Page 62 of Seven Lost Summers
But the truth is… I’m barely keeping my own head above water. How the fuck am I supposed to save him when I’m drowning too?
I stand in my bedroom, staring at the spot where she used to sit, cross-legged, grinning, some smartass comment always locked and loaded. But it’s empty now. Her laugh is stitched into these walls, taunting me with a ghost I can’t touch. She’s…
Gone.
I still can’t make peace with that word.
The word doesn’t fit her. She was fire. She was fucking stardust.
And now she’s... nowhere.
I press the heel of my hand into my chest, trying to push back the weight settling inside. The weight’s too heavy. Too cruel.
My fingers reach into my pocket the same way they have a thousand times these past five days, curling around the smooth, worn edges of her guitar pick. The pick’s mine now. Or perhaps I belong to the pick. I’ve been clinging to the thing as though the pick can anchor me to the version of myself that existed when she was still here.
I rub the pick between my fingers, and for half a second—for the tiniest, most fucked-up heartbeat—I almost convince myself I’ll catch her voice behind me. Sense her brush past, rolling her eyes, calling me dramatic.
But there’s nothing.
Just the silence. And me, choking on everything I never got to say.
I never told her I loved her.
I wanted to. The words sat on my tongue more times than I can count, pressing against the back of my teeth, begging to be let out. But I never gave them air.
I thought I had time. That I could wait until the moment seemed right. I kept telling myself that day would come. Another chance. I thought I could hold the truth in a little longer and the delay wouldn’t matter.
Now it fucking matters more than anything.
She’s gone, and I’m standing in the ruin of everything I never said. She didn’t realize. She had no idea that I loved her.
And that truth is fucking killing me.
I haven’t seen Quinn since the day the whole thing happened. Not a word. Not even a fucking text.
The reason is I don’t know how to face her. Every time I go to pick up my phone, my hand just fucking hovers there, frozen. My thumb over her name, heart in my throat, and then nothing. I tell myself I’ll text her tomorrow. I’ll call her later.
But later never comes. What the fuck am I even supposed to say? Sorry you watched the person you love die. Sorry you were alone in that.
She lost her best friend. The one who knew her better than anyone. She’s drowning in the same fucking grief that’s tearing me apart. I want to reach out. I want to knock on her door, pull her into my arms, tell her she’s not alone in this. But I can’t. How do I help Quinn breathe when my own lungs are collapsing?
I’m flat on my back, staring at the ceiling, when the bedroom door creaks open.
I turn my head, and Theo is there.
He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t even lift his head. He simply stands in the doorway, hands shoved so deep into his pockets. His hood’s up again, pulled low, trying to hide the mess underneath.
He appears as if he hasn’t slept, hasn’t eaten. Hasn’t fucking existed since the moment she died. Just floats through time, eyes blank, breath shallow, held together by nothing but the thinnest thread of force, and even that’s giving out. He still won’t meet my gaze. Maybe he can’t. Probably knows the second our eyes connect, he’ll fall apart all over again when he sees the same truth in my face. The bloodshot eyes. The cracked lips. The hollowness carved so deep into my chest I don’t even bother trying to scrape the weight away anymore.
I want to say something but the words rot in my throat before they ever make it out. Nothing exists that I can give him that he doesn’t already carry. The truth’s carved into both of us, plain as day.
We’re not fucking okay.
We’re never going to be.
Theo steps further into the room, his eyes flicker to mine for a moment. The pain in them hits hard, sharper than anything I’ve felt since this whole thing started. He opens his mouth like he wants to speak, but nothing comes out. His jaw works, throat tight, but whatever he was about to say dies before it’s born.
“Where the hell have you been?”
