Caleb emptied out his pockets on the table just as Paul was coming out of his room. He was dressed in a grey t-shirt with blue plaid pajama bottoms, barefoot. Paul swept his eyes over the table, and then looked at Caleb in surprise. 

"You take up smoking, Caleb?" 

"Huh? Oh, no."

Paul sat across from him. "Then what's with the lighters and gum?" 

Caleb shrugged. "I wanted gum."

"And the lighters?" 

Caleb merely grinned and offered up a shrug. Paul sighed.

"I'm glad you came over, Caleb."

"You are?" 

Paul smiled sweetly. "I am. I've been—" 

"Don't say it," Caleb said in warning. 

"What? I've been worried about you."

Caleb shut his eyes. After a moment he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah well, I've been worried about me, too."

Paul respectfully remained silent. Caleb opened his eyes and rested his hand on the table. 

"Do you ever remember seeing a car hanging around the bar?" 

Paul furrowed his brow. "A car? What do you mean?" 

Caleb fought the urge to roll his eyes. Had it been Liam sitting across from him, he would've jokingly described what a car was to him. But Liam wasn't sitting there, it was Paul. 

"Black car, black tinted windows." 

Paul looked confused. "No…"

Caleb laughed. He then got to his feet and ran both hands over his face a few times. Walking to the window, he peered down. He wasn't looking for the car. He wasn't sure what he was looking for. 

"Hey," Paul said gently. "When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?" 

"D'no," Caleb answered truthfully, and his voice came out a lot sadder than he had meant it to.

Paul paused. "Do you know why you're not sleeping? Specifically?" 

"Specifically?" 

"Yeah…like, anything in particular?"

Caleb turned around, looking quizzically. 

"Look," Paul said gently, splaying his hands on the table as he looked at him evenly. "I'm not even going to try to pretend I know what it's like losing your significant other." 

Caleb nodded curtly. Paul sort of scrunched up his face a second, as a sort of wince. "I also can't imagine what it would be like to go home to an empty place and an empty bed." 

Caleb frowned. 

"I mean, if it would help you out, I have a couch—" 

Caleb chuckled then, shaking his head and looking at the tiled floor. 

"I mean, I'm not trying to tell you what's best for you, but I just—I d'no, I think getting out of there for little bit might be refreshing—" 

Caleb kept his head bowed. "Look, I appreciate it Paul, but I actually think it would make it worse."

Silence. 

"I mean, there's things I need to do, keep up with."

Caleb could feel Paul's eyes on him as he spoke. "What is there to keep up with, Caleb? Aren't you going into foreclosure?" 

Caleb slipped his hands into his pockets and shrugged. 

"You open every day and there's no customers. What do you do in there, man?" 

Now Caleb laughed and tilted his head up. "Even if I told you that, you wouldn't believe me." 

Of course, Paul assumed the practical route. "Oh, are you packing?" His voice sounded hopeful. 

Caleb shook his head. 

"Oh…Uh, are you going through Liam's stuff? If you are, Emily and I could come over to help—" 

Caleb shook his head again, causing the corners of Paul's mouth to plummet. "You're not destroying the place, are you? I know some people do that to scoff the landlord and banks—" 

Now Caleb outright laughed, which simply made Paul look confused. Caleb walked back to the table, but he didn't sit. Instead he loomed over Paul as he spoke. 

"What would you do if Emily died?"

Paul's eyes grew a little wider. "Uh, but she's not my wife—" 

"But you care about her, right?" 

"Of course."

"You guys have been together for a long time. Do you love her?" 

"Well, yeah, but—" 

Caleb put both hands on the table and leaned forward. The look Paul was giving him was very unsettled. For some reason, this made Caleb nearly giggle. 

"What would you do?" 

A pause. "You're serious?" 

"As a heart attack."

Caleb didn't move from his hunched over position. For a long, long while, there was absolutely nothing but silence. In the distance, the sound of traffic was their backdrop, but they were both so very oblivious to it. In a city so large, certain things just went unnoticed. 

Paul shifted uneasily in his chair. "Well, I—I would be very sad—" 

Caleb nodded. "Of course."

"And I would mourn, of course. And then—" 

"Specifics, Paul. I want specifics."

Paul swallowed audibly. "What are you doing, Caleb?" 

"I just need to see something. Please, give me a day by day account. Please, put yourself directly in my shoes."

Paul didn't blink. "You're kind of—you're kind of freaking me out, man."

"Please."

Paul rubbed his scruffy face that held a six o'clock shadow. Compared to the silence, the scratching noise it produced seemed almost deafening. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Paul spoke. 

"Well, it'd probably be similar to when I lost my dad. I probably wouldn't sleep for awhile, because every time I tried to sleep I'd start crying, and once I started crying it wouldn't stop, and when I did get to sleep I'd only manage about half an hour, because I'd dream about her and wake up crying all over again."

Caleb nodded. 

"I would go to the wake and funeral. After two weeks I'd go back to work. And I'd try to act normal, even though nothing felt normal. And people would act weird around me at first, and our friends wouldn't bring up their significant others for a while. And it would be horrible, and awkward, and I would hate every second of it, but I'd slowly start to move on."

"When?" 

Paul slammed his hand on the table, suddenly angry. "Fuck, man, why are you doing this to me?" 

"Because I'm trying to figure something out," Caleb replied, nonplussed by the outburst. 

"It's fucking morbid!" 

"Because I'm trying to make sense of it in my head," Caleb said, desperation clinging to his voice. 

"Make sense of what?" 

"Everything!" Caleb shouted, and he finally stood erect. "It's been three months, Paul, and I don't know what to do. And what I am doing doesn't seem right, or normal, and I think I was followed here, but I don't know, I just don't know anymore. It's like my life has turned into a movie, or some fucking dumb nightmare I can't wake up from—" 

Paul got to his feet, came around the table, and brought Caleb into his arms. Caleb shoved him off almost immediately. Paul held up his hands. 

"What if I showed you something?" Caleb asked. "What if—what if I made you understand?" 

"Understand what?" 

"What I've been trying to do these past months. I'm just—I'm just trying, trying to, yaknow, sort it all out in my head—" 

"Yeah," Paul said with nothing but support in his voice. "I'll do whatever. I'll help you out, alright?" 

Nodding, Caleb scooped up his lighters and gum, sweeping them back into his pockets. He then smiled. "Thanks for talking, Paul. I'll show you what I mean tomorrow, okay?" 

"Tomorrow? Are you leaving?" 

"Yeah," Caleb replied. "There's things I need to do. Things I need to prepare for tomorrow."

"Where are you going?" Paul asked, trying to mask the worry in his voice but failing. 

"To the bar."

Paul started. He then moved towards the door. "I'll walk you home."

"No, it's fine."

"It's okay, I really think I should."

"Paul, you're in your pajamas—" 

"So?" he replied, slipping on a hoodie that had been hanging up next to the door. "Just let me get my shoes on—" 

"You're making me kind of angry, Paul."

Paul froze. He then gave him a very serious look. "I can't, in good conscience, let you walk nine blocks by yourself in the state you're in."

"What's that mean?" 

"You show up here, it's damn near eleven PM, you're not making sense—" 

"Paul, I'm fine," he replied with a laugh. 

"You are so far from fine right now," Paul said flatly. "Look, if anything else you were just saying you thought you were followed here, right?" 

Caleb paused. "It's nothing."

"C'mon."

"What can I do to make you believe it'll be fine, that we'll talk tomorrow?" 

Paul continued to frown. 

"Look; I shouldn't have come here in the first place. Can we please just get together tomorrow?" 

"Tomorrow's Monday. I work."

"Oh shit, it is?" 

"Jesus, man, you don't even know what day it is…" 

"Just come by tomorrow, okay?" 

Paul crossed his arms. 

"Please?" 

"The only way that I'm letting you go is if you promise me that you're not going to do anything stupid to yourself once you leave here."

Caleb tilted his head to the side. "What do you mean?" 

"C'mon, Caleb. We both know what I mean." 

"No, I really don't."

"Look, just—text me when you get home, yeah?" 

"I will." 

"If anything happens to you, I'll—" 

Now Caleb pulled his friend into a hug. "Jesus, Paul, no! I'll be fine. I'm just walking home."

Paul shook his head. "If I lost two friends back to back in a matter of months—" 

"Paul! I'm not going anywhere."

Paul looked at him. "Promise me."

"I promise."

"Promise me on his grave."

Caleb swallowed the lump in his throat away. "I promise on Liam's grave."

Silence. Caleb opened the door, but then hesitated. "Goodnight, Paul."

"Text me when you're safe at home, okay?" 

Caleb smiled. "I promise."