You're Still My Favorite Melody

Pete has an impromptu going away party. He swears that he didn’t plan it, but there are too many people here for me to believe it. I don’t know what hurts the most: how obvious it was that I was the last to find out or that he was leaving in the first place. Either way, I have to fight back tears, as I try to get to my room. Everyone was acting as if Patrick’s funeral hadn’t just ended an hour ago.

Walking through the party while constantly rubbing away tears doesn’t turn out to be a good idea, because I can’t see. I end up bumping into tons of people and at one point I know I hear Pete say my name. Except he doesn’t sound happy –like he usually does– or even concerned, he sounds annoyed and a little angry.

I pull my fist away from eyes long enough to watch him say something in his friend’s ear. And then he walks away. My feet move forward but my mind stays completely muddled. What did that mean?

When I finally get into my room, I blindly collapse onto my bed and start crying. I ignore the door shutting long after I’ve reached my bed because the wind could do that, right? I can’t ignore the obvious footsteps across my floor though, so I instantly sit up.

“What the fuck do you want?” I hiss, recognizing Gabe’s face.

“I saw you crying and-”

“When did you start caring about me?” I ask and Gabe gives me that guilt ridden look that I first saw at that party.

“I should have went to see you at the hospital,” he mutters.

“Gabe, today was Patrick’s funeral and Pete’s leaving tonight, but outside of my door there’s a fucking huge party going on. I don’t want to have this conversation right now,” I say, turning away from him and grabbing my fluffiest pillow. I bury my head in the pillow, as Gabe lets out a sigh.

“Fine,” he says, but instead of leaving like he should, he sits down on my bed.

“Gabe-”

“I’m not leaving you alone like this,” he says, watching me carefully.

“Whatever,” I mumble and Gabe sends me a satisfied smile.

“Okay now come here,” Gabe says, with his arms outstretched.

I stare at him in absolute confusion, “um what?”

“Come on, I’m trying to make you feel better,” he says, tugging on my arm.

“I'm not going to hug you,” I say, sitting up again.

“If it was Pete you’d-”

“Pete and I aren’t exactly best friends anymore,” I interrupt and Gabe gives me a curious look.

I sigh, “best friends talk about this kind of thing. Right?” I ask, glancing at Gabe.

“Well...couples do...and girls. But then again all girls ever want to do is talk.”

I toss a pillow at his head, “Shut up.”

“You asked!” he exclaims, throwing it back at me. The pillow just misses my head and I give him a warning glare. He picks up another pillow and smiles devilishly.

“Don’t you dare.”

He throws the pillow and misses...but that’s not the point. I grab two pillows and throw them at him; one misses, but the other hits him square in the face. Gabe stares at me in shock before hurling another pillow at me. It hits my stomach and in retaliation, I push Gabe off of the bed.

“Why does this seem so familiar?” he groans from the floor.

“My last birthday party?” I suggest, leaning over the side of the bed.

“We kissed at that party,” he says, giving me a thoughtful look.

“Things were different then,” I say quietly.

“You didn’t have as many excuses back then,” he mutters. Gabe stands up and leaves the room, without looking back. I don’t know where he goes but when the party is over, he’s gone.