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PART ONE: FIRST TRACK. CHICAGO, DECEMBER OF 1977

The apartment still whispers your name. I can’t bring myself to leave it. You are everywhere, I see you in everything. In the dent in the wall— the aftereffects of you convincing me to skateboard inside. Your camcorder is hidden under our— my bed. It still has all the stickers plastered over it, the familiar chip in the base. 

You always talked about releasing a documentary on our band if we ever became famous. 

I think you would hate the fact I unofficially left our band shortly after you died. We were the ones who founded it, after all. But everyone else didn’t know you like I did. I couldn’t deal with any of them for much longer. I couldn’t play anymore anyway. It hurts too much to deal with playing now. 

My guitar sits in the back of our closet, untouched. I can’t even open our closet anymore. It is full of your clothes. It was a struggle to put my guitar in there in the first place. You are in there with all our secrets, whispering to me. Your favorite microphone is lost. Somehow, I’m glad it is. I wouldn’t be able to bring myself to do anything to it. 

I’m laying on my bed. The ceiling is cracked. You threw a tennis ball at the same spot too many times. I shift to my side in hopes that I will not see the fragments of my memories. But you are still everywhere, everything. How could you not?

It’s cold, even though I’m under multiple layers of blankets. My body misses your warmth.

Memories are continuing to pull at my mind. That moment is replaying over and over again. You pushed me out of the way. I don’t know why. A guitarist is expendable, even the lead one. But the vocalist, the front of the band— That can’t be replaced.

My stomach twists with anxiety, and I can’t lie around anymore. The nighttime used to be my favorite. It was then that the stars shined the brightest. Now, the sky is too empty without you. 

I sit up and step out of bed, walking to the small area we called a living room. Just a grungy couch and an old VCR. I sit down and the couch creaks. It whispers memories of a past that happened not too long ago. I would like it better if it shut up. 

I fumble for the remote, and turn the VCR on. It blares the news intro. 

“Now, for our news segment. Recently, the lead singer of an up-and-coming band was killed in a freak accident during one of their biggest performances—“

I shut the VCR off immediately. It isn’t worth watching anymore. I already know what has happened. You saved me. I wish I had died instead. A freak accident, they say. Totally unpreventable, huge chunks of the stage lights breaking and falling. It could have been prevented if the people who owned the venue actually ran safety checks. You had said that the gig would boost us to touring popularity. For once, I wish I would have told you no. It seemed like a good idea, but I had suspicions. The venue was shifty. But it had been a great crowd, up until…

Whatever. I’m not going to think about that anymore. I have better things to watch. An old tape rests on the floor. Your handwriting slapped on a piece of tape on the case. I pick it up, and slide it in our VCR. I turn the VCR back on. 

You appear in front of me on the screen.

Your voice plays out loud, though the quality has worn down with time.

“My heart, are you doing okay?”

“I know I’m going to be gone for a week, and I wish I could bring you to meet my parents. But…” You sigh, a sad smile on your face. “We know how that would turn out,” 

“Anyway, how have you been?”

You pause, and I give no response.

“Make sure you’re eating and drinking water, okay? I don’t wanna come back and find you burnt out. Also, please sleep. I know it’s hard, but I’m always with you,”

You give me that soft look. I used to hope that it was just for me. Now, I just want to have you in my arms again.

“I wish I could stay with you, but my dad would go nuts. And I know you. You’re gonna stay inside and practice guitar all day. But please, make some plans, have fun, don’t stay cooped up. You deserve to have fun. You don’t have to be alone.”

You lean in close and blow a kiss to the camera. “I love you,”

I eject the tape right before the video can stop, and I rewind it before putting it back in.

The video plays once more, and once it’s over, I stop it. Eject, rewind. Eject, rewind. I watch you over and over again, saying the same thing. It is a comfort. And I’m sorry, but I’m not sleeping tonight. I haven’t been able to, since you died.

I watch you speak the same words over and over, until the sun finally peeks out from its hiding spot beneath the night clouds.

Whatever scraps of energy I was running on are now gone, and the floor gets a lot closer a lot quicker.

Unfortunately, I am unable to relish in the murky darkness for long. There are a mix of knocks at my door. One is slow, dragging along like they had been forced to come. I knew Seth would be reluctant. He always had his head in the clouds, but a good rhythm guitarist. The other knocks are timely and punctual. Natasha. She really should move on. She’s strong like that. She has much more ahead of her then being a great bassist in an underground band. I never really understood why she chose to hang around you and me.

Andy wasn’t there. I knew he wouldn’t be. Not after we screamed at each other. He doesn’t understand how painful it was for me to go to your funeral. He doesn’t know anything. (But really, do any of them?)

I dig my nails into the couch. It isn’t worth thinking about now, it isn’t worth getting angry about something I can’t change. I don’t want to do anything, don’t want to see anything, don’t want to hear anything. I want to be left alone.

I can hear them call my name through the door. It doesn’t sound nearly as sweet as when you did it, even though I know there is no malice hidden in their voices.

I lie on the couch until the knocking retreats, the padding of footsteps so different I can tell exactly who’s walking. It would be better if they moved on. They have lives ahead of them. You were my life. I’m not making it out.

 My stomach churns, and I drag myself to the bathroom.

I look at myself in the mirror. A stranger looks back. Dark circles under my eyes, a tall and lanky figure. Long hair that has not been washed in a week, or maybe two. Who is this? Disgusting voices whisper in my ear, taunting me. The taste of pavement and blood infiltrates my mouth. Then, it’s your voice, calm and soothing. “I like your long hair,”

I hold a fistful of my hair and I raise scissors to it. My hand shakes. Cut it off, and shed the rest of the memories. If you’re gone, maybe I can move on. But the scissors clatter into the sink. I can’t do it. I don’t want to forget you. 

Now that you’re gone, there are a lot of things I can’t do.

The time passes like ocean water, slipping away from my hands and way too salty to be enjoyable. The days melt into each other and I lose track easily. I drink some nights away, and cry others. I'm drowning in an ocean of my own making. It’s not like I expected anything else. The self-destruction is half accepted, in a way. 

One particularly drunk night, I stumble over to the closet. It is dark, the faintness of the stairs peaking through a crack in the curtains. The closet door is cracked slightly, and all I can see inside of it is darkness.

“I’m not afraid of you, you know?” I state, though my voice cracking betrays my own words.

The closet just creaks and whispers, words too faint for me to make out anything. There are things inside of it I would rather not let out, but I approach it anyway. I crouch down, opening the closet ever so slightly. Secrets claw at my hand and their slimy feeling makes me want to puke. Then— my hand brushes the familiar casing of a tape. 

Words dance around my ears, the tone high pitched and irritating.

“You say that, but really, you can’t even face what’s hidden in here, can you?” 

I clench my hand into a fist and grab the tape, scrambling back from the closet as fast as I can. My breathing is getting faster and faster, the walls are spinning, and I don’t want to look at the darkness any longer. A figure with two beady eyes looks back. 

“There’s a reason you stopped looking in the bathroom mirror, isn’t there?”

I get up and rush as fast as I can out of the room, collapsing onto the living room floor. Everything is sideways and spinning, god, I feel sick. My eyelids droop, and it becomes too much of an effort to keep my eyes open.

The morning, or whatever time it is comes much too quickly for me to enjoy the darkness. My head is pounding and by the time I peel myself off the ground, everything is spinning again. I stumble towards the couch and my foot hits a tape. Huh, that’s strange. I can’t recall watching your tape last night. 

It is a bit of a chore to bend over and pick the tape up, but I manage to flop onto the couch right after. I look over the tape. The only acknowledgement that something had been put onto it was the piece of tape that said it was for me. I haven’t seen this one before. 

I put it into the VCR, hitting play. 

You appear in front of me, and I flinch away, as if you would react to me being in such a state. 

“Hey! How are you?” You exclaim, waving at the camcorder. “If you found this, then I might be dead,”
The breath hitches in my throat. Was something planned? A million thoughts race through my head but your voice continues, and they recede back to the depths of my mind.

“Or maybe you found this by mistake, and I have a lot of apologizing to do…” You scratch the back of your neck, managing an awkward laugh.

“You know me. I like recording for every possible occasion, especially our band documentary,” You perk up like it was something you had forgotten. Like you would forget that.

“Oh, by the way, how is that going?”
It seems silly to respond to the VCR, so I keep my mouth shut. All those tapes had been shoved in the closet, and I don’t have the heart to edit them. 

“Either way, I hope you’re doing alright. Have you eaten?”
As if in response, my stomach growls. Have I eaten? Last night must have been fueled just by alcohol and regrets. 

“There’s some of your favourite candy in the closet,”
I shiver at the mention of the closet, and you lean in and begin to whisper.

“It’ll probably never go bad, but if there’s a smell that’s why…”

You pull away from the camcorder and return to your normal position. “So, have you practiced in a while? I’d love to hear you play…”

Again, I haven’t been able to practice without you. It just reminds me of that performance and all I could have done. Everything? Nothing? Too many nights wasted over that and many more to come. 

My own voice makes me jolt and look at the screen. I do not appear, but my voice plays.
“Dear, what are you doing?” I ask.

You glance at the door and then back at the camcorder. “One second!”

“Don’t give up please. I’m always going to be with you, my heart,”
My voice rings out again, “Love?”
“You will always shine bright in my eyes, and you got this!”
“We’re gonna be late,”
“Coming!”
You smile at the camera, and it cuts off. I turn the VCR off. I touch my cheek and find there have been tears leaking down my face the entire time. 

I open my mouth and my voice comes out as a rasp.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve made my decision now,” I pause, looking at the blank VCR screen, “I’m following you,”

The thought frees my mind. Why should I stay? Your words have given me another idea. I would like everything to be neat and tidy, and I think I know what to start with.
 

PART 2: SECOND TRACK - ANDY

I wouldn’t like to be seen as messy. I don’t want Natasha or anyone else to have to deal with any of my messes. Everything should be a clean, neat process.The bottles of alcohol are disposed of and the kitchen counter is wiped down. I clean the bathroom, though I avoid the mirror. 

In our bedroom, I manage to open the closet for a few seconds before slamming it shut. I still can’t face it.

I wish I could give you my guitar. Even if I could make it to the end of the closet, I don’t even know where you’re buried. I could barely make it through the ceremony before rushing out. It was too painful. To see you devoid of life and dull when you had always been shining? It wasn’t something I could stomach. 

I don’t know if I would even be able to see your grave without feeling sick.

After my cleaning spree, I take a deep breath and step out of my apartment for the first time in a few weeks. It is around midafternoon, though winter will make it dark sooner.

Anyway, I make it to the store and pick up a few things that I know Andy will appreciate. In my jacket pocket, two worn drumsticks clatter around. You always tried to multi-task singing and drumming while we were still in the early stages of forming the band. I hope Andy will accept the gift.

Once I have collected everything, I begin to walk to his apartment. A chilly winter breeze blows and I wonder how he will react. I wonder how he has been doing. I bet he’s found a new band to play in already.

Truthfully, I really wanted to save Andy for last. But too many reasons say I should confront him first. 1: The more time I spend avoiding him, the more time he has to solidify his belief of my emotional outburst. 2: If it does go poorly, it would be a bad note to end on. 3: Something tells me I might be able to get through his thick skull. 

It’s only a few more minutes of walking until I get to his apartment complex. I knock three times, hearing something crash as he makes his way to the door.

He opens the door and immediately tries to shut it.

I jam my arm in the door crack, making it unable to shut as it slams on my arm.

He looks surprised for a short moment before trying to move my arm out of the way so he can shut the door.

“I brought food,” I gesture to the bag in my other hand.

He glares at me. “Fine,”

Andy retreats from the doorway and sits on his cheap couch, slouching into it. I follow and shut the door behind me, setting the plastic bag of pizza and soda into his lap.

We sit together silently, not talking. The only noise is Andy messily snarfing down the food. My arm stings, but I appreciate the feeling keeping me in the moment.

I don’t bother to look at him spill crumbs all over the place, but I can hear the small exhale as he takes the last item from the bag. Space Dust candy. His favorite. I touch the drum sticks in my pocket. This might work out better than I expected.

Once he’s done eating I motion towards the door.

“Wanna go on a walk?” I ask.

He sighs, shoving the food trash aside. “Alright,”

It is about one or two blocks of silence before he finally speaks, grimacing as he does so. 

“Look…” He pauses, kicking a rock down the sidewalk.

A couple more steps. 

“Man, I…”

His voice fades out, and we continue walking. I catch a glimpse of you walking past. I keep my eyes on him.

“I’m…” 

He licks his lips, still avoiding my gaze. 

We walk, and I wait.

“I’m, well…” He runs his hands through his hair and I can hear him mutter a few curses.

“I’m sorry I blew up at you,”

He shifts his gaze away fast, as if he’s afraid of how I’ll react. Honestly, I have been rehearsing what to say for so long, and I’m not even mad at him anymore. Having all this time alone, I thought a lot. Maybe too much. Any feelings of resentment were gone now, even if I wanted to hate him. Oh well. I just have to say something. 

I clear my throat, “... I’m sorry too,”

He let his gaze stay on the ground, lips pressing into a thin line. 

Another moment of silence drips by.

“I’m sorry for being so angry,”

Andy’s voice is oddly hoarse.

I give him a (what I hope is) a reassuring smile. “It’s alright, I forgive you.”

He looks me in the eyes for a moment before turning away, going back to staring at the ground. There’s a strange emotion I catch a glimpse of that I can’t quite place.

He shoves hands in his pockets, mumbling something under his breath. 

There is a strange glimmer in his eye, and my bones whisper to me the comforts that I have gotten through to him. Even if just by a little bit.

Andy’s voice cracks a bit as he speaks again. “It’s gonna be hard to find vocals like that… At least we still have your guitar,”

I nod slowly, knowing the latter won’t be true either. The drumsticks clatter together inside my pocket as we approach his apartment. 

He walks up the two steps, unlocking the door. There’s a pause, and he looks back at me. “You can come in, if you want,”

There’s a tiredness in his eyes I have never seen before.
Still, I shake my head. “I have somewhere to be— But I have something for you,”

“What?” He stops and turns around, stepping down the first step.
I stand on the ground, taking out the drumsticks and holding them out in my hand. It’s so quiet, I can hear his breath hitch.

“They were… what we used when we didn’t have a drummer,”
My hands are shaking. I continue anyway. 

“I never used them, but y’know that… Always liked to,” Your name dissipates out of my mouth like water evaporating. Your name feels too heavy to say. I’m afraid if I do, I might choke.

Andy takes the drumsticks from my hands, and I can see his eyes soften— just for a moment.

“Thank you,”

I pat his shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

“See you later,” He turns around and leaves, giving me a wave before entering his apartment and shutting the door.

I wave. 

“Bye,”

With that, I turn away and begin my walk home. My stomach is turning, and I feel utterly sick for no good reason. 

And I know Andy will take care of those drumsticks. He will have a little piece of you and me with him for as long as he wants to keep them. I know he can move on from us too. He is strong, and I wish the best for him. I briefly wonder what his future would look like. But it’s not something I’m going to get to see no matter how much the desire pulls at my sleeve. 

Honestly, that’s why I’m saving Natasha for last. It’s going to be hardest to face her. There’s still some more cleaning I have to do, and the closet is something I have to tackle further. Either way, I’m going to see Seth next, and I think I know where to find him.

  PART 3: INTERLUDE - SETH

Unfortunately, where I think I can find Seth is only active during the night, so I have another day to kill. There is not much to do except clean, lie around, and watch your tapes for me over and over again. Luckily, this kills time very effectively, and only after it gets dark I realize I have been watching you all day. I eject the tape and rewind it, kissing the case before setting it down. You won’t have to wait much longer.

I must face the closet again, to find something for Seth. It creaks and groans, and I clench my hands into fists. A star sparkles outside my window in the dark sky, and I scrap up enough courage. 

Kneeling down, I open the closet just the slightest so I can stick my head in. I grope around in the darkness, crawling further into the closet. 

A broken mirror sits in the back of it, and a cracked reflection stares back at me. I inhale sharp and grab whatever I find, stumbling backwards out of the closet. The reflection looks back at me as I do so. And it laughs. My heart jumps out of my chest, pounding at a rate so high I think I might just pass out. 

I slam the closet door shut, gasping and shaking. There is a lighter in my hand, presumably still full with fluid. I scramble out of my house, holding the lighter tight as it digs into my hand. 

The cool metal only adds to the chills that are running through my body. In fact, I run down three blocks before my lungs start to sting. I take a big heave of air in, looking at the street posts. Ran in the wrong direction, but that’s okay. I speed walk along on shaky legs, trying to tell myself that everything is fine and I shouldn’t break out into a sprint.

I make it to Seth’s favorite club, flash my ID, and stumble inside. 

Bright lights flash across the room in synchronized pulses to the music. It makes my head spin. With each light flash, I see you. Chatting in the corner, or dancing. I see you laughing with a big smile on your face, dancing along to whatever music is playing. I can’t hear it. My ears are ringing, and the scent of smoke fills my senses. Everything reminds me of you and our band. 

I’m tripping over myself, and I’m about to collapse when a hand loosely places itself on my shoulder.

“Dude, why are you here?” Seth questions, keeping his hand on my shoulder.

“Can… we go somewhere quieter?” I manage to choke out. 

He pauses and nods, leading me outside into the alleyway.

The music is still somewhat audible, but it’s muted enough to the point I think I can breathe again.

I lean back against the wall of the club, taking slow breaths in order to compose myself.

Seth stands opposite to me, and I can feel him looking up and down my body. Vaguely, I wonder if I had eaten recently. The shuffling of packaging makes me jolt up, looking Seth in the eye.

He offers me a cigarette.

I shake my head, and he nods, lighting one for himself and taking a drag.

After two puffs, (and he manages to blow the smoke away from me), he speaks up.

“You doin’ okay? It’s gotta be rough,”

“Yeah,” I murmur, “Are you okay?

He pauses and takes another drag.

“… Yeah. I didn’t see any blood or anything too traumatizing,”

My stomach twists and the feeling of your blood sprayed all over my face haunts my skin. It tingles, and I have the urge to wipe my face clean until there’s no more left of it.

“I’m gonna miss it though,” Seth sighs, “Our band, everything. It just feels empty now,”

I nod shakily, words crawling their way out of my mouth. “Do you think you could move on?”

Seth looks at me, confused. 

“I mean, I guess. It’ll be probably hard and I’m gonna miss ‘em, but it’ll get better with time,”

The words evaporate with the smoke, and it falls back into silence. I still don’t feel satisfied though.

“What do you think you’re gonna do now?”

He takes another drag and puffs it towards the sky, looking up.

“Maybe find another gig if we do officially break up, but nothing would ever really compare to our band,”

He looks at me, and I fail to orchestrate a response in time. My legs are still shaky.

“Are you doing okay, for real though?” He asks, “I know you guys were super close,”

My throat feels like it’s closing up, and all I can do is nod. Words stutter out, but the ones I truly want to say are locked behind a door, shut tight.

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me,”

“Okay dude, but I’m here just in case you wanna talk or whatever,”

I nod again, taking the lighter out of my pocket. 

“Take this,”

He taps his cigarette out and lets it drop to the ground, falling as its ashes flutter around it. There’s a pause before he takes the lighter, inspecting it.

“Sweet lighter, thanks man,”

“No problem,” 

My legs finally steady, and I stand up straight.

Seth understands I am leaving and pats my shoulder once more. 

“Take care,”

I manage a small smile. “You too,”

My stomach calms for a bit and I think Seth will be fine. He has a piece of you and I now, hopefully he won’t ever forget. I believe he can live. He was always a carefree spirit anyway.

Outside of the alleyway, the city is bustling. Bright club lights flash and music can be heard everywhere. I swear I can hear one of our singles playing somewhere. It’s too loud, and I speed walk home. The quiet and the dark appeals to me much more, even with your voice filling the empty space. That is the best part. 

What should I do with our tapes now? I certainly don’t want to destroy them. There’s one person left. Natasha. I want to tell her all I can. She can’t be held back by you and me.

                                   PART 4: FOURTH TRACK - NATASHA

Still, it takes time for me to build my courage up. Natasha has known us for so long, I don’t know what to say that will help her move on. 

So I wait. Maybe a week, maybe a few days. I still can’t tell. I seem to blink, and the day is gone. Then I spend my nights watching you play out on our VCR over and over again. The rest of the time is spent racking my mind, searching for any memory that could give me a clue about what to say. 

Sometime in the night, I'm lying on our bed upside down, staring at the sky. It almost looks like an ocean, the murky darkness covering most stars. But still, there are some that shine the brightest, no matter how many others are dimmed. Ocean… Huh.

I sit up, or try to, and fall backwards onto the floor. A hiss of pain escapes my mouth as my back stings, but the fall seemed to have knocked a new memory into my mind. Natasha had said, (maybe at a band rehearsal), that she had wanted to go to an aquarium. That was a good idea. 

I manage to pull myself off the floor and drag myself to the library to look up where the nearest aquarium is. Thankfully, it’s open pretty late at night, and there aren’t many people around. Too many people around, and my head would have spun. 

Shedd Aquarium. With some more research, I find the best date. A week from now. Enough time to gather what scraps of courage there is to call Natasha. Also enough time to face the closet, figure out what I want to give to her. After I visit Natasha, I don’t want to stick around much longer. I miss you. And I don’t want to start having second thoughts.

 Plus, why would I? My heart aches for a familiar touch, and my body wishes for your hands on mine once more. It’s better this way, truly.

Eventually, I go back to the house and sit in front of the closet. It’s still nighttime, and the darkness stares back at me. I hear whispers and scramble back, leaving the room and going to the kitchen counter instead. I still don’t know what to give her.
Nothing good will come from being idle, there has to be something I can do. Something to distract my mind. Something. What could I do? What was left to do?

As I pace our apartment, my eye catches a stray pencil and a piece of paper.

Oh. That’s right. 

I can write something. A note, explaining everything and hopefully reassuring all my friends for a final time. I pick up the pencil and paper and go to sit at the desk in our room.

The night and the city lights illuminate my paper, as I pick up the pencil. I press it down to the paper, willing all the words that can’t be spoken to spill onto the page.

My hand shakes, and the pencil slips out of my grasp. Writing is a failed attempt almost immediately. What am I supposed to say? Everything that’s been hidden has been hidden for good reason, revealing it could ruin the lives of our other bandmates if it went fully public. Even if they accept it, there is a high chance everybody else wouldn’t. There is no way to be completely open without danger. Plus, their futures could be ruined, and everything could happen— And nothing could happen. Maybe things would get better, maybe they wouldn’t. 

I lay my face on the table, staring around at our room. 

A revelation begins to leak out from behind closed doors.
I don’t have to say anything. 

I’ve already fractured myself into pieces, and given them each a part of me. From here on, they can decide from there what they want to do. I’ve done all I can. As for Natasha, I think I want to give her our tapes. There’s not anyone else who I want to have them. I trust her the most with them. 

Only a few more hours, and it’ll be a reasonable time to call her. I stand up, leaving the blank paper on my desk. 

The closet chatters and whispers to me.

I’ll be able to get the tapes later, after I call her.

I speed out of the room and promptly collapse onto the floor. The furniture sways in front of me. Before I pass out, I wonder briefly if staying up for multiple nights in a row was a bad idea. Oh well. It’s the nighttime where I feel less alone. I know you are in the sky, watching me. And soon, I will join you.

When I blink awake, it's almost dark again. To meet Natasha during the day, I've got to readjust my sleep schedule. But first, I might as well call her. It's not too late, after all.

I pick myself up off the floor and drag my body over to our landline.

The dial rings once, twice, then on the third one she picks up.

Once she realizes it’s me, her tone gets anxious.

“K—“

I cut her off.

“Hey, do you want to go to Shedd Aquarium with me?”

A small part of me hopes my voice sounds less quiet than it actually does through the phone.

She pauses, “What?”

“Yeah, I wanna visit with you,”

“… Are you okay?”

“Yep,” I nod as if she could possibly see me. “When are you free?”

I can hear her sigh through the phone. From her tone though, I can tell she’s tired. 

“This Saturday,”

I really need to try my hardest and convince her to not worry about me. She was close with you too. 

“Alright, see you there,”

We both linger on the line in silence. The right words won’t come to my mind, and my stomach churns.

The words “I’m sorry” try to claw their way out of my mouth, but they come out as a short breath.

“Bye,” I murmur, hanging up.

I can almost imagine her face twisting in grief once she realizes I have left too. There’s a moment of silence in our apartment, but then I begin to retch. My head spins and I manage to stumble to the bathroom, falling to my knees. One more loud retch, and I end up puking my guts out while my hands grip the cold tile floor.

Spasms rack my body and the tile is chilling my bones. I ache for the warmth of your hands. 

I hold the toilet as the puking subsides, though every part of me still seems to shake furiously. Saliva drips down my chin, and I wipe it away. The taste inside my mouth is utterly disgusting and without notice, tears begin oozing down my face.

At the feeling of the tears dripping down my face, I heave and start retching again. It feels as if I am throwing up everything that made me human. My heart, my bones, skin, veins. Each part vague and unknown until you came and showed me how to live. Without you, I feel empty, drifting along like a withered husk of what was once real. The snow will melt soon and the spring leaves will pop out. You always liked spring. I don’t know how you could. 

To me, it was a season undecided, switching between weather. Rainy, muddy, and icky overall. You liked spring because it was then the green came out, the start of a new year with me. One time, you asked me what my favorite season was. I said fall, for that’s when we met. At college. I asked the same question to you. You said you didn’t know. I interrupted you and reminded you of spring. I saw how your eyes lit up and you began rambling about the different kinds of plants you could grow. If it were up to me, we would live in spring all year round. 

Now, without you, the thought of anything changing makes me want to die. The world can’t move on without you. My world can’t move without you. I don’t want to see the trees grow taller without you there by my side. I don’t want to grow old without seeing you right next to me. I don’t want to see the seasons change without having you pointing out every change in the leaves. I don’t want to live alone, I don't want to be alone. 

I don’t want to live without seeing the familiar crinkle in your eye when you smile; the way your smile would curve upwards whenever you made me laugh. You were my life, and I can’t let you go.

There is no hope left for me. None. 

But there is for Natasha. That’s the one thing I want to try and do right. I don’t want her to worry, I don’t want any of them to worry. A part of me wishes I died right there on that stage with you, or that they didn’t care at all. But they do, and the guilt is nauseating. I wish I could just leave without nobody noticing, slipping off behind closed doors. But I can’t. I just have to find a small sense of closure in what I’m doing for them. And the guilt will diminish to a whisper in my bones.

I clench my arms and get up, digging my nails into my skin. Something whispers and reaches out of the toilet. I manage to stagger out and shut the bathroom door behind me. My head is reeling and I collapse onto the couch, passing out immediately.

I wake up dizzy. My mouth is dry and I can’t remember the last time I ate. It’s a pain to get up and trudge to the fridge, but there’s nothing in it. I grumble, just wanting to simmer in my sadness.

Your silhouette smiles at me and runs out the door.

I can almost hear your voice, exclaiming to me: “Let’s take a walk!”

I shove my shoes on and follow you. Just by walking down the street, I see your face everywhere. A wave of nausea rushes through my body and it’s only a few more forced steps before the grocery store.

Shopping seems like a haze, and then I’m back in my apartment, shoving food down my mouth. Everything tastes the same, and I have to will myself not to throw it up. 

Waiting for the designated day seems like a haze. I spend most of the time thinking about what Natasha might say, and how I would respond to it. A lot of possible conversations are played through, and it seems I stare at the ceiling much too often. 

Laying in bed one night, I can hear the closet whisper secrets to me. It makes it impossible to sleep. All I do is twist and turn before it’s too much. 

I jump out of bed, facing the closet. My hands shake. A strange wave of determination begins to flow through my bones.

“You’re still afraid,” The closet murmurs.
“... I am,” I nod, my voice comes out as a hoarse rasp. “But that doesn’t mean I can let you keep our secrets from her. She deserves to know,”
Shadows dance around my eyelids.

“But what if she doesn’t?” The closet asks. “What if she mocks you?”

“I will show her anyway. There’s nobody else to give them to, anyway,"

My voice is hoarse even though nothing else has happened. Fear continues to pulse through my body.

“You can face me now, but can you face yourself?”

The closet door creaks open, and I can see the cracked mirror hidden in the back of it. 

My warped reflection stares back at me. I almost run away, but a labeled box catches my eyes. 

“Maybe I never could,” I declare on shaky legs. “Maybe that’s why I’m doing this,”

The closet creaks and sighs. There are no more sounds that spill from its closed doors.

A breath slips out of my mouth and I slump to the ground. Whatever energy I had is gone now. Still, I manage to pull myself up and grab the box from the closet. 

The mirror lingers in the back. I trace its cracks and exit the closet. 

All I can do is set the box on my desk before collapsing onto our bed and falling asleep.

Once I wake up, time passes much too quickly, slipping through my fingers. No matter what I do, the days melt into each other much too fast.

And then I’m standing outside the aquarium, at the bottom of the steps. The tapes are in a bag, slung over my shoulder. It’s quite cold, and I begin to fidget with my coat cuff as I scan the crowd for her. Once I catch sight of her I wave to catch her attention. She sees me and walks over, with a look on her face I can’t describe. Worry? Happiness? Relief? I’d rather focus on the moment than trying to analyze her expression. 

I pinch my wrist, not wanting to get caught on the lure of my own thoughts. I would fall down too deep a hole then, and I can’t afford to get lost now.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Natasha asks, giving me a nod.

I flinch, caught off guard by the normalcy of the question, yet the weight it holds.

“I…” My voice comes out as croak, and I clear my throat. “I don’t know,”

“Yeah,” She flicks her gaze to the side before returning it in my direction.

“I understand,”

People move around us, and for the life of me, I cannot construct a response no matter how hard I try. Whatever plan I had or any way I wanted to guide the conversation was gone now, fleeing from my brain the moment she speaks again.

“So, wanna walk around?”

“S.. Sure,”

The normalcy is strange. Walking around, looking at fish. After everything that’s happened, all of it, it’s odd. It’s like I almost forgot how life felt. Or maybe, it’s like I forgot how to feel alive. But I can’t keep silent. I invited Natasha for a reason, to see if she would worry about me. I have to say something. Even now, my insides are churning for a reason I can’t quite place.

We’re in front of a fish tank, and I wait until she’s looking into it before clearing my throat.

“Natasha, you should…” I pause and exhale. “You shouldn’t worry about me for now,”

I can see her reflection in the glass.

She turns to face me, soft understanding permeating her face. “Okay,”

Wait— What?

She shifts her gaze to the side before meeting my eyes. “If you need time alone, or something I can’t give, I’ll give it to you. Nothing good comes out of something being forced,”

My eyes widen a little bit. After all this time, how could she be so easy to convince? I thought she would— But wait, what if— why doesn’t she— I don’t understand. I don’t understand.

And still, she continues to speak. My world seems to shift each time, tectonic plates crushing over themselves in my stomach.

“I can’t solve your problems for you, and I can’t face them for you,” She states, “All I can do is offer my support and stand with you, if you want it.”

I outreach my hand, shaking.

She takes it and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “I trust you. You don’t have to talk to me, but talking to someone would be good,”

My hand goes limp in hers. Natasha has gone against what I’d thought she would do, and I am left utterly speechless.

“Are you good?” She asks, letting go of my hand.

I blink.

“Y..yeah,” I murmur. “Actually… I… am?”

My mind is racing and my emotions are clashing, but all that comes out is confusion. I can’t believe she would be so easy to— I thought she would… No. One can never truly know someone, but you can try. And I haven’t been trying.

Natasha’s voice snaps me out of my spiral of thoughts.

“So, wanna see the next exhibit?”
I open my mouth, then close it, nodding.

“Okay,” My voice comes out as a whisper, and I’m not even sure she hears it as she moves to the next exhibit. Though, that doesn’t matter too much.

The rest of the time is spent doing what any other person would do. We walk around and look at fish, peering into the water and watching them swim around. She points out strange looking ones to me, and I manage to stifle a short laugh.

And surprisingly, it actually feels nice to do something normal and be treated as such. The fish are interesting, how they swim around without any cares, very admirable to move so easily. 

For once, it is as if the outside world has stopped spinning, and it is just she and I, walking amongst the tanks. The peace is indeed favorable. I make sure to take in each second carefully, not paying much attention to whoever else is around us. 

The visit is completely and shockingly normal. And once we’ve seen everything, Natasha offers to walk me as far as she can before she has to go a different way.

Now that we aren’t talking about fish, it’s silent and awkward, as my previous words are weighing heavily on my mind and tongue. My fingers tighten around the bag strap on my shoulder. Oh, the bag. With all the sights, I had completely forgotten.

Our tapes. 

I peer inside the bag, noticing many more tapes than what I thought you and I had. One look at the writing on the casing, and I realize that they are our documentary tapes. I’m not sure how they got there. But it would be good to give them to Natasha.

I realize I’ve been staring at the same spot of sidewalk ahead of me for much too long.

“… I have something,”

I sling the bag off my shoulder, handing it to her with a certain droop to my physique.

She looks inside the bag. “Oh, is this our documentary?”

“Yeah,” I nod. “Unedited, but still… There are others, too.”

She cocks her head slightly, and I can tell she’s a bit confused by the way her nose scrunches. However, she takes the bag and holds it, continuing to walk next to me. 

“Ah,” She pauses at a crosswalk. “I’ve got to go this way.”

There’s a moment of silence as she stretches, and I stand still.

“Take care of yourself, okay? I’m always here if you want to say anything.”

She turns and begins to walk away, spinning around and giving me a wave and a smile.

“Bye!”

I wave, my hand slowly retreating as she walks away. 

“Bye,” I whisper.

As she turns a corner and disappears from my sight, everything around me seems to amplify. It is as if everything around me is now moving, and I am not. It’s a strange feeling. Without her there, I feel stuck in the same spot once more. Yet I don’t want to forget your voice either, so I cling to this feeling. It’s almost like I am not a real human, relying on others for my emotions. I miss you.

The walk back to our apartment is lonely. Hopefully I will see you tonight.

But there’s a new feeling now though, stirring in my veins, threatening to disrupt everything whether it’s for the better or the worse. 

  PART 5: FINAL NUMBER

I’m staring at the cracked ceiling once more, mumbling out a summary of Natasha and I’s aquarium visit. Mainly, our conversation. No matter how many times I say it, I feel as if I’m not truly processing what has happened. She just took my words at face value. I… 

A sinking feeling envelops my stomach, the feeling as if it's turning inside out. The feeling churns, and it spits out something undesirable that I can’t quite place, but no. I know what it is. I just don’t want to admit it. 

But either way, guilt is setting in as indecision wears on my brain.

I want to see you again so badly, I want you again. You, smiling at me. I want to hear your voice again. It scares me that I may one day forget it. But Natasha has ignited something new inside me, the normalcy, that strange feeling. I actually… No, the desire to live, even if it is a small one.

But I miss you so bad, you’re not here and I want you and you only. Though it was nice, having a normal day unburdened by grief. Then this crippling feeling of guilt won’t weigh upon my consciousness. Instead, it will be a forever ache, a craving, for you.

I get up off the bed, entering the closet and taking my guitar out. I leave it near my bedside, trailing my fingers against the wall as I exit into our living room. The apartment is quiet, as it always has been since you’ve been gone. I walk over to the VCR, taking your tape for me and putting it in its casing. It was the only one I didn’t want to give to Natasha. The tape is mine, and I reserve the right to keep it all to myself. 

I exit out of our apartment and trace my fingers along the tape as I walk towards no direction in particular. 

Even on a walk to clear my head, I really have no clue about what to do anymore. Everything I have already done has led up to this moment, and now there’s doubt nestling in the corners of my mind. My vision blurs, and I turn the streets out of instinct, deep in my own thoughts and choices. 

The city moves around me, and I move against it as my thoughts whirl around me.

Somehow, I end up at the Skyway bridge. The wind whistles and blows a chill that cuts me straight down to my bones. The walk I have taken was not helpful at all. I stand at the edge of the bridge, paralyzed by indecision. My hand brushes over the tape you made for me in my pocket, and I stare out into the distance. I feel each inch of the tape, the solidness of it helping me stay grounded, at least just a little bit more than I would be. 

What is there to look forward to? A singerless band? A possible failed career? An endless office job repeating the same kind of task over and over again? Asides from that, what is there? Andy, Seth, Natasha. I have them. I exhale, the crashing of the water loud below me. What would you do— no, what would you want me to do? From what I can imagine, the first thing you would say to me is what I have been avoiding for so long is— What do you want?

What do I want? You, again. But I also wish to see the spring once more, to feel the city come back to life as blossoms bloom on the trees. And my guitar seems to speak to me, all the way from our apartment. I want to play again. I wish to play a solo with your vocals and our band, to laugh and smile as the crowd cheers.

Tears begin to drip down my face, and it’s getting much too hard to breathe. My knees go weak, and I clench the railing of the bridge tighter and tighter, until my hands stings. The cool air stings my lungs as I gulp some in, the feeling of ice tearing my insides apart with each sob. 

My breath hitches, and I inch closer to the edge. Inside, my brain and my heart begin to wage a war. 

There is nothing left for me, nothing at all. But there is, all my friends, who I care so deeply about. I want to see the spring flowers, yet I want to stay frozen in ice forever, stuck in the same place so I can linger with you forever.

The water before me is blurring, and all I can see is a dark blue melding of colors, small stars shimmering like bright white spots in the corners of my vision.

I manage to take one big heave of air and wipe my face, straightening up and pressing against the railing of the bridge.

The cool air dries the tear tracks on my face almost immediately, leaving me shivering. I inch closer to the edge. Closer. Closer. Closer. I have almost reached the end when—

—A shout rips through the quiet air, loud enough to shock me out of my spiral. It is one word:

“WAIT!”

I turn my head to see Andy, running towards me. There’s a desperation emanating from him that I’ve never seen before. 

“Natasha showed me the tapes and— Just don’t— I still don’t understand, but— You’re still my friend!“

He’s stumbling over his words as he runs, far away from me but close enough that I can see his face. His eyes are wide and worried, one expression I'd never thought I would see on him.

I look him in the eyes before glancing back at the water. My body is frozen, and it won’t move. It is now I realize that each part of me is a part of them, and you are a part of me, and that I haven’t really lost you at all; for you are a part of me for all eternity.

It is now I realize that I don’t want to die— no, I do. I don’t. I do. I d—

I look at him and smile.