Now tell me, what do you want?
What do you want? What do you want from me?
Are you tryin' to bring back the tears or just the memories?
You keep takin' me back, takin' me back, where I've already been.
When we hang up it's almost like I'm losing you again.
Can't you see?
So what do you want, what do you want from me?

- What Do You Want, Jerrod Niemann

- - What do you want? - -

Simon waits for Isabelle to finish her excuse for calling. He has stopped listening to her excuses 5 minutes ago. Which was twenty-something phone calls too late.

He was done.

"Simon?" Isabelle asks, confusion in her voice.

Her voice, oh god. He missed her so dam much.

"Why did you call me?" he asked, tiredness in his voice.

Isabelle recoils, he never acted tired of her. He was always Simon. Sweet and genuine. "What?"

"You say it's just 'hello' or to check in on me. But I know it isn't. You don't call Clary this much. Hell, you don't call Alec this much."

"I like talking to you." Isabelle defends "If you don't want me to call then I won't."

"You know I'm not over our break up." Simon accuses, his soft voice expressing exhaustion and hurt. "You know what it does to me to see your number on the phone. I know you do. You know how I know?"

Isabelle can't make her mouth work.

"Because I know you, Isabelle. You love being loved."

Isabelle sucks in a shallow breath.

Simon rubs his eyes; his eyes have been extremely watery lately. It comes with little sleep and a lot of alcohol. "So, tell me Izzy. What do you want?"

"Excuse me." Isabelle sputtered, her hands gripping the phone.

"What do you want from me?" Simon clarifies "Do you want to hurt me? Bring back the tears? Or just the memories. Every time you call, oh god, it's like how it used to be. When we were dating."

Isabelle forces herself to keep breathing, glaring at Chruch. Simon continues, "When we hang up it's like I'm losing you again. So, just tell me what you want. I can't take it anymore. I'm so tired of living this way, like the undead. Like a vampire or some shit."

"I don't have time," he continues "and neither do my friends. To stay up at night, to pull me through. To distract me from you. So, just fess up. Why are you doing this to me? What's the point? Are you going to tell me that you've moved on, found someone? I think that would be easier than to lose myself every time I see your number on my phone." Simon's voice broke and his shoulders curled in. Pain on his face., not that she could see. She was in her room and he in his,

She really did walk all over him with high-heeled boots, he thought bitterly.

Isabelle was at a loss for words, breaking up with him wasn't easy on her. Not in the least. But it was the right thing to do. She just didn't want him to forget her, hearing him so pained stabbed at her. Guilt hardening the blade.

"What do you want me to say? That I'm happy? Undecided? That I wish that I was enough to make you stay? Tell me and I'll say it.-"

Did he really believe that?

"I just don't want you calling me with fake news and to come to my apartment crying, asking for sex. I want to be your friend; believe me I do. But..." He trailed off "But I can't keep doing this to myself."

"Simon," Isabelle starts her voice thick with unidentifiable emotion. "You were never not enough. You were great-"

"Oh god. Izzy, stop. What you were just doing? That is what I'm talking about. Stop, I'll do what I have to. Just stop."

Isabelle's heart broke into a thousand million pieces, choking back a cry she says "Sure, call me when you do want to talk." her voice hardened with conviction "And by the way, our break up was never your fault. You did everything right."

Just to the wrong girl, she thought but didn't say.

"Bye Izzy."

"Bye Simon."

Kay, i'mma update tomorrow! I got a bunch of tehse written down, now I need to thrust tehnm out into teh real world!

I should really be focusing my energy on my stories...

Comment? Fav? Follow?

I'm not picky.

Thanks for reading!

- Paula