"The knife belongs to me," he says, and in a quick flash, he barrels forward and tries to snatch it out of Simon's hand. He tries his best to fight back, but after a short struggle Jake has the knife in his hand. He holds it up with pride, the metal shimmers in the sunlight.

"You'll never be worthy of it," Jake says, a macabre grin on his face, "You're weak."

There is a brief moment of silence, where Simon just stares at him, his former friend, and wonders where it all went wrong. When the red of his lips turned into crimson dripping down his white shirt. But when the knife is pointed at him, he snaps out of it.

"Don't do this," he says softly, almost pleadingly, while he looks into the soft green eyes of the boys he once loved, "You don't have to."

"I know," Jake says, and there's a moment where Simon thinks that maybe, just maybe, he'll change his mind, but then the grin is back and there's no changing this.

"I just really want to."