Author Notes:

So, I watched 13RW and I had so many thoughts and emotions about it that needed some outlet, so I decided to write a little one-shot which turned into this nearly 10k word monster. 13RW is a very difficult source material and it was really difficult to write a fic based on it and I hope that I managed it somehow. I knew from the beginning that I didn´t want Clay and Hannah to end up together, not because I dislike the pairing, but because I felt like this would diminish Hannah´s suffering and erease her decisions that led to her death.

English isn´t my mother language. This fic is based on the TV show. Trigger warning for Implied/Referenced Suicide. Emotional Hurt/Comfort.

You would think that everything would magically become better once everything was resolved. Once Bryce was arrested and prosecuted, once the school district was found guilty for not having done enough to prevent Hannah from being bullied, once the trials had finally stopped and Clay didn't have to listen to Hannah´s voice echoing through the court room, with its wooden walls, wooden benches and its wooden people who sat there and listened with stony expressions to each of Hannah´s most intimate secret.

After everything Hannah had been forced to endure, to Clay it felt like the girl that had been his sun (and he had burned, after all; crashed and burned like Icarus) had been violated a second time, only this time not by her peers with cruel words and even crueller indifference, but by lawyers and experts with cold intelligence and even colder hearts. Hannah was dissected, slandered, misinterpreted and laid bare in front of complete strangers and all in the name of justice which she hadn't received in life and of which she would now only receive a pale imitation of.

In the end, the verdicts were proclaimed and everyone washed their hands off the 'terrible, sad and tragic' issue of Hannah´s death, all too eager to go back to the same lives that had seen Hannah shattered and destroyed like glass.

Sometimes, Clay wondered if his mother took the whole thing even worse than she should. If she looked at the case of Hannah Baker and saw her every supposed fault as mother laid bare in front of her.

"You listened to the words of a dead girl while I sat here and watched Desperate Housewives," she had said when Clay had entered his room and saw her standing in front of his desk, not even turning around. Her hand had hovered over the wood, not touching it, as if she was trying to trace where the cassettes had been with her fingers. "She was with you while I wasn't." Clay hadn't said anything.

"Should I have done more, Clay?" his mother had asked him, finally turning around. "Or would it have only pushed you away further?"

"You did everything you could," Clay had answered. His mother had smiled, sad and full of regret.

"Aren´t we all telling ourselves that?"

He still saw the others in the halls of Liberty High:

Jessica, who looked so frail and vulnerable, but who held her head high and only allowed herself to cry when she was alone ('I can´t have others to be strong for me, I have to be strong myself. I will not break again'). When Clay had asked why she was telling him, she just looked at him and told him that of all the people he had been the only one who had been honest with her and that he, at least, deserved honesty in return.

Tyler, who hushed through the halls of Liberty High like a beaten-down dog, afraid, that if he was to look up, he would only be beaten again. Sometimes, when Clay saw him, the same hot rage that had also taken a hold of him as he had listened to Tyler´s tape rushed through his veins, but more often than not, the bitter taste of regret washed through his mouth when he saw a group of students pulling down his trousers and jeering at him. Clay had done this, he alone was to blame; he had done the same what had been done to Hannah and in his self-righteousness, he had actually believed that Hannah would have approved.

"Why are you doing this?" Tyler asked after another humiliating encounter. "You hate me."

"What you did to Hannah was wrong," Clay replied as he helped Tyler collecting his school stuff from the ground. "But what I did to you was as well."

Zach had become a shadow in the halls of Liberty; although there, he was barely visible, never speaking up in class, never talking to anyone – even basketball didn't seem to light him up as it had before. Sometimes Clay saw him on his way home, playing with the children at the nearby kindergarten, the only time when he saw Zach smiling. Maybe the jock was trying to find absolution through teaching kindness that he possessed but hadn't managed to follow through.

Justin was angry all the time: Angry at the world, angry at Hannah, angry at Clay, but most of all, angry at himself. He walked the halls like a cloud of thunder, ready to strike at anyone that dared to come near him. Maybe it was a cry for help or maybe it was a big 'Fuck You' to a world that didn't care and never would; Clay couldn't tell and maybe he didn't want to. Maybe he just wanted to be selfish.

Clay didn't see much of Ryan, but when he did, the other boy was laughing too loud and smiling too wide, his eyes empty as he tried to convince the world that he wasn't affected by the truths Hannah had spoken. Not long after the conclusion of the trials, Courtney and Marcus had left school, moving somewhere where the dubious reputation of being complicit in someone else´s suicide wouldn't ruin their changes at getting in a good college.

They weren't missed.

The biggest failure weighing on Clay´s mind, though, was Alex who had slipped through their fingers all the while they were too occupied with the tapes Hannah had left behind. Clay hadn't known the other boy that well, but he had taken all these unhelpful posters with help-hotlines, the ever-repeating speeches and promises of the teaching staff and all their vows to watch out from now on – 'Never Again!' – and had thrown it into their faces, had ripped off the pretence of change and reform and had shown that above all people never learned from their mistakes.

Not even Clay, and for that he hated himself.

Year One after Hannah´s death and the song remained the same.

The sunlight was streaming through the open window of Clay´s room, its rays illuminating everything in hues of warm yellow light. Outside the birds were chirping, soft and happy sounds, while the children from a few houses further down could be heard playing in the garden. Every now and then a breeze would flare up and blow through the trees, making their leaves dance to a tune only they were privy to.

Clay sat at his desk, propping his head up with his hand and stared outside. Usually, on a day like this he would find himself at Tony´s, but today he was in a melancholic mood and didn't think that he would make for good company. Not that Tony would care, but Clay did.

Sometimes he liked to imagine how everything would be if Hannah was still alive. Would they still be working at the Crestmont to earn money for the supposed big cross-continental trip they once joked about during break in the back alley? Would Hannah still smile the same smile that had managed to light up the whole room she was in? Would her hair still look like glowing ember underneath the summer sun?

Would he have dared to tell her about his feelings?

Clay knew that puzzling over the what-if's and could-have-been's wasn't healthy. He knew that they would lay themselves around him like chains, pulling him underwater and drown him; that they would suffocate him with happy memories, radiant smiles and bell-like laughter, but sometimes he just couldn't care anymore.

Sometimes he allowed himself to be weak, even though he knew that he shouldn't.

"It´s beautiful, isn´t it?" The voice appeared so sudden that Clay fell straight from his chair to the ground with a resounding thud. Heart racing he looked around and his breath hitched when he laid eyes on the figure on his bed: Hannah, her hair cut short like the last time he had seen her, wearing the ugly Crestmont uniform, sitting cross-legged and watching him with a small smile on her lips.

"Hannah?" Clay whispered, barely audible above the rustling of the leaves outside. He was afraid that even uttering her name would destroy whatever this moment was; burst it like a bubble, shatter it like glass as thin as his skin. Clay didn't dare to move, too afraid that looking away would mean never laying eyes on Hannah again.

"What´s up, Helmet?" Hannah replied, giving him a lazy wave with her hand.

"Y…You aren´t real," Clay spluttered. "You can´t be!"

"I feel very real," Hannah pointed out. "And even if I wasn't – even if I was just a figment of your imagination – does that make what you see any less real?" If the current moment wasn't so out of Clay´s comfort zone, he would have appreciated that Harry Potter allegory, but right now he was trying to wrap his head around the fact that a dead girl was sitting on his bed and talking to him as if nothing had happened.

"Am I going crazy?" he asked himself.

"Aren´t we all a little bit crazy?" Hannah retorted. "How else are we gonna go through life?" A self-deprecating smile appeared on her face. "Maybe I wasn't crazy enough."

"Why are you here?" Clay inquired. Maybe this Hannah was real or maybe she really just was a figment of his mind that still hadn't worked through her death and was now grasping the last straws in order to not let go, but Clay was desperate enough to not care – or maybe he cared too much – where Hannah had come from.

"I don´t know," Hannah shrugged. "One minute everything faded to black and next thing I know the lady next door is walking through me as if I didn't exist and I noticed that one year had passed." She sighed. "I visited my parents. They didn't see me, even though I tried so hard to make them notice me. Mom sometimes stares out of the window, like you just did, and when dad comes, she tries to pretend like she didn't. The silence is suffocating. I really, really didn't expect you to be able to see me."

"Why are you wearing your Crestmont uniform?" Clay really didn't know why of all the things the ask he chose this: It probably was because it was a safe choice, free from the baggage that anything else would bring down on them.

"Ugh, don´t remind me," Hannah moaned. "Even in death I can´t get rid of this ugly thing. I have no sense of smell, whatsoever, but I can just imagine the stink of popcorn and grease that comes off every pore of it." She looked at him as if she was trying to figure something out and when she apparently did, her expression darkened.

"It doesn't work, does it? Shirking the issue and hoping that you won´t bring it up?" Clay shook his head. The mood turned sombre and even the sun shining outside seemed to have lost of its warmth. Hannah´s carefree attitude crumbled, her eyes turned empty and her smile slipped off her face.

"Let´s take a walk then," she suggested. "I can´t feel the sun on my skin anymore, but I like to imagine that I´m a little bit more alive when I walk outside."

"We can totally do that," Clay mumbled and pulled himself from the ground. He couldn't quite remember how he left the house, everything kind of blurred into a long moment, but apparently he managed to evade his mother´s ever watchful gaze, because a few minutes later he found himself walking the oh so familiar streets of his neighbourhoods with a dead girl by his side.

Clay could feel the gazes of the few people around him boring into his back as he passed them by. Hannah´s suicide and its subsequent trial had had the whole town hanging on the lips of the news anchors, so everyone knew about the tapes and about Clay´s and the other´s roles in them. At least the stares where just curious instead of outright hostile as it was the case with, for example, Justin.

"Nothing´s changed," Hannah remarked.

"You´ve only been…gone for a year," Clay replied. He couldn't quite bring himself to say 'dead' because saying it would mean recognising that the Hannah he was talking to wasn't alive, was maybe just a hallucination and he couldn't quite face that yet.

"I suppose," Hannah mumbled. They didn't say anything for a while as they continued walking until Clay couldn't hold it back anymore.

"How was dying?" he asked. Was it worth it? He didn't speak out the latter.

"It was horrible," Hannah answered and despite being a ghost, she shivered. "I was alone and the cuts hurt so much; I couldn't breath and I was so afraid that I felt like I´d die from the fear alone. But after the first few minutes it became peaceful. For the first time in ages I felt rested and then it was just like falling asleep. I don't remember much more."

They had reached the playground which was full of laughing and screaming children, their parents sitting on the benches all around the premise while Clay and Hannah watched from the other side of the street.

"I…I never got to tell you…" Clay started only for his fear to choke his words off. But he wouldn't fail again, not now when he finally had the chance to set the record straight, to get this confession off his chest. So he gathered all of his meagre courage and pushed past the black cloud of fear and continued on: "I never got the chance to tell you how much you meant…how much you mean to me. I loved you, Hannah Baker, I still do."

"Oh, Clay," Hannah sighed. She looked at him and in her gaze Clay saw nothing but kindness and hope. Kindness and hope, but no love. "I don't know if I loved you. In the beginning, I didn't know you enough and at the end I was so broken that I don't think I´d have been capable of it anymore. But I´d like to think that I could have."

Clay could feel tears flowing down his face, running down his cheeks and falling to the ground, shattering into pieces like thousands of diamonds in the sunlight. Some of the parents near them gave him a weird look, but Clay ignored them, because this was so much more important.

"I don´t blame you, Clay," Hannah continued. "I never have. You are the purest person I know –" Clay wanted to stop her and tell her about Tyler, but shame stayed his hand "– but we´ll never know if you could have saved me. Maybe in another world, where we turned left instead of right, but not in this one. I don´t know why I´m here, but I know that I´ll be gone again sooner or later and you´ll still be here then, clinging to a girl you used to know." She lifted her hand and touched his cheek, but Clay couldn't feel anything, her touch intangible. "Don´t do that to yourself."

"I don´t know if I can, Hannah," Clay replied despondent. "I don't know if I can let you go."

"Sooner or later you have to," Hannah spoke.

"Excuse me?" a hesitant sounding voice interrupted. "But are you alright?" Clay´s gaze snapped to the side where a worried looking woman was standing. He truly must make for a pathetic picture if strangers asked him that question.

"I am," Clay lied. The woman didn't seem convinced, but she didn't ask any further, maybe because she didn't want some strange teenager unburden his sorrows on her. Clay could understand that.

When his gaze turned back to Hannah, she had vanished.

Clay knew that he should listen to what Ms Bradley was telling them, but after yesterday´s events he couldn't really bring himself to pay attention in a class that had done nothing for either Hannah or Alex. Montgomery was being his usual dickish self a few tables over with the other jocks (besides Zach and Justin) laughing at his pathetic attempts to be funny while Clay sat in the last row, the table next to him empty.

"Is she still doing that?" Clay nearly fell out of his seat when Hannah spoke suddenly up from the seat next to him. She pointed at the brown compliment bags that still hung in the room.

"How do you appear like that?" Clay hissed under his breath. Hannah just shrugged. "And yeah, she´s still doing that, even though she´s paying closer attention to it now."

"Figures," Hannah remarked. "What are you doing today?"

"Going to Tony," Clay replied.

"Mr Jensen is there anything you´d like to share with the class?" Ms Bradley interrupted, seemingly irritated by Clay´s lack of attention.

"Nope," Clay answered. "Everything´s fine, Ms Bradley."

"Then eyes up here," she pointed at the blackboard. Clay just nodded. Next to him Hannah sniggered.

Finally, though, the bell sounded and released them into the warm afternoon sun. Tony was already waiting for him on the school´s parking lot, leaning against his red Mustang, his hair gelled back and wearing his standard black leather jacket.

"Hey, Clay," he greeted the other boy. Clay nodded and flung his bag on the backseat while he took place on the front seat. Tony walked around the car, took the driver´s seat and started the engine with a loud roar. When Clay looked into the rear mirror he saw Hannah sitting behind Tony, staring out lost in thought.

"Whatcha gonna read today?" he asked as he manoeuvred his car between students and other cars.

"Lord of the Rings," Clay replied. He didn't know why or when exactly it had started, but somehow during the trial Clay had found himself at Tony´s garage several times a week. Usually, he would do his homework there or read something while Tony tinkered on one of the many cars that either his family or friends and neighbours owned. They would talk occasionally, but mainly they would just do their own things. It had become routine and when the trial concluded neither of them brought it up, so they just continued with it. The garage had become Clay´s safe space, where nothing bad could get to him and Tony always lent him a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on when he needed it. He was the best kind of friend and Clay was fiercely thankful for it.

"Again?" Tony exclaimed incredulously. "Haven´t you read it, like ten times already?"

"It´s a classic," Clay shrugged.

"I´ve always liked Eowyn the most," Hannah remarked from the backseat. "She took the stupid patriarchy and shoved a sword straight up its ass."

"If you say so," Tony replied. "You know that I´m not that into reading."

"I know," Clay said, "but that doesn't mean you´re stupid. You´re just a more hands-on guy. I know how to string words together and you know how to make cars do exactly what you want. Guess which skill is more useful when your tires break on the interstate?" Tony laughed as he drove the car around the corner. "But one day we´re gonna watch all the movies."

"You wish," Tony shot back.

"I can get us the whole movie theatre just for us," Clay suggested. "The owner likes me that much." An undecipherable expression fell over Tony´s face, but before Clay could even properly register it, it had already vanished again, replaced by Tony´s usual smile.

"Wow," Hannah commented. "Coming on much, aren't you?" Clay choose to ignore her. They spent the rest of the drive in amicable silence, listening to one of Tony´s mix-tapes until the car came to a halt in Tony´s garage. Clay climbed out of the vehicle and made a b-line to the small table that Tony had put up, so that Clay wouldn't have to do his homework on the ground anymore. Hannah took the place opposite of him.

"You´re pretty eager to do your homework, "Tony commented while he put his car keys on the bowl on the refrigerator.

"I have to write an essay on the evolution of the English language for Lit," Clay moaned. "I´m gonna us 'fuckboy' as example and will constantly allude to Montgomery and his cronies. Just enough so that Ms Talbot will get it, but not enough to land me in detention."

"Clay Jensen, the rebel." Tony shock his head. Clay just shrugged sheepishly while Hannah watched their banter with open fascination. It was in this moment when the door to the garage opened and Tony´s mother Maria entered the room.

"Clay!" she exclaimed, a bright smile erupting on her face. "It is so nice to see you!"

"Hello Ms Padilla," Clay greeted back. All breath was knocked out of him when he was engulfed in a fierce hug. Tony´s mother may look fragile, but she certainly had some strength in her upper arms. Looking after her big family certainly required being able to do some heavy lifting.

"I just finished preparing some food," Maria told them. "I´ll bring you some. You need to put some weight on that bones of yours!" And like the whirlwind she was, she had already vanished again.

"Mom´s certainly fond of you," Tony remarked with a sly smile on his face.

"Why´s she always telling me to gain more weight?" Clay asked confused. "I´m not that skinny, or am I?" Both Tony and Hannah looked at him like he was crazy.

"You look like a gentle breeze could topple you over," Tony remarked.

"What he said," Hannah shrugged. Maria came back and put the food on the table, pinching Clay´s cheek affectionately before she left them alone again.

"Your mother is really…affectionate," Clay commented. Tony snorted.

"You´ve come here regularly for over a year now and you noticed only now?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

"I just wanted to point it out again," Clay defended himself.

"She thinks you´re a good influence on me," Tony admitted. "How wrong she is, though."

"Hey!" Clay exclaimed indignantly.

"You were the one who convinced me to write a poem about Ms Bradley and put it in her comment bag," Tony pointed out. Because there wasn't really something Clay could say to rebut that particular argument, he grabbed the nearest dirty rag and threw it at Tony. Unimpressed by the other boy´s throwing abilities, Tony caught the rag mid-air with one hand and just flashed Clay his trademark smirk.

All the while Hannah continued watching them.

"So, that´s what you´ve been doing?" Hannah asked as they walked down the street.

"Tony´s been my best friend since kindergarten," Clay replied. "We just…fell out of contact when High School started, but we´ve grown closer since…"

"Since I killed myself?" Hannah finished for him.

"How can you be so blasé about it?" Clay wanted to know. "Hearing you talking about it makes it sound like it was nothing to you."

"It was everything," Hannah hissed. "Maybe you have difficulty with it, Helmet, but I´m dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. I´m a ghost, I don't know why I´m here – maybe it´s really that unresolved business cliché – but I´ll be moving on one day. And maybe death has put things into perspective for me. I can´t change things, can´t take them back, so shirking around it won´t make any difference. It just prevents you from facing it. Maybe you still have some things to work out, but I don't."

"I don't believe that," Clay snapped back. Hannah snorted.

"Clay, you´re talking to a dead person. What about this is so unbelievable?"

"You wouldn't be here if there wasn't something you need to do," Clay argued. "Who- or whatever took you back here obviously thinks that there´s still something here for you."

"But Clay, have you considered that whatever that is got nothing to do with you?" And really, Clay had nothing to say to that.

"Why the long face?" Skye asked after Clay had sat down on his usual place in Monet´s. Hannah had vanished (it already began to annoy him), leaving Clay standing there with a heavy feeling in his chest. He couldn't go home like this, so he had gone straight to his second safe place. Clay looked up and didn't know what to say to his friend. After Hannah´s death he had made the effort to befriend Skye again, like they had been before High School. Part of it was purely selfish: Clay didn't want to suffer through another suicide and if his friendship was to prevent Skye from walking the same path as Hannah, then he wold gladly befriend the other girl. But underneath the layer of tattoos, make-up and black clothes, Skye was still the same girl that had been one of his best friends years ago and it was all too easy to fall back into old patterns. And to be honest, Skye wasn't the only one who needed a friend: Clay did, too. And maybe it started from selfishness, but it wasn't anymore.

"Your usual?" Skye asked and Clay just nodded. Skye vanished behind the monstrous coffee machine, only to appear half a minute later with a steaming cup of hot chocolate with extra cream.

"So, what brings you here at this time?" Skye asked after she had sat down opposite of him.

"Don't you have customers to serve?" Clay asked with raised eyebrows. "And it´s only 6:30, not that late."

"Pah, David can take care of them." Skye turned around to wink cheekily at the stressed out looking bartender who just flipped her the finger, which just made her laugh out loud. "And don´t think you can satisfy me with just that." Clay took a sip from his cup and let the familiar warm flavour of chocolate wash over his tongue.

"Guess I´m working through some things," he replied, not looking at Sky but fidgeting with the handle of his cup.

"So, this is about Hannah?" Skye – thank her usual blunt self – cut straight to the issue.

"What?" Skye challenged. "I know you, Clay Jensen, and you´re only like this when you thinking about her." Clay really wanted to tell Skye what was on his mind, but he couldn't quite well tell Skye that Hannah had come back as a ghost and was challenging everything he believed in.

"It´s nothing," Clay mumbled. Skye rolled her eyes.

"It obviously is something when it drives you here instead of Tony," Skye remarked. "Are you on some kind of guilt trip because you haven't thought about her every minute today?" Clay shot Skye an evil glare. He knew that Skye didn't have a high opinion of Hannah ('Suicide is for the weak.'), but usually she was more tactful about her opinion around Clay.

"It´s difficult to explain…" Clay evaded.

"Are you afraid of moving on?" Skye asked, unusually serious. Clay nodded, barely visible.

"When did you become so intuitive?"

"I´m not," Sky snorted. "It´s just that I´ve watched you for a year now and I´m a pretty knowledgeable Clay Jensen expert by now." That statement brought a small smile on Clay´s face.

"You´re allowed to," Skye continued. "To move on, I mean. I don't know what you´re thinking, but you aren't diminishing Hannah by going on with your life. You aren't obligated to be in love with her forever and falling out of love doesn't make anything you felt invalid. It just means that you´re healing." Clay didn't say anything, instead he took another sip from his hot chocolate and mulled over Skye´s words.

"Besides," Skye said. "If you´re always living in the past, you might miss something in the present. For example, that one person I know who´s got an epic crush on you."

"What?!" Clay spluttered, nearly choking on his drink. "You can´t be serious!"

"I am, though," Skye grinned.

"Who is it?" Clay demanded to know.

"I won´t snitch on them," Sky replied. "You´ve gotta find out on your own."

"I don't know if I´m ready for something new, though," Clay stated quietly.

"By the time you figure out who it is, you´ve probably worked through all of your issues," Skye joked. Clay smiled, a gesture which Skye returned after a while.

He was truly thankful that he had found her again.

"So, you´re here again," Clay said as he walked over the threshold of his house and out onto the street. Hannah just shrugged nonchalantly. "Why are you vanishing all the time? How are you even doing it?"

"I really don't know," Hannah answered. "It´s…like a tug in my navel that just pulls me to places I think are important. Some places I wanna see, some I don't. I can´t really control it."

"So you could vanish on me every second now?" Clay asked with raised eyebrows. "That´s unpractical."

"You bet," Hannah snorted.

"I want you to talk to my mother," Hannah suddenly said, completely out of the blue. Clay looked at her, standing in front of him on the porch.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because she isn't dealing well with it," Hannah replied. "I watched her – both her and dad. Dad…I wouldn't say is doing well, either, but he´s moved on and even if I could, I think talking to him would just tear open old wounds. But I need to talk to my mother and you´re the only one who can see me, so you have to do it." She paused. "For me."

"Are you sure that it´ll help your mother?" Clay inquired carefully.

"Yeah," Hannah nodded.

"But she can´t see you," Clay pointed out. "How am I gonna convince her that I´m not crazy?"

"Don´t worry," Hannah said. "I´ve got a plan for that."

Twenty minutes later Clay found himself standing in front of Hannah´s house.

Biting his lip, Clay knocked at the door. He heard someone shuffling inside, then the door was opened by Ms Baker who looked at him in surprise. Clay couldn't fault her for that; they hadn't had any contact since the conclusion of the trial. They had both avoided each other in order to let the wounds heal that Hannah´s death had torn.

"Clay? What are you doing here?" Ms Baker asked.

"Hello, Ms Baker," Clay replied. "Can I come in?" Only now the woman seemed to recognised that they were both still standing outside, so she just nodded, stepped aside and allowed him inside.

"What brings you here?" she asked as she closed the door behind him. Even though Clay looked only forward as he made his way towards the Baker´s living room, he could feel Hannah walking behind him, a literal ghost in the house that had once been her home.

"It´s difficult," Clay told her as they sat down, he and Hannah on the couch, Ms Baker on the chair opposite of them, between them only the small living room table.

"She looks so sad," Hannah remarked.

She lost her only child, Clay wanted to reply, but he didn't.

"Ms Baker, if you had the chance to talk to Hannah, would you take it?" Confusion and anger warred in Ms Baker´s eyes.

"Do you think that´s funny?" she hissed. "Of course, I would. But I can't and you coming here and digging up those old wounds is especially cruel. Why would you do something vile like that?"

"Because she´s here," Clay replied. Better to come out with it right now instead of dragging it out and causing the woman even more hurt. "She´s sitting right next to me."

"Out!" Ms Baker barked. "Get out!"

"Tell her about Colonel Teddy," Hannah spoke up. "When I was five I had terrible nightmares about cats invading our house and eating all of us. Mom bought this teddy bear from a flea market, because he had an eye-patch and gave him to me so that he could protect me from the cats. She told me he´d lost the eye-patch in a fight against the cat king and that he would protect me from now on. I had the teddy until…until I died. She has him in a shoebox at the back of her closet with my notebooks." Clay told everything exactly like Hannah said. The anger on Ms Baker´s face vanished, being replaced by confusion instead. Hannah didn't leave her mother any chance to find some logical explanation as to how Clay could have known such intimate details, instead pressing on with other parcels of private knowledge. Clay told Ms Baker every birthday Hannah could remember, about talks between Hannah and her mother that should have stayed between them and bit by bit he seemed to be able to pierce through the older woman´s defences.

He felt bad while doing it, though. He felt like a voyeur, prying into matters that he had no right to, appropriating moments that should have stayed between Hannah and her mother, not used as ammunition to wear down Ms Baker.

"How do you know all this?" Ms Baker asked, barely above a whisper.

"I already told you," Clay answered. "Hannah told me."

"She is here?" Ms Baker asked through the veil of tears covering her face. Clay just nodded.

"She´s sitting right next to me." He pointed towards Hannah.

"Hannah…" Ms Baker stretched out her hand, as if she wanted to touch Hannah, but Clay knew that she couldn't see her daughter. Hannah lifted her hand and pressed her palm against her mother´s.

"Mom."

"I can feel something," Ms Baker exclaimed, a smile erupting on her face.

"Mom, I´m so sorry," Hannah said. "I just…everything was so much and I didn't see any other way out." A single tear ran down her cheek. "And dad and you were already burdened with so much and I didn't want to add more." Even though it felt like he was swallowing shards of glass, Clay conveyed every single word of Hannah´s to her mother whose tears began to flow freely again.

"You were never a burden, Hannah," she sobbed. "You were my baby girl and I´ll always love you, no matter what." A melancholic smile spread on Hannah´s face.

"I know," she replied. "That´s why I´m here. I was never able to properly say good-bye to you. I just wanted you to know that you were never to blame for what happened to me. I want you to know that I´m fine now and that you can let go of me."

"How can I let you go?" Ms Baker wanted to know. "Hannah, you´re my daughter. I can´t just forget you."

"I don't want you to forget me, Mom," Hannah replied. "I want you to let go of the pain and the grief."

"I don't know if I can."

"It´s okay." Hannah stood up, walked around the table until she stood in front of her mother. She kneeled down until her face was on the same height as her mother´s. "It´s okay." Ms Baker looked up and for some moment Clay believed that she was able to see her daughter. She stood up and for a split-second the Baker women just stood in front of each other, until Hannah suddenly surged forward and hugged her mother.

For a short moment Ms Baker looked like she didn't know how to react, but then she slung her arms where she assumed Hannah was. Clay looked away, because this moment belonged to Hannah and her mother. He was just an intruder, someone who didn't belong in this emotional moment. He looked out of the window, saw the blue sky, a few fluffy-white clouds slowly passing by as the sun shone from above. The Baker´s SUV stood outside, the odd one out, as its finish glistened so bright while the other cars just looked bland and used compared to it.

Tony lives just a few houses down the street, Clay thought.

"Clay." He turned back his head and saw Hannah standing in front of him. "We can go now." Clay nodded and stood up. When he stood on the porch of the house, Ms Baker grasped his shoulder.

"Thank you," she whispered and through her tears Clay could see that, even though she may not know it right now, she had found some kind of peace. Then she closed the door, leaving Clay and Hannah standing in the light of the of the day.

"Thanks, Clay, for doing this for me," Hannah said to him as they made their way down the street.

Later that night Clay found himself laying in his bed, staring at the ceiling and unable to find solace in sleep as Hannah´s words to her mother echoed through his head.

Hannah wouldn't come back. She was dead and whatever this was – it wouldn't last. Sooner or later Hannah would leave again, this time for good, to wherever it was where souls found their final rest. And like before Clay would stay behind, the memories of the girl he loved the only thing left of her as the world around him moved on.

Hannah didn't want to come back. She was here to say goodbye to the people that had been important to her, a chance she had been robbed off the first time. She wanted her mother to let her go, to no longer burden herself with the grief and the hurt that she had carried for so long that it had nearly become a part of her. And Clay believed that Ms Baker would do it, sooner or later, because she loved her daughter too much to ignore her last wish.

Didn't owe Clay Hannah the same? Shouldn't he let her go as well, instead of clinging to the still burning embers of his love? When did love turn to poison? Where did the line between clinging to Hannah and remembering her run?

Maybe it was because he had never been able to properly say his good-byes to Hannah that he had clung to her memory even more. Maybe it was this lack of resolution that had prevented him from letting go of Hannah, instead he had sheltered her in his mind and made a shrine for her out of it, because in there was still the possibility of a Happy End for them. He had never been able to tell Hannah of his feelings and that had been what had held him back up to this day. But now Hannah was here and he had told her everything, had unburdened himself and like in those adventure movies of Indiana Jones, the shrine was collapsing on itself.

Clay was ready to heal, but he couldn't while he still held Hannah close to his heart.

So, at 11:41pm Clay Jensen decided to let Hannah Baker go.

It wasn't as if everything changed after that night. Clay still smiled brightly when he saw Hannah, still felt as if her presence alone brightened up his day, but the oppressiveness of these feelings was gone now, they were more muted and somehow Clay believed that he was better off now.

"Your different," Hannah remarked while they were on their way to Tony. "I can´t pinpoint how exactly, but there´s a new carelessness around you."

"I just worked through some things," Clay replied. Hannah gave him a knowing look and nothing more was said of it. At least between them, because Tony was the next to mention it.

"Did something happen, because there´s something different about you," he said as Clay made his way into the garage.

"What is it with people instantly noticing my mood today?" Clay exclaimed. "Is there a horoscope about me in the newspaper, or what?"

"Nah," Tony laughed. "It´s just, usually you just go to your place at the wall and start reading until I´m finished, but today you actually looked around and…I don't know, smiled at my car, which you have never done before. I´ll make you call her Betsy by the end of the week, you see." Clay flipped him the finger, which only made Tony laugh out loud. Clay didn't know why, but it was a beautiful sound.

"You´re moving on," Hannah commented on their way back home.

"I´ve listened to what you said to your mother," Clay replied. "And I guess it applies to me as well. I can´t cling to you forever. I think you returning was some kind of catalyst for me. A signal to move on, because I could let go of what held me back." Hannah looked at him and smiled.

"I´m happy for you, Helmet," she admitted.

"Don´t get me wrong," Clay continued. "You´ll always be a pivotal part of my life, but I guess now I´m able to add new ones." Hannah reached out and took his hand. And even though he could barely feel her touch, the gesture meant something to Clay.

His day continued in the same vein: He went to school, sometimes with, sometimes without Hannah, but she would never tell him where she was while he was listening to Mrs Bradley prattling away about peer communication or had to suffer through another round of dodge ball during PE. After school he would find himself at Monet´s where Skye and he did their homework. Sooner or later Tony would join them and take Clay home.

"So, when are you two gonna make it official?" Sky teased him one day.

"What do you mean?" Clay asked. Skye huffed in annoyance.

"You can´t be that dense!" she exclaimed. "That boy is head over heels for you!"

"No, he isn't," Clay shock his head. "Tony doesn't like me like that." Skye stared at him with an incredulous expression on her face.

"He comes here to take you home nearly every day…" she pointed out.

"Because it´s on his way," Clay interjected.

"He listens to your nerdy babbling about Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings…" Skye continued.

"So do you," Clay pointed out.

"He looks at you like you hung the moon when you aren't looking and he has this smile on his face whenever you do something 'adorkable'," Sky said with a sly grin on her face. Before Clay could say anything else he was saved by Tony arriving – which only made Skye´s grin turn even more predatory.

"How long do you think you´ll stay here?" Clay asked Hannah the next day as they sat on the bleachers and let their gazes wander over the empty football field.

"I don't know," Hannah replied. "I´m not really an expert in the ghostly arts." The wind flared up and Clay had to wonder why of all things it could affect Hannah as it dishevelled her short brown hair. "But I think it isn't so long anymore. One last thing and then I think I can move on."

"What exactly?" Clay inquired.

"I don't know," Hannah repeated. "But I think it will be soon."

The next time Clay found himself at Tony´s he could feel that something was different. He couldn't exactly pinpoint what, but there hung a certain tension in the air that suffocated any easy-going talk he was trying to initiate with Tony. The other boy was constantly wringing his hands, fidgeting with his fingers, his eyes darting everywhere but to where Clay was. Tony did seem to be nervous and because Clay had vowed to himself that he would never ignore the signals other person were emitting, he tentatively asked: "Is something wrong? You usually don't act like…this." Tony let out a short bark of laughter.

"Nothing´s wrong," he replied. "I just…need the courage to do something."

"You usually don't lack courage to do anything," Clay noted and somehow that made Tony smile a little bit. "Maybe I can help you."

"You think?" Clay nodded. "Well, there´s this boy that I really care about, but I don't know what I should do about it." He didn't know why, but somehow that comment made something dark rise inside Clay, something that didn't want to share Tony with another boy.

"Have you tried talking to him about it?" Clay questioned. "That usually helps. Maybe he cares about you, too."

"Come on, Clay," Tony laughed. "You can´t be that oblivious."

"Have you seen him?" Hannah remarked, but luckily Tony was neither able to hear nor to see her.

"What do you mean?" Clay asked confused.

"I care about you, Clay!" Tony exclaimed while throwing his arms in the air. "Very much."

"I care about you, too," Clary replied. Tony closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh.

"Not like that, Clay," he said. "I like you, Clay, I really, really like you. I have for years, but I was always too afraid to tell you and then you were so hung up on Hannah and then…and then she killed herself and you were really down for a long time and I didn't want to burden you further. So I tried to help you as best as I could, but there was never a moment when I could come out with it, it´s been over a year since Hannah and you´re all looking for colleges and I have to say something now. I don't want to look back and have any regrets." Clay wanted to say something – anything – but his mouth suddenly was so dry that he couldn't bring out a single sound. Both Tony and Hannah were speaking, but there was only this random noise in his ears, drowning out everything else. There was a pressure on his chest and it felt like he couldn't breathe anymore.

"I…I need to go," he managed to say before he pushed past Tony and ran out of the garage, feeling a twinge of regret as he left behind the confused boy. But Clay was confused, too, and he needed to get his feelings in order before he faced Tony again.

"Clay!" He could hear Hannah shout behind him. "Clay, wait!" Clay continued walking.

"Come on, Helmet," Hannah urged. "You just can´t leave him hanging like this!"

"Just stop, Hannah," Clay pleaded, uncomfortable by the topic they were talking about. "I…I just can´t okay? I just can´t." He kicked an empty beer can down the curb which earned him a dark glower from the woman on the other side of the street.

"What are you so afraid of?" Hannah questioned. "It´s no big deal."

"What would you know?" Clay snapped. "You were too afraid of life, so you decided to end yours." The moment those words left his lips, he knew that he crossed a line that he shouldn't have. Hannah stopped walking and when she finally looked at him, her eyes were shining with tears.

"Hannah, I…I´m sorry, I…I didn't mean it," Clay tried to apologise, but the words sounded hollow to even his own ears.

"So, that´s what you think?" Hannah demanded to know. "Well, you know what? Fuck you, Jensen. Fuck you, and your stupid fear of your own goddamn feelings!" By now the tears were streaming down her cheeks, falling down her face, but never landing on the ground. "If you just had had the courage to tell me, if you hadn't always been so fucking afraid, maybe I wouldn't have killed myself then, hmm? Have you ever wasted a thought on how you building all these walls around you hurt those around you? One day Tony´s gonna leave you because of them, too." And with that last hurtful accusation thrown, she vanished, leaving Clay standing there on the street with a despondent expression on his face.

Clay sank down onto the curb and just felt miserable.

Rationally, he knew that he shouldn't and couldn't be blamed for Hannah´s death alone. He had been just a small cog in a big machinery, but emotionally Hannah´s words just dug up all the insecurities and fears that he had tried so hard to bury ever since he had listened to the tapes.

Would Hannah be still alive if he had had the courage to confess the feelings he had back then? She died, believing that he hated her, that he had been the last person in a long line of people leaving her. But unlike back then, Clary was of clearer state of mind now and even though the fears were still lurking, he could control them now.

Hannah´s words had been cruel and unjust. He, too, had been a kid back then; a shy and awkward teenager with his first crush who had had his own problems to deal with. Clay hadn't known about the things that Hannah was suffering through and how should he have? He was no psychologist, trained to spot any sight of suicidal thoughts in others.

There was one thing Hannah was right on, though: Clay allowed his fears – of rejection, of hurt, of ridicule – to rule his actions and it had been a tiny part of the reasons why they were here now. Maybe it was time to take a leap of faith, to just run and leave his fears behind for the possibilities of reaching something better. He didn't want to look back on his teenage years one day and have another regret weighing on his mind.

Tony was Clay´s best friend. But could he be more? Clay had never spent much thought about his sexuality. Hannah had been his first love, so he had always assumed that he was straight, but now he wasn't so sure anymore. He remembered the way he would trace every patch of free skin when Tony was working on his car, how he always radiated such self-confidence, no matter what he was wearing or to whom he was talking; remembered how Tony always managed to make him feel better with only a few words, remembered that weird feeling he had had until Tony broke up with Brad. He thought about brown eyes full of understanding and empathy, steady hands that supported him whenever he was about to fall and slowly Clay began to realise that maybe there was more to him and Tony than he had first assumed.

Clay didn't want to be afraid anymore. He had had enough.

So he turned around and started walking, destination clear in mind.

Tony opened the door and his expression turned into one of hopeful surprise when he saw Clay standing on the other side.

"I care about you," Clay started before Tony could get in any word edgewise. He needed to pull this through and he couldn't have Tony say anything before he was finished, lest his courage would flee him again. "I care about you and your stupid car and about that ugly leather jacket you´re always wearing. You make me feel special, you make me feel like I matter, you listen to every word I say and never make me feel stupid or unwanted, you always know the right thing to say and the right thing to do and with you I feel like nothing changed, like the whole word isn't just a big piece of shit out for us and I wanted you to know all that, because I´m sick and tired of being afraid. I don't want to be afraid anymore. My fears made me lose Hannah in the end and…and I don't want to lose you, too."

"Are you finished?"

"Yeah, I am," Clay replied confidently.

"Good, then I can finally do this." And then Tony´s lips crashed against Clay´s. Clay didn't have much experience with kissing (Hannah´s face flared up in his mind, but he banished it back to where it came from), but he could tell that Tony was good at it. He tasted like coffee, smoke and something Clay couldn't name but was unmistakably Tony. When they let go of each other, Clay was breathing heavily while he could feel a blush rising to his cheeks.

"Finally," someone commented from inside the house. There, in the doorway between hallway and living room, all five of Tony´s brother stood with wide grins on their faces.

"You owe me five Dollars," one said, which earned him a smack against the head from another. Tony just rolled his eyes at his family, stepped outside next to Clay and closed the door to the sounds of his brother´s hooting.

"Your brothers had a bet running on us?" Clay asked, not knowing how he should feel about that particular piece of information. Tony just shrugged.

"They take an unhealthy interest in my private life," he replied. "Especially when it comes to you." Clay could feel his blush deepening.

"Well, you can either come back in and face my brothers or we´ll see each other tomorrow," Tony told him. "It´s your choice." Thinking about Hannah and wondering where she had gone after their fight, Clay knew which he had to choose.

"Sadly, I still have some things to do," he sighed in mock-desperation. "I shall have to suffer through this night alone."

"See ya." Tony gave him a peck on the cheek and then he vanished back into his house, much to the amusement of his brothers. Still smiling, Clay turned around and began walking. After all these years the streets under his feet were so familiar that he didn't even have to think about where he was going. He just allowed them to take him wherever they wanted, unafraid of where exactly that might be.

Clay ended up at the playground where his journey with Hannah´s tapes had once started. He looked upon the empty swings, the deserted slides and the merry-go-around and contemplated that if he believed in things such as destiny then he would definitely count this as some kind of sign.

There was something weird about a playground without children, but not in a bad kind of way. Unusual. Sitting down on a nearby park bench, Clay wondered what had brought him here. His question was answered shortly after.

"I´m sorry about what I said," Hannah said as she sat down beside him on the bench. "You were one of the few ones who actually cared about me and you didn't deserve what I threw at you."

"I shouldn't have blown up on you either," Clay admitted. He smiled at Hannah and tentatively she returned his smile as well.

"It all started here," Hannah pointed out. "Justin kissed me on the slide over there. Who would have known then what would spiral from that? I suppose it´s quite fitting that it´ll end here as well."

"What do you mean?" Clay wanted to know, a cold feeling gripping his heart.

"Come on, Clay," Hannah replied. "I´m dead, don´t you remember? I´m not supposed to be here for ever." Clay wanted to say something, but he couldn't quite manage to utter the words. "I´m no expert in this whole ghost stuff, but I have this…feeling that tells me that it´s time to move on. A restlessness in my bones, I suppose. My parents have found their peace and you found Tony, so there isn't anything left for me to do."

"So, you think you´re going to wherever it is souls go?" Clay asked.

"Maybe," Hannah replied. "But wherever that is, I don´t want to see you there for at least a few decades. Maybe name a child after me, Tony won´t object." Clay could feel the heat in his cheeks rising. Somehow, though, he knew that Hannah was right. There was an inner peace to him that hadn't been there before, a weight lifted from his mind, finally being able to breathe again. For all these months, he had held the memory of Hannah so tight that it had suffocated them both, but now Clay felt like he was ready to let go of Hannah and look to the future, not back into the past.

"Will you watch the moon with me?" Hannah asked. "One last time?"

"Yeah," Clay replied.

Would anyone pass them by right now, they would only see Clay Jensen sitting on an empty park bench, a smile on his face as he stared into the night sky as the moon shone silver down from above them, but they wouldn't see the girl sitting next to him, watching not the moon but the boy sitting next to her with a fond expression on her face. They wouldn't feel the serenity of the moment, the tranquillity of it. To them it was only one moment of many, but to Clay and Hannah it was eternity folded into seconds, unspoken confessions and forgiveness.

In the great scheme of things this moment was nothing special, a grain of sand on the shores of the river of time, but for them it was everything and nobody could take that away.

So, the moon shone on, while the city underneath it came to rest and when Clay tore his gaze away from the sight, he saw that Hannah had vanished.