John Pov
I fiddled with the thread on the chair that had come loose. I waited for the therapist to come in.

They can't help. I mean if he can bring Alex back from the dead then maybe he'd able to help me.

The door opened and I didn't even look up. "John?" He said.

"That's my name. Don't wear it out." I muttered.

"So, you knew Alexander?" He asked.

I scoffed. "I knew Alex." I said, looking up.

To be honest he kind of looked like Alex but older.
But now I kind of see everyone like that.

I guess my best friends/boyfriends death will do that to me.

"Tell me about him." He said, leaning back in his chair.

"He was...I don't know. Normal I guess. He was just another kid in the crowd. There wasn't anything defining about him." I said.

"Do you have any stories about him?" He asked.

"Well...There was this one time we were in his room and we watched that old 80s movie. Heathers. And then we just talked.
It was pretty cool.
It was the small things we did together that really made an impression I guess. The lights were dimmed and we sat close. I mean I don't know. We're just kids. Just juniors ya know?
Just juniors." I said, muttering the last part.

"What about his parents? Did you know much about them?" He asked.

"His father was never around and his mum had died...just this year actually. I dunno. He lived with his cousin." I said, fiddling with my hands.

"How'd you react to his death?" "I....didn't." I choked.

"What does that mean?" He asked.

"I'm still not over it. There's been no real closure for me I guess. Maybe the funeral will do that.
Right now it just feels like that maybe he's sick from school and will maybe come in tomorrow. It doesn't feel like he died. I want closure but at the same time I don't want it at all.
I just want Alex back."
I told him, looking at his desk.

I wasn't very good with eye contact ever. It always made me feel weird.

"Alright John. I guess we can wrap it up there if you'd like. You can call me Mr.W if you'd like." He said.

"Alright. Do I just go now?" I asked, sort of getting up, but...not.

"Sure." He replied.

I fully got up and left the room.
My sneakers squeaked against the newly cleaned hall.
My untied shoelaces clattered against the floor.

I pushed the metal door and went outside. I looked where my bike was, but it was gone. I looked around.

"Aw come on! I fucking hate New York." I muttered.

I shoved my hands in my pockets still very upset that my bike was just fucking stolen. I stood on the curb attempting to call a cab.

Soon enough I was in the back of one, awkwardly sitting against the leather cushions.

The cab came to a stop and I hopped out. I handed the guy ten dollars and jogged into my house.

"Hey John. Where's your bike?" Martha, my sister asked.

"It got fuckin' stolen." I said, slinking over to the couch. I plopped next to her.

"How'd therapy go?" She asked, scrolling through her Netflix account.

"Just put on The Office and never watch any other Netflix content. It's the only way." I told her grabbing a pillow and hitting her.

"Aw fuck you." She muttered, grabbing the pillow and shoving it in my face.

"Just saying. It's the best way to watch Netflix if you ask me." I said mockingly, resting my chin on the pillow.

"Yeah your probably right." She mumbled.

"When am I not?" I asked, attempting to do a hair flip but failing due to lack of hair.

"A lot of times." She replied, smirking.

"You rat."
"Jerk."
"Asshole."
"Asshat"

"Hey! No fair I was gonna say that!" She exclaimed.

"Too bad." I told her, jumping over the back of the couch.

I pulled out my phone.
No notifications.

With Alex gone there never was anymore. I loved that boy so much.
He loved me too.
God I miss him.