Mason’s taken it too far this time.

“Get up!” I shout hoarsely, grabbing Mason’s arm roughly. Rage boils hotly in my veins. Fuck, I want to throttle him. My best friend, the one that’s left...

How fucking dare he?

Mason whips his head toward me. He frowns. “W-Way—”

Jaw ticking, I give his arm another solid yank, forcibly dragging him into a sitting position. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

For a moment, I don’t think he even heard me as he stares down at where my fingers grip his flesh.

But then, in a low whisper—a groan really—something deep and guttural from a place in him that I don’t think I or anyone could ever possibly reach—

“She’s gone.”

My eyes burn as my vision blurs around the edges. I start to shake my head. I can’t hear this, I can’t, I can’t—

Jeremy’s stiff as a fucking board behind Mason. I can’t be sure he’s mentally still here. But I can’t worry about that. Not right now. Not when ice-blue eyes, hollow in a way I’ve never seen, are lifting up through tear-stained lashes. And he’s talking—Mason’s saying things I never wanted to hear. Not from his lips.

Not.

From.

Him.

Shut up, I want to tell him. Scream at him. Please shut up.

I’m still shaking my head, and he’s still chanting, “She’s gone.”

Over.

And over.

And over again.

I want to scream. Sob. But this moment isn’t for me. It’s never been for me.

Shut up, shut up, shut up—

He pushes himself onto his knees suddenly, just barely catching himself before he can go crashing forward. I feel the whole room surge to attention, as if everyone’s collectively holding their breath, bracing for impact.

Breathing heavily from his nose, Mason lifts his slackened face. His lip ring looks even shinier against the red, rawness of his lips. As if he’s been sucking and chewing on the flesh all night.

His eyes fight to focus on mine, and I can’t tell if it’s the grief or the alcohol. Probably some horrible combination of both.

He chokes out, “She’s really fucking gone.”

My breath hitches as I take in the eyes begging me to deny it. To reassure him. To lie.

But I can’t. I fucking can’t anymore.

My head is still shaking and I feel so far away. So apart from this conversation, it’s a wonder I don’t collapse into nothing.

“She’s gone.” I feel myself say the words, but there’s no sound.

But he hears it all the same. Sees the truth finally carried on my lips, the one I’ve been holding on to just for him.

Just.

For.

Him.

It’s not easy. Watching a man break.

In fact, there’s something downright earth-shattering about it.