Despite the disaster shower from Day One of Christina's study, our co-ed showers over the next two days passed fairly inconsequentially. I found my confidence and stamina again and Four seemed a little distracted with some issues at school. Conversation was minimal, but it was better than the bumbling experience we'd just been through.

We didn't talk much on Saturday. I tried to corner him in the shower to find out what was going on, but he deflected my questions. He seemed a little lost, almost in a dreamlike state.

I tried to go out and land my own one night stand that night, but I seemed to have lost my swagger without Four to back me up. It had been a long time since I faced the unknown alone. I ended up having a few drinks, making a few one-night-friends, and then heading home alone before midnight.

It was fine. With Memorial Day looming, I wasn't feeling incredibly sprite anyways. For a teacher, a day off for a holiday was like liquid gold, but I always anticipated this particular holiday with much angst. I stayed out Sunday night until two in the morning just to avoid the sleep that would inevitably end with the sun rising on the worst day of the year.

When I finally dragged myself home and slugged in the door, I was buzzed and depressed - it appeared Four was in a similar state. Slouched on the couch with a beer in hand, he appeared to be lost in reruns of Sesame Street.

"Four? You okay?" I slurred.

He looked up. "Oh, hey." His eyes darkened. "Did your date forget condoms or something?"

I stared blankly for a moment. "I didn't bring anyone home. Haven't been in the mood this weekend."

His eyes returned to the screen.

What was his deal? I slumped my shoulders."Well, enjoy Sesame Street." I headed down the hall.

"Tris, wait."

I turned, reluctantly.

He didn't say more, but simply patted the spot on the couch next to him.

I sighed. It would be a hell of a lot easier if he would just tell me what was wrong, but boys were forever impossible when it came to communication. Oh well. At least I wasn't the reason for his foul mood.

I sat next to him and he immediately wrapped his arms around me. "What's going on, Four? You've been out of it all weekend."

He kissed my hair. "Nothing. It's no big deal."

I ignored his brush-off. "Is it something at school?"

He shrugged. "Nothing more than the usual bullshit."

"You don't want to talk about it?"

Once again, he said nothing, but tightened his grip around my shoulders and wound my fingers in his. I settled into his warm chest.

Elmo blabbed on in his annoying little shit voice about the importance of friendship and communication. Uncanny. I stole a few glances at Four's face, but his expression gave nothing away.

It took a good hour of learning about the letter 'P' before I realized my own depression had been sidelined. I didn't really know how it happened – this night was always awful for me, the following day even worse. Yet, there I was, wrapped in Four's warm embrace where it felt as though nothing could touch me. It was a strange comfort; an unexpected one, for sure. I'd told myself the other day that I needed to keep him at a distance, but at that moment, I couldn't even begin to imagine doing that. Maybe it was just the alcohol, but I hadn't felt this comfortable with someone in ages. Not since…

Four adjusted his position so he was laying on his back. He pulled me to him again, and I lay at his side, facing the TV. I lobbed my arm lazily over his chest and lay my head in the crook of his arm where I listened intently to the soft vibrations of his beating heart. He cuddled me tight around the waist with one hand, and stroked my arm with the other. Cookie Monster's voice softened and began to fade.

My neck was sore as hell when I woke up the next morning. Four was still passed out beside me, his face dented with the lines of the couch. Our hands were entangled together and I ran my thumb over his for a few moments, soothed by his touch.

The clock on the wall read ten o'clock and I knew this was as good a time as any to get the day's commitment out of the way. I definitely didn't want Four to wake up and try to come with me.

I pulled myself from his arms and immediately felt the warmth of his body disappear from mine. I didn't like that at all. I ran to my room and pulled on a nice dress and a pair of flats. On my way back down the hall, I passed the bathroom and remembered our study for Christina.

Shit. We're supposed to shower together.

I leaned around the corner to peek at Four, but he was still on the couch, breathing slowly. The shower would have to wait until later. I hoped Christina had some flexibility.

My car roared to life in the cool morning air, and I wondered for a moment if it might wake Four. Just to be safe, I pulled out without letting it warm up – I was determined to make this trip alone, and I had no idea what sort of antics he might try to pull.

The drive was cloudy and dreary. Way too cliché for a trip to the cemetery. I turned on some music to brighten the mood, but it did little other than distract me from more depressing thoughts.

I paid little attention to the scenery as small drops of rain pitter-pattered on the windshield. I sank reluctantly back into my high school self, back to the day when life seemed both limitless and fundamentally fucked all at the same time. I had loved school and did very well academically, but had few real friends. There were a couple girls that played with me on the basketball team that I'd go get drunk with every now and again, but I didn't really connect with anyone until I met him.

My body felt numb as I remembered how he'd coax me to sneak out of the house on the weekends when I'd text him about the awful moaning sounds coming from my mother's bedroom. He always waited behind the old Spruce tree in my front yard that angled eclectically into the sky as if mimicking the knotted and craggy feelings always clamoring in the pit of my stomach. I'd jump on his back and he'd piggyback me to the gas station down the street where we'd put our dollars together to get one cup of hot coffee and a small bag of peanut M&M's. Then we'd run back outside and cram into the tiny alley that ran behind the gas station. He'd always offer me his coat even if it wasn't cold and we'd huddle right across from the video store window where we could watch the new release ads running on the indoor monitor. For a life that felt shitty at every turn, it was the one taste of bliss I had to hang on to. It was bittersweet and unforgettable. Just like him.

My breath caught as I pulled off the highway at the Trenton exit and passed my old high school. From the moment he passed, I already knew I'd never attend a single high reunion. Walking back into that building would be like willingly entering a torture chamber.

I caught a glimpse of the bleachers on the football field as I drove by and winced. They still hadn't replaced those old dilapidated wood seats where our initials were etched next to countless others.

Just another mile down the road, I pulled into the cemetery parking lot. I frowned as I got out of the car. A few other people had already made their way to the gravestones. So much for doing this alone.

I tried to enjoy the feel of the soft breeze and the sound of a few birds hiding amongst the large trees that overhung the headstones as I walked through the entrance. Most of the visitors appeared to be elderly folks with a few younger couples interspersed here and there. I spotted his headstone and immediately checked the surrounding area. His family had moved away from Pennsylvania long ago, but I always worried I might run into them during my brief visits, and I had no desire to ever see his dad's face again. As for the rest of his family, I'd managed to avoid talking about his passing with anyone for five or six years and I wasn't about to ruin that.

I carefully monitored my breathing as my footsteps grew closer to one of the most painful pieces of my past. I had no flowers for him, but that was okay. I had something else to give, something much more meaningful.

I stepped in front of the grave, surprised to find that no tears fell. I inhaled and opened my mouth to serenade my lost love:

I've got my sights set on you and I'm ready to aim

I have a heart that will never be tamed

I knew you were somethin' special when you spoke my name

Now I can't wait to see you again

The melody came out low and hollow, with none of the energy of the real song. I closed my eyes and swayed back and forth with the lyrics, remembering clearly the night he asked me to sing it for him. We had danced around my living room like a couple of children, kissing, giggling, living in the moment like all high school students should. I'd been ignorant of why he'd chosen that particular song and what meaning it held for him.

My mind flipped back and forth between the lighthearted laughter of that night and the gut-wrenching horror of the following day when his parents called. Tears pricked at my eyes.

As I finished singing the song, my sorrow turned to anger. How could he have done such a thing? Didn't he know he was loved? What more could I have possibly done? Why did he have to make a choice that would turn my life into a complete hell?

Part of me didn't want to mourn him. Part of me wanted to kick the dirt off his grave and smash his headstone in two. He didn't have to do this. He could've had a long, beautiful, incredible life. He fucked up his own potential for no good reason.

I buried my face in my hands. "You fucked it all up, Heath. Everything. You ruined our lives because you're a selfish dick." I fell to the dirt and dug my hands into my hair. I shook my head. "No. No, I'm the one who fucked it up. I didn't know, Heath. I didn't know…"

"Tris!"

My head shot up and I just about died. At the entrance of the cemetery was Four, running towards me. Running towards me – a hopeless, fucked up mess, covered in tears and on the verge of striking out in rage.

Not good timing.