Authors note: I own nothing...I wish I owned Chase and Jimmy though!
Wilson lay on his back staring at the ceiling above Greg's couch as his friend poured out what remained of his heart into a black piano. Questions bunched around in Wilson's head, the music's softness prompting things he could never ask.
Who do you love?
Do you ever get so lonely in a crowed room you can't stand it
anymore?
Do you ever think you've failed everyone with what you've become?
How do you keep going on like this?
How can you not cry when things get so awful?
Do you care about me? Do I matter at all?
Are you scared to die? Scared of where you'll end up?
Are you ever scared for me like I am for you?
Do you worry yourself?
Have you ever wanted to die?
How many things have you wanted to say but didn't?
Does your heart ache every second of everyday with nothing to ease the pain?
Do you feel hollow inside, like a deep gaping hole?
How many broken hearts have you had? How many have you broken?
Does any of this matter to you at all?
Why do you let me stay so close but push all others away?
What did I do different?
Do you ever want to tell me anything but hold back?
Can you trust me?
Wilson's questions lulled him to sleep and while he appeared peaceful on the outside, a storm of worry tormented his dreams.