Mixtapes & Polaroids | Sam x Deena

34

Simon's been roaming for nearly an hour.

He's checked everywhere, he's checked Turf's and Deena's house. By the time he was on the way to the last location on his worried little mind, the rain begins to pour. It starts with light splutters peppering the boy's skin. He scrunches his nose as he looks up at the sky, walking just a little bit faster as little, feather light droplets begin to become heavy beads of water.

Simon's got his heart in his throat, he hates the feeling of getting soaked. He dreaded every step he took in wet socks, like a puddle forming inside his shoe but he doesn't stop. He hated the feeling, but he loved Deena to much to give up.

He finds Deena in their spot near the tracks.

She's sitting on her chair in the pouring rain, staring into the seemingly endless sea of trees before her with a gaze so empty, so cold, the rain couldn't best it. Simon stands there for a while, just looking at her, relief in his heart but also devastation because Deena sat almost lifeless.

The steady rise and fall of her shoulders being the only indicator that she was still breathing, with her soaking wet hair and clothes, sitting in the spot they used to share the best memories now sat Deena, alone and in so much pain. Simon wanted to take it away, to be a good friend, he never, not even for a second thought to be mad at Deena. Especially not when she looks like she's been dragged through the wringer a million ways to Sunday.

"Simon please— if you're here to drag me to hell too then I can assure you i'm already there. Just let me go." Deena says when she hears his footsteps, a mumbled huff under his breath when he almost slips on wet soil. He can see Deena visibly tense up, like she was waiting for a blow, a gut wrenching punch that Simon would never give. She wanted him to, though.

She thinks she deserves it.

"No. I'm here because you're my best friend, both of you are— but you need me and I won't let you go through this alone too." Simon speaks loud enough above the pouring rain, scrambling to keep his now soaked blonde hair out of his eyes.

"I fucked up, Simon. I fucked up." Deena says, she's crying— he can tell by the way her voice breaks. Simon really wishes he was better with words, that he could say something to magically fix all of Deena, all of Kate and all of Sam too.

He really just wishes he was more useful.

"Deena, come on. Let's go home." Simon reaches her, squatting down just to level himself with the girl who wouldn't even look at him. Her tears washed off with the rain, but it's like Simon can still tell which is which. And it hurts the boy more than he'd imagined.

"I was trying so hard to do the right thing that I ended up hurting more people." Deena turns to him, defeated, speaking through the rain trailing down her face as Simon looks at her, just as devastated because he didn't know what to say. He wanted a manual, he wanted something better to offer than telling her to come home.

"Deena—"

"I can't breathe." Deena whispers shakily, so Simon does the only thing he knows.

He pulls her into a hug and almost immediately, Deena clings onto him. She's freezing cold, almost like he was hugging a big block of ice, but Simon doesn't even think to let go. He just holds her impossibly close, thankful for the rain that masks the tears pooling in his eyes too.

"It's okay. It's going to be okay." He whispers, cupping the back of her head, fingers tangled in Deena's wet curls.

Simon was never the most careful boy, Deena and Kate knew this very well. He was fast paced, reckless with a good heart. He was the kind of friend to borrow your bike and return it in pieces with a toothy smile you couldn't get mad at. He broke his stuff on the daily, without ever meaning to, but in that moment he could have been the gentlest person on earth as he held Deena.