Remy slammed the driver's door of his car closed as he stepped out, beelining straight to Spencer's headstone. It was the first time Remy made it all the way up to his grave. 

Yelling at the top of his lungs, "You don't get to do this." 

Shaking an open letter, he held tight in his hand, "You don't get to leave me . . ." He cried, falling to his knees, pressing his forehead against the headstone. 

* * * * * * 

It took everything Remy had to get himself over to Spencer's apartment. The place held too many memories for him, too much pain for him to put himself in. At least that's what he thought on his drive over because once he got there, that numbness he had in the center of his chest didn't change if anything, that feeling took over his whole body. He was stone cold when he walked into his apartment. 

He had already made a mental list of the things he needed to do. The big items like the furniture were going to be donated. Hell, most of his things were going to be given away. There were only a few things Remy actually wanted to keep. Things he didn't want right now but things he knew he would regret if he gave them away later on. 

During his way through picking up any trash or things that would be trash, he couldn't help but notice the trash bin next to his work station was filled, with balled-up paper. The notebook the paper was torn from was still sitting out. Remy picked up a few of the pieces pulling them open to read what was inside. At first, he thought it was just some sketches of his, but it was the wrong paper. 

The few he opened had everything crossed out and stroked through. Opening the notebook to find the front sheet hadn't been crumpled up and tossed like the others. It was half torn from the book as if that was going to be its fate, just like the rest. 

'Firstly, I'd like to point out your dick move of blocking me on everything, even email, which leads me to this letter. 

Old School. 

Where do I begin? I don't even know what to write. If you could see my trash bin at the moment you would probably laugh. 

I guess . . I'm sorry is due, well overdue. For everything too. I'd give you one for each time I've fucked up, but we'd be here forever. 

I know this letter isn't going to fix it all or even sure if it will fix anything between us. Maybe I'm being selfish by even writing to you at all. I don't deserve your time to try and explain myself or my actions. 

I saw that look in your eyes that night I saw the second I broke you. I break everything. I'd like to say it's because I'm broken, but that's just an excuse I use.  

If I could I would change it. I would change everything I did. I wouldn't be such a pussy when it comes to my love for you. 

I do love you, even if I didn't show it. I do. That's what I was going to say to you that night on the boardwalk before it all went to hell. 

Simply, that I love you. And I always have." 

The letter wasn't completed and it was barely legible. Something Remy always teased Spencer about. He had the worst handwriting ever. Reading the letter broke the last little piece Remy was using to hold himself together. 

* * * * * 

"You don't get to have the last word," Yelled Remy louder than before. 

Yelling out that pain he felt. Letting go of everything he had been holding in for months now. It wasn't fair. Spencer didn't get to make some after-death apology to him. One that made him feel like complete shit for cutting him off. The last words he ever said to Spencer ringing in his head since the moment Perry called him. 

He told Spencer that he was dead to him. What fate! Remy, screaming out his pain again. 

"Fucking asshole!" He yelled, standing back up. 

His jeans wet from the cold damp earth, using the back of his sleeve to wipe the tears from his face. 

"Keep going that can't be all of it." 

Remy turned at the sound of the deep voice behind him. He hadn't heard anyone approach him. So wrapped up in his emotions to notice anything. The male held a digital camera in his hand, motioning for Remy to keep going. 

"Tell him how you really feel." The sound of the shutter clicking as he took a photo. "Let it all out." 

"Oh, he knew." Remy looking back at the headstone, "Still acted like a fucking asshole the entire time." 

He let himself give in to what he was feeling completely, crying and yelling all at once. Unphased by the male who still stood there. Unphased by the sound of the shutter clicking as he went through the rollercoaster he was feeling.