double update  :)

pete

patrick's funeral would be one I think he'd have been happy with.

I mean, he and his mother had planned it over the months he had left.

he had to plan his own fucking funeral.

that's what breaks me the most. he had to plan his own funeral at seventeen years old. I don't think anyone should have to plan their own funeral, much less a kid plan their funeral.

"pete?"

I look up to see my mom peeking her head into my room. "yeah?"

"how're you doing?" she asks gently. they all act as if I'll break if they say his name.

I think I may agree with them but patrick wouldn't want me to be sad like everyone else is. so I try not to be.

or at least I act like I'm not.

if patrick was so strong then I'll try to be strong too.

"I'm trying to be strong," I answer and look at my hands. "patrick was strong."

"I know, baby. he was so strong. he'd be proud of you. he'd be proud because you're keeping on keeping on."

"that's something he always said," I whisper. I don't trust my voice not to crack if I speak any louder.

"what was?"

"you gotta keep on keeping on even with the feeling that you're gonna keep losing."

mom smiles lightly. "I can imagine him saying that."

"yeah," I say quietly. "it was like his motto. mom?"

"yes, honey?" she asks in reply as she sits down slowly on the edge of my bed beside me.

"I don't want to be sad over him; he wouldn't want me to be. is it bad that I won't let myself cry over him?"

"I don't know, petey. would he cry over you if you died?"

"I don't know," I answer and fiddle with my hands.

I look over my shoulder at mom and then roll over from my stomach to my back to look at her.

"I think he would. I think its okay to cry every once in a while," mom says. "patrick had written a letter to you," she adds and hands me a closed letter.

I lock eyes with her and I let the tears I've been holding back for two weeks out.

she pulls me into her arms and rocks back and forth. I sob as hard as I can as she runs a hand through my messy hair.

I miss patrick. I miss him so damn much.

I don't think I'll ever get over him. I won't let myself. he was an amazing boy, he deserves to be remembered and I swear to god I will remember him for centuries. he's gone down in the history of my memories.

I look over at the picture I kept on my nightstand. it was of us. that time we went to the mall and we took photos.

we had gotten two copies of the pictures we took. we had so much fun that day, even though we didn't really know each other like we did now.

"shh, pete its okay, it's okay," mom soothes.

I grind my fists over my eyes, willing myself to stop crying. patrick wouldn't want me to cry, I'm so sure of that.

"m-mom, I promi-se you i-its not okay," I hiccup out.

"I know, baby. I love you. I'm gonna go get something for you to eat, okay?"

I nod and sniffle again. I grab her hand before she walks away. she looks at me in questioning.

I pull her into a hug and she hugs me back tightly.

"I love you mom," I whisper.

"I love you too, pete. just keep on keeping on and it'll get better," mom replies.

"the last thing I said to him was I love him. he said he loved me back and that he was scared. I was in love and I let him die."