Can You Keep A Secret?

Chapter Fifty-Six

           

-Andy's POV-

Dear Liv,

            I don't know how to say this to you but I'm so fucking in love with you.

            I stared at it for a second before crossing it out, trying to start again.

Dear Liv,

            I wish that I didn't have to keep secrets from you. I wish we could go back in time to when we were kids, and our biggest problem would be having to go back inside when it was dark and we still wanted to play. I can't help but feel like I'm the cause for everything that you're going through now, and I hate myself for that. I'm so in love with you and I have been for years, but I've realized now that I don't deserve you, not one tiny bit. But it still kind of hurts to have to be reminded that you are not mine all the time, and that's the real reason that I wanted you to go. My heart aches, Liv. So much that it's manifested into a physical feeling that's nearly unbearable. I know that you're mad at me, and, honestly, I don't blame you. But it's not like I was having all sorts of fun at Chad's house – More like passing my time in a drunken daze because I don't want to think, and even puking my guts out is preferable to having to face what I feel. Here's another thing I never told you: I met with my dad on Father's Day. And you know what? He didn't even get my name right. And I didn't tell you or anyone because it's so fucking embarrassing. Like, not only am I not good enough to stay around or provide literally any support to, but I have so little importance in his life that he literally didn't even remember my name. And it makes me think that maybe what's wrong with me isn't something that I can change. Maybe it's something that I was born with. Inheritantly designed to fuck up. So maybe it's better off for everyone involved if I just rid of myself now before I cause any more damage. You just told me about New York – You had no idea that you were taking away the one thing that I was looking forward to. Every year since I turned 18, we went together. But I guess none of that, none of our memories, really count anymore, do they? Because a best friend and a boyfriend aren't the same. Just one more way in which I am inadequate. How much of a hypocrite would I be if I said that I still want you to be happy? Deep down, I do. At all costs, I guess. Although it kills me inside that I'm not your happiness. More like working actively against it...I'm sorry. I wrote you a song the other week. I've written you a thousand songs that you'll never get to hear. Maybe someday things will change, and we'll be together, although I doubt it. We'll probably lose contact completely, and I'll read about your marriage, with Mikey or someone else, in the newspaper or something. If I make it that far, that is. I don't know how to tell you or anyone that I can't see a future for myself. Maybe that's my fault. Probably is, because I don't want to see a future without you in it. If I can't get you, I don't want anything. So, yeah, you were right. I'm selfish. Blair's about to tell you all about Jack – Just another problem that I caused. If this is the end of Road Trip, I don't want to start again. Just a pile of mistakes and broken dreams passing off as a human being, I suppose. I guess I don't really know what the point of this was, because it's nothing I could ever tell you or anyone, anyways. So while I'm hypothetically spilling my secrets – I love you, endlessly.

            Yours always, through life and death,

                                                                        Andy

            I stretched my legs out, proceeding to rip the letter into a million pieces before tossing its remains into the trash can. I dipped my head into the shower, wetting my hair before turning the water off. I grabbed a towel to dry it off and stepped out of the bathroom, as if I really had just been taking a shower.

            Brooklyn pushed past me and out of the door, and I didn't even have to look at the others to know that Blair had told them. It finally sank in, the truth of it all – That there was no real way to go back to how it used to be.

            It was the butterfly effect set into motion, playing out in real time. That's the thing, though: You can't stop a hurricane. And I didn't know if I would be able to make it through it.