After You

Max

Dear Alfie,

Looks like I was right; I'm the only one still writing these letters. At least, I assume I am. I can't see Jacob still writing to you; he's doing his best to grit his teeth and get on with things. I can't say I blame him; your death must have hit him the hardest out of all of us. I haven't said more than two words to Jess in weeks, but I honestly think she's drunk most of the time. If she is still writing letters to you, I doubt they're making much sense.

I spoke to Willow the other day. If I'm completely honest, it wasn't a total surprise to find out that she's stopped writing to you. She's somewhat preoccupied these days with Finn. Their relationship hasn't suffered at all from the cheating rumours; they seem stronger than ever. They haven't made anything official yet – I suppose once she agrees to date Finn, she has to change her Facebook relationship status, and people are going to go crazy when she does that – but they can barely keep their hands off each other.

Sorry, you don't want to know that. I didn't particularly want to know about it, but it's hard to ignore it when they're shoving tongues in each other's mouths everywhere you turn.

Sorry, I'll shut up about them now. Well, I'll shut up about Finn.

When I told Willow that I was still writing to you, at first she seemed to feel guilty. She actually looked crushed that other people are still writing and she seems to have forgotten so easily. Whether that's genuine guilt or just worrying about what people think remains to be seen. Either way, it didn't last long. Out of nowhere, she started to kick off at me – telling me that I was being ridiculous and just trying to make her feel guilty; that everyone has moved on and I was just dragging it out for sympathy. I didn't point out that she asked about the letters first; I think she would have bitten my head clean off.

It was one of those really bizarre conversations. That was three days ago, and I still can't make sense of it. She only stopped writing to you a couple of weeks ago, so why she thinks I'm unreasonable is anyone's guess. I think it might be guilt; every time I've seen her with Finn, there's this conflicted look on her face. I don't think she regrets what she's doing – like I said, they can barely keep their hands off each other – but maybe she realises that getting off with her dead boyfriend's best friend less than six months after his death is a little bit weird.

Anyway, enough about Willow and Finn. Happy Christmas Eve. It's my favourite day of the year.

If I said that to anyone else, they'd assume it's just because I'm excited about Christmas Day tomorrow. I have always loved Christmas, but this year, there's another reason why it's my favourite day; one that I can't tell anyone but you. It also makes me a complete hypocrite for the way I've just criticised Willow, come to think about it.

It's silly. You probably don't even remember it. What meant so much to me was probably just a drop in the ocean to you; something tiny and insignificant. I told myself for months that it was probably how you spoke to everyone; not just me. The more I think about it now, the more I wonder if it was different.

It began with such an innocuous text. I said "Happy Christmas Eve", and you sent a heart emoji back. That was enough to get my mind racing. I'd never seen you send a heart emoji before. You weren't the emoji sort of person. Then it said you were still typing, so I waited to see what you'd say. Maybe you'd apologise for pressing it in error; maybe you'd say "Sorry, that was meant for Willow". Or maybe the heart emoji was meant for me.

I never realised it was possible to over-analyse a picture on a screen, but I was doing it. One simple pink heart and my brain was going at a thousand miles an hour, trying to decipher it. Then, another notification came through.