Toronto-

It's been 4 months, 3 weeks, 6 days, 22 hours 53 minutes and 36 seconds since he left. 37, 38, 39...

I'm halfway through my junior album, working with Kwest as my producer. Don't get me wrong, I love Kwest, but he's not Him. I want Him back, but I know better than to believe that will ever actually happen. Happy endings are only real in fairy tales and lifetime movies, and my life is neither.

I still remember that day clear in my mind. The cold look in his eyes as he told me he'd never come back. The screech of the tires as they tore away and left me screaming in the middle of the street. The smell of car exhaust as it enveloped me, it's bitter smell taunting me to the fact I had just lost the most important person in my life.

Now here I am, 4 months, 3 weeks, 6 days, 22 hours, 55 minutes and 19 seconds later. I'm sitting on my bed with an acoustic on my lap and a notebook lying open in front of me, trying to focus all my energy on Him. Kwest says I write my best stuff when He's my inspiration. The problem is, I can barely remember what used to inspire me. The smell of his cologne is a distant memory. The way his hair always looked soft and silky even after being styled to death has receded to the farthest corners of my mind. Of course, I remember that these things used to make me happy, but I can no longer picture them. There was a time that when I closed my eyes I could almost feel his presence beside me. But that presence has faded away. The only thing I still remember clearly is his smile. That cocky, arrogant, make-me-weak-at-the-knees smile is still there every time I close my eyes. Like the final bit of the chesire cat that just refuses to fade away.

God I miss that smile.

At first, the idea of life without Tommy was enough to make me want to puke. The amount of tequila I ingested in Barrie may also have had something to do with that particular feeling, but I think it was mostly the fear. I had never walked on my own. Even when I hated Tommy, he was still there, guiding me every step of the way. Going on without him was the most terrifying challenge I had ever faced.

But, it turns out, I'm stronger than I give myself credit for. I didn't want to just chin up and push forward, but I was more than capable of doing just that. And eventually I did. There's still one thing, however, that eats away at me in the most silent, dark and lonely recesses of my mind.

Why?

Why did he leave? Why was he never coming back? Darius had done a little detective work, and discovered that less than two hours after he left, Tom Quincy crossed the border into the United States of America. He told border patrol he was visiting family in Montana for an indefinite amount of time. There is no way in hell Tommy left me to have some happy little family reunion with the people he ran away from as a teenager. There has to be more to the story.

One way or another, I will find out.

xXx

"Hey Kwest, can we talk?" I ask anxiously the next morning as I fall into the seat next to him. He raises an eyebrow at me. I can't blame him. I didn't sleep at all last night, my makeup is smudged, my hair is a mess, I'm out of breath from running to work (my car wouldn't start, the asshole) and I am wearing jeans with an over-sized button-down shirt that used to be my dads. If I didn't know better I would think I had a long, rough night (the good kind of course) and bolted to work from my lover's house. I'm sure that's what Kwest is thinking. It takes all I have in me not to smack that curious look right off his face.

"Sure," he says, slowly turning his chair to face me completely. "What's up?"

"I need to see him Kwest," I say desperately. "I need to talk to him, I need to tell him that I'm falling apart without him, I need him to come home." I'm now on the brink of crying, fan-fucking-tastic. That wasn't part of the plan. I'm supposed to be keeping my cool.

For a minute he just sits there, eyeing me carefully, trying to figure out what brought on this sudden outburst. Finally he draws a long breath and speaks.

"Jude," he says softly. Great, the soft voice. That means that he isn't going to be any god damn help. "I don't know where he is. Even if I did...if he wanted to see you, he would've been in contact by now. You need to just let go."

"Not until I have some answers!" I shoot back angrily. "I want to know who the fuck he thinks he is to do this to us. Not me, us. If memory serves he left you, his best friend, without so much as a fucking goodbye. At least he extended me that courtesy!"

Kwest's eyes go dark. Oookay, maybe I was a little harsh, but I'm sick of everyone treating me like some kind of victim. He hurt a lot of people when he left. Just because I'm the only one who cares enough to wonder why doesn't mean he was any more of a bastard to me than to them.

"You're right," Kwest says slowly. He's struggling to keep his tone even, that means I must have hit a nerve. Whoops. "He didn't say goodbye to me. He didn't tell me what was going on, and I haven't heard from him sense. That hurts, but Jude, I've known Tommy a long time. Sooner or later, he always comes back."

"It's going to be sooner this time," I decide. I quickly rise to my feet and head towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Kwest calls after me. I don't stop, don't slow my pace at all. I just throw a quick response over my shoulder as I walk out

"Montana."

leave me some love