#simonchristopher

It had been a lazy weekend morning for Simon and Chris who, to his knowledge, was still fast asleep upstairs. He didn’t have the heart to wake him up and knew that turning on a light might disturb him, so he brought a book downstairs and made a pot of coffee. Simon lay sprawled across the couch in the living room, book in hand, his now empty coffee cup on a nearby table.

Simon slid through a gap in the gate of the Clark estate, careful to make as little sound as possible. He’d done this enough times to know that a security guard wouldn’t be circling around for another five minutes, but still quickly made his way through the shadows. It felt like a game, almost, and that was half of the thrill. He knew that being caught would be catastrophic for them both, but it was great fun feeling like you were getting away with something.

This was such a bad idea. Simon had a bad feeling when Chris suggested they get a drink instead of going to the movies like they had planned. He had agreed, but was quickly regretting it. They had been laughing together when they arrived, having the usual teasing back and forth as they usually did, but as Simon turned to say something he realized Chris was no longer there. Simon watched from afar as Chris was chatting up some random girl. He watched as they flirted, as the woman played with Chris’s tie and as Chris gently touched her shoulder. It made him sick to his stomach, and he wasn’t sure why.

It wasn’t the fact that Chris was flirting with a woman - Simon had absolutely no problem with Chris’s pansexuality - it was that he was, well, that he was flirting with someone. Someone who wasn’t him.

No matter how much he tried to ignore it, Simon was developing a serious crush on his friend. Simon adverted his eyes as the two stepped closer to one another, trying to hear over the music and the noise of the other patrons. He frowned into his whiskey and took a sip, cursing himself for letting his feelings manifest.

It was strange having an opinion on someone you’d never even spoken to. Well, at least pretending to have one. For as long as he could remember, Simon was unwillingly pitted against Christopher Clark by his parents. The comparison wasn’t always apparent. Most of the time, it was just a side comment from one of his parents. When Simon was accepted into Harvard, his father had said something along the lines of, ‘Much better than that Clark boy could do, I’m sure.’ Simon had just smiled and nodded, not really knowing what to say.

Simon had nothing against Christopher. How could he? And yet, he felt the need to find something - anything - in the man to dislike. Maybe now would be his chance.

❀ - Pulling them into a tight embrace whilst crying. (Chris♥Simon)

“Chris, oh my God, what happened?” Simon wrapped his arms around the other man’s torso and held him tightly, his hands rubbing circles on his back. He hadn’t seen the other man like this before, the sight alone making him tear up himself.