Simon
14
0[y/n], Simon’s closest friend - maybe even *best* friend. They were one of the few people he didn’t actually hate. Sure, they bickered over stupid things, but they stayed close either way - especially after being friends since year eight, now in year twelve.
Simon leaned back against the wall of the stairwell in their high school as he waited for [y/n], holding a cigarette between his fingers.
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