Chapter Text
Call me back. Please.
Hey dude. Wanna go for a walk?
Simon, please call me. I love you.
Life sucks.
Martin sucks and Creek Secrets sucks and the internet sucks and Martin fucking sucks and high school sucks and Simon’s whole entire existence just. Fucking. Sucks.
God, and he made his sister cry. So now he sucks, too, just as a person.
Simon’s not proud to admit it, but he nearly tantrums himself to sleep. He just feels so hopeless, so trapped in his own decisions. He wants to claw himself out of his own skin. He wants to tear away anything that makes him Gay Simon, or maybe just Simon in general. He wants to disappear.
But after about an hour of silent screaming and thrashing he’s tired himself out of crisis mode and nestled himself firmly into existential loathing. He stares at his ceiling and notices that the sun had set, and his room is now bathed in the soft orange-blue light of suburban nighttime.
Huh. The world is still spinning, then.
He wonders what time it is, but can’t know without checking his phone. He really doesn’t want to check his phone. If he ignores the messages he can pretend that his emails were never posted in the first place and that his life is just going on as usual.
But the world is still spinning, and Simon can’t do anything but spin right along with it.
He gives himself a countdown: five, four, three, two, and on one he snatches his phone from where he’d thrown it earlier. It’s silent now, but turning it on reveals upwards of 90 notifications and the answer to his question, 10:32. Simon didn’t think that 90 people at Creekwood even knew his name.
Simon unlocks his phone without looking at the notifications and simply stares at his home screen, trying to decide what to do. Leah’s his best friend. Simon doesn’t know if it’s in spite of or because of that fact that he can’t bring himself to call her. Nick’s not much better in that department, plus Simon really can’t handle even the most joking of so have you had the hots for me all these years type of remarks that Nick falls back on when he’s under pressure. Abby already knew, but Abby has such an awkward place in this situation, how can he talk to her about this? But then, how can he not tell her?
He’s calling Abby before he realizes he’s made the decision to.
His phone barely rings twice before “Oh my God, Simon, are you okay?” rushes at him through the tiny speakers. It takes Simon two tries before his voice actually works.
“I don’t know,” he says, and it sounds pathetic but Simon feels too awful to care. “Can-- Can I pick you up? I think I need to get out of my house--”
“Of course,” Abby responds immediately. “I’ll meet you out front in five.”
Simon moves to hang up, suddenly itching to move, but Abby says, “Si? I love you,” and Simon can’t breathe.
“Yeah,” he says after a beat. “Thanks. Love you, too.”
“See you in a bit.”
Simon doesn’t remember how exactly he got to be standing next to his parked car in front of Abby’s apartment building, but it’s not like this is the first time he’s ever snuck out of the house for a late night drive before. And technically, it’s not even past his curfew yet. He’s sure he got out fine. If only his shaky hands and trembly knees could get the memo. He’s fine, really.
Abby emerges from the front door and Simon takes a few steps towards her, but before he knows it she’s sprinted at him and wrapped herself around him in the tightest hug Simon’s ever been a part of in his life. He returns it as much as he can and tries to pretend that he’s not embarrassed that he’s crying.
“I’m so sorry, Simon,” Abby says into his chest. “This is so unfair and wrong and horrible.” She looks up at him, and she’s crying, too. “Is there anything I can do?”
And Simon’s barely known her for six months but she’s already so important to him, so ready to get involved in the worst day of Simon’s life, and he’s been hiding behind her for so long. Guilt seizes him and makes him cry even harder.
“I-- I’m sorry, Abby,” he splutters. “I’m so sorry, I was just so scared-- and Martin--”
“Martin?” Abby’s eyes go from wide and confused to bright and angry in milliseconds. “Holy shit, is Martin the one who leaked your emails?”
Simon nods. “Yeah, he-- he’s had them since October.”
“Oh my God,” she hisses. “I’m gonna kill him!” Her eyebrows furrow. “But wait, if you knew then why were you--?”
“He blackmailed me, Abby,” Simon says, and his breath hitches. “Fuck, I’m so sorry but he-- Martin wanted me to help him get together with you, and he said he’d leak the emails if I didn’t, and since I’m a fucking coward I did it but that meant I had to stop Nick from asking you out and I think you like him too and I hated doing it but I was so scared--”
“Simon, Simon, breathe,” Abby commands, and Simon sucks in a deep breath, and then another. He wipes his face.
“And it doesn’t even matter, because he leaked them anyway,” Simon finishes, and his breath rattles in his chest. “I fucked up the lives of my best friends and it doesn’t even fucking matter.”
“Oh, Si,” Abby says softly. “Of course it matters. You weren’t ready, and you were in a shitty situation, and Martin took advantage of that.”
Simon stares. “You’re not mad?”
Abby smiles. “Not at you, Simon.”
Fuck, Simon needs to stop crying. He hugs Abby again, because he can’t do anything else.
“I think this is the most physical contact we’ve ever had,” Abby remarks. “And not that I’m not enjoying it, but stressing over you for three hours and then this has left me starving.” She holds out her hand. Simon looks at it, confused.
“You’re in no shape to drive, Si, and I want McDonald’s. I promise I won’t total it.”
Simon laughs and hands over the keys. “If I see a single scratch on it tomorrow, you’ll be hearing from my lawyers.”
Abby just kisses his cheek and gets into the driver’s seat.
“So,” Abby says around a mouthful of fries. “Do you want to talk about Blue?”
God, it’s weird hearing other people talk about Blue. For so long, he was Simon’s and Simon’s alone. A beautiful, perfect secret. Knowing that other people know that Blue exists makes him seem both more real and unreal.
“I never have, before,” Simon says. “He likes Oreos.”
Abby laughs. “Descriptive.”
“He came out to his Dad, apparently that went okay. They’re out camping now. No service.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. He’s Jewish, too.”
“Cool.”
“He’s so well-spoken,” he continues. “Like, he can get poetic, and he chooses his words so carefully but there’s also a sort of, I guess careless artistry about it? Like he’s just casually throwing me these bits of philosophy or poetry and they’re so beautiful. But also so real.” Simon realizes he’s smiling. “I feel like I know him better than any other person alive. And that he knows me.”
Simon meets Abby’s eyes again. “I’ve never seen you look so happy,” she says. “He sounds amazing.”
Simon bites his lip. “I-- I love him,” he admits quietly. “I love him so much, Abby.”
Abby squeezes his hand across the table. “Oh, Simon.”
“What if he never talks to me again?” Simon asks, dread setting in again. “What if he freaks when he comes back and I never get to talk to him or find out who he is? I can’t lose him, Abby, I don’t want--”
“Shh, Si, there’s no point in freaking out about that now.” She looks at him like she can force calm through her eyes into Simon’s. It kind of works. “You told him about the post?”
“Of course.”
She nods. “Then there’s nothing to do but wait until a response.”
“Easier said than done,” he mutters.
“I know,” she says kindly.
They finish the last of their late-night meal in silence. As they’re throwing their trash away, Abby asks, “Do you want to sleep over at mine?”
“Would your mom be cool with it?” he asks.
She shrugs. “Sure. She loves you.”
Simon nods. “Okay, yeah. Thanks.”
“Of course. Wait, if you’re gonna throw that away, can I eat it?”
Simon laughs, handing her the rest of his burger. “I love you,” he says, and he means thank you for this and you’re amazing and also just I love you.
Abby smiles. “I love you, too.”