It's been a few days and Wilbur still won't talk to me.
All I do anymore is lay in bed all day on SoundCloud, listening to his music and waiting for him to come back and hear me out, but of course he never showed. He didn't even come to my place to get my things; Schlatt did.
Schlatt gathered Wilbur's things as I stood off to the side. "He hates me, doesn't he?" I asked.
"No," Schatt said. "He hates himself right now if anything. He doesn't know what he did wrong."
"He didn't do anything- This was all my fault."
"That's not what Cooper said," he mumbled as he put a few of Wilbur's shirts in his suitcase. "Cooper said-"
"Well, I didn't stop it. I just stood there. If I would've reacted sooner, I could've pushed him away and Wilbur would be here with me right now."
Schlatt sighed. "Wilbur doesn't know that you didn't kiss him back, does he?"
"No. He wouldn't hear me out. And I don't blame him."
He looked down. "He won't listen to any of us when we mention you either. He leaves every room Cooper's in."
"How is he?" I mumbled.
"Horrible," Schlatt laughed awkwardly, shaking his head. "I've never seen him like this."
I nodded slowly. I didn't want to talk anything else, so I just helped him pack up the rest of Wilbur's things. It wasn't until after he left that I realized Wilbur's yellow sweater was next to my bed.
I picked it up, considering texting Schlatt, but I knew I couldn't. I pulled the sweater over my head. It still smelt like him.
Why did I have to mess everything up?