The Devil Wears Girl Jeans [BEING EDITED]

The Devil Wears Girl Jeans (Epilogue)

I hadn't even started to get over his death yet. Every time I went somewhere or did something, I always thought “he should be here with me” and then I'd think of all the things we had promised to do, and all the places we said we would go, and then I would get sad because there was nothing I could do to bring him back. Tristan, with the help of Sammy's parents, had managed to launch an investigation against Chad, which had given me some hope, although not very much. Sammy's parents had divorced, his dad and sister moving to Philadelphia, his mom staying here to be with her son. I still hadn't visited her yet, and I wondered if I ever would.

For the first month after Sammy's death, our school had forced his closest friends to go to therapy. Quinn, Aubrey, Lacey and I had all gone together, told our therapist that we had accepted his death, and that we were working together to move on, because that was what they wanted to hear.

People always think they know you. They think they know how you're handling a situation, but they don't know what happens when you aren't around them anymore, when you're lying in bed fully clothed, staring at your wall at three in the afternoon, or when you're slumped over your breakfast, all alone, and all you want to do is cry. But I said I was fine anyways, I said I was getting better, because that's what makes them feel like they've done their job. It made them feel better. It made everyone feel better, everyone but me.

Even now, months later, I still have to force myself to concentrate in school. I always feel completely drained, and have to force myself into everything that I do. I still flinch every single time my phone rings, wondering whether its going to be the phone call telling me that Dallas is gone.

His brother had given me his cell phone number before we'd left the hospital, and we'd stayed in touch. Talking to him was a lot like talking to Dallas, but it still wasn't the same. No one could replace Dallas, and it was even worse with Lacey and Quinn gone. They'd both left a few weeks ago to kick off their first tour, a two person band until the others could be replaced, leaving me completely alone.

I stood up and brushed off my pants and hoodie, my hands running over the front pocket where something crumpled, startling me. I'd completely forgotten about Tristan's letter.

I tore it open immediately, and held my breath, not sure what to expect.

Dear Hartley,

God, I miss you. I miss our stupid jokes that no one understands and how unbelievably awkward we are around each other, even though we've known each other for years. I don't think I've ever connected with anymore more than I did with you. I'm afraid that you'll be the only person I'll ever actually want . I'm afraid that my one and only chance at possible happiness has passed me by. What if all the people I meet after you aren't good enough? I'm so afraid I'll close myself off to everyone with the excuse that no one will ever be as good as you, no one will ever make me feel that way you did. Everyone always forgets that everything is so temporary. We postpone feelings and words to another day, another week, another month, another year. Everything is temporary, and then eventually it ends up like this. Time has run out, and we both know damn well that we could never say this face to face. I miss you, and you are amazing, and I am so, so sorry. I couldn't sleep last night because I know that its over between us. Im not bitter anymore, because I know what we had was real. And if in some distant place in the future, we see each other in our new lives, I'll grin and remember all the good times we spent. The best kind of love is the kind that makes you actually feel alive, and that's what you gave me. That's what I had hoped to give you too. I'll be seeing you, Hart.

I love you.

Yours forever,

Tristan

This is the part right before the credits roll, where you look at the screen and think, “Why the hell didn't they walk off into the sunset?” and you aren't wrong to ask. I asked myself the same thing.

The answer is simple: Some people aren't entitled to happy endings.

I am one of those people.

                                                                      The End

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This is it. We're done. Finished. I almost feel empty, its really weird. But I'll be posting an authors note in a day or two, so i guess you can sort of look forward to that :/