The Last

What

What I loved was an old friend of mine.

We met early in college and stayed close friends after we graduated. We lived close to each other, about a 15 minute drive away. She was everything that I looked for in a girl. Personality, intelligence, humor, ambition... she had it all. She was there for every one of my tragedies and break-ups, and I was there for every one of hers. I knew I could always count on her.

彡

A knock sounded from the door. My head shot up from where I'd stuffed it into a pillow. I was lying on my bed, fully clothed and tired out of my mind. My roommates were playing a game on their laptops and the TV was on in the background, giving off a faint glow. It was a Saturday night and school would begin in just a couple of days. It seemed as if every student I knew was trying to get in as many TV shows and movies and video games as they could before summer break finally ended. I groaned as I got up off of my bed and stumbled toward the door. I glanced at myself in the mirror and effortlessly brushed my fingers through my messed-up hair before pulling the door open.

Nobody was there. Then, from the ground, I heard a sniffle. I slowly moved my head downwards.

She sat there, back against the wall, tears rolling down her face. Her makeup was a mess and mascara dripped down her cheeks. Her hair was tangled, with little knots everywhere from where she'd ran her fingers through it.

I leaned down and shut the door behind me. I sat down on the ground next to her and leaned my back against my dorm door.

"Does it hurt?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "Like a bitch."

"Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere."

"Maybe it's supposed to hurt."

"Why? Why do we do this to ourselves?"

"I don't know." I answered, truthfully, draping my jacket over her shoulders and pulling her up from the ground. "Let's go drink."

"Okay."

"You good?"

"No."

I stopped in the middle of the hallway. "You know, usually, when people ask that, you say yes. Even if it's out of courtesy."

"I'm just being honest, Jay."

"Sometimes I think you're too honest, for your own good."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It can mean whatever you want it to mean, my young friend."

"I'm only 3 months younger!"

"3 months is still younger, my young friend."

"You realize that's repetitive, right?"

"Are you sure you're not fine? You sound perfectly fine to me. Maybe I should go back and sleep."

"I'm not fine. I swear I'm not fine." Brea started to pretend-bawl. Loudly. I grabbed her shoulders and pushed her against the wall, my hand pressed tightly over her mouth. She murmured loudly from behind my fingers.

"Brea! It's the Saturday night before school starts! People are trying to sleep in their rooms!" I chided. She shook her head violently against my hand, and I finally took it away from her face.