I do go back to Harvard. Just for a week or so, to collect my things, to officially transfer. I'm numb the entire train ride back, listening to a playlist Cameron made, watching the countryside fly by in my navy sweatshirt, rubbing my fingers against the soft fabric until I've started to wear it down.

It's January, and Boston is cold and wet. The campus is slick with icy snow, icicles dangling from the roofs. Pierce is in our dorm, looking like he arrived not too long ago - his suitcase is open on his bed, the contents spilled around the room - and he looks up at me from his desk, a baseball hat pulled over his face.

"Sam!" he says. "You're back!"

I only brought one small suitcase with me, and I toss it on my own bed. "Not for long," I admit. "I just here to transfer schools. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. God, please don't be. I know things have been shit for you."

I shrug and smile. In my suitcase somewhere is my bottle of antidepressants, rattling around, pale-colored pills in an orange casing.

Pierce stands up and scratches his neck. He's wearing a long-sleeved rowing shirt and black sweatpants, and he leans against his desk and crosses his arms. "How's your uncle?"

"He's doing okay. I mean, he had that scare before Christmas. You know. But he's doing much better now. Chemo every couple weeks."

"That's good, that's good. Do you know where you'll be transferring to?"

I dip my head, feeling shame rise to my cheeks. "No."

"Hey, well, don't worry about that. You'll figure things out. I'm praying for you, dude. And you're welcome to join me at church again this Sunday. My dad talked about you all during winter break, said you were incredible at the hospital."

I smile. "Tell him I said thank you," I say, and I unzip my suitcase.

~

I'm exhausted, but before I head to bed I grab coffee with Eliza. She pulls me into a huge hug, wearing her favorite purple coat, and I hug her back tightly.

"How are you?" she asks when she pulls away, and she squeezes my arm gently. "I've been thinking about you. I've missed you like crazy."

I can smell her perfume, and I've missed her too. A lot.

"I'm alright," I say as Eliza orders decaf for the both of us. We sit down at a table for two, and I glance out the window - grey rain streaks against the glass.

"So you're transferring?"

I look at her and nod. We texted on the train ride, so she already knows.

"I'll miss you, but I get it," she says. "I can tell you don't love it here. And depression is a bitch."

I look at her, and her brown eyes are warm and understanding. "You have depression?"

"A little bit. It used to be much worse. Back before I transitioned, you know, when I was still Elliot."

"Eliza - god, I had no idea." How could I have known? Eliza is so outgoing, and so happy.

She shrugs and smiles sadly. "Like I said, it used to be much worse. You know, most people are a little fucked up. Everyone's just good at hiding it."

The coffees come, and I trace my finger around the mug handle, waiting for the drink to cool down, letting Eliza's words sink into my brain. Then I ask, "How was your winter break?"

"It was good! I had a thing with this super hot guy. He studies abroad, so it won't last. But we're still snapchatting and stuff." Her eyes widen. "Oh! I almost forgot, I have a gift for you!"

She pulls something small out of her purse and hands it to me. It's a woven bracelet, and I run my fingers over the threads gently, like it's made of glass.

"I didn't have time to wrap it or anything," she says. "My little sister got a bracelet making kit, so I made some things on it. It's the bisexual flag colors! See? I thought it was fitting. But it's okay if you don't like it, honest."

I stare at it, purples and pinks and blues intertwined together. "Oh," I say, and when I look up there are tears in my eyes and I'm not sure why. "It's great, Eliza. I love it. Thank you."

Eliza smiles and rolls her eyes. "Oh, it's nothing."

"I mean it. Thank you." I think about putting it on, but something holds me back, and I slide it into my sweatshirt pocket instead.

"And I'm glad to hear Cameron reacted well."

I shrug and look down at my hands. "Yeah. But I can't help but feel like he hates me, deep down. He just doesn't show it. Like you said, everyone's good at hiding things."

"No, not hate," she says seriously. "No one is good at hiding hate. And no one is good at hiding love, either." I glance up at her, and she smiles. "I love you, Sammy."

I reach out and squeeze her hand. "I love you too, Eliza."

~

On Wednesday, I have time to kill before my meeting with my academic advisor, which is at four in the afternoon. So after I grab a bagel for breakfast, I hop on a city bus and head to the hospital. I rest my head on my hand and watch Boston roll by - I do like this city. And I suddenly feel guilty, because if I like this city, then why am I leaving?

My phone buzzes in my coat pocket, and I glance at it.

just finished practice, hope everything's going well. talk to u later?

I text him back right away.

yeah, have meeting with advisor this afternoon. will let u know how it goes

Then I put my phone back in my pocket and close my eyes until I get to the hospital.

The pediatrics unit is bustling with activity, the Christmas decorations down, but the hallways still bright with yellow lights and colorful paintings. I don't have my volunteer tag on, but all the nurses know me and smile.

I stop and talk to the kids I know, giving lots of hugs, laughing a lot. Little hands pull at my sweatshirt and give me high fives, and I kneel down and ask them about Santa, and playing in the snow.

A girl named Polly is showing me a magic trick in the waiting room when one of the head nurses, Nurse Jenny, spots me.

"Sam Hughes?" she calls.

I turn around. "That's me."

"Can I talk with you for a minute?"

Polly pouts, pushing a mop of curly red hair out of her face, and I wink at her. "I'll be right back," I promise, then I follow Nurse Jenny down the hallway.

She smiles tiredly at me. "Hi, Sam. It's good to see you again."

"You too."

"You volunteered with Willem Hollands, right?"

"Yes."

She sighs and rubs her forehead. "I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, but he passed away a couple weeks ago. Terribly sad. Such a sweet kid. I know he liked you a lot."

Everything goes numb, and I shake my head. "Willem? What - when?"

"It was a few days after Christmas. Painless, in his sleep. His family was all here."

I lean against the wall, feeling very dizzy, all of a sudden, and I breathe in sharply. "That's - that's horrible."

"Some days, this job is tougher than others," she says sadly. "This is one of those hard things you'll have to face sometimes. Assuming you want to go into medicine."

"I do," I say, and it's only then do I realize it.

"The mother left something for you, I think. Wait here, I'll check the files."

So she leaves me in the hallway and I lean against the wall, and I feel so very empty - but it's a different kind of empty, not the emptiness that depression brings, but the kind that grief brings, and passion, because I wish I could've done more, and still I want to do more. And Willem was so young.

Nurse Jenny returns, handing me a photograph. "From the mother. And she said to say thank you."

It's a picture of me, Willem, and Max that I forgot was taken - Max is laughing and holding my hand, I'm grinning, and Willem is smiling shyly from his wheelchair, his sharp, icy blue eyes apparent even in the photo. I take a breath and tear my eyes away to look at Nurse Jenny. "Thanks for this," I say, my voice clearly scratchy.

"Of course."

"Are they in the city?"

"No, no, I think they live out in the countryside. That's where the funeral was."

"I see." I look down again at the photograph. "Such great kids."

Nurse Jenny pats my arm sympathetically. "Indeed. I have to head back to work now, but I'll hopefully see you around?"

"Actually, I meant to tell you - I'm transferring schools. So I won't be able to volunteer here anymore."

Her eyebrows shoot up. "Oh! Well, I'm sorry to hear that. You'll be missed, that's for sure. I wish you the best of luck in your studies, and you're always welcome back here." She pats my arm again then heads down the hallway, looking at her clipboard and pulling a pen out from behind her ear.

I stare at the picture for another minute. I never got the chance to talk more about books with Willem. And there are so many things he won't be able to do. And I wonder how Max is doing, and the family, because they're such wonderful people who didn't deserve this. Maybe nothing that happens in life is deserved. And maybe it doesn't have to do with fairness. But it's unfair nonetheless. 

I gently slip the picture into my coat pocket, squeeze my eyes shut, take a few deep breaths, then head back into the waiting room, where Polly is waiting.

A/N :(( hello friends! thoughts on this chapter? also just a heads up, i'm not sure how many chapters there'll be left, but my goal is to finish this within the next couple weeks so expect things to be winding down soon! what do you still want to to see happen?