Breathe, Breathe, Breathe. It's going to be fine. It will be fine. Right?

My reflection wasn't answering me back, and I didn't know how to feel about that. I thought that maybe today, the universe would reveal the secret of life and all my problems would be solved. How am I supposed to, just continue to live? Without any answers? What kind of bullshit was that?

Answer me, please.

I needed an answer. I needed reassurance. I needed to be told that everything was going to be okay. But for me to hear those words from somebody else, it would take a heart to heart, and that hadn't been an option since the beginning. So, this mirror is, at this moment, my only option.

Answer me. Answer me. Answer me.

"Neil, please come down!"

Fuck, shit, fuck. fuck.

Maybe if I had just slept through my alarm, I wouldn't feel completely horrified by my mom yelling for me to come down.

I should have told them. From the beginning. I should have just sat down with everyone from the second I knew.

Truth is, if I start numbering all the things, I could've done for this to not be happening right now, then I would stay in a one sided conversation with my reflection forever.

But I did not want to go through it. I still do not want to go through it. And that's my issue. Not being able to face things no matter how stupid they were. No matter how simple they might seem for anyone else. It was the little things that drowned me the most. The world is going to end right now, they could say. Oh really? How nice, I would respond. How could the end of the world be taken as such a serious deal. I thought it was to be expected.

But this, I didn't know what to expect from this.

I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror one last time, tried to tuck a few curls inside my cap and walked down the stairs. My dad was typing in his laptop in the dining room table. Probably doing some work. I guess being an IT gave him that flexibility. Wait, was he? I always forget what he does exactly.

"Morning dad", I said.

"Morning son", he responded. "Your mom left you a plate here." He signaled to the chair in front of him.

"Where is she?", I asked sitting down.

He looked up from his computer and said, "She had to go shower. They called her from the hospital. She's covering for someone, but you know her. She doesn't mind."

I could always hear his admiration for my mom when he talked about her work. I don't know how she does it. To want to be a nurse, alone. Wow. He would say every time, the moment she was out of the door in the mornings.

He focused again on whatever it is he was doing. Normally, I would be a little relived to eat without him absentmindedly talking about something that I didn't really cared about. But today was different. Today, I couldn't taste the bacon, and the eggs looked like they were looking back at me as well. Was that possible? Could they be, judging me?

Coward, coward, coward.

Maybe they are.

Trying to eat, I started drifting away. Thinking about all the possible scenarios, all the possible ways that the conversation could turn out. I tried coming up with the right words, the right way to approach the subject once I got there. But am I going to be able to? I hoped I would, but imagining their faces was not helping. I can already see, already tell, already guess how they would react, and I did not like it at all.

Zack wouldn't say anything at first. He would probably look down, eat a fry, maybe sip his drink, if he were having one and then he would slowly bring his gaze back to me. Fuck you Neil.

I can already feel his eyes looking in through my soul, trying to communicate what he was thinking. He has never been one to talk much. At least not when it came to subjects like this. Subjects that required some kind of emotional reaction. And he would try not to react. Not to make it a big deal. He would try not to make me feel like I should regret anything. And I would appreciate it.

I would look back at him and somehow answer. Thanks, I appreciate it.

I am insane if I actually believe that that's how it's going to turn out. Zack might not say much, he might not share his feelings often or express his opinion when it might feel controversial, but he could be blunt just as well. And I think that's the side we are going to see today. Fuck you Neil. Fuck you for being an ass.

Sorry, Zack. I really am sorry.

But then, Isabella was a whole another story. She would cry. She would one hundred percent cry. And then she would lightheartedly say, "Sorry, you know I'm a Pisces", most likely trying to light up the mood. And once again, I would appreciate that.

But not quite. My appreciation would not overpower the guilt of seeing her like that.

I could have avoided it. But it's too late now. Still, the thought of hurting her. What would I do? What would I say? God knows I am the last qualified person to try and comfort someone.

But she knows that. She knows.

There is a certain memory that Isabella has never ever let me forget. And if I am being honest, I completely understand.

"Matt just died", she was crying. I could barely understand her.

"What? Who is Matt? I asked.

"My dog, Neil! He- he died and... mom said he was old and" she wouldn't stop crying.

"Wait Isabella, it's okay. Calm down. I'm really sorry that your dog died" I really was sorry. But what was I supposed to do? Was there something special you were supposed to say to your friends when their dogs died?

"Well, thanks.", she was calmer now. But I could tell she was still crying.

"Who names their dog Matt?... wait- wait I'm sorry, I just don't know what to say."

"Its okay, Neil. I'm just glad you're always there to listen to me"

And that was the first time that I ever felt helpless. Ninth grade, on the phone, with my girl friend, whose dog had just died. How could anyone attach themselves to a dog, I do not know. But of course, I have never told her that.

Would I feel that way today? Am I going to feel just as helpless? Maybe. Probably. Definitely.

Then there were three, Chase.

So, you think Shakespeare is trash, huh?

That's what I said didn't I?

Yeah you did. I'm just surprised.

Why, Chase?

Well, Neil, because he isn't trash.

And why not?

Listen...

And I listened.

I didn't even ask how he knew my name. He didn't ask how I knew his. That was how we met. Eight grade, exiting Mrs. Jess class after listening to her talking about Shakespeare for what felt like hours.

"So, Neil, what do you think?", she asked, clearly clueless to my disinterest. "Shakespeare is trash", I said. And then the bell rang. Perfect timing., I had thought.

Without Chase, well, I wouldn't be who I am today. He has been my best friend, since. And not just because he always let me copy from him.

That same day, waiting for our parents to pick us up he said, "You should read a book one day"

"As you probably noticed, me and literature have a stringed relationship.", I said.

"I'm just saying, Neil. Maybe one day you could read something you liked and then you could be the one explaining who your Shakespeare is" he smiled.

One day, he said. I realized I had made a new friend.

"What do you suggest? Something that's NOT Shakespeare."

He laughed, "Well, I'll think about it".

­He has been thinking about it for six years.

Just like Zack and Isabella, I could imagine him too. He would react, unlike Zack. Chase was not the kind of person who could put up a mask. The second I tell him. I will know. I will know how he feels. Surprised, sad, excited, shocked.

Betrayed.

The thought of any one of them feeling betrayed makes my heart ache. I don't cry., I've told everyone before. And now the lump in my throat was laughing at me.

Coward. Coward. Coward.

Would they yell? Would they cry? Would they get up and leave? Would they-

"Neil, what's taking you so long?"

Sorry dad. I'm just preparing to say goodbye.