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It all started with an IQ test, simple, really, a 100% NOT accurate IQ test. But yet, it bothered Simon to no end, all this hard work to be the smartest, the wittiest, the one in the class that could answer any question and could be relied upon for any piece of homework. It was all for nothing. Nothing. Alvin was smarter. This couldn't be happening. 154......154.... Alvin can't be smarter than him. The only thing he was good at... gone. He couldn't do sports, he could barely do a single sit up... he wasn't crafty like Theodore. He still sees Dave wearing his vests, or Dave watching one of Alvin's skateboard stunts. But it is never him. He is pushed to the side. Always pushed to the side. Seen as a golden child? Sure. But sometimes he wished that he wasn't... maybe then Dave would pay attention to him, even if it's shouting at him for stealing a cookie, or anything. He would do anything to get even a fraction of Dave's attention.
He thinks about this as the blood drips down into the dusty white sink. He rinses off, shame mounting inside him as he pulls his blue sweatshirt back over his arms. USELESS... carved in spiky red letters.
"Simon Seville?" No answer. Simon has not been in school for the last week. He has spent it lying in the back garden, contemplating what he is to do now the only thing he was ever known for has now gone. Dave has not yet noticed the many phone calls from school asking about his many absences, as he has blocked the school number. He has not even noticed him lying, basking in the cool spring sun, for hours on end.
Simon has had some revelations about himself in the hours upon hours of pondering his very existence. He didn't have much else to do, he couldn't even code anymore. It's all pointless. All pointless now. He was Autistic. He knows it now. That's it. That's why he couldn't do basic *WOW* tasks, like the other chipmunks. *whistling*
God dammit, he also has Tourettes.
The next day, someone joined Simon on the grass. They lay for a while, until the depressed Simon mustered up the energy to look to the side. Framed by the sunlight on his face. Looking like the embodiment of an oasis in a hopeless, dry desert. Was Simon's Idol..... Lewis Capaldi.
This was it, this was going to be his comeback. He was going to be a musician.
"Hey wee little one, what's got you so down mate" Lewis says, his Scottish accent sounding like honey on simon's sore sore mind.
"Nothing that a little self-harm can't fix," Simon sighs dejectedly.
"Oh nO wee one!!! We can't be having this can we fella....Surely there is something we can do!"
"There is nothing.... I'm bad at EVERYTHING! I'm not even smart anymore.."
"You can sing ae? I've seen you in those wee songs of you and ye brothers eh... you looked bonnie in what was it?....Bad romance"
"I guess so? But what am I to do about it?" Simon sighs “everyone can sing”
“Not everyone has me fella” Lewis Capaldi points out, “Ill mentor you… if you are good enough you could come on tour with me”
……………..
The next weeks were spent meticulously training up his voice. Finally, he had found something he was good at. Yet… there was still a void in his heart. But there was no time to ponder about that now.. he had work to do.
“Thats it lad, you have greatly improved. I dare say you may be the best singer i have ever seen wee laddy”
………………
It was time for his first show. He sat backstage, his teeth t t t t t t like he used to do when he was a kit. He furiously scratched at his arms. The singing had helped, but inside… he was still struggling. He has thought that if he found something he was good at, he would be better…. But no….. there was still something missing from his life…. Still there was something…. Dave. He loved dave.
“Eets time laddy, get on there and slay the day away”
He marches up onto stage.. the crowd goes wild.
“Threee little birdss” he looks around the crowd, looks for Dave “Sat on my windowww”
He's not there.
“A-and they told me i-i don't have to w-worryy”
He starts to stammer.
“SIMONNNN. WOOOO”
It was Dave…. He had turned up.
A boost of adrenaline hits Simon like how that sweet hit Theodore in the nose.
His part of the show ends. The crowd's cheers echo in his ears as he saunters off the stage.
“Well done my boy,” Dave tells him
Simon melts like a slice of cheese in an oven.
Dave and him both lean in for a kiss at the same time. Dave picks him up and spins him around, their lips intertwining. Then he drops him. Ouch
“Huh… WOW” Simon says.
“We can’t do this Simon….I’m your father……And also you are a chipmunk.”
“And?” Simon says in frustration. “Why does that matter,”
“Because…..It’s wrong”
“Why can we let societal norms get in the way of our undying love?”
“SImon…. I love you… but.. We just can’t be together.”
…………………………………………….
The wind whistled past Simon’s ears. The bridge was rickety, and the river roared underneath. It was peaceful, Simon felt at one with the world that he had always felt a strong disconnect from. He had always wanted to go to space to get away from it all. But now all he wanted to do was become art of the earth.
He jumps.
…………………………………………….
Walled in by houses; overrun by grass and weeds, the growth of vegetation's death, not life; choked up with too much burying; fat with repleted appetite. Was his grave. Left unattended for all these years. Noone attended his funeral. And noone ever visited his grave.
This was the end.