To Patrick, I guess,

Is that what I used to write? I can't even remember. It's been so long since I've written your name.

So, I just write to you? Not even about you, just to you? Okay. I can't believe I used to do this on a regular basis. Isn't it kinda creepy?

How've you been? Well that's pointless to ask, you're not gonna reply.

I've been good, actually. Two years is a fucking long time, man, lots of things have changed. I feel like I've changed.

I've stayed clean, which I'm pretty fucking proud of. It was difficult, especially at first. But, I got through it. I travelled around a load, which was fun. I saw a load of the stuff we'd been too busy to see when we were tour.

But I guess, if I'm gonna do this properly like I used to, then I gotta talk about my feelings and stuff.

The breakup was tough. Like, really, really tough. Those first couple months after, man, I felt like a zombie. Even when I'd left Chicago, left all the memories behind, they were still with me. I don't even remember anything about Italy, 'cause I was too busy thinking how I could've taken you there on our honeymoon.

It took me ages to stop thinking about you. I'd see a painting, and think I wonder if Patrick would like that, or hear a song and know that you could sing it way better. Everything reminded me of you.

But I still just kept on going. I couldn't go back to you, so I just kept moving forward. I even met someone, this dead gorgeous French guy, who kinda looked like George Clooney except younger. He only spoke a bit of English and I spoke fuck all French, and it sounded like a love story waiting to happen but he was kind of a dick, to be honest. Don't get me wrong, he was hot, and the sex was fucking mind-blowing, but he wasn't looking for anything serious, and he could see I was hung up on someone else. I ended up telling him about you, and I think he said something along the lines of don't worry, I will kill him for you. So just as a heads up, if you see an angry Frenchman, don't approach him.

You've no idea how hard it was not to call. Just to send you a text, an email, anything to stay connected to you. The closest I got was this one night in Paris, alone in a hotel room, and before I knew it, I was in tears just because you weren't lying next to me. I couldn't take it anymore, so I grabbed the hotel phone and got seven digits through your number before I realised what I was doing.

So I just kinda learnt to block you out. Thinking about you hurt me, yet it seemed like the only thing I could do, the only thing I wanted to do, but I stopped. I refused to let your name enter my head, I deleted Joe's texts about how you were doing before I'd even read them, so that I was completely cut off. And guess what, it worked.

I'm over you. And it's not like it was before, it's not a lie to cover up my infatuation, it's just true. I've been over you for a long time now.

I had a couple other relationships. One just ended, which was a shame, 'cause I think I really liked the guy, and he really liked me. Jonathan, his name was. He was nothing special, really, but then I didn't want anything special. He was sweet and kind and to be honest, he was everything I needed. I feel like I could've married him, and been happy. Like, I was content with him. But I guess things just didn't really work out, he didn't always understand me and I didn't always understand him, and I suppose we wanted different things in the end. I miss him.

I dunno, I guess it's at times like this that you think of your ex lovers. I'm not really lonely, just kinda deflated, maybe that's what made me write this.

Also, maybe the fact that I'm gonna see you again.

It was Joe who actually suggested it in the first place. I was round his place, for the first time in a while. I'd met up with him and Andy a couple times, had a couple phone calls, but this was the first time we actually got to talk properly. The first time we felt comfortable talking about you.

I guess that was the problem at first. They knew that I didn't even wanna think about you anymore, so they avoided saying anything to do with the band or the past at all. It was awful 'cause I knew they probably knew where you were and what you were doing and whether you were okay and I so wanted to ask them all my questions but I couldn't 'cause it would hurt too much.

This time though, it didn't. We just sorta talked normally.

Joe's life has really changed. He's got this amazing new house, and he got married too. He's all grown up. I guess I wanted to congratulate him and stuff, because now I'm the type of person who actually has some of their shit together, so we sent some emails and I drove to New York. It's a fucking long way, too.

His place took ages to find. It's in the suburbs, he actually managed to find somewhere with actual trees near it. It's nice, a nice neighbourhood, it's like something from a movie, with kids riding their bikes and clean pavements and flowers in the gardens. I'm quite jealous of him actually.

We'd decided to have sort of a reunion type thing, I guess? Andy was invited too, it was just a casual catch-up. We hadn't been in the same room together for a very long time, so it was way overdue.

Andy was already there when I arrived. He'd flown in, Joe picked him up and I was gonna take him back to the airport the next day, 'cause I wanted to spend a few more days in the city before I went back home. Anyway, enough about logistics.

I hoped I'd got the right house as I picked my way along the perfect driveway and pressed the doorbell.

"Pete!" Joe pretty much yelled when he opened the door, shadowed by Andy.

I grinned at him, and held out my arms, raising an eyebrow.

He rolled his eyes, but accepted the hug anyway, nearly picking me off the ground in the process.

"Dude! I haven't seen you in fucking ages!" He punched me on the arm and dragged me through the front door.

His house is massive. It's got lovely varnished floorboards and an open-plan kitchen. And yes, I do get excited about stuff like that now.

He led me through to the lounge and pretty much shoved me into one of the chairs. I'd missed his shoves.

"Tea? Coffee?" he asked, clapping his hands together.

"Uh, coffee please, black no sugar."

He shot me finger guns before wandering over to the kitchen and filling the kettle.

"So, Pete," he called from behind the worktop, "whatcha been up to? Did you get here okay?"

I laughed, "nah, your place is hard to find." I gazed around at the high ceilings and large skylights. "It's a great house, dude."

He grinned. "Yeah, it's a long way from that smelly old apartment I used to have. There was definitely some kind of mould in the walls of that place."

"But, like, who'd you have to kill to get somewhere like this?"

He shrugged, "it wasn't always like this. It was a dump when we bought it, on the inside anyway, but we fixed it up pretty good. I guess we liked the area best, it's got some good schools, y'know?"

Wow. Joe's thinking of having kids. Things really have changed. "Cool. Congratulations, by the way," I motioned at the framed picture of Joe and his family on his wedding day.

"Thanks, man. Sorry again for not inviting you guys, it was only a small thing, family only. Even though you're basically my brothers."

He looked at me and Andy as he said it, and I couldn't help feeling like there should be someone else here.

"So how're you?" Andy said as he sat down across from me.

For once, I could actually give a positive answer. "Yeah, I'm good, actually. Still in Chicago, been doing stuff for Black Cards."

"Cool. How's that going?"

I shrugged. "It's fun. It's good to be writing stuff again, y'know? I feel like I didn't do it for so long I got rusty."

Andy nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Damned Things has been a lifesaver when it comes to keeping me playing."

Wandering back to us with my coffee, Joe heartily agreed, sinking down at the opposite end of the couch.

At that point, we all just kinda looked at each other, taking in all the differences. Andy's cut his hair really short, he looks even more wise and all-knowing now. Give him a pair of sunglasses and he'd look fucking badass, too. Joe let his hair grow longer, it's all curly. He sort of looks like a young Brian May.

Turns out they were thinking about the same thing. "So you lost the emo fringe?" Joe laughed, pointing at my now adult normal-looking hair.

I smiled. "Yeah. I think I finally realised it's not 2006 anymore."

"Looks good, dude," he mused, before wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, "so how's Jon?"

Sighing, I felt this little sinking feeling in my chest. "Uh...we broke up. 'Bout three weeks ago."

"Aww, man, I'm sorry. You two were so happy!" He looked genuinely disappointed.

"I know. I guess it just didn't work out."

He gave me a sympathetic smile. "Don't worry, dude. You'll find someone else soon."

A couple years ago, I wouldn't have believed him, but now, I know he's right. "Yeah. Plenty more fish in the sea." I looked over at Andy. "You got anyone at the moment?"

He shook his head. "Nah. You know me, I'm a lone wolf. All I need is Crossfit and Star Wars."

I laughed. I realised I'd missed Andy too.

It's funny, the more we talked, the more comfortable we became, we seemed to gradually sink back into being best friends. Once we'd got all the awkward small talk out the way, we were back to arguing about movies and swapping funny stories and demanding that the others listen to this song or this album. It was so easy, and I couldn't help being reminded of how we used to be.

But then there was also this underlying feeling that there should be four of us sitting round the coffee table.

I tried not to think about it, I really did. But then I also thought why am I avoiding this now? Now that I've moved on, what's wrong with me asking about you? I mean, I wanted to know. I still care about you, you're still, in theory, my friend.

So I just sorta picked a random gap in the conversation and said what I was thinking.

"How's Patrick doing?" I asked brightly. It was weird to say your name again.

Both of them glanced up in alarm. They looked completely caught off guard, Joe's eyebrows shooting half way up his forehead.

"Uh..." Andy started, frowning at me, "I thought you didn't want to know?"

I shrugged. "No, not at first. But, y'know, things are different now."

Joe peered at me curiously. "Wait...so...you really wanna know?"

"Yeah. Yeah I do. I should've asked a long time ago."

He smiled, and in his eyes there was something like...pride? He sat up in his seat and put his hands on his knees. "Well, he's doing good, actually. Like, really good."

I felt this little swell of happiness in my chest. "Really? That's great, what's he been up to?"

"Uh, I dunno, lots of things. I saw him last week, actually," he mused, then shot Andy a smirk. "He looks different. Waaaay different."

Andy smirked back and nodded.

I frowned at him. "You've seen him too?"

"Yeah, of course, loads of times. Not so much lately, but still sometimes. He came to Chicago on tour."

I looked up quickly. "On tour?"

He laughed. "Wow, we've got a lot to fill you in on. D'you wanna know everything?"

I shrugged. "I guess so." I knew that was code for do you want to know the bad stuff too.

Joe shifted in his seat. "Uh...okay, so...it was pretty awful after you left."

I bit my lip and nodded slowly. "How – how bad was it?"

"Bad. God, that morning, when he woke up and you'd left...d'you remember that?" He glanced at Andy, who pursed his lips and sighed solemnly. "We couldn't even get him out of bed. We had to book more nights at the hotel 'cause he wouldn't move. Eventually we did, though, but he wouldn't talk. Like, at all. We actually started to get pretty worried that he wouldn't pull through, and maybe we'd lost him completely."

Andy took over. "After about, like, a week, he started to say stuff; not much, just a few sentences here and there. We got him back to Chicago, and we nearly left him at his flat, but then we thought it would be best if he wasn't alone, so we took him to his parents'. We told them what happened and they said they'd look after him, and they did. His mum kept us in the loop. And I guess he got better, 'cause next thing we know, he's doing promo and filming videos and stuff. That was about six months after. And he's been great ever since."

I couldn't help feeling like they'd missed some stuff out. "Whoa there. Promo for what?"

"His record thing he did."

"He made a record?"

"Yeah, and an EP. I think being busy helped him through it."

I breathed out slowly. "So, he got better? What, just like that?"

Andy shrugged. "Well, I dunno how long it took, but he's definitely better now."

Nodding, Joe smiled. "He really got his life together. Hell, I knew you were right for leaving, but I didn't know you'd be this right."

I blinked at him. The little ball of happiness in my chest grew, this pride that you were happy and healthy, and a wide grin spread across my face. "That's...that's really great. That's really really great. Good for him."

Joe laughed. "Are you being serious, or are you being the bitter ex about all this?"

"Nah, no bitterness. I'm glad he's happy, that was the whole point of me leaving in the first place."

"Are you sure, are you sure there's no hard feelings at all?" he raised an eyebrow, like he was trying to test me.

I shook my head, and he nodded thoughtfully.

"Well..." he started, still deep in whatever he was pondering, "do – do you wanna see him?"

I looked up sharply. See you? No, no, seeing you had never been an option. I was gonna cut you out of my life forever, that was the deal.

But was it the deal anymore? Everything's so different now, from what I've heard, you've changed a lot. I wanna see your new life.

After processing the question for an uncomfortably long time, I nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."

"Great! Ooh, this is fucking awesome, we can have a proper reunion next time!" Joe grinned, before taking his phone out his pocket and chucking it at me.

I caught it clumsily, "Wha – what's this for?"

"His number's on there, call him."

"What, now?" I exclaimed, staring at the phone as if it might attack me. This was all happening way too quickly.

"Yeah, why not?" Joe shrugged, frowning at me.

"Well...I dunno, I mean, it's been so long...I don't know what to say."

"Just talk to him. Come on, two years isn't enough to forget how to talk to each other."

"Well yeah, but, like...what if he doesn't want to talk to me?"

Joe sighed. "Look, he's better now, of course he'll wanna talk."

I glanced at him uncertainly.

He huffed. "Oh, come on, it's not like he's still got feelings for you! He's over you, just like you are with him."

Over me? I don't know why that was news to me, of course you're over me, it's been two whole fucking years. We've both moved on. "Are you absolutely sure?" I asked, just to check.

Joe laughed. "Yes, absolutely sure, he's got a girlfriend, for crying out loud!"

A girlfriend? A girlfriend. Okay. I guess that makes things easier. "Oh. Right. Well, then, I s'pose it can't hurt."

I stared at the phone, the numbers on the screen, the little green button begging for me to press it. I should've been able to do it, really, I mean all it was was calling an old friend. But I couldn't. I got all nervous, wondering what to say and how to say it, whether it was really the right place and the right time to hear your voice again after two years.

"You want me to do it?" Joe asked gently, watching my inner struggle.

"Yeah. Yeah, please." I handed him back his phone.

He rolled his eyes at me, shaking his head. "Honestly, I've gotta do everything round here," he said dramatically, flipping his hair over his shoulder.

I watched as he pressed the button and held the phone to his ear.

He did the waiting-for-the-other-person-to-pick-up face for what must've been quite a few rings, before I heard the buzz of a hello? at the other end of the line.

"Hey, dude, what's up? Oh, cool, where are you now? Nice. My nan lives near there. Ha, no. Yeah. I'm fine. Yeah, look, I was just talking to Pete and I wondered – yeah, Pete. Yeah, I know. He's doing good, actually. I know, it has been a while. Well, would you wanna meet up with him? Cool! Yeah, I know. Just a casual thing, I guess, like coffee or something?" He looked over at me for approval. I shrugged and nodded. I could do coffee. "Yeah, he's down for that. Okay, like, next week? Friday? Yeah. Okay. Saturday then. Yeah. Like, eleven-ish? Yeah, he could do lunch too. Yeah. Well, I think it will be. That's what I said! Okay. Oh, okay, wow, yeah, I won't keep you. Oh wait, what's the name? Oh, just Starbucks. The one near you? Yeah, I know. Great. Okay, well, he'll see you there. Yeah. Have a great one. See you soon! Bye."

He hung up.

"All done," he grinned, putting his phone away.

I just sat there in a daze, wondering what the hell Joe'd got me into. Why I let him arrange my social life, I'll never know. "Wait, so what did you just say? Next Saturday?" Am I even free then? I guess I am now.

"Yup. Just lunch, nothing major."

Wait a second. "Which Starbucks? There's no Starbucks where we live."

He laughed. "No, no, the one near him."

I frowned. "Yeah, as I said, there's no Starbucks near our neighbourhood."

Joe laughed again, but this time it was disbelieving. "Our neighbourhood? Pete, he doesn't live in Chicago anymore."

"Uh...what?" I asked, wondering if I'd heard right. "He moved? Where does he live now?"

"L.A."

I choked on air. "L.A.? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Well you didn't expect him to keep living three blocks away from you in that tiny apartment did you?"

Now I thought about it, it seemed obvious that you'd moved. There was no reason for you to stay. The thing is, though, that I spent a fucking long time deliberately avoiding going anywhere near your place, and being paranoid I might run into you on the street somewhere. Wow, I know so little about your life.

Then I thought about it more. And I realised I didn't care that you moved, or that I'd been wasting my time worrying, all I cared about was the fact that Joe had just arranged for me to travel nearly three thousand miles, just for coffee.

"You idiot, you could've told me that before you went and fucking made plans to meet up! Now I've gotta go the whole way across the country to find one particular Starbucks!" I nearly shrieked, exasperated.

Realisation spread across Joe's face. "Oh yeah. Oops."

"Call him back now and tell him I can't make it." I ordered, pointing a finger at him.

"Uh, I can't, he was just about to perform at some festival. He'll be on stage by now."

I groaned.

"Come on, just do it. You could y'know, fly across and make a holiday of it. Spend a week there, book a hotel, it's fucking great weather."

"What are you, a travel agent? I'm not going all that way just to talk to my ex for a couple hours."

Joe raised his eyebrows at me. "Your ex? Is that all he is now?"

"Well yeah, obviously?"

"Wow. You really have moved on," he sighed, giving Andy his this-guy-is-starting-to-piss-me-off look.

I crossed my arms. I mean, I care about you, but do I care enough to spend that much time and money just getting to you? I know that sounds really asshole-y, but, like, I have a life, I've got better things to do than have awkward conversations with old lovers.

But then, it would be good to see you. Even if I do have to go to fucking L.A.. And I kinda wanted to know what all this record lark was about, I mean, I never pictured you going solo or whatever. And who knows, maybe we could be friends again. I think that's what Joe was getting at; he just wanted to remove the invisible rift between us. And maybe I wanted that too.

"Fine. I'll do it," I said, throwing my hands up and giving in.

And that's how I ended up on a flight to California.

-

That's where I am now, on an airplane, just sitting here writing. There's nothing else to do. Why I booked a fucking night flight, I'll never know. I can't sleep on planes.

I spent a couple days in New York, seeing friends (yeah, I know, I actually have other friends now), and going to all the places Joe told me I should see. I think they're both happy I'm gonna see you, Joe gave me your new phone number and address and even showed me the coffee shop on Google Earth, so I think I know where I'm going. I dunno about all this, though.

It seems kinda stupid to say that it's too soon, because god knows it's been long enough, but I guess I'm maybe thinking that it's too late. Like, if I'm honest, I don't really feel anything towards you apart from the feeling that I ought to care. You've probably forgotten about me, and I know I pretty much forgot about you. 

But I'm also a little bit excited. I wanted you to be happy, and you are, and I wanna see you happy. The last time I spoke to you, you were sobbing and broken. I always hated that that was my last memory of you. I'd like to change that. You deserve to be happy, I've known that from the start, and now that we're both better, it would be cool to just have a conversation with you. Even if I have to travel thousands of miles for said conversation. I'm still pissed about that, by the way.

I'm glad you have a girlfriend, though. I feel like it'll make things considerably less awkward, 'cause otherwise we'd just be two single people on basically a date who've seen each other naked multiple times, and that's a situation I never wanted to be in.

It'll be weird though. Just to see your face again, that'll be weird. I feel like I've forgotten what you look like. I've forgotten how you talk and walk and stuff, it's as if the name Patrick used to have so much attached to it, and now it doesn't really mean anything to me at all.

There's about three hours left of the flight. I'm debating whether or not to try and squeeze past the dude next to me and go to the loo. They've turned the lights down, most people are asleep. I've nearly finished the bag of M&Ms I brought to last the journey. All I've got left are the orange ones. Why is it that all the other ones taste the same regardless of colour but the orange ones still taste of fucking orange?

Anyway, I better wrap this thing up. I gotta at least try and get some sleep, otherwise I'll fuck up my sleep pattern. Not that it really matters, as according to Joe I'm on vacation, so I can sleep whenever I like. It's Tuesday today, which means when I land I've got three whole days of lounging around in hotel rooms before our little meet-up. I'm so gonna steal all those little bottles of shampoo they have.

Fucking L.A.. This coffee better be fucking good.

From Pete.