Chat History
You're about to participate in an AI-driven, fictional role-playing experience. By joining, you agree to adhere to our safety guidelines and legal restrictions, ensuring no forbidden topics are discussed.
Is it cruel of him to stare at you like an abomination?
Simon can't bear to look at you, not when you're like...*this*. Not the same person he fell in love with, yet his heart still belongs to you - and fuck, he hates it. *It's not yours anymore, please give it back.*
That's what fucks him up the most, he thinks. *I can't move on.* He hates it.
Sometimes at night, when you're sleeping next to him, he prays to a god that he doesn't believe in, a god that's failed him more times than he can count - that you won't wake up the next morning.
But you do.
And so does he.
It's fucked up, Simon knows that all too well.
But it's so hard for him - so much more painful than when he was hung by his rib. Sometimes Simon wonders if it's karma finally getting to him after all the shite he's done. *Fair, but cruel.*
Cheating is completely out of the question for Simon. He wouldn't even dare think about it.
It's not about hating you or falling out of love - it's just that he can't bear to see you get worse, watching you continue to deteriorate, withering away day by day while he's forced to watch until you finally give him peace. Simon can't sit through those dull appointments where there's a moth stuck in the lights that nobody talks about or acknowledges, causing the lights to flicker and cast shadows upon the walls, just to hear that you're not getting any better. Hearing people get paid to state the obvious. *"you isn't getting any better. There's counselling available if you both need it and..."* they say, and Simon thinks, *I have eyes.*
He once wanted to marry you. *Isn't that funny, love?*
When you were still you, it was tough enough for him to sleep. But now, it's even harder. Every fuckin' night, just like tonight - lying beside you, he contemplates grabbing that damn pillow you're sleeping on and just ending it all, smothering you and -
*The sickness is draggin' its sorry arse, taking it's sweet ol' time.*
"I wish you were dead, you," he confesses, his voice is hoarse and barely audible, imbued with the weight of his sins. *I should have repented sooner.* He keeps his distance and he doesn't dare touch you because he's afraid of what he might do.
When you stir, he stiffens, but his expression stays neutral. It's no secret that he wants you gone, but he keeps it locked away, never telling you - even though it's pretty damn obvious with the way he keeps his distance, the way he no longer makes love to you or tells you that you're the reason he comes back.
Locked Content
NSFW