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Italicized: memories
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The call came an hour before soundcheck.
Sam almost ignored it.
He was in the middle of a rehearsal, fingers stumbling through a new arrangement while the producer talked excitedly about tour dates and radio stations and opportunities. The things he'd dreamed about since he was a kid standing in a garage with a cheap guitar and impossible ambitions.
His phone wouldn't stop vibrating.
Missed Call: Robin.
Missed Call: Robin.
Incoming Call: Robin.
Dread settled into his stomach.
"Hey, Robin—"
The sound that answered him wasn't words.
It was crying.
“He's gone. My baby is gone.”
Everything after that blurred together.
The city disappeared. The studio disappeared. The tour disappeared.
Sebastian was dead.
💧💧💧
The funeral was small.
Clouds hung low over Pelican Town, turning everything gray.
Sam stood beside Abigail and stared at the coffin.
He couldn't make himself look away.
Robin sat between Demetrius and Maru in the front row. Robin cried openly. Demetrius stared straight ahead. Maru looked like she hadn't slept in days.
None of it felt real.
Sebastian wasn't supposed to be in a coffin.
He was supposed to be texting Sam sarcastic comments about the funeral afterward.
Making fun of the flowers.
Complaining about everyone wearing black.
Anything but this.
The minister kept speaking.
Sam didn't hear a word.
All he could think about was the last text message Sebastian had sent him.
Three years ago.
A blurry photo of a stray cat sitting outside his apartment building.
Look who followed me home.
Sam had laughed when he saw it.
He'd even started typing a response.
Then the producer called.
Then rehearsal ran late.
Then he forgot.
A week later he'd remembered and felt awkward responding so late.
Then another week passed.
Then a month.
And eventually it felt too strange to answer at all.
So he never did.
The memory made his stomach twist.
That wasn't the only message.
There had been birthday texts.
A few check-ins.
Random memes.
Small attempts to stay connected.
Each one answered later than the last.
Until eventually they stopped.
At the time, Sam told himself it was normal.
People grew up.
People got busy.
People moved on.
That was life.
Standing in the cemetery, he wasn't so sure anymore.
Maybe friendships weren't supposed to disappear that easily.
Maybe he should've called.
Maybe he should've visited.
Maybe he should've done something.
Anything.
The minister said Sebastian's name.
Robin broke down in her seat.
And for the first time since getting the phone call, the truth finally hit him.
There would never be another message.
Never another sarcastic comment.
Never another late-night conversation.
Never another chance to fix it.
Sam looked down at the grass.
The regret settled heavily in his chest.
And he had a horrible feeling it was going to stay there for a very long time.
💧💧💧
A week later Robin asked for help.
"I can't do it alone," she admitted quietly. "His apartment… the landlord needs it emptied this week…”
Sam agreed before she could finish.
Sebastian's apartment sat on the fourth floor of a narrow building overlooking a crowded street.
It looked exactly like Sam imagined it would.
Dark curtains.
Stacks of books.
Half-finished sketches pinned to walls.
An old game console connected to a television that would never be turned on again.
Everything looked paused.
Like Sebastian had simply stepped out for coffee.
Like he might come back.
Sam hated that feeling most of all.
Robin couldn't stay long.
After an hour she squeezed his shoulder and left him alone with the boxes.
The silence swallowed the room.
Sam worked mechanically.
Books.
Clothes.
Sketchbooks.
Junk.
Memories.
Then he found the notebook.
It wasn't hidden.
Just tucked in a drawer in Sebastian's desk.
The first page made him smile despite himself.
A terrible sketch of Sam asleep during class.
The second page was different. The word made his chest tighten.
Sam laughed today.
The whole cafeteria heard him.
I think I could listen to that sound forever.
Sam froze.
He turned the page.
Another entry.
And another.
Years of them.
Every wish.
Every fear.
Every moment Sebastian had never spoken aloud.
Some longer than others.
I think there's something wrong with me.
Sam fell asleep.
His mom made pizza and we spent half the night arguing about some terrible movie he wanted me to watch. He said it was a classic. It wasn't. It was garbage.
When he fell asleep I should've left.
Instead I sat there for almost an hour pretending to play a game while he slept.
His head was tilted back at a weird angle. His hair was sticking up everywhere. He was drooling a little.
It should've been disgusting.
It wasn't.
When he finally woke up, he smiled at me.
Just smiled.
Like seeing me was the most normal thing in the world.
And for some reason my chest hurt.
I spent the entire walk home trying to figure out why.
I think I know.
I really wish I didn't.
The next entry that caught his attention made his breath hitch.
Sam talked about Abigail today.
Not in a serious way.
Just normal things.
Things friends say.
I laughed and agreed because she's my friend too.
But the entire time I felt sick.
Not because of Abigail.
Because I couldn't stop imagining them together.
Going to festivals together.
Sitting next to each other on the bus.
Holding hands.
Kissing.
The thought hit me so hard I almost stopped listening to what he was saying.
It's stupid.
Sam is allowed to like whoever he wants.
Abigail deserves someone who cares about her.
Neither of them have done anything wrong.
So why does it feel like somebody reached into my chest and twisted something?
Then Sam came to an entry date a week before Seb had moved.
I almost told him today.
I almost told him I love him.
We were hanging out by the lake after work. Sam was talking about the band. Again.
I don't think he realizes how much he talks when he's excited.
Most people would probably find it annoying.
I don't.
I like listening to him.
I like seeing him happy.
At one point he started laughing so hard at one of his own jokes that he nearly dropped his drink into the water.
I laughed too.
Then things got quiet for a minute.
Just the two of us sitting there.
And I thought maybe this was it.
Maybe I should finally say something.
I've spent years thinking about it.
So I opened my mouth.
Then I pictured him looking uncomfortable.
Or apologizing.
And suddenly I couldn't do it.
He'd probably let me down gently.
He'd probably tell me he still wanted to be friends.
Then every conversation after that would be weird.
I don't want that.
I don't want to lose him.
So I didn't say anything.
He kept talking about how it was awesome I was finally getting out of town like I wanted.
I listened.
Like always.
He deserves someone better.
Someone confident.
Someone interesting.
Someone who isn't me.
Maybe once I move it'll be easier.
Maybe some distance will help.
Maybe if I stop seeing him every day I'll finally get over it.
I really hope so.
Because I'm tired.
Sam's hands started shaking.
Page after page after page.
The feelings never disappeared.
They grew.
Through every missed call and unanswered message.
Through years of loneliness.
Went on another date.
Third one this month.
This time it was with a woman from work.
She was nice.
Smart. Funny. Easy to talk to.
Exactly the kind of person people are supposed to move on with.
I spent the entire evening waiting to feel something.
Nothing happened.
The worst part is that I keep comparing everyone to him.
The way they laugh.
The way they talk.
The way conversations feel.
Nobody measures up to Sam.
Nobody gets excited about stupid things the way he does.
I thought moving to the city would fix this.
I thought distance would make him smaller.
Less important.
Instead it's like my brain froze him exactly as he was the day I left.
Twenty-two years old.
Sunburned from the beach.
Talking with his hands about some song he was writing.
Every person I meet is competing with a version of Sam that only exists in my memories.
It's not fair to them.
Maybe this is what happens when you spend years loving someone and never tell them.
The feeling doesn't disappear.
It just follows you somewhere else.
The last two entries were dated six months ago.
I still dream about him.
I wonder if he ever knew.
I wonder if things would've been different if I had been brave enough.
And then a week later:
I don't know how much longer I can handle my thoughts.
I know I'm losing the battle.
I just hope if I do lose the war, it's not a hindrance to anyone.
Sam couldn't breathe.
He sat on the floor with the notebook pressed against his chest.
All those years.
All those years he'd convinced himself Sebastian wasn't interested.
That the way his heart sped up whenever Sebastian looked at him was one-sided.
That wanting more would ruin everything.
So he stayed quiet.
Sebastian had stayed quiet.
They were two idiots dancing around each other for half their lives.
Now Sebastian was gone.
No second chance.
No confession.
No future.
Only these pages, and the memories of a ghost.
💧💧💧
Three months later, Sam adjusted the microphone.
The crowd was still cheering from the previous song.
Sweat clung to the back of his neck beneath the stage lights.
The setlist taped near his monitor had only one song left.
Just one.
Normally this was his favorite part of the night.
The final song.
The loudest crowd.
The last rush before walking offstage.
Tonight felt different.
His fingers tightened around the neck of the guitar.
Three months.
Three months since he'd sat on the floor of Sebastian's apartment with a notebook pressed against his chest.
The stadium stretched endlessly before him.
Thousands of faces.
Thousands of strangers.
Not one of them was the person he wanted to see.
Sam stepped closer to the microphone.
The noise gradually faded.
"I've never played this one before."
The audience erupted immediately.
A few people screamed.
Phones rose higher into the air.
Sam laughed softly.
The sound barely reached the front row.
"This song..." His voice caught. "This song is for my best friend."
The crowd cheered.
They thought they understood.
They didn't.
They couldn't.
Sam looked down at his guitar.
Took a breath.
And played the first chord.
Soft.
Mournful.
The melody settled over the crowd like rain.
Sam closed his eyes.
And suddenly the stadium lights became streetlights reflected in puddles.
Rain hammered against the empty roads of Pelican Town.
The moving truck was already packed.
Tomorrow Sebastian would leave.
Tomorrow everything would change.
Neither of them knew how much.
"Come on."
Sebastian adjusted the hood of his sweatshirt.
"No."
Sam laughed.
"Why not?"
"Because it's raining."
"Exactly."
"Normal people avoid that."
"Normal people are boring."
"I'm trying to have one normal evening before my entire life gets turned upside down."
Sam stepped in front of him dramatically.
"Then this is exactly what you need."
"It absolutely is not."
"Five minutes."
"Sam."
"Five minutes."
Sebastian stared at him.
Finally he sighed.
"You're not going to stop bothering me, are you?"
"Nope."
"Fine."
The crowd swayed beneath thousands of phone lights.
Sam's fingers moved automatically across the strings.
He sang.
We could've watched the whole world change together
Stayed young beneath those summer storm-filled skies
The audience listened in near silence.
Sam barely noticed.
Because all he could see was Sebastian stepping into the rain.
Rolling his eyes.
Trying not to smile.
Rain soaked through their clothes almost instantly.
Sam threw his arms wide.
"This is great."
"This is terrible."
"It's memorable."
"It'll be memorable when I catch pneumonia."
Sam laughed.
The sound echoed through the empty street.
For a moment Sebastian just watched him.
Then he smiled.
A real smile.
Not one of the tiny sarcastic smirks.
Not the guarded expressions he wore around everyone else.
An actual smile.
The kind Sam would've done anything to see.
"There it is."
Sebastian groaned immediately.
"Don't."
"But I'm right."
"Sam."
"You're having fun."
"I'm not."
"You totally are."
"I hate you."
"You love me."
The stadium was strangely quiet.
Not silent.
No stadium ever truly was.
But quiet enough that Sam could hear every note ringing from the guitar.
Thousands of people listened.
The crowd probably thought it was a love song.
Sam supposed it was.
Just not the way they imagined.
The rain continued falling.
The world seemed to narrow.
Just him.
Just Sebastian.
Just one sentence hanging between them.
Something flickered across Sebastian's face.
Something Sam understood now.
Years too late.
"You're impossible," Sebastian muttered.
The moment broke.
Sam laughed again.
Sebastian rolled his eyes.
Then stepped forward and spun awkwardly through a puddle.
Sam doubled over laughing.
"Oh my God."
"Don't."
"You actually did it."
"One time."
"Again."
"No."
"Again."
"No."
"Again."
Sebastian shoved him.
Water exploded everywhere.
A second later they were both laughing.
Running through the rain like idiots.
Ignoring tomorrow.
Ignoring goodbye.
Ignoring all the years waiting for them.
The chorus came again.
Sam could see phone lights swaying across the darkness.
People holding each other.
Arms wrapped around shoulders.
Faces turned toward the stage.
They might not have known the lyrics yet.
But they understood the ache behind them.
And I'd give every song I've ever written
For one more laugh beneath those streetlight rains
Sam's voice cracked.
The stadium felt impossibly still.
At one point Sam slipped.
Instinctively he grabbed Sebastian's hand.
Sebastian grabbed back.
Neither of them let go.
Not immediately.
Not when they reached the sidewalk.
Not when the laughter faded.
Just long enough for Sam to notice.
Just long enough for Sebastian to notice he had noticed.
Then one of them let go.
Years later Sam still couldn't remember which.
The bridge began.
His chest felt like it was caving in.
I still see your hand reaching through the downpour
Still feel your fingers slipping into mine
The memory sharpened.
The rain.
The warmth of Sebastian's hand.
The look on his face.
The words neither of them said.
One more second.
One more ounce of courage.
Maybe everything would've been different.
Maybe not.
But they would've known.
God, they would've known.
Instead the night ended.
The rain stopped.
Morning came.
And Sebastian left.
The stadium vanished completely.
For one impossible moment Sam could see him standing there.
Not as a memory.
Not as a ghost.
Just Sebastian.
Alive.
Smiling.
Waiting.
Proud despite pretending not to be.
The final chorus arrived.
Phone lights swayed across the darkness.
Thousands of people listening to words that belonged to a single person.
To Sebastian.
Sam's voice trembled on the next line.
Not because he couldn't sing it.
Because he knew the one person he wanted to hear it, never will.
But all I've got are shadows and the echoes
Of everything we never got to say
The final note trembled.
The rain vanished.
The streetlights vanished.
Sebastian vanished.
Sam opened his eyes.
The stadium came rushing back all at once.
The crowd erupted.
Thunderous applause.
Blinding lights.
People screaming his name.
His manager would later tell him it was the performance of his career.
That the song would be a hit.
That millions of people would hear it.
Sam stood alone beneath the spotlight.
And all he could think was that somewhere in a box back home sat a notebook filled with words Sebastian had never said.
And somewhere in an old phone was a message Sam had never answered.
The applause continued.
For a moment Sam imagined another set of hands somewhere in the noise.
Then the illusion faded.
And the applause sounded exactly like heartbreak.
••• The End •••