and gestures towards it "Here it is." She speaks flatly and monotone, then walks over to the couch and plops down. "Go ahead."
"Uh, right." Simon approaches the box and looks over his shoulder and sees Samira scrolling on her phone. He takes the pieces out of the box and puts them to the side. Everything felt impossible, his hands felt awkward and uncoordinated as he kept glancing over at her on her phone. The silence was unbearable, he couldn't concentrate on anything he was doing because all he could feel was her sitting and not speaking to him. Logically, he knew that they didn't need to speak, but he had this deep down voice telling him he needed to say something, anything to make conversation happen. This isn't right, the voice told him. You should never be silent around her. He glanced back towards her once more, as she put a strand of hair behind her ear, and he dropped everything as his inner voice exploded.
"Can we talk?!" He half screamed. She looked up from her phone as if he had simply tapped her on the shoulder. She puts her phone down next to her and gives him her full attention.
Her voice was deep and a little raspy as she spoke
"What do you want to talk about?"