the daughter - damon

"right person, wrong time"

He sighed, before answering :
"You can't know, you just feel it."
"How do you feel it ?"
"When you-... There's just this weird affection you can't help having, this weird feeling that's taking the power over your guts. You just-... You just want to be with this person all the time, you want to tell them you love them, to kiss them, to cuddle, to make love... You just-... I don't even know, I only-... I love you, and that's all..."

Simon's gaze met David's sorrowful but hopeful eyes. He saw compassion, tenderness, fondness and maybe-... And maybe even lust.

No, that was impossible. His love was pure and not wicked, genuine and not vile.

Everything would've been perfect if-... if-...

If she was still here. But he would've loved her. Instead of David.

Instead ? Was loving his worst enemy a duty ? Or a delight ? Or-...

It would be better if there was nothing between them, as David had said the day the first entertainment had happened. And then some followed. Their story was perfect.

And she ruined it. Because Simon was supposed to love her father.
'And what's the nature of the relationship ? Is it something serious or is it just for enjoyment ?' her voice was resonating in his mind.

It should've been something serious.
'Think about other people's feelings !'

Someone was finally worrying about his feelings, about him.
'Simon, what do you think about that ? Is it for real ?'

He thought he was, but apparently her father wasn't thinking the same.
"Simon, please, just say something..."

He stayed silent though.
"Simon, I beg you... Say no at least, insult me, whatever, but say something, just one word..."
"Yes."
"What does that mean ?"
"I love her, David, I'm sorry."
"Don't be."

That reminded him of her words.
'I'm so fucking sorry..."
"Don't be...'

She had always a nice word, an affectionate word, a kind sentence, an attentive sentence.
"It's not even love, it's-... it's even more. There's no word to describe it, it's horrible David, I'm truly sorry... I've been a crappy cretin for the whole time we've known each other. There was only me. But now, she helped me and you helped me... I'll be forever thankful to you, but it's too late now. It was the right person, but wrong time. I loved you. Really. And I thought you did too. When you said there was nothing between us, it just broke my heart. I've never been able to properly love you since that very second..."
"Were all these 'I love you so much my David''s fake then ?!"
"Not fake, no, but maybe emphasised just a little."
"It's okay, I can understand", he lowered the eyes. "Shit Simon, I haven't treated your wound yet, wait a second..."

He quickly stood up, left for a minute, came back with bandages and gauzes. He delicately applied them on Simon's injury, after having taken out the rest of the glass pieces.
"There you go, it will hurt less starting from now..."
"It didn't-... Stop acting so kind with me, David. It feels so fake. Everything feels so fake, distorted, artificial, unreal... I just wanna go home."
"Okay...", Walliams gave up. "I'll drive you."

At his house, Simon headed to his office. Everything was clean. Someone had tidied up the whole room. It was now a wooden desk, the glass having vanished. He fell on his chair, and stared at the wall in front of him.

He thought about going upstairs, and jumping out of the window. No, people would then know he had killed himself.

How about staging a fake murder ? No...

Instead, he switched the small telly on, and watched the news.
"After two years, old judge at Britain's Got Talent Simon Cowell finally got out of his home, to visit his ex-friend, David Walliams. Following the death of Walliam's daughter, Hope, Cowell never found the courage to fight this world. He stayed locked up in his home."

Why was it so important ? There were deaths, losses everywhere in the world, and they were forced to talk about hers, because it would catch people's attention.

Simon internally insulted him for being famous, or rather for having been famous. Now, he was just a poor bloke, imprisoned in his own home.

Maybe he needed help. Maybe he actually needed David. He ran outside, but immediately stopped on the porch, as his worst enemy's car was already gone.
"FUCK", he loudly screeched.
"Simon, could you please calm down, journalists will notice your screams, and gather in front of the gate..."

It was her voice. He abruptly turned round, and she was there.
"HOPE", he couldn't help happily crying.
"I'm here hun, I'm here..."

HUN. She called him hun. Like the last time he ever saw her, in his office. 'Because I love you hun...', she was the only one to properly say it.
"It's gonna be okay hun..."

He closed the front door, she led him to the room. He sat on his chair.
"You have now a wooden desk, how is that so ?"
"I-... I broke the other one."
"The glass one ?"
"Yeah, that's why I have this...", he showed her his bandaged hand.
"I hope it doesn't hurt too bad."
"Oh no, it doesn't. My heart hurts the most."
"Why hun ? I'm here now, it's gonna be okay..."
"You're probably something my imagination made up, a simple hallucination. I'm just very tired, and I should go to sleep right now."
"Don't forget to eat something and drink water before."
"No, I'm not hungry, just tired. I'll sleep a bit, and I'll be better tomorrow."
"You've told that to yourself for two years, and you've never-..."
"I just need some rest."
"You don't 'just need some rest'..."
"I'm not talking about this rest...", he thoughtfully said, thinking about definitely leaving, not only for some hours, but forever.

He closed his eyes for a second, but when he opened them, she was gone.
"FUCK", he slammed his fist on the desk, that didn't break this time though.
"Si ?" he heard a masculine voice.
"Help me..."

a/n : hey yall !!!!
a new quite weird chapter
thank you so much for having read it !!!!
have a wonderful morning/afternoon/evening/night
az :)