And that is what I clung to for years: the memories of my brother, and the knowledge that, for the rest of my life, I would never have any more.

But now, everything I thought I knew has changed. Everything is different and I can't make sense of any of it.

Because none of it makes sense. Why would Casey do something so stupid? How could he? He wouldn't. The brother I knew didn't pull stupid stunts like that.

And the family I thought I knew, Grams included, the Luke I thought I knew... They wouldn't have kept this from me. They wouldn't have let me mourn for years - fucking years - without giving me the full truth.

All this talk about me getting over "it" and I never even knew the truth of what I had to get over to begin with.

So now I'm here, Casey's gone, and everyone else might as well be, too.

Throat tight, shame and hurt choking the life from my lungs, I lift my fist and hesitate before knocking loudly on the old door in front of me, my duffel tucked on the stairs behind me, at the tip-top of the multiple staircases to the third floor.

It's loud in the apartment so I know people are home. What I don't know, is if anyone inside can hear me over the music playing so loud that it's coming through the cracks in the doorframe. With that in mind, I knock another time - harder and longer than before. I give it another second before slamming my flat hand against the surface several more times.

Not being let inside feels like the final straw. The longer I wait, the tighter my throat gets, the more my eyes burn. I keep pounding at the wood, determined to be let in. Determined to not have literally not a single place left to go.

"Alright, alright, shit, hang on a fuckin' minute, would you?" His voice brings a fresh sting to my eyes. I can't believe that after the last several weeks, this is where I am.

The door swings open wide, Hunter's annoyed face poking around it. "We'll turn the music down, ok-" He stops short, arms falling to his sides. Cocking his head at me, his lips pull into a small smile that makes me want to cry even more. "Dylan, holy shit. Is that you?"

Yeah, holy shit. And of course it's me, who else would it be?

Meeting his eyes but not even attempting a smile, I shrug limply. "I'm back."

After some back and forth at the door, I finally convinced Hunter to let me into his off-campus apartment. The music is even louder inside, almost too loud to think. He walks me straight through the living room, where his three roommates sit around the coffee table, a beer can in the center with a stack of cards on top of it. They hoot and holler and even seated on Hunter's bed, where I used to sleep almost nightly, I can hear their laughter and stupid jokes through the wall while Hunter lets them know he's turning in for the evening.

I overhear some mild protest, but within minutes, he is back in the room with me, holding out a beer can and a bag of pretzels. "Hungry?"

He opens the bag as he sits beside me but I shake my head, shrinking away from his body, closer to the opposite edge of the mattress. I used to only be able to sleep when I was in this bed, after Hunter thoroughly fucked me enough to make me too tired to have time to think before falling asleep.

Now, being in a bed with a man that is not Luke just feels wrong. All I want is to curl into his side and feel his fingers in my hair and his kisses against my skin, and know that no matter what, he will hold me together, he'll make it okay.

But none of that is possible now. I blink a few times to reorient myself to Hunter's room. The hockey paraphernalia instead of surfing stuff, the dirty laundry and beer cans all over the floor, the drunken photos on his cork board above the bed. Beside me, he is completely oblivious to my discomfort.

"So, you're early, huh? On-campus move-in day isn't for like..." His face scrunches up as I realize he's forgotten I'm not a student anymore. "Like a few weeks, right? Are you moving in early?"

My chest tightens. "I'm not coming back."

Brows knitted together, Hunter cocks his head again. "Okay..."

"To campus, I mean. I'm done. I dropped out and I'm sticking with that." I fidget with his flannel sheets, the same ones that used to make me ridiculously hot all year long no matter the weather.

"Okay." Hunter doesn't ask questions, dark eyes just watching me, waiting for me to tell him whatever I will. Whatever I say, he'll accept. He won't pry, he won't make sure I'm okay. He won't try to be my friend.

And that's okay, all I really need is a place to stay. For a little while, at least, long enough to give me time to search for an apartment I can afford using the money I made at the day care center.

"Look... I kind of need to ask you for a favor." I give him what I hope is a pleasant look, knowing my hair is probably a rat's nest from sleeping on the bus and that I probably smell like I haven't showered in days.

Despite our break up, and maybe because of the fact that Hunter never fully believes me when I leave him, he leans back against his headboard and puts an arm behind his head. "Sure, Dylan. What do you need?"

He already looks smug, like this - my crawling back to him, needy and helpless - was what he always expected to happen all along.

It's almost enough to make me stand up and walk out, place to stay be damned. It's still summer, so even in Maine, I could get by for a little before it gets cold. But I think about Luke and Grams and the way my father spoke to me for the first time in years and somehow only made it worse and how my mother lied and suddenly I'm struggling to breathe again.

I ignore Hunter and his insistent gaze and peer around the room another time, counting and timing my breaths so I make sure I get enough oxygen in. Only when I'm sure I won't melt into a puddle of panic, do I look back at Hunter, meeting his stare head-on.

"I need a place to stay."

It tastes like poison to say the words.

The smug grin on Hunter's face becomes impossibly more smug. I feel sick.

"Well... I don't know, Dylan."

I hate him, I hate him more than I ever have.

"Hunter, please." My voice cracks and then I hate myself, too. "It won't be long-term. I just need a couple of weeks to find a place of my own, alright? It was a sudden move and I didn't have time to plan it out better than this. Will you let me stay?"

Hunter rubs his chin like he's considering something huge. By the slight tilt to his lips, I know he's already decided he'll let me crash, and that he probably thinks it means I'll go back to fucking him, too.

Part of me wants to crush every bit of hope he has for that. The other part - the part I couldn't be more disgusted with - knows that letting him think it will help my odds.

"I don't know, Dylan. I mean, we aren't together anymore." He looks me up and down slowly. "That was your decision."

A million things sit on the tip of my tongue. A big fuck-you, more begging, bargaining - wondering if maybe I offered to try again, say I made a mistake...

But no. I won't. I'm debasing myself enough by begging, I won't sink any lower.

"Hunter." I touch his arm, the tears threatening to spill over. Letting every bit of my pride fade away, I hang my head and try one last time, "I don't have anywhere else to go. Please."

***

The begging had worked. A week later, I'm in Hunter's bed, having finally gotten more comfortable after he left for his morning jog. It's the only time I sleep - the hour or so he goes running in the mornings. The nights are spent wide awake beside him, staring at the ceiling and feeling sick with myself.

I haven't let him touch me, I told him I was too stressed, but I didn't make it seem like it wouldn't ever be a possibility either. The apartment hunt is going very slowly, everything just a hair out of my price range, and if Hunter's asinine hope for us gives me a place to stay, I guess I'll let him have it for now.

My morning nap is interrupted by the chiming of my phone. I flip it over, glancing at the screen quickly enough to see who it is.

Brynn, this time.

Mom and Dad have been calling and texting nonstop since I left. Grams has left probably a hundred voicemails. And Brynn and Luke call or text at least once a day, more most days.

I haven't answered any of them. Except Erica, at the center, lying that I had the flu to buy myself some time to come up with a better excuse.

Maybe I'm not ready to speak with everyone else. Maybe I never will be. Either way, they kept their secrets from me for years, so why should I talk to them just because they want me to now?

I'm about to shove my phone under the mattress and turn it on silent when another message comes through.

From Brynn again.

Dylan, please. Luke filled me in and I get it - no, scratch that - there's no way I could ever understand, NONE of us do. But we're all so scared, we don't know where you are or if you're even alive. Please - just please text me back, and then I swear we'll leave you alone. (Me and Luke, at least.) Please, Dyl? We just need to know you're okay.

Guilt twists my insides in knots and then anger twists them even tighter as I decide what I should do. The sick and twisted half of me is glad that everyone is worried, they should be after what they did.

The other half knows that not telling them that I'm alive is wrong. Telling them I'm okay? Not going to happen. But letting them know that I got on a bus and it didn't crash and I didn't die seems fair to me.

Hearing Hunter's key in the lock, I type out a quick message back to Brynn.

I'm here. Staying with a friend close to campus for now. Didn't mean to scare you, Bee. Can you let everyone else know I'm alive?

And to stop calling me? I almost add, but skip it. Hopefully everyone else gets the hint.

Her response, a simple "Anything you need," that I'm more than grateful for, is immediate.

"Dylan, you want breakfast? I'm making waffles." Hunter calls from the kitchen. The gurgling in my stomach is the only indication that I am, in fact, starving. Without it, I think I would forget to eat these days. Sometimes I still do.

"Sure," I call back, sliding into an oversized sweatshirt. I'm about to leave my phone on the bed and join Hunter for breakfast when it chimes again.

Thinking it's Brynn, I open it quickly, feeling badly for leaving her so in the dark. None of this was her fault.

But the message is from Luke.

Brynn must've shared my message with him, because there's no words or pleasantries or begging for me to talk to him.

Just a link to a grief support group located only a half-hour from campus.

I stare at the link, my finger hovering over it for several moments. Then, the smell of breakfast wafts into the room and I'm reminded of the pancake stack I never got to eat with my brother the night after Rob's party.

Without a response or another thought, I turn my phone to silent, tuck it into the bedside table, and try to forget that the link even exists.

Exciting update time! (and then our normal chapter announcement because of course)
I've officially been given the opportunity to join the Wattpad Creators program! I'm so beyond excited and thankful. I've had this app for years and years and only started writing my own works these past several, but it has been such an amazing experience and I can't wait to continue to grow and connect with you all in more ways! I couldn't have done it without you all, so thank you thank you thank you, a million times! Love you all ❤️

Regular announcement time!: Poor Dylan... if you can't remember who Hunter is, due to
my terrible track record updating this story - he's Dyl's ex from the start of the story! nearing the end my friends! Stay tuned for more updates ❤️
If you guys want to connect with me more! I have TikTok and instagram @authorkjobrien - I'd love to see you there!