Dear Patrick,

This is the last one. 

I thought I'd never be able to live without you, and yet here I am, living without you.

I thought I knew what true heartbreak felt like. Turns out I had no idea. 

-

It took me so much thinking to end up at that final decision.

I think I knew all along what the best thing to do was. My mind had been leading me there, but I sure as hell didn't wanna go. Every single instinct I had fought against it.

I spent hours and hours just thinking. Sometimes, I'd feel like I was ready. Sometimes the prospect of letting you go didn't seem so terrifying, because I knew it was best for both of us, I knew I could do without you and you'd do a lot better without me.

But that feeling would go away as soon as you walked in the room. All I could see was Patrick, the boy I'd chased after for years, the boy I'm so hopelessly in love with. And I'd realise I wasn't ready in the slightest.

If I left, then this would all have been for nothing. These letters, they'd all be pointless, just weaving a dead-end path through my life. And then there's the obvious. The fact that breaking up with you would be like driving a stake through my heart.

There's more to this than me, though.

You were dying. Your mind was imploding. It got worse every single day. I couldn't do anything about it. 'Cause you hadn't got better. You hadn't started to talk to the others, you hadn't stopped crying yourself to sleep every night. You'd never leave my side, you'd shut out everything through me.

I think that was what made up my mind. I realised what I wanted more than anything was for you to be happy. And you can't be happy if we keep on like this.

So that was it.

I made my decision. I was gonna let you go.

I spent the rest of the tour second-guessing myself, thinking what if we didn't, what if I did this, said that, and maybe I could keep you. It felt like I had a permanent knot in my stomach, in anticipation of what I was gonna do.

It was more painful than I ever thought it would be.

I decided that the night of the last show would be the best time to do it. Or, the least disrupting time for everyone else. We were going on a break anyway, we all knew that, so the managers and stuff were prepared for us to go our separate ways after the show. Andy and Joe knew I was gonna do it, they kept giving me reassuring glances and pats on the back. I think they were kinda relieved, to be honest. Relieved for me, at least. And worried for you.

You didn't know anything. You didn't know that I'd booked separate hotel rooms for me and you, because we wouldn't be spending the night together. You didn't know that this was the last day I could kiss you, could hug you and hold you.

I made the most of every second.

Backstage, we sat listening to the hum of the crowd as they waited for us.

You were in the dressing room, your head in your hands.

"...Patrick, please, just one more show. Just two more hours, and that's it." I begged you, after you'd refused to set foot on that stage.

"No."

"Please, baby, this is the last one for...uh...for a while, come on, we've done soundcheck, everything's ready to go, all you gotta do is go out there and sing."

You shook your head. Sighing, I drifted round to the back of your chair and rested my head on your shoulder, wrapping my hands around your waist and breathing you in. I tried to memorise your scent, how it made me feel all warm inside, the tickle of your hair on my nose, the rhythm of your heart beat.

"Please," I whispered into your ear. "For me."

I felt a stab of guilt as I realised that after tonight, you'd never do anything for me.

But you sighed, and lifted your head. "Okay. One more."

I grinned, nuzzling your face and spinning your chair round to face me properly. I had to be happy, I had to make these last few hours enjoyable, if only in the weakest sense of the word.

You started to get up, but I stopped you, placing a hand on your chest and kissing you roughly, tangling my other hand through your hair. You made the nicest sounds, little high-pitched whines, breathless gasps as I deepened the kiss, trying to memorise the curve of your lips and the heat of your tongue.

"Uh...guys, we're on in like, two minutes."

I pulled back quickly, reeling round to see Joe in the doorway. I felt myself blush as he raised his eyebrows at us. "S-sorry," I stammered, trying to catch my breath.

Standing up quickly, I pulled you with me, and you clung on to my arm like you always did and let me guide you out of the room. Joe gave me a sad smile.

The show was amazing.

I didn't think it would be, given the circumstances, but it was as if everyone was trying to enjoy themselves as much as possible. Even you seemed to relax a bit when we got into it.

I pretty much spent the whole time just watching you. I remember when I used to do that all the time, before we got together, I'd just view you from afar, like someone views a bird flying over head, completely out of reach. Now I think of it, that's probably the last time we'll play those songs.

That was another thing I'd refused to think about. I don't really know what impression I'd been under before, but I'd assumed that I'd be able to be around you again, be friends with you again, that the band would get back together after a few months off and we'd all be back to normal. It wasn't like I was never gonna see you again, right?

So I just kinda let it all sink in, let the music burn through me and send everything I was about to do up in flames.

But it had to end some point. We couldn't stay on that stage forever. We had to pack up and clear out and try to navigate night-time New York, which meant car horns and bright lights, and at that point, everything made me jump.

I kept you close to me the whole time, watching the colours in your eyes as Times Square glittered around us, ignoring the driver and Joe and Andy's uncomfortable glances and wrapping my arms around you as if I wasn't ever gonna let go. I wished I could stop time and just stay there with you and not have the future looming over me like a bully with a baseball bat.

We eventually got to the hotel, dragging suitcases with us, getting annoyed looks from the receptionists 'cause we talked slightly louder than they would've preferred. They thrust the room keys at us with dirty looks and stern words.

You didn't show any signs of letting go of my arm.

"Uh...Patrick, why don't you go up to your...our room, okay? Have a shower and stuff, I'll be up soon." I said gently, squeezing you before giving you a little push away from me. I wanted you to be as calm and relaxed as possible before I did this, I thought if you'd showered then maybe you'd take it better. Plus, I needed some time to get myself together.

You gave me a confused look, "no, don't be silly, come with me."

"No, no, just go, okay, I'm right behind you."

You didn't look convinced. I realised I really hate lying to you. "Okay...well here's the extra room key," you said, handing me one of the two plastic cards the people at the desk had given you. "Oh, wait, they've already given you one...or two..." you puzzled, looking at the keys to my own room in my hand.

"Uh..." I fumbled, looking at the cards like I'd never seen them before.

You laughed a little. "Did- did they give you a different room?"

I tried to remember how to speak. "Uh...y-yeah, they must've done...prob- probably a mix up with the bookings," I stammered.

"Oh, right...okay," you mumbled, looking unsure. But you only had to believe the lie for a short while longer.

I coughed, trying to regain my composure. "Listen, I'll stay here and try to sort this out, okay? I'll see you in a bit."

You nodded uncertainly, and slowly let go of my arm, pulling your bags with you.

Then I remembered something. "Wait! Patrick-"

I cut myself off as I grabbed your arm, pulling you back towards me and smashing my lips into yours. You made a little noise of surprise, before sinking into the kiss. I figured that maybe if I kissed you long enough, all the horrible thoughts in your brain would turn nice again and we could stay together and have that future I dreamed about. But then I realised this wasn't a fairytale.

When I finally dragged myself away, we were both panting, and most of the lobby was staring at us. You had something that was almost a smile on your face. Whatever it was, it made your eyes light up and my world seem brighter.

"See- see you upstairs," you stuttered, quickly ducking your blushing face and turning away from all the onlookers. You always hated people staring.

I smiled after you, watching as you disappeared behind the lift doors.

Then I felt like collapsing.

Before my muscles could give up on me, though, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"You okay, dude?" Joe said lightly, bundling his luggage under his arms.

"Uh...I...no," I mumbled, trying to stop my head spinning.

"Don't worry. You can do this, okay?" He gave me a little shake.

No I can't no I can't no I can't no I can't. "No, I can't," I said quietly, still staring in the direction of the lift.

"Come on, yes you can. You know it's the right thing."

"What if it's not, though? What if I'm about to make the worst decision of my life?" I already felt like crying.

He gently shoved me in the direction of the lift. "No, you've already made your decision. No second-guessing yourself now."

"But I don't wanna do it, it's gonna hurt so bad!" I whined, wishing Joe was the kinda guy who'd give me a hug right now.

"Look," he said calmly, turning to me as the lift doors closed, "you have to do it, or it's gonna hurt a whole lot more."

"I...I know, but what if he never wants to see me again? What if-"

Joe looked up in alarm. "Wait...you think you're gonna see him after this?"

I stared right back. "Well yeah, I mean, the band's gotta get back together some point."

"Pete...people...people don't usually wanna see their ex partners. Especially if it was a rough breakup. I'm sure as hell not in contact with any of my old girlfriends."

I stopped dead. "Wait, so...I can't see him?"

"I don't know. You've gotta see how it goes. If you end on good terms, then yeah, maybe. But..." he sighed, trailing off.

Things began to fall into place. "But...we're not gonna end on good terms, are we?"

Joe didn't answer, but the look of pity in his eyes was enough.

I nearly broke down right there in the lift. Not seeing you again had never been an option. Not kissing you, not fucking you, not holding you and falling asleep next to you, that was bad enough. That'd already ripped me to shreds. But I had to see you. I couldn't not see you.

"Don't get upset, man, you're okay." Joe snapped his fingers in front of my face.

"But...I gotta be able to see him, he's my best friend, I-" I cut myself off, running my fingers through my hair. My voice became shrill, "I'm gonna break his heart! He's gonna hate me! I can't do this!"

"Pete!" Joe yelled over my shouts, "Don't you see? The whole point of this is that you don't hurt him again, and he doesn't hurt you! The only way that's gonna happen is if you let him go! Completely! Seeing each other again after something like this, can you imagine how painful that's gonna be?"

And he was right. He was so right. I couldn't do that to myself, let alone to you. I'd promised not to hurt you again. Seeing you would break that promise.

I felt this collapsing sensation in my chest which made it hard to breathe.

"O-okay," I choked, blinking back the tears in my eyes. I can't do this.

But it didn't matter, because I had to do it. The lift doors slid open, and Joe tugged me down the corridor. My room was opposite yours.

I nearly fell through the door as it swung open, revealing the classic perfect hotel bed and that posh smell that went with it. Usually, I'd be excited about staying here. There was a chocolate on my pillow and everything.

Finally dumping my stuff in the corner, I sat down on the bed, taking a deep breath. From my window, I watched the city stretch out in front of me. There were no stars in the sky; I'd have to wish on the bright lights lining the maze of streets instead.

The minutes dragged past. I'd have to do it soon. I turned your room key over and over in my hands, wondering how long I could put this off.

Then, there came a small knock at the door.

My stomach clenched. What if it's you, what if you know I booked a separate room, what do I do then? I hurried to the door, opening it cautiously.

It wasn't you, though. It was Andy.

"Hey, Joe told me this room's yours. Have – have you done it yet?" He looked at me with concern in his eyes.

I breathed out slowly, feeling the tension rising within me. "No."

"Okay. Listen, uh, good luck, I guess. Just remember it's the right thing to do." He gave me a pat on the shoulder. It's weird, Andy has this way of calming people down.

I nodded. "I'm so scared, Andy. I don't know what I'm gonna do without him." My voice was hoarse and restrained.

"Listen, it'll be difficult at first. He's been in your life so long, of course it's gonna be different. But you'll get through it, alright? I know it's a cliché, but there's plenty more fish in the sea. He's not the only person you could fall in love with. You'll both be happier in the long run."

With that, he pulled me into a quick but tight hug, knocking the air out of me before setting me back down.

He smiled sympathetically, giving me another pat on the shoulder. Then, he cast his gaze towards the door to your room. "You ready?"

I swallowed hard. "Y-yeah."

He walked across the corridor, and I followed.

I took a last, deep breath, and pushed the key card into the slot. The light flashed green, and the door opened.

Andy placed a hand on my back and gently shoved me over the threshold, shutting the door behind me. I was on my own now.

Your things were partially unpacked, suitcases spewing clothes out onto the carpet. Soft footsteps sounded from the bathroom; I breathed a sigh of relief. At least I could have a few moments more to calm down.

"Hey, it's me," I called out, walking over to the bed and perching on the end. I ran through what I was gonna say, and how I was gonna say it, my heart in my throat and the muscles in my back as tight as canvas.

The curtains were drawn over your window, so I had no other option than to stare at the bathroom door, hoping that maybe you'd just stay in there forever and I could call off this whole thing.

After a few minutes, though, the handle twisted and you appeared.

I immediately cursed myself for telling you to take a shower; your hair was all fluffy and you were wearing your adorable stripy pyjamas and there was a slight blush in your cheeks, and all I wanted to do was bound over and plant kisses all over you. Your eyes lit up when you saw me, and I felt this huge stab of guilt 'cause you had no idea what I was about to do.

You padded over to the bed, plopping down next to me and curling your bare feet underneath you, reaching out for my arm and cuddling into it.

This was it. I had to do it. I couldn't lie to you any longer.

But how do I start? Do I just say it as fast as possible? Or do I try to cushion the blow and lead you there gently? Would that just hurt you more?

You were the one who spoke first, though.

"Where's all your stuff?" You asked, peering around the room.

No more lying. "I...uh...I'm staying in a different room." I finally sighed.

You sat up a bit and frowned at me. "Why?"

I shifted round a bit so I could look at you properly. "Uh...I...um...oh god..." I could feel the sobs in my throat, running a hand over my face and biting down on my lip.

Worry flitted through your eyes as you gazed at me. "Pete?"

My mouth flapped wordlessly. I unwound your arm from my own and held both your hands gently, bringing one of them up to my lips and kissing each of your fingers. Then, I turned your wrist over and kissed the pale pink scar that still hadn't faded. The first of many tears dripped from my eyes. I hadn't even said anything yet and I was already in pieces. 

You fidgeted uneasily. "Pete?" You said again, your voice laced with anxiety.

Do it, the voice at the back of my mind told me. Brushing my lips over your hands for a final time, I looked up at you again. Your frown deepened when you saw my glassy eyes. 

I couldn't speak. Your lips were just sitting there in front of me, plump and pink. You ran your tongue over them nervously. I took in a deep breath.

"Okay, listen, Patrick..." I gulped, "I...uh...I don't think that we should...that we should...be...together any more."

You blinked. "Wh-what?" 

"That's why I booked another room. I'm so sorry for lying to you."

Your lips parted in horror and the light dropped from your eyes. "You're...you're breaking up with me?"

I looked into your wide eyes and nodded slowly, feeling the warm trails of more tears streak my cheeks. You were looking at me as if I'd just put a bullet through your heart. 

You shook your head. "No, no you're not, you...you wouldn't do that, you're not..." you stammered, searching my face for answers. 

"I'm so sorry...I just...I think we'd be better off apart."

"Why?!" You said shrilly, your eyes wide with distress.

I bit my lip to stop it trembling, then tried to speak without sobbing. "Because...because we're hurting each other."

You gripped my hands tighter. "No we're not! You're not hurting me! Am...am I hurting you?" Your voice sunk to a whisper.

No, no, of course you're not, I love you, I- "I...I just can't keep watching you do this to yourself." I said quietly. "You haven't been happy in months, and you're getting worse."

"But you're making me happy!" Your eyes started to fill with tears.

"No, I'm not. We're too reliant on each other, Patrick. This is a codependent relationship, it's not healthy."

"But I need you!"

"Exactly, you shouldn't need me. You need your own life, Patrick."

You took my arm and brought it close to your chest. "But...I don't want a life without you."

I swallowed back tears and breathed slowly. "That's the problem. We can't be together like this. I'm sorry, I just...I can't do it any more."

As I looked at you, I saw how tired you were. God knows how long it'd been since you'd slept. There were grey circles under your eyes, and your face was drained of all colour now. I think it was then that I realised I might have made the right decision.

Gradually, I watched as you broke down. You began to cry, gripping my sleeve tighter and shaking your head.

"No...no...how...how c-could you do this, I th-thought you loved me...I thought I made you happy...I thought...I thought..." The words died in your throat.

I couldn't say anything. I wanted so bad to say of course I love you, of course you make me happy, but I couldn't 'cause it wouldn't be fair on either of us.

You looked up at me, your lips trembling, and I felt my chest tighten as I saw how distraught you were. "Please Pete...p-please don't leave me...you c-can't leave me..."

I decided that me even being here still was hurting you. I'd have to go soon. I'd have to walk out that door and never see you again. Joe was right. The band wasn't gonna get back together after this. I wasn't ever gonna see those big beautiful eyes again, or hear that gorgeous voice. This was it.

I started to pull away from you, getting up off the bed.

Feeling me shift, you clung to me tighter. "No...don't leave...please don't l-leave."

"I gotta, Patrick, I gotta," I murmured, as you scrambled off the bed too, wrapping your arms around me and sobbing into my chest.

"I n-need you," you mumbled into my shirt, "I can't d-do this without you, please, I love y-you, I love you!"

I love you too. I love you more than you'll ever know.

"I c-can get better, I c-can, will you l-love me then? I'll d-do anything, anything!"

I didn't reply. I just hugged you tight, my tears falling onto your pyjamas.

"Please," you whispered.

I started to move towards the door.

"No..." you protested, trying to keep me where I was.

I reached for the door handle.

"No!" You suddenly shrieked, another wave of sobs trembling through you.

All I could do was hold your shaking form as you cried. The pain of this was more than I could bear.

Then, with all the strength that was left in your body, you reached your arms around my neck and smashed your lips into mine, kissing me as if it was the last thing you'd ever do.

I should've pushed you away. But I'd never wanted to kiss anyone more in my life, so of course I kissed back.

I could feel the tears on your face and the sobs in your throat, and everything we hadn't said came pouring out. It was unlike anything else. The way your lips crushed into mine so powerfully, the way you held me so tight, it was a last attempt to make me stay, to show me how much you loved me and how much I'd hurt you. You held me like I was your last breath. And it fucking ripped me apart.

Placing my hands either side of your face, I traced the curve of your cheeks, and as I kissed you I graced my tongue across the roof of your mouth, twisting our hot breaths together, trying to memorise everything, trying to keep this moment safe forever. I didn't want to leave. The last thing I wanted to do was walk out of that door, and yet it was the one thing I had to do.

"I gotta go, Patrick," I said, stealing words in between kisses. You just kissed me harder. 

I reached towards the door handle again, this time twisting it sharply.

"No..." you mumbled against my lips, threading your fingers through my hair.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, pulling away. I opened the door and backed out of it, trying to prise your hands off me as gently as I could.

"No, p-please...stay..." you sobbed, your breaths shivering through you like tremors.

"I'm so sorry...it's for the best, I promise..." 

"No..."

"Y-you're gonna find someone else, I p-promise, okay, you'll get better without me, I swear-"

You cut me off by pressing your lips to mine one last time. But your strength was fading. I could feel you breaking in my arms. I lifted you away from me, placing you back down and pushing your hands back towards you. 

"I love you!" You cried desperately, tears spilling from your eyes as you tried to cling to me.

I looked into your gorgeous blue eyes one more time, and pulled the door shut.

I could hardly get across the corridor before I started to sob.

My hands shook as I took out my key card and pressed it into the lock, yanking at the handle and falling into my room.

Just as I shut the door, I felt something slam into it.

"Pete, please!" I heard you cry, beating your fists against the door.

I slid down to the ground, my head in my hands and my knees pulled to my chest.

"Please, d-don't do this! Come b-back to me!"

I felt emptiness overtake me, and curled up as tight as I could.

I don't know how long you shouted for.

After a while, you stopped. The last thing I heard you say was, "Please, don't leave me."

Then all I heard was crying.

-

I can't remember how long I sat there, it could have been minutes or hours or days. We sat barely inches apart, and yet the distance between us was unimaginable.

When I'd reduced my sobs to bleary-eyed sniffs, I pressed my ear to the door, listening for any sign that you were still out there. I couldn't hear anything.

It felt like my bones weighed a tonne as I tried to get up, wiping my eyes and staggering across the room to find my phone.

After nearly calling a lot of the wrong people, I hit the right buttons, pressing the phone to my ear and hoping my voice sounded vaguely normal.

It rang for long enough to make me worried. Please pick up.

"Hello?"

I breathed out. "Joe."

"Uh...Pete?"

"Yeah."

"Pete...it's fucking two o'clock in the morning, what the fuck?"

I hadn't even thought about the time. "Oh...sorry."

"What do you want?" He slurred irritably.

"Uh...I did it." I sighed.

"Did wha- oh. Oh god. Okay. Are – are you okay?" He sounded more awake now.

"No."

"Right. Uh...do you want me to come over?"

"No, no...I just...can you see if he's still outside?"

"Outside? What?"

"Outside my room."

"Fuck. Was it that bad?"

I nodded, then realised he couldn't see me. "Yeah."

"Okay...look, don't worry, just stay there and I'll see, okay?"

I heard some scuffling sounds and some swearing, then the sound of a door being opened.

He sighed down the phone. "Yeah. Yeah he is. He's asleep, though."

"Okay."

"Please tell me you have his room key?" he asked hopefully.

I felt in my back pocket, feeling the card I'd shoved in there earlier, along with the one of the ones to my own room. "Yeah."

"Okay, good. I'm gonna pick him up, and you're gonna open the door, alright?"

"Okay."

He hung up.

I crept over to the door, and opened it carefully.

Joe had clearly just got out of bed, his hair sticking up everywhere and his eyes half lidded. He had you bundled in his arms, your head tipped backwards and your feet dangling. Tears still streaked your face and clung to your eyelashes.

Joe looked kinda shocked when he saw me. He opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it.

I swallowed hard, trying not to cry again. I didn't look at your face as I hurried across the corridor and opened your door, holding it as Joe guided you into the room. Running over to the bed, I drew the covers back, giving you an extra pillow because that's what you like best, and smoothing the sheets down.

He gently lowered you into the bed, watching carefully to see if you showed any signs of waking up. You didn't. This was the first time you'd slept in a very long while, you weren't gonna wake up.

Joe stepped back as I tucked the covers around you, feeling fresh sobs in my throat. I couldn't look at you.

I knew exactly what I had to do next.

Rushing over to your suitcase, I rooted through it, trying not to make too much of a mess and trying not to collapse into your smell at the same time. Joe watched, slightly confused, as I finally found what I was searching for.

It was that sweater of mine I knew you'd borrowed. I couldn't have you finding it and hurting because of it.

With the sweater looped over my arm, I reached for your phone, sitting on the dresser, and quickly unlocked it. We'd shared passwords ages ago.

Finding your photos, I flicked through them. That was when I started to cry. Most of them were taken when you were happy, selfies of us at shows, or on dates, your dazzling smile making it difficult to focus on anything else. Some were just of me, taken when I wasn't even looking, cooking or down the other end of the sofa or whatever stupid shit I was doing. I felt myself grin. We used to be so happy.

Then, I deleted every single one.

My fingers shook, tears smudging the screen as I fumbled with it. I moved on to your emails. I searched for my name and then deleted all messages. Most of them were melodies we'd never write, lyrics you'd never sing.

Finally, I deleted my phone number.

I put your phone down, and placed your key card next to it.

Walking slowly to the bed, I leant over you, gazing at your face. For a second, I pretended that this hadn't happened, that I'd just put you to bed and was about to crawl in next to you and snuggle up to you.

Very carefully, I wiped the tears from your cheeks with the pad of my thumb, wishing I could take the memories of tonight with them, and closed my eyes. Leaning towards you, I gently touched my lips to yours, feeling their soft curves for the very last time. They're like rose petals.

I had to leave them, though. Sucking gently on your bottom lip, I pulled away.

"Sleep tight, baby," I whispered, knowing you wouldn't hear me but hoping anyway.

I allowed myself one last look at your peaceful form.

Then I straightened up and walked out of the room, pushing Joe out into the corridor and shutting the door behind me.

And that was it. The last time I'd see you.

The relationship I'd dreamed of for nearly nine years was over.

I pressed my fingers into my eyes as if the tears might go back into their ducts, determined not to cry in front of Joe. I was amazed I still had any tears left.

"Pete..." Joe began, looking at me uncomfortably as I rested my forehead against your door. "Oh, fuck it, come here."

And with that, he grabbed me and pulled me into a tight hug, thumping me on the back as if that might help.

"Well done, dude. I'm sorry." 

I just nodded into his shoulder. I didn't wanna speak in case I broke down again.

He let go of me, giving me a punch on the arm in the process. "You really had to delete everything?"

I nodded again. "I...I want him to forget me. Any reminders would just hurt him more."

"Okay. Are you gonna leave before he wakes up?"

I shook my head. "I'm leaving now."

Joe looked up sharply. "What? As in, right now?"

"Yeah." I hadn't specifically planned to do this, but I hadn't unpacked my stuff either.

"Fuck, man. Where you going?"

"I'll go home first. Then I'll probably take a holiday. Get myself together. Try to...y'know...get over him."

"Okay. So...when am I next gonna see you?" He looked genuinely concerned.

"I dunno. I'll check in, I guess. Just...tell me how he's doing. Not...not in detail, just...keep him alive, okay?" Anyone else might've taken that as a joke, but Joe knew I was deadly serious.

He nodded. "Yeah. I'll look after him."

I gulped back tears. "Don't leave him alone for too long at a time. Give him lots of hugs. And hot chocolate, he really likes hot chocolate. Make sure he's eating okay. Make sure he's sleeping okay. Call his friends, call his family. Make him talk to his mum, she'll help. Don't let him call me, don't let him talk about me, if he cries just talk to him, he'll listen to you eventually, tell him to keep making music, tell him to-"

"Whoa there. I'll do my best, okay?"

I nodded. "Okay. Tell him I said – wait, don't tell him anything. Make him forget me."

Joe gazed at me sadly, breathing a long, slow breath.

"I'm sorry," I croaked, wiping my eyes again. "You were right all along. It did wreck the band."

"No, no, don't worry about that. It was fun while it lasted. I'll miss it, though," he sighed wistfully.

"Yeah. Tell – tell the managers it's not a break, it's a breakup. Tell Andy I'm sorry, too. And goodbye, I guess."

"Are you really gonna go?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, well, I'll miss you, man. Make sure you keep in touch, though. And take care of yourself." He stuck out a hand, and I shook it.

"Yeah, I will. Thanks for everything."

"No problem," he grinned, giving me a last pat on the back before disappearing back down the corridor to his room.

I didn't waste any time getting out of there. I didn't even get changed, I just hauled my bags back down to the lobby and checked out, not caring that my eyes were still red and the front of my shirt was soaked in your tears.

I got a cab to the airport and the earliest flight to Chicago.

-

Home doesn't feel like home any more.

The last few hours passed in a blur. When I got back to my house, despite being nearly dead on my feet, I rushed round and scooped up anything that belonged to you, any clothes, any shoes, any books or CDs or anything, and put it in a box.

I drove round to your apartment, and put all the things back where they should have been, so it wouldn't look like they'd ever lived at my place. Then, I collected anything that might've belonged to me. I searched long and hard, finding various toothbrushes I'd left there, movies, socks, hats. There was so much we didn't even notice we were sharing, we were so involved in each other's lives. Finally, I found the key to my house I'd given you, and pocketed it.

I left your apartment as quickly as I could. I told myself it was the dust that was making my eyes water. I took my key to your place off my keyring and put it carefully on the kitchen counter. Then I marched out and slammed your door shut behind me.

And that was it.

I was completely out of your life.

When I got home, I must've cried for hours.

-

It's so empty without you.

At the moment, I'm just sitting here with my phone, scrolling through my own photos. I didn't have the heart to delete some of them. Some of these memories, I don't wanna forget. There's this one of us on a beach somewhere, maybe it was Santa Monica or it could've been San Diego, and you've got ice-cream all over your face and you obviously didn't want your photo taken but you're laughing anyway and I remember trying to get both of us in the shot but cutting most of my face out so all you can see of me is my ear. I miss you so much.

I've got one of your t-shirts, too. I know I shouldn't've kept it, but it still smells of you. I don't wanna wear it in case I make it smell of me, so I'm just kinda cuddling it. I wish it was you I was cuddling. I'm trying to push back my desire for a hot chocolate. You got me hooked on those things.

It's dark outside now. I spent half the day at the airport and the other half erasing all memory of me from your life. I don't really know what to do now. I gotta go somewhere, though. Maybe Europe, go brush up on my history. Go do some tourist-y things. Just nowhere that there's loads of parties and stuff.

That's one thing I've made very clear to myself. I'm never drinking again. No matter how much I miss you, no matter how much I wanna fill this void inside of me, I'm not fucking drinking. Even after we've broken up, I couldn't do that to you. We both worked so hard for this, you helped me so much, I can't let that all go to waste.

It's gonna be weird not writing these letters every time something happens, too. I guess that means I gotta actually deal with my feelings rather than just spilling them onto paper. I dunno what I'm gonna do with all of them. I thought about burning them, but I don't think I want to. I think I'll just put everything in a box, all the photos and the memories and stuff, all in a box that I can lock up and forget about. Maybe in ten years time I'll dig it out and smile at the boy I used to love.

My plant died, too. I know that's not the main problem right now, but I really got attached to that thing. When I got back this morning, though, it was all dried up and dead, and I don't think I would've been able to save it like I did last time. So I threw it out. Maybe I'll get another one, but I don't know. I don't wanna replace it straight away.

I haven't cried in a while, so I guess that's a good thing. Or maybe I just haven't registered the fact that I just lost the person I love more than anything in the world. We went through so much, me and you. God, I can't write about this. I'm gonna break my non-crying streak.

All those romantic movies, I thought they were exaggerating when people said they felt empty without their boyfriends or girlfriends. Now I know they're understating. I can't really write how I feel about this. It's not something that can really be expressed in words. It's this physical pain, as if someone's cut me open and taken out pieces of me, it actually hurts when I think about the fact that I'm never gonna hold you in my arms again. I really, really love you.

Patrick.

I always loved that name. It suits you so perfectly. I'll never write it again.

I know this is pointless. I know this whole letter-writing thing has been pointless from the start, 'cause it never helped me get over you. Eight years ago, that was all I ever wanted to do. Now it's the last thing I wanna do.

So this is it. The last one. This is my attempt at closure, I guess. I always thought that made it sound like you've died. But I've gotta end this soon. I gotta write you off as just another memory, I can't let myself think about you, you're not part of me any more, that time of my life is over. Tomorrow, I'm gonna wake up, and you're not gonna be beside me. 

I really, truly, wish you the best. You deserve to be happy, and you know what, so do I. That's why I had to do it, so we'd both be happy.

Sweetheart, I know you can do it. You can get better, you can meet someone new and make them the happiest person on earth, okay? You're nothing less than beautiful, I hope you realise that one day.

Okay, I really gotta stop this now, my hand is shaking so bad and the tears keep smudging the ink. 

I've never felt anything like the pain of this. Letting you go has ripped me apart. 

Thank you for everything.

I'll never forget you.

From Pete.