HEAVEN'S SUPPORT GROUP || sidemen/kstar/minizerk

#67- So Much Better

A/N- Trigger warning: homophobia, abusive relationships, suicide, self harm. Stay safe, and don't do anything stupid. If you need to talk to someone, please, DM me xx

Simon's POV

'Josh? Josh, where are you?' I said, frantic. I couldn't even get up to look for him- as soon as he'd dissapeared, I'd fallen over without him to lean on. My leg was throbbing with pain, and I let out a frustrated scream, hot tears streaming down my face. I mumbled his name over and over, sobbing into my hands.

'Babe, what did I say about crying?' A voice said from above me. Cold hands took hold of my wrists, pulling them away from my face. 'It's not hot.'

'Maia?' I said in disbelief, staring up at my girlfriend's face. Well, ex-girlfriend. I'd tried to break up with her several times in the weeks leading up to... well, you know. The only way of breaking up with her that I thought would work was writing it into my suicide note, by coming out and everything.

'Yeah, it's me.' She said with a sickly sweet smile, grabbing my wrists again and helping me up.

'Maia, wait!' I tried to say, but I was already up, wincing in pain from the weight on my leg. Oblivious to my injuries- or maybe she just didn't care- she hugged me. After a few painful seconds, she pushed me away.

'Wait. I should be mad. I'm mad at you.' She said with a frown.

'Why would you be...?' I trailed off, staring at her in disbelief.

'You left me.' She said, her voice flat.

'I didn't... what?'

'You left me. I thought you cared about this relationship. I thought you loved me!' She said, pushing me further back with each word. It took all I had to keep standing, although I could't stop the tears.

'Maia, I told you, I'm-'

'What, gay? You're not gay. We've been dating for 6 years, you are not gay.' She said. This time, when she shoved me, I fell to the floor. As much as I hate to admit it, I was crying more about her words than my injuries. They stung just as bad as any knife.

'But, in the note...'

'I was the one who found it, you know. I was the one who found you. That fucking note... I ripped it up as soon as I read it.' She said with a sneer.

'You... you what?' I said, completely lost for words. That note had meant everything to me. I had written things I had never told another person in my life. I had explained who I really was, what I was going through, why I had to do what I did. Getting it exactly right was the reason I wasn't dead weeks earlier. 'You ripped up my suicide note?!'

'Well, obviously. I can't have my friends thinking I dated a fag. What would they think?'

'You ripped up my fucking suicide note?!' I said.

'Stop crying, for fuck's sake. You could at least try and be a man. Honestly, it's embarrasing.'

'Sorry.' I said, more out of habit than anything else. I did my best to wipe away the tears- anything to get her to leave me alone. As I lifted my hand, she grabbed my left sleeve, pushing it up and pulling my arm towards her. Even though I'd been clean for a few days, red lines still covered my arm from the wrist to the elbow. Most were just scars, but there were still some fresh cuts, opened again when she yanked up my sleeve.

'Oh, Simon.' She said, tutting. I yanked my arm back and curled it into my chest protectively. She had the same disapproving glare she had when she first saw my scars. Not the usual I-feel-sorry-for-you-but-that's-weird look where they try not to stare which is somehow worse than actually staring; this was the look of a mother whose child had made a mess. 'I thought we agreed! They're ugly. If you're going to do it, then at least do it on your legs or stomach or something. You should respect that agreement.' She said.

It wasn't an agreement. I thought. It was an order. Of course, I didn't say that out loud. I didn't dare. I'd learnt my lesson the first time I told her I didn't have to do everything she said. She'd thrown out all my stuff, burned most of my clothes, and threatened to tell the police I'd hit her. She would have, too, if I hadn't given in and apologised. Even then, I spent the next two weeks terrified at every knock on the door, expecting an officer to drag me away in handcuffs every time.

'Look, I'm sorry, but-'

'What, you couldn't handle life so you decided to fuck up mine?' She interrupted. 'I loved you, Simon, I really did. But then I found out about this, and you decided you were gay... why can't things go back to the way they used to be?'

'What, you mean before you became a colossal bitch?' I said under my breath. From the glare she gave me, she heard. 'No, I didn't mean it like that, I mean- well I did, but... I just mean that you've changed. When we started dating, you were so sweet, so kind. For the first year, it was perfect. But then you got jealous. Cruel. You were so desperate to keep me that you didn't see the pain you put me in. You were so desperate that even me coming out couldn't get you to leave. I've lost count of the number of times I tried to break up with you. It's not right. I had to escape that. But I knew that not having me anymore would break you. As much as I hate it, I'm a huge part of your life. Even if we don't love each other, even if we never did, you always thought what we had was love and not just cruelty. Losing someone you love, even if you only think it's love, would hurt anyone. I knew that killing myself would break you, or worse, make you move on to some other guy to drain the life out of, and for that, I'm sorry. I'm the one who changed you, who made you so goddamn dependent on me, so dependent that you couldn't handle the thought of leaving me. I know it's not all my fault, not really, but I still blame myself. You needed me, and I let you down. I should have left you when I could, when you would have let me. Then you wouldn't be... like this. I feel... guilty. All the time, just guilty. I ruined your life as much as you ruined mine.' I said, the weight of everything I'd kept bottled up inside lifting off of me. I looked down, blinking slowly to clear away the tears. Suddenly, a hand appeared in front of me. I looked up to see Michael, hand outstretched to help me up. Maia was gone.

'Hello, darling. You've passed the test.' He said with a smirk. When I didn't accept the hand up, he looked down, frowning, as if just noticing my injuries for the first time. 'I can help with that, my dear.' He said, and with a click of his fingers, all the cuts and bruises were gone. Another click, and my clothes were clean of blood, the rips mended. There was even a white rose, like Michael's, tucked into my lapel.

'Thanks.' I muttered, letting him help me up and wiping my face embarrassedly.

'Anytime, hun.' He said with a wink.

'Where's Josh?' I asked. The flash of anger and jealousy that crossed Michaels face chilled me to the bone.

'Well, if you really want to cut this short, I'll take you to him, darling.' He said, his previous calm facade back in place. The cold undertone to his words was subtle, but it was there. He offered me his arm and I reluctantly took it. 'Although, why you would want to see him, I'll never know.' He winked at me again. 'You can do so much better.'