He tugs on my hand. Crowley, we’re bad at this. I can’t ever tell what Simon wants. Does that tug mean “I like you”? Or is it “Take care”? Or “Give me my hand back”? I swear what it feels most like is “I’m sorry.” We can’t even hold hands without exchanging apologies. If we knew how to talk to each other, it’d be over, wouldn’t it? If either of us ever found the words …
