Grant had given me the address for Seth's new apartment before I left, but I still waited another two weeks before finally working up the courage to go over there. It was a sketchy looking building, and when I walked into the lobby, a large sign informed me that the elevator was out of order. Seth, of course, was on the 7th floor because that was just my luck.
By the time I reached his apartment, I was out of breath and probably had some serious boob sweat going on. I knocked halfheartedly on the door, and was just about to leave when it opened a crack and a skinny guy a few years old than me stuck his head out.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hello,” I replied.
We stared at each other for a long time, until eventually he cleared his throat and opened the door just enough for me to squeeze past him into the apartment.
“Who you lookin' for?”
“Seth. He lives here, right?”
Skinny Guy nodded and flopped down onto the couch. I was just about to ask him what he was doing when he threw his head back and yelled “WAKE UP,” at the top of his lungs.
“No thanks,” came a tired voice from down the hall, and Skinny Guy rolled his eyes.
“But your booty call is here.”
“What?” Seth and I said in unison. But apparently Skinny Guy's comment had worked, because a minute later, Seth was stumbling out into the hall, trying to put on pants and a shirt at the same time. He crammed his head through the neck hole of his shirt, and managed a weak smile when he saw me.
“Hart! Hey, man. Please tell me you brought some chicken noodle soup with you.”
“Uh... No. I don't just carry chicken noodle soup everywhere with me.”
Seth let out a moan and sunk into one of the ripped kitchen chairs, “I woke up with the most heinous sore throat I've ever experienced this morning, so I typed my symptoms into WebMD's Symptom Checker, skimmed right past the most likely conclusions, and have arrived at the conclusion that I have throat cancer.”
“Okay, first of all,” I said, taking a seat in the chair across from him, “You don't have throat cancer. Secondly, just make your own chicken noodle soup.”
“Hartley, don't you remember my motto? 'If it takes more than 5 minutes to cook, I’d rather starve.'”
To say that Seth was an extremely unmotivated individual would be an understatement. He was one of those people who would avoid going pee for hours just because he was too comfortable to get off the couch. His eyebrows furrowed slightly when I didn't even crack a smile, and he titled his head questioningly.
I took a deep breath, and sat up straighter. I'd actually come here for a reason, and decided that I might as well get it over with so that I could leave as soon as possible.
“Okay, I'm here because I need your help. I don't know what to do about Tristan. I mean it's been like two weeks since he found out about us, and... Well, he hasn't talked to me. Has he talked to you?”
Seth snorted and got up to go make himself breakfast. “Are you seriously asking me for relationship advice? That's like asking a blind man for directions.”
“Seth, c'mon. I lost my best friend, you lost your brother. I need help. What did he say to you?”
Seth's back was turned to me, but I saw him shrug, his muscles bunching up under his black V-neck and then relaxing.
“Well, once his homicidal fit of rage was over, we had a long talk. I hope you know that there's only a small shred of dignity that's stopping him from headbutting you and screaming 'WHY DON'T YOU LIKE ME?'. That boy is whipped.”
My stomach did sort of a flip when he said that, and I let out a groan at what I had to do next.
“I don't think we should see each other anymore.” I said in a rush, and Seth's face dropped.
“I know. It sucks, but... I know. I understand. We can still be friends though, right?” he asked, placing his hand over mine nervously.
“Yeah,” I said, being very careful not to make eye contact, “Yeah of course.”
“Thank god. Now go, I think there's someone you need to go talk to.” he said with a forced smile, leading me towards the door.
We hugged, and if I had known back then that that would be the last time I'd ever see him, maybe things would've turned out differently between us. But they didn't, and a week later when I returned to his apartment, I found that he had packed up and moved away without leaving so much as a note. That was Seth, though. He did what he needed to do to keep people happy, and I guess he thought that by removing himself from my life entirely, that maybe Tristan would forgive him.
I hoped for everyone's sake, that Tristan did.