A/N: warning- this story may have some triggering elements
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Thursday, August 12, 2004. This is the day of my death, the day I ceased to physically exist.

At first there was nothing but darkness and silence. No matter what I did I was always surrounded by those two things which now haunt me. I just felt trapped and alone, so now I find comfort in the sunlight and the everyday sounds of the world.

Thankfully, I wasn't doomed to be stuck in an empty space for the rest of eternity and instead was put back in the place that held the most significance to me in my livelihood. The apartment I shared with my roommate and best friend, Pete.

It was nice being home at first. I thought it was like only a replica of my home so I would feel comfortable in the afterlife. But it wasn't a replica, this was the actual apartment I lived in since my eighteenth birthday. And the reason I knew this was because as soon as I was put here, I saw Pete walk right past me and into his bedroom. It was like I wasn't even there. I mean I am here, but he obviously couldn't see me. I had to remember that I no longer exist.

I couldn't eat or sleep, so most of the time during the night I'd just sit on the couch and stare at the blank TV screen. I surprisingly could see my own reflection in it, and it made me wonder if Pete could see it too. I just wanted him to see me.

At all hours of the night this is what I would do, just sit and wait for my roommate to emerge from his room. There were some days when he wouldn't even come out and would stay there until the following night. He never used to do that, he was always the first one awake and the last one to go to bed. I found it a little odd but I didn't think too much of it at first, so I left it alone.

That's what I've been doing for the past two weeks. Just sitting and waiting to catch a glimpse of my friend, which was all I'd ever see these days. In the days he did leave his room he'd just simply go to the kitchen for food or coffee before returning to his room once again. It was strange to me but I never looked into it because I figured Pete needed his privacy, he's an adult and can do whatever he feels like doing. But I just couldn't shake the feeling that I was ignoring what his actions were crying out about.

One night I decided to check on him, see what's going on and hoping he was okay. I went down the hall and stood in front of his door, pressing my ear against it and listening for anything out of the ordinary.

It was silent.

Silence was never a good thing when it involved Pete. He was only ever silent when something was wrong or he was over thinking something he shouldn't be concerned with. On any other day, no one could get him to stop talking but for the past couple of weeks he's been nothing but quiet. It wasn't like he had nobody to talk to, Joe and Andy only lived a couple blocks away and were almost always at our place. But.. I haven't seen them since I got here. Hell, I've barely even seen Pete.

I entered his room without the use of the door, finding that it was just as unkempt as it usually was. He had a dresser but never put any clothes in it, he'd rather have them in piles around his room just like everything else.

Pete was laying on his bed, facing the ceiling and only wearing his favorite pair of pajamas bottoms; the red ones with the little bats on them. He was holding his phone above him so he could see it comfortably, scrolling and staring at the screen emotionlessly. He seemed to be fine from afar, this was something he used to do on a daily basis. But I had to be sure.

I stepped over his endless mounds of clothes and to the side of his bed, watching him for a moment. There was definitely something wrong just by way he looked. His eyes seemed dim and were accompanied by dark circles, his hair was greasy and sticking up in every direction, and the way his eyes were shining lead me to believe that he'd been crying or was about to.

Pete didn't cry over much, I've only seen him cry once when he heard his grandmother had passed but that was it. Not a single tear was shed since then.

I kneeled down beside the bed just as he began to sniffle a bit, letting out a sigh and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. I looked up at the phone and soon realized why he's been so off lately.

He was looking through the old pictures he had taken. Pictures of me... pictures of us. He always looked so happy and at ease when he took pictures of us together, carefree and optimistic. Just like he's always been, until now. I didn't know he'd be this upset over me, and I'm sorry I ever left him like this.

After a few minutes he seemed to become angry, tears pouring out of his eyes as his hands began to shake. He let out a deep, agonizing groan before throwing his phone across the room. It hit the wall with a loud thunk but it  surprisingly didn't break.

Pete rolled over towards me and hung his arm over the edge of the of the bed, eyes closed and still spewing out tears. But I couldn't tell of he was angry, sad, or a dangerous mix of the two. I felt so bad knowing that he's been this way because of me, this is all my fault.

I whispered an apology to him --although I knew he wouldn't hear it-- before getting to my feet and leaving the room.

***

A few more weeks had passed, finally being a full month since I've gone. I sat on the couch in Pete and I's apartment like I've been doing before. I thought Pete would get better over time if he'd just learn to accept that I can't come back no matter how much I want to. I understand that grieving is a process and that it's a delicate matter but Pete... he only seemed to be getting worse.

Soon, the whole apartment began to look like Pete's bedroom: unkempt, messy, disorganized. The whole place reflected his feelings and appearance perfectly. The only place that was untouched was my room, which I was kind of happy about since I could go in there and not feel suffocated by the mess that fills the apartment. I sit in there now and wait for Pete instead of in the living room like before.

I hardly ever heard his door open or his footsteps or the music he'd play so loud the neighbors would complain. I didn't even hear him play his bass anymore. He used to love that thing, played it nearly everyday for hours. But now he doesn't even look at it, collecting dust in the corner of the room like an unwanted book. This was what made me realize that the Pete I knew before may never return. He will never be the same again.

I sat on the edge of my bed, marveling at how Pete managed to keep it so neat and clean. Just how I always liked it to be. He knew how particular I was about certain things and how I liked everything to be neat and orderly, especially my personal space. This must be why my room looked as though it has never been touched, because it hadn't been. Pete never dared to touch the doorknob or even look at the door itself.

But today was a new day, open to new things. And today Pete actually decided to step foot into my room, a look of pure hurt on his face like it physically pained him to do so.

He gently closed the door behind him, walking over to the bed and unknowingly took a seat right beside me. He looked around the room, smiling lightly at whatever memories flooded into his mind. But his smile quickly disappeared, it was the only sign of happiness I had seen from him since I've been here and now it was gone. It saddened me to see him this way.

Pete let out a long sigh and sniffled a few times before he pulled something from his pocket; a picture of us from last winter. The photo was folded right down the middle so Pete would only be focused on my half of the picture.

"I-I'm so sorry, Patrick..." He seemingly whispered to the photo. "This is all my fault. You'd still be here of it wasn't for me. I just... I'm sorry."

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand as tears began to spill out, trying to keep his composure as best as he could. I don't know why he's blaming himself for the accident, it was my fault it happened. If I hadn't started complaining about a certain riff placement then the argument wouldn't have started and distracted Pete from the road. This was my own doing, I don't want him to go on thinking that he's to blame for my death.

"It should've been me instead." He continued. "There's so much that I wanted to say to you, and now I'll never get the chance. I hope you'll come to forgive me for what I've done to you, Patrick."

He then stood and walked over to my dresser, placing the folded photo on top of it. He gave it a thoughtful look before he left the room, leaving me alone inside of it once more.

***

Three days later Pete had gotten a phone call from one of our close friends, Brendon. Pete seemed to be avoiding speaking to Joe and Andy, probably thinking they blamed him as well. They tried calling him, I watched his phone as it rang and rang only to purposely go unanswered. He'd just curl up on his bed and squeeze his eyes shut until the ringing finally stopped.

I believe he only answered Brendon's call because he didn't know the full details of what happened. All he knew was that there was an accident and that I didn't make it, so I guess Pete felt that Brendon couldn't blame him if he didn't know the full story.

"Hello?" Pete answered groggily although he's been awake for the past four hours. I couldn't understand what Brendon was saying but I could hear his voice. It was nice to know that even though I'm gone Pete still has someone he can communicate with.

"Yeah.... um.. I guess so, but it's kind of a mess. No.... If you want... Okay... See you soon, bye." He hung up then tossed his phone on his bed before grabbing some clothes from a pile and disappearing into the bathroom. I wondered if Brendon was either coming to visit or was going take Pete out somewhere to get his mind off things.

But my question was answered as Pete exited the bathroom in a different pair of mostly clean pajama bottoms and a black tank top instead of jeans and a t-shirt. Pete wasn't planning on going anywhere anytime soon.

Brendon had soon arrived, simply barging into the apartment as Pete was always the one who'd forget to lock the door. I used to nag him about it, claiming that someone could break in and he'd always respond with 'what are they gonna take, the toaster?' I guess he had a point since we never really had anything of value, but still.

"Pete? Where are you, man?" Brendon called out, looking around the living room and grimacing at the mess. "Dude, you have to get a maid or something."

Pete soon joins our friend in the living room, ignoring Brendon's disgusted expression and plopping onto the cleanest spot on the couch. Brendon just cleared off whatever was on the coffee table before taking a seat on it, facing Pete. They were silent for a moment, Pete not making eye contact and Brendon watching him with worried eyes.

"Pete... what's going on?"

The look Pete gave him wasn't a very friendly one, glaring darkly at him. "I don't know if you noticed this or not but my fucking roommate is dead." He snapped.

"I didn't mean- Pete, listen, I know this is hard for you and I can't imagine what you're going through. The least I can do is try to help, but I can't do that if you don't let me."

"Who says I want you to?"

Brendon let out a frustrated sigh, squeezing his eyes shut for a few moments before clasping his hands together. Pete could be stubborn and closed off when he wanted to be, there were times I had to deal with it as well. The most I could do was let him calm down for a while before he'd be himself again. But Brendon wasn't me and therefore didn't handle things as I would have.

"Okay you know what, I'm not gonna dance around this with you. I know Patrick was your best friend and all but you're going to have to let him go." He said bluntly, emphasizing the last few words so they'd penetrate Pete's thick skull. I then decided to seat myself beside Brendon and view Pete from his perspective. "You have to move on with your life, Pete. You're not going to get anywhere if you keep yourself locked away like this."

Pete doesn't respond, looking down at the floor instead of at Brendon. His eyes were shining again, ready to let go of more unshed tears.

"He wasn't just my best friend.." He whispered, almost inaudible. Brendon slightly tilted his head in question, waiting for Pete to elaborate.

"I, uh... I-I loved him, Bren."

At first Brendon didn't seem to fully understand, but as Pete looked up at him with tears in his eyes he finally seemed to get why Pete was having such a hard time. Me included.

"Oh... OH!" Brendon shouted. "Why didn't you just say that? Did Patrick know?"

Pete shook his head. "I never got to tell him."

"I'm so sorry, Pete. That must be a really heavy weight on your shoulders. Maybe-"

"It's whatever," He interrupted, getting to his feet and running a hand through his already mussed hair. "He probably didn't feel the same anyway."

Brendon got up as well, placing a gentle hand on Pete's shoulder. "It'll be alright, okay? You have to be strong, for yourself and for Patrick." He pulled Pete into a tight embrace, patting his back comfortingly.

"Thanks, Bren." Pete mumbled against his shoulder.

"Anytime, Pete. Please don't hesitate to call me."

They soon parted and said their goodbyes, allowing Brendon to let himself out. Pete was about to disappear into his room again before I rolled my eyes and said, "Why can't you ever remember to lock the door?"

He stopped in his tracks, looking back toward the front door. He goes and turns the deadbolt before going back down the hall and into his room.

Pete never remembered to lock it when I was here, but maybe without my constant nagging there to remind him he had to remember on his own.

Either that or he actually heard me, but I doubt that was the case.

***

I sat on my bed and thought about everything I heard Pete say to Brendon the previous day. All the time Pete and I spent together, all the moments we shared and never have I even thought that Pete might have liked me as more than a friend. But little did he know I had always loved him, since before we decided to get a place together. I believed my chances of being with him were slim to none, so I kept my mouth shut. I didn't want to ruin what we already had by throwing my feelings into it.

But now at this point I wish I had said something sooner. Even if it wouldn't have changed anything, it would have been good to get that off my chest.

How could Pete think I didn't feel the same? I just wanted to be able to show him how wrong he was, but I can't. Things would have been so much different if I had said something. Hell, maybe --just maybe-- telling him how I felt could've saved my life.

The sound of my door opening and closing interrupted my thoughts. I glanced up to see Pete walking over to the photo he left on my dresser, looking at it thoughtfully like he did before. I watched as he let out a sigh and scratched at the back of his neck before turning around to face the bed. But he froze, his chest beginning to rapidly rise and fall in what seemed to be fear.

I furrowed my brow in confusion, connecting my eyes to his as he seemed to be staring right back at me. Tears suddenly started flowing freely from his eyes and down his cheeks, his lower lip trembling slightly. I stood up and took a step toward him to which he reacted by immediately backing away, tripping over his too long pajama bottoms and falling to the floor. He backed himself up to the wall and closed his eyes tight, pressing the heels of his hands against them. When he finally looked back up, he began to cry even harder.

"Pete?" I whispered, but he just cried and let out a sound that resembled one of pain. I stepped closer and he watched as I did so, which didn't make sense to me. How could he be watching my every move?

I kneeled down to his level, looking into his now dull, hazel eyes. He was looking right back into mine.

He whimpered, "Y-you're not real."

Pete could see me.

"You're not real." He repeated.

"How can you see me?" I asked, reaching a hand out to wipe his tears away. I could feel his skin, warm and soft beneath my fingertips. This couldn't be possible.

He seemed to want to test this as well, reaching his own hand out to touch my face. He cupped my cheek and gently swiped his thumb across it, gasping in disbelief. "But... but y-you're not real. Are you?"

"I don't know anymore." I responded honestly. Pete could see me, feel me. I knew for sure that I no longer existed but maybe.. I don't know, none of this seemed to make any sense. "This isn't possible."

But then Pete eyes widened with sudden realization, saying something that made my heart drop. "Patrick. I think... I think I might be dead."

Without a second thought I got up and made my way to Pete's bedroom, stopping dead in my tracks once I see what's inside.

It was Pete's lifeless body, laying across the bed with an empty medicine bottle clutched in his hand. I couldn't believe my eyes, why would he do this? He had spoken to Brendon only yesterday and here was his lifeless form right in front of me. I felt sick and disappointed, this was not how things were supposed to turn out.

"I'm sorry..." Pete appeared next to me, staring at his own corpse.

"Why did you do this?" I asked, tears stinging my eyes as I tried to hold them back.

"I..." He looked away, refusing to make eye contact with me. "I don't know."

"Bullshit." I said bluntly. "You were supposed to go on and make something of your life. But instead you think it's better to end it all and kill yourself. What the fuck is wrong with-"

"Do you have any fucking idea how guilty I felt?!" Pete shouted back, wet eyes glaring into mine. "If I hadn't been driving that car, you'd still be here! You fucking died because of what I did. One of the most important people in the world to me is gone all because I made a mistake. And that mistake caused me to lose you.

"If it was me, you'd have no problem getting over it. You've always been stronger than I am, you would have made the best of it. But I took it all away. How could I live with myself knowing I've done that to you?"

I shook my head in disbelief, a few tears sliding down my cheeks as Pete looked away again. I didn't want this for him. He was supposed to be happy, not trapped here for all of eternity. Anger began to rush through me like blood through my lifeless veins, ending with me shoving Pete against the wall. He didn't seem phased by it though, probably believing he deserved it. He didn't try to retaliate in any way, instead speaking calmly.

"Being in love with you just made matters worse. I always find ways to poison the people I love most."

I punched him in the face this time, but he just grunted and continued on.

"I wanted to tell you so bad, but I was too afraid. I figured you'd hate me and never want anything to do with me again. But it didn't matter because you deserved better anyway..."

"Shutup!" I screamed. The tears full on streaming down my face now. I took a few seconds to attempt to calm myself, wiping my eyes with my sleeve. "Ever think that maybe I loved you, too? You meant everything to me, I wanted the best for you but you just..." I gestured to his corpse. "This isn't how it was supposed to be."

"I'm sorry." He said again. It was all he could do at this point, there was no way to fix what he had done to himself. Pete was gone forever, just like me. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Patrick."

"I know you didn't." I cupped his face in my hands then pressed our foreheads together, trying to accept what he had done and mentally listing the pros and cons. The only pro I could think of was Pete and I being here together. "I kind of hate you right now."

Pete reached up and took hold of my wrists, bringing my hands down and holding them in his own. "But you still love me, right?"

I leaned back a bit as to look at him directly, a hopeful gleam in his eye. I smiled and pressed my lips against his, soft and sweet. I wish I had the guts to do this while we were still alive and well, instead of dead and gone.

I gently broke the kiss, seeing Pete's eyes were still closed before he slowly opened them.

"I'll always love you." I whispered, causing Pete to smile widely. It was the happiest I had seen him since my passing, but at least now I can keep an eye on him and make sure he stays that way. Just watching the world pass us by for the rest of eternity.