So, maybe it was better—okay, perhaps not better, but best—this way. It didn’t feel it though. Surprisingly, as much as I’d realized I had been on the verge of shutting down ever since leaving Dr. Foster’s house, I couldn’t do it—not completely. And as the universe is nothing if not perverse, Ethan was the very reason why I hadn’t shut down yet. Sitting on the shower floor, shaking still, despite the warm water prickling down on me, I silently cried, letting tears flow freely until they fused themselves with water.

Trouble was, I was unable to make it stop. All through the night, tears streamed down my face devoid of any effort on my part. It was as though my body had finally had enough and had decided for me that it was time to cry.

*

“Thomas?” Noah said quietly after knocking on the door three times.

“Thomas?” he repeated, this time louder. “Are you awake?”

“No,” I mumbled.

I lay on my side, under the duvet. But I wasn’t on the side of the bed I was used to sleeping on. I was on the left. The pillow still smelled like him, on the left.

Noah stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and made his was over to me cautiously. He sat on the floor, his back against the wall, holding his knees up with his arms and keeping them in place by turning the forefinger of either hand into a hook.

“Are you sick?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” I most honestly replied.

“Do you need some medicine?”

“It’s not that kind of sick.”

He kept looking at me, so worried.

“I heard Mom talking to your doctor,” he finally said, still softly. “Ethan’s name came up.”

I didn’t say anything.

“She’s not mad,” he volunteered.

I huffed. “I don’t care if she’s mad, Noah.”

“She’s not.” He still felt he had to reassure me. “She’s just…worried. She said she likes him.”

“Yeah. Everyone likes him.”

“He is pretty cool. Did you fight?”

“No, we didn’t fight.”

“Did you break up?”

“We didn’t—” I couldn’t help but sigh loudly. “I talked about him, Noah. To his Mom. I told her…everything.”

“You mean the sex?”

“No, I don’t mean the sex. That doesn’t matter. I told her about him. About who he was. I—what am I supposed to do, anyway? Hang out at her place? Spend the night? Reminisce?”

“That would be horrible,” he conceded.

“Yeah, no shit.”

“But—” He hesitated. “Isn’t he worth it?”

“Fuck yes, he’s worth it. I’m the one who’s not.”

“Thomas—”

“Could you just—” I adjusted myself on my pillow. “I need to sleep, Noah.”

“You can’t stay in bed forever.”

I knew he was concerned. I knew he meant well. It still pissed me off.