Miniminter [sidemen]

He Knows // Part 2

Semi-inspired by the song in the media. 3100+ words.

+

"Y/n! Y/n, please, I love you--"

"Fuck off, Simon."

You were walking away from him again, headed toward your car. The night was still young; some of Freya's friends were only just making their way into the party, brushing past you on the sidewalk.

"Y/n, fuck, slow down."

Although you liked to think you'd mastered fast-walking in three-inch heels, you weren't moving all that quickly. Simon struggling to keep up with you was a reminder of the fact that he'd actually been drinking at Freya's party. You weren't sure how much he'd had, but he had arrived before you, and you knew that his alcohol tolerance wasn't the most impressive; neither of you were the partying type. Or, neither of you had been. Vaguely, you wondered if Simon would've said any of what he had just said to you sober. Then, with a sick feeling in your stomach, you decided you didn't want to know.

"Y/n, please, goddamn, I'm trying to talk to you--!"

"Stay the fuck away from me, Simon," you snapped over your shoulder. When you turned back around you nearly knocked straight into a couple you vaguely recognized, from social media, maybe. Freya might have retweeted them onto your timeline once or twice; you weren't sure and you didn't have time to think about it.

The man was tall, a bit muscular, and he caught you by the shoulders before you could knock into the dark-haired lady he was with. "You alright?"

You flashed a fake smile at him, tried to pull away. "I'm fine--"

"Hey! Y/n--"

"Simon, stop, seriously," you bit out over your shoulder again, now more humiliated than pissed off. You were embarrassed for yourself, having left a party so early because you couldn't handle being around your ex, and you were embarrassed for Simon, still half-stumbling over the sidewalk behind you after proclaiming his undying love for you. The entire scene was pathetic.

Or, it was to you. To the couple you'd just run into, it was considerably creepy.

As you moved to step around the man who'd caught you, he stopped you again with a touch on your forearm. Eyebrows drawn, he asked you lowly, "This guy bothering you?"

"What the--get your fucking hands off of her," Simon demanded, coming up beside you at last. He reached out for you, ready to tug you away from the strangers. You jerked away from his touch and toward the brunette lady, subconsciously rejecting the searing effect Simon's skin had on yours.

The lady spoke up, narrowed her eyes through her glasses. "Hey, back off a bit buddy, alright? What's going on here?"

"Nothing," Simon spat. "Come on, Y/n."

He reached for you again, and you almost let him guide you away this time, but his attempt was harshly interrupted when the man shoved him back. Simon caught himself before he could fall to the ground, limbs flailing, and then, in a way particularly uncharacteristic of him, launched himself at his attacker.

You didn't have time to call either of them off before it was over. In one swift motion, the stranger put Simon on his ass in somebody's front lawn with a jab at his face. You shrieked.

Simon raised his head slowly, both hands over his nose. And as if the pain creeped into his system as slowly as the blood began trailing down his face, it took him a good three seconds before he could wince harshly and cry out, "Oh, fuck!"

Without realizing, you'd raised your own hands to your face as if you were the one who'd been punched. The brunette with the glasses beside you said, "Look, I don't know you, doll, but from one woman to another, stay the fuck away from this one. I know the type."