A/N: Based off of  a post I saw on Instagram. Trigger Warning: Death.

Loving can hurt, loving can hurt sometimes.

I clutch his necklace in my hand. The one thing he left behind. It's been a long time since I've talked to him. I miss him.

But when it gets hard, you know it can get hard sometimes, it is the only thing that makes us feel alive.

The same necklace I gave him for his birthday 3 years ago. About 6 months before he left.

We keep this love in a photograph, we make these memories for ourselves. Where our eyes are never closing, hearts are never broken, and time's forever frozen still.

Alex keeps telling me I have to move on. "It's been 2 and a half years, Scott. You can't stay in here forever." That's what he said to me. How am I supposed to move on? He was, is, my best friend. I can't just let him go. I've tried. The last time I went out was about 2 months ago, and I  thought I saw him. I almost ran to him. I almost dropped all of my bags, ran across the street, picked him up in a hug, and never let him go again. But I didn't. Because it wasn't him.

So you can keep me inside the pocket of your ripped jeans, holding me closer 'til our eyes meet, you won't ever be alone, just wait for me to come home.

So now I won't ever get you back. I should've run after you. Maybe then I wouldn't feel so empty. I'm just sitting here, hoping that you'll walk through the door.

And if you hurt me, well that's okay baby, only words bleed.

"Why are you so dramatic?"  I had yelled at him. "You want to talk about being dramatic? How about every single time we're home alone you hide in your room? You think I don't know why? I know that Alex doesn't trust me!" He'd yelled back. "Well what do you want me to do, Mitch? I can't make him change his mind!" I said, full of anger. "That's just it! I don't care that he doesn't trust me, Scott!" He yelled even louder. "Then what is it?"  I screamed. "It's you! ... I couldn't care less about what Alex thinks of me, or if he trusts me... But the fact that you don't. I can't believe you right now." He said, picking up his bag and walking through the door, slamming it on the way out.

Inside these pages you just hold me.

I got the call a couple hours later. I thought it was a joke at first. Because it had to be a joke, right? They had to be lying, you had to be okay. I needed you to be okay.

And I won't ever let you go.

But I was wrong. Because it wasn't a joke. It was real, no matter how many times I told myself otherwise, no matter how much I begged anyone and everyone to wake me up, because if it wasn't a joke, I must be having a nightmare. This can't be real, it's not happening. It's a nightmare. No matter how many times the other band members told me I wasn't dreaming, that this was real, I didn't believe it. This couldn't be real. You can't be gone. But you were. And it was my fault. Because I was ignoring you, without realizing it. Because I denied it when you showed me it was true. Because I let you walk through that door. And I haven't gone a day without crying since. Your parents told me it was okay, it wasn't my fault. They told me this as they watched their son's casket being buried into the ground. I stayed long after everyone else had left. I fell asleep on your gravesite. Because that was the only way I could be close to you anymore.

Wait for me to come home.