Always You || Simon Minter (miniminter)

Chapter 2

The house is huge on the outside — but stepping inside feels like entering another world. Marble floors stretch across the hallway, gleaming under soft lighting. A spiral staircase sweeps upward in a perfect curve, two stories high and ridiculously elegant.

"Wow..." I whisper.

Jide grins and wraps an arm around my shoulders again. "This is your home for a while."

I blink. "My... what? Jide, what—"

My confusion is cut short by loud stumbling and a familiar voice slurred from the next room.

"Ayyy, it's fuckin' JJ!"

Ethan appears, shirt slightly wrinkled, cheeks rosy, the embodiment of tipsy joy. He throws his arms around Jide, nearly knocking him backward, then spots me.

His face lights up. "You must be Millie!"

Before I can protest, I'm swept into a hug. The smell of alcohol is strong enough to make my eyes water.

"And I know you're Ethan," I manage with a laugh as he pulls back, still holding me at arm's length like he's trying to examine a piece of art.

The commotion draws the rest of them in — tall, chaotic Harry; calm, older-brother-energy Josh; sweet, soft-spoken Tobi; confident Cal; calm and quiet Vik; and finally, a blonde guy with sharp features and curious eyes.

"Who's this?" he asks. I think his name is Simon, though I'm less certain in person.

"Guys," Jide announces proudly, "this is my best friend, Millie. Millie, this is Josh, Vikk, Harry, Tobi, Cal and Simon — and you've already met Ethan."

I already knew most of them — the internet makes it hard not to — but seeing them here, in their home, slightly drunk and very real, is a strange surreal feeling.

"Come have a drink!" Jide insists, shepherding everyone back into the living room.

The room is enormous — larger than my flat. Plush sofas, walls lined with art, expensive-looking decor... it's overwhelming in the best way.

I stick to a single cider while Jide pours straight vodka into a glass like it's water. We talk, catching up on everything I've missed, while Simon lingers nearby, listening more than speaking. He's quieter than expected, observant, watching with a sort of gentle curiosity that makes me feel strangely seen — not judged, just noticed.

—

Time passes. The boys get progressively more drunk, until Jide is slurring his words and collectively they've devolved into loud, affectionate chaos. Somehow, I'm the only one in the room still sober.

I drift to the edge of the room, taking everything in — the laughter, the warmth, the sheer ridiculousness of them all piled onto one couch.

"Do you want a tour?"

I jump slightly. Simon stands behind me, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, expression soft.

"Sure," I say, smiling.

He leads me through the house, starting in the kitchen — a breathtaking space of marble counters, hanging lights, and enough appliances to run a cooking show.

"This is my favourite place," I joke. "Where the food lives."

He laughs, a real, unfiltered laugh that brightens his whole face.

Upstairs, he shows me the bedrooms — each one different, each one decorated in a way that makes so much sense for the boy who lives there. Only four of them stay here now, he explains — Vikk is moving out soon. It's odd thinking about them living like normal people.

Finally, he brings me to the last door.

"This is your room," Simon says, opening it slowly. "It's not the biggest, sorry."

"Simon," I laugh, stepping inside, "this room is almost the size of my entire flat."

Simon stays in the doorway at first, leaning against the frame like he doesn't want to overwhelm me.

"You doing okay?" he asks quietly. Something in his voice — gentle, genuine.

"Trying to be," I admit.

He nods, stepping inside slowly. "You don't have to talk about anything if you don't want to. Just... don't feel like you have to act fine for us."

The room feels warmer with another presence. He glances around, then gestures lightly to the bed.

"Can I sit?"

I nod.

He sits on the far side first, giving me plenty of space. The mattress dips gently with his weight. I sit down too, curling my legs beneath me. He notices my fidgeting, but doesn't comment — just waits in a patient silence that feels strangely comforting.

For a moment, we listen to the muffled chaos of the house below — shouts, laughter, something clattering.

"You get used to the noise," he says with a small smile. "It's actually weird when the house is quiet. Feels... wrong."

I laugh softly, surprising myself. "I can imagine."

He glances at me then, eyes soft.
"We're all glad you're here, you know. JJ's been really worried."

A small ache blooms in my chest. "I know. I just... didn't know how to let anyone in."

Simon nods slowly.
"Grief makes you feel like you have to disappear into yourself. But it's okay to come up for air."

His words land gently — not advice, not pressure. Just truth offered quietly.

I breathe out, long and shaky.

"Thank you," I whisper.

He smiles again — calm, steady. "You're safe here, Millie. Take your time."

And for the first time in weeks, I believe it.