When you finally make it to your house, it’s almost lunchtime.

(And it’s day twenty two).

You forget Matthew has to eat eventually so you’ll say sorry later for dragging him at this hour.

It’s a little walk there and it’s comfortable silence again. You’re glad.

Every day feels more like closure.

And it should be sad, but instead it’s comforting, like you’re finishing up an essay at night and you’re done and you close all the tabs and go to sleep.

“There’s a key on the pot right there,” you point and Matt turns at you.

“I’m not entering to your house, that’s trespassing,” he says, offended and you roll your eyes.

“Hey, it’s my house and I’m giving you permission,” You assure him and his smile fades.

was your house you both think.

You stop smiling as well, shaking your head. Your mom should be working and Sara too.

“Let’s see how that goes when I tell that to the police,” he says, smiling and you can't help but smile too. 

“Stay here,” you say instead. “It’ll only be a few minutes.”

After all, it’d be weird for him to stay alone, people would suspect and you don’t want them to think that.

good luck Matthew thinks and when you turn, he’s smiling at you, knowing you don’t need him to say it out loud for you to know.

You nod and carefully make your way inside. Usually you don’t go through stuff like walls or doors because it hurts, but you need to this time.

The first thing that happens is your dog starting to bark, and you can’t help but smile. The lights inside are off, which makes sense because there’s daylight, but something feels weird about it.

“Oh, God,” you look at your dog, delighted. He starts wagging his tail, “Good boy.”

You lick your lips thoughtfully, walking around and inside the house, leaving your dog behind after some very light petting (which you’re sure he didn’t feel, but kind of sensed).

The kitchen is a mess. And the living room is full of dust and papers all over. It’s so dirty and it unnerves you, your mom is so clean, she loves to keep the house spotless.

You see a half eaten bagel on the kitchen counter and a cup with what it seems to be lukewarm green tea.

Sara’s been here.

Sara’s your mom’s partner. Like from a year or so.

And she’s the only one in the house who drinks green tea.

Mom was thinking about asking her to move in, but it seemed so soon. You told her to go for it, you liked her a lot.

And it makes you glad that she’s been here, taking care of your mom.

You look up the stairs, breath catching in your throat.

You don’t want to know what’s going, if you see your mom crying, you’ll...

That’ll hurt like hell, you’re sure.

You go up slowly as you can, dreading to get there. You have to though, eventually. Matt’s waiting right outside and you don’t want to keep him waiting.

Come on, you cheer yourself. You can do it.

You take a deep breath.

And make it to your bedroom first. It’s just like you left it, the bed’s not done, sheets a tangled mess. Your cheeks heat up despite yourself, if you'd have known your room would remain like this, you'd have done a better job at keeping your room clean.

There’s even a cup of juice you drank the night before of dying, you were supposed to take it to the kitchen but forgot.

Your smile fades a little.

You’re avoiding the reason why you're here though. Off you go.

You thought your room would cause you more interest, but there’s only your mom in your thoughts and when you go through the door, you find her on the bed.

She’s asleep.

The room is pitch black, but after a few seconds you notice how Sara’s there too, holding her. Your mom’s cheeks are wet and red, as if you’d have walked in a minute or so sooner she’d have been crying. The two of them are tangled together, and Sara's resting her cheek on your mom's shoulder, pressing a kiss there even when they're both asleep.

Your heart stops.

You don’t know what to do, you stand there, feeling like an intruder but at the same time, wishing your mom knew you came to see her one last time.

That you came to say goodbye.

You feel conflicted.

You don’t know how much time goes by, but you’re trying to commit that image to memory, because you can’t remember seeing her that morning you left to Uni.

You feel empty, devoid of any emotion.

how could you do this to your mom

She’s thinner and looking so tired and the house is a mess and you’re a mess and for fuck’s sake.

you were her only child

You feel like throwing up even though you know that’s impossible.

Carefully, you make your way to the bed, laying at her side and caressing her hair and cheek.

You stay there for a long time, but neither of them wake up.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. “I love you so much.”

It takes a lot of time and courage to go back to where Matthew’s waiting.

***

When you’re back at Matt’s house, you kind of want to say thank you, but the words won’t come off. 

It’d be easier if he could read your mind, because he’d know.

It’s just… you never thought how horrible would it be to see your family one last time. You expected grief, of course. But seeing your mom like that.

It’s just not about dirty dishes and dust in your room.

It’s about crying alone for hours and not going to work, it’s faking a smile and not eating properly for days.

You miss Liz the most. But Liz didn’t need you.

Your mom did though. You were everything to her.

And the guilt is washing over you again. You cover your face.

“You’re welcome,” You hear from the bed and Matt’s staring down at you, expression unreadable. Maybe he can read your thoughts after all. “And I’m sorry… but it’s not your fault.”

You slowly peel away your hands.

But you’ve heard Matt’s thoughts. You know he tried to commit suicide. If somehow you could speak to Matt’s mom and… and tell her to help. Maybe things would change, maybe you could help.

You know you’re fooling yourself though, you are a ghost, you will disappear soon. 

How would you help?

And you think of Sara hugging your mom and Carmen’s hand on Mary’s back. On Matthew letting you call him Matt.

You wouldn’t know how to help, but you’d like to believe it can be done.

***

It’s day number twenty two at night.

And you’re feeling worried about time and loved ones and families and Matt and scars and big sweaters that hide almost everything and-

“I can hear your thoughts, you know?” You whisper before Matt goes to sleep. He doesn’t move, even though you’re sure he heard you, he knows you can read his mind.

You know he knows what thoughts are you referring to.

i wish i was dead you heard one night and hoped it wasn’t.

But he does think that. A lot.

A few minutes go by and he doesn’t say a thing. Doesn’t react.

“Matt,” you whisper again, knowing he’s awake.

You sit down carefully next to him, wishing you could reach for him. Hug him.

Something. Anything.

You’re not the clingiest person in the world, but something longs for that kind of contact with Matt.

Maybe because deep down you know that you’re never going to get it.

Maybe because deep down you worry that he's lonely.

Maybe because some days at night, as you thought about Liz, you felt like the loneliest person in the whole world. 

And you'd have wanted a hug. 

You lean close to his ear, wondering if his overly regular breathing is fake or if he’s really asleep.

If you were him, you’d avoid hearing this too, but you say it anyway.

“Matt, please don’t die,” you murmur.

The night goes quiet after that.