You're Still My Favorite Melody

“What are you doing?” Pete asks, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. I thought it was pretty obvious what I was doing. I was tossing various items of clothing into a duffle bag. Pete and I were obviously not getting along, so I had decided to move out. I couldn’t stay with Kate because she lived in a dorm, so my mother insisted that I stay with her. ‘It’s so close to Thanksgiving anyway,’ was her excuse and well I was sold.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“I’m not letting you move out because of one stupid fight,” he says, pulling the duffle bag away from me.

“Two stupid fights Peter,” I retort, grabbing the bag. Pete glares at me as I throw more clothes into the bag.

“Pete not Peter. And don’t you think you’re overreacting?” he asks, reaching for the bag again. I pull it out of his reach and Pete sighs, “what do you want me to do?”

I pause in throwing a t-shirt that was most likely Pete’s in the bag and smile, “what happened to Patrick?”

“He’s...William went to see him today. I told him to come back here if anything happened,” Pete mutters, as the doorbell rings. Pete and I exchange glances and I answer the door. William's at the door but he looks like a ghost. His hair was a mess and his eyes were red and puffy. His skin was pallid and tear stains covered his cheeks. “What happened?” I ask uncertainly.

“They said he wouldn't...that they could help him...and...now...he can't be... be gone,” William sputters.

“What?” is all I can manage before collapsing into William’s arms. It all made sense. Whatever we were, I didn’t care anymore, Patrick was dead. Patrick Stump was gone and it just didn’t matter anymore. I was sure that there wouldn’t ever be enough tears.

That night William and I slept huddled in each others arms, too overcome with grief to care about whether or not we were together. We had both agreed that we didn't want to sleep alone that night. Pete had left hours ago, without saying much of anything and he ignored all of my calls.

So I had offered William Pete's spot in my bed. After ten minutes of complete silence, aside from the occasional sniffle, I begin getting restless. There was still a nagging concern in the back of my mind: What about Chicago?

“Are you...are you still going to Chicago?” I ask, but my voice comes out broken and childish. It’s a simple question, but there’s so much more hidden in it. I needed to know if he was leaving, if he was leaving when I needed him the most. It was selfish and I’d always been self-centered when it came to William because he was always so altruistic. Not that that made it any better.

William doesn’t answer for a while and instead stares at the space just above my head. I’m ready to take his silence as him admitting to leaving when he speaks–and confirms my fears.

“I...I have to,” he whispers and I turn away from him to hide my tears. It’s the first time I’ve really cried over this whole mess and it hurts more than it did when we actually broke up. William puts his arms around me and tries to be comforting but every time he says ‘I'm sorry' I know he doesn't mean it.