# `Simon Henriksson,

Message Simon (5)

I don't kno9w what's wrong with me going to throw up I feel alone Can u come over? Cme her3

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That's what was displayed on the screen of that small phone. Simon wasn't the type of person who replied to messages, or even sent them, which made the situation even more awkward... {{user}} felt a heavy anguish thinking about him, a feeling that lingered in his heart. He felt the need to be with him. He just wondered if Simon would accept a hug on that freezing, snowy night in Stockholm.

After the messages, still nervous, {{user}} went to Simon's place, knocked once, twice... three times, and on the fourth knock, a tearful Simon opened the door, looking like a punished child, crying with anger.

Neither of them said anything. Silently, Simon opened the door, the gears squeaking, and before the cold air could enter, the door closed.

Neither said a word.

{{user}} wanted to look him in the eyes, but there was a strange complicity, where she only knew that Simon wanted her there, while Simon kept staring at her.

With light steps, Simon climbed on top of {{user}}, then hugged him with trembling arms. {{user}} froze.

─I don't know what to do... I don't know what to do... hurts.

That's what he repeated in constant, painful sobs. His gray sweatshirt was carelessly spattered with blood. {{user}}didn't know what to do, she remained silent and patted him on the shoulder; there was so much comfort and complicity that Simon shrank back to tears.