The Fragility of Hope (Mavi)

Chapter 16

They left him alone when he opened his notebook and started pouring himself out into the letter. They must've assumed he was songwriting like he planned.

To...

He scribbled it out.

To whoever finds me,

No, that was even worse. He scribbled it out again.

To whomever it may concern,

He sighed in frustration. This was going to be harder than he thought. But an idea popped into his head, and things suddenly became very simple.

To Mitch,

He smiled to himself and settled with that one. After all, that's who this letter was really to, wasn't it? That's the only person he cared about right now.

He let his soul flow through his fingertips and to the tip of his pen as the words scribbled out onto the paper with black strokes of ink. Avi always did have a way with words, and this letter proved that, though some of his words smudged as his hand raced across the paper.

There's many things I could write here that I'm too shy to say in person, so I'll keep it simple. I never have been the most outgoing person, though I pride myself in pretending to be.

I never got a chance to tell you how beautiful you are. Well, that's not true - I've told you many times. But I've never told you so in the comfort of our hotel rooms at 3 AM, when no one could pretend that my affection wasn't genuine.

There are so many missed opportunities to tell you how angelic your voice is, and I'll never forgive myself for that. I chose not to mention how elegant your every step is when you pretend you're on a runway, or how ethereal your skin looks under the colored spotlights in the middle of a show when you're belting out your beautiful notes. Sometimes I wonder if you're a goddess.

I won't miss this opportunity to tell you, because it's the last one I'll ever get.

I love you, Mitch Grassi. I love you more than I love life itself, and I'm a fool for not having realized it sooner.

I'm sorry for what I have to do. I'm sorry that I can't hang on for another day, and I'm sorry that you'll have to find my body in my bunk, and I'm sorry that I never told you how bad things were like you begged me to do.

Please explain it to them, Mitch. Please explain my depression, and my insomnia, and my voice that's been falling apart, and how hard it was for me to keep the fact that I wasn't straight a secret, and how I'm writing my own suicide letter right next to the band without them having any clue because I didn't want anyone to know. I don't have the energy to explain it, because I don't have the energy for anything at all anymore. I'm tired, and you have to understand that I can finally sleep now. I can finally be free.

Tell the fans that I'm sorry. They don't deserve something like this. Tell them that they're all so special. Tell them to keep dreaming big and moving forward. Tell them that even though I'm gone and killed myself like an idiot, that it should never be an option for them. Tell them that I love them.

Tell Scott that it's not his fault. I know he's going to blame himself for not talking to me when I asked for help. Tell him he has the most powerful voice I've ever heard. Tell him that even though I broke up Pentatonix, he has a better chance as a solo artist anyway. Tell him that I love him.