Joey and Chandler had been sitting in silence, when Doctor Johnson opened the door to the office. It had been three months, since Joey had started his chemo treatments. They had been called in to talk about the treatments and progress so far.
Somehow, Chandler felt as if this was a matter of life and death, when the doctor greeted them and sat down on the other side of the desk. He hadn't been that nervous before when going to the meetings, but this time was not scheduled, and that made Chandler horrified.
"I've taken a look at the MRI scans you got last week, Joey." As Johnson spoke, both Joey and Chandler watched him with great attention. "It's bad news. The primary tumor in your brain seems resistant to the chemotherapy."
Chandler watched, as Joey lowered his head into his hands.
"I'll show you the scans," the doctor said and made a few taps on his keyboard, then turned the computer screen a little, so all three of them could look at it. The first two pictures showed the recognizable form of a human brain, and Johnson pointed to the first picture and then to the other, explaining how the tumor had not reduced but actually grown in size. He talked fancy words that Chandler didn't understand. He knew that Joey didn't understand much either but just sat there nodding as politely as he could, all though Chandler could tell that he was shaking with fear.
"But I'm afraid that's not all," the doctor then said, clearly feeling sorry for ever telling anyone something like this. "The cancer has spread to other parts of your brain." He pointed at the screen again, showing other small dots in the pictures that they hadn't noticed until now.
Chandler watched Joey for a little while. He didn't say anything but just stared at the pictures, obviously dumbfounded.
"What do we do?" Chandler asked, looking at Johnson.
"I'm afraid there's not much we can do," the doctor stated. "Because of the size and location of the primary tumor, it would be too much of a risk to perform a surgery. We could remove some of the secondary ones, but it wouldn't matter. The primary tumor is still so aggressive that it would just keep spreading."
Feeling his heart starting to race and his breath getting caught in his throat, Chandler looked at Joey, who now looked up in chock. He placed a worried hand on Joey's arm.
"What does this mean, then?" he asked, looking at the doctor.
Shaking his head briefly, Johnson looked directly at Joey with folded hands.
"I'm so sorry..."
"But there must be something you can do," Chandler said, scooting forwards in his seat. "Can't he get more treatments of some sort? Anything?"
"We can keep going with the chemo," Johnson nodded, "but it wouldn't make a difference. It would only keep giving Joey some horrible side effects, which would with time start to affect his body even more."
Chandler covered his mouth, feeling tears in his eyes. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"How long?" Joey suddenly asked.
"Probably two months," Johnson answered with a few seconds of hesitation.
Joey once again hid his face in his hands, and this time, Chandler head a sob coming from him. This caused his own tears to spill, and full of sorrow, he got off his chair and got to his knees in front of Joey, pulling his head down to his own. With Joey crying into the hook of his neck, Chandler heard Johnson saying "I'll give you a moment alone", and then the door opened and closed gently.
"I'm so sorry," Chandler sobbed and held onto his boyfriend. "I'm so, so sorry, Joey." He felt such grief and sadness filling his entire body and mind. He was going to lose Joey – and it was way too soon.
After Joey had disappeared into their own apartment, Chandler hesitatingly pulled the handle to Monica's, entering with a deep breath.
As usual, Monica was located in the kitchen, and she stopped doing whatever she was doing just as she saw Chandler's lost look.
"What is it?" she asked nervously. Almost immediately, Ross and Phoebe, who were sitting in the couch area, turned their heads.
Chandler swallowed heavily, looking down.
"I was just with Joey at the hospital," he said lowly, looking up again with slightly read-rimmed eyes.
Monica quickly came forward, Phoebe and Ross joining them as well.
"What happened?" Ross asked. "Is everything alright?"
Scratching the back of his neck, Chandler shook his head, and he felt some more tears welling up.
"What is it?" Phoebe asked carefully.
"The..." Chandler cleared his throat. "The treatment's not working. The cancer is too aggressive."
"What does that mean?" Monica fumbled with her hands.
"It means that..." Chandler had to fight back a sob. "It means that Joey's got two months left to live."
"Oh my God." Monica covered her mouth briefly, and a few tears managed to cross her cheeks, before she embraced Chandler tightly. Not being able to hold back anymore, he cried into her shoulder.
Ross had to turn away, hiding his face in one hand and feeling completely powerless. Phoebe stood frozen in the middle of the room, sobbing into her hands.
After a moment with a lot of tears and comforting words, Monica let go of Chandler and sat down. Her legs were shaking too much to keep her on her feet.
Finally being able to talk, Ross joined Chandler and gave him a hug.
"I'm sorry," he sniffed. "Where's Joey now?"
"He wanted to be alone," Chandler answered, wiping his cheeks. "He wanted me to tell you guys."
Ross just nodded.
"Is there anything we can do?" Phoebe asked. "For him? Or for you?"
Chandler shrugged, then shook his head with a shaky sigh.
The next day – which was a Saturday – Joey didn't get out of bed, even though Chandler kept asking about it. Joey didn't talk, he didn't eat, he didn't show his face all day. He just stayed in bed. Sometimes, Chandler could hear quiet sobs coming from the bedroom, but when he opened the door to ask if he could do something for his boyfriend, Joey just offered him a soft "leave me alone."
When Chandler got to bed that night, Joey didn't even stir, when he lay down next to him. He didn't say a word. Even though Chandler didn't exactly feel welcome, he leaned over and kissed Joey's temple and gave him a quiet goodnight.
And the day after, everything repeated itself. The other friends came by, wanting to check up on Joey. Monica had even brought a treat. But they were all rejected by his horrible mood, when Chandler gave him the message that they were all there to see him. He had pulled the sheets closer to him, shutting out every single contact with another human being.
On Monday, Chandler left early to go to work but was being sure to kiss Joey, before he left the building. He had expected to find the apartment just as he left it, when he got home but was surprised to find Joey sitting in the kitchen on one of the bar chairs, drinking a cup of coffee. Chandler had felt a smile creeping upon his face. Even though they didn't talk much, just the sight of Joey being up and around made Chandler happy.
Silently, Joey picked at his steak with a fork. On the other side of the table, Chandler studied his boyfriend while chewing on a piece.
"You want something else?" he asked after swallowing.
"No, it's fine."
Chandler sensed that Joey was trying to be polite even though he felt awful. His face carried this sad expression which Chandler had witnessed so many times lately.
He had thought that taking Joey out for dinner might lighten up the situation a bit. They hadn't been out much for a long time, and Chandler missed it.
But he hadn't calculated with Joey's lack of appetite. He didn't know why. It seemed obvious that Joey wouldn't eat much at a restaurant. Chandler guessed that he would never get used to the fact that Joey Tribbiani didn't eat. He guessed that was one of many reasons why Joey was depressed – he couldn't live his normal life in any way.
Chandler cut another piece off his own steak, but before it could reach his mouth, Joey broke the silence without looking up.
"If you wanna back out, I totally understand."
"What?" Chandler asked, surprised.
Joey put down his fork and looked up.
"I know," he said, "that you're struggling to handle all of this. I don't blame you."
"I'm fine," Chandler assured, putting down his knife and fork and now laying all of his attention on his boyfriend. "What're you saying?"
Joey shrugged a little.
"I feel like a burden to you."
"Joey, you're not a burden to me, how can you even think that?" Chandler sought Joey's eyes.
"Well," Joey said, tugging a little on the beanie that Chandler had bought for him, "I just feel like I withhold you from everything. You spend so much time taking care of me, even though you're probably longing to do something else... I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry." Chandler held out his hand onto the table, his palm upwards. Joey looked at it for some time before accepting the gesture and reached out, putting his hand in Chandler's.
Smiling briefly, Chandler continued:
"I'll always be here for you. Don't think you can get rid of me just like that. We're gonna fight this together. You won't be alone – ever." He paused before saying: "I love you."
He could see Joey's eyes shining, when he answered.
"And I love you."
"Guys?" Ross called out, when no-one showed up, as he stepped into Chandler and Joey's apartment in the afternoon. He looked around for a brief moment, before he heard mumbling coming from the bathroom and then saw Chandler who appeared from the door, closing it behind him.
"Wrong timing?" Ross asked, looking worried.
"That's okay," Chandler sighed. "Joey's just... pretty sick."
Ross couldn't help noticing how tired his friend looked. Since Joey had been diagnosed, Chandler had barely left his side. Ross could imagine how this disease would affect not only the ill but also the closest relatives. Ross himself had been feeling odd to his stomach and at some point just depressed and lost. He was sure Chandler felt the same way – only harder.
He looked uncomfortable for a moment, hesitating, when Chandler suddenly asked:
"You want something?"
"Oh, no, thanks," Ross stumbled, watching as Chandler pulled out a beer from the fridge.
"Suit yourself," Chandler mumbled. "Why are you here?" He sat down by the counter in the kitchen, looking at Ross on the other side.
"Well, I got these..." Ross reached dramatically in his pocket and showed "three tickets to the Knicks game tonight!"
"That's great!" Chandler burst out with excitement.
"Yeah, and front seats!"
"That's the best ones!"
They grinned at each other, nodding. But then Chandler's smile faded, and he bent his head slightly.
Ross felt a lump in his throat, suddenly realizing...
"You can't go," he said, feeling a little guilty.
"I'm so sorry, Ross," Chandler shook his head. "I can't leave him feeling like this."
His friend looked at him with such pleading eyes that Ross couldn't feel anything but sorry for him.
"No, no," he said, "I totally understand. Don't worry about it." He placed a comforting hand on Chandler's shoulder and looked him in the eyes.
Chandler smiled sadly.
"Thank you."
"No problem."
Ross' attention was caught, when the door to the bathroom clicked open, and a weak voice – which he recognized as Joey's – called out Chandler's name.
"I'll be right there, Joe," Chandler called back and got up from his seat.
He and Ross looked at each other for a few seconds.
"It was nice seeing you," Chandler said, as he got around the counter and gave Ross a tight hug. Ross hugged him back. He could almost feel how much his friend needed to be held, to be comforted.
"Take care," Ross gave his regards, and he watched Chandler heading off to the bathroom. He grabbed the handle on the front door but before pulling it, he stood still and listened.
"I don't want them to see me like this."
"It was just Ross. I think he was very worried about you."
"I don't wanna to see anyone..."
Ross looked down, biting his lip and fighting the tears that threatened to form in his eyes. Distracted, his gaze drifted around the room, and then he noticed the bottle of beer that Chandler had just found, still on the counter. It hadn't even been un-capped. Chandler must have forgotten how to handle anything at this point.
With a heavy heart, Ross left the apartment with the tickets and threw them in the nearest trashcan on the street.
Around bedtime, Joey sat on the edge of the bed, his hands in his lap and wearing boxers, a black T-shirt and his beanie, as he stared into nothing. Chandler came into the room and found his boyfriend's gaze alarming.
"Are you feeling okay?" It had almost become a routine question.
Chandler quickly realized it was one of those nights, when Joey bent his head slightly and closed his eyes. Though something a little unexpected happened.
"How can you keep doing this, Chandler?" Joey's voice was deep and hollow, barely containing any feelings.
"What do you mean?"
Joey's pale face turned to Chandler.
"You can't cure me."
It was as if a knife stabbed Chandler's heart at those words. He gently reached out to place a hand on his boyfriend's back, but in the same moment, Joey shot off the bed.
"How can you love this?!" Joey shouted, holding out his arms. "I'm not the same. I'm fucking disgusting and ugly, and you're still here! Why?!"
Chandler's eyes had widened in chock.
"Joey-"
"Is it pity?" Joey asked with tears in his eyes. "Is it?!"
"Joey, stop this." Chandler got off the bed.
"NO! I don't wanna fucking stop! I know you hate this!"
Feeling in need to calm his boyfriend down, Chandler stepped forward and embraced him tightly. Joey struggled to break free, trying to push Chandler away.
"Let me go! Get off me!"
Squeezing his eyes shut, Chandler just kept holding on and suddenly found himself on the edge of tears. Because of Joey's loss of weight, he gave in way sooner than Chandler had ever imagined.
"I'm going to die," Joey sobbed after wrapping his arms around Chandler.
And at that point, Chandler broke down as well, and he cried like he had never done before. The emotions were too overwhelming to hold back. The only thing he could do was just to hug Joey closer.
It had been an early morning, when Chandler had decided to admit Joey to the hospital. Joey had woken up panicking because his sight seemed to fail. Chandler had read about this before and knew it was only temporary and would occur in periods of time. He had comforted his boyfriend, as much as he could have done, and after a while, Joey had been able to get out of bed and get dressed, even though he had seemed tired already.
Once at the hospital, Joey had started trembling and almost couldn't stay upright. Chandler hoped he hadn't pushed his boyfriend too far because of his need to have Joey around.
Joey had been placed in a bed on the third floor, and he wasn't moving much. Every now and then when the other friends would come around for a visit, Chandler could tell that his boyfriend forced a smile.
Fortunately – with some persuasion from both the nurses and his friends – Joey had been able to eat just a little bit, showing that he was a fighter. But when everything seemed alright, he would get one of his panic attacks and cry his eyes out. And after a little while – because of his lack of energy – he would pass out and sleep for hours.
Chandler would sit by the bed, watching his chest rising and falling in between pages, while he read one of his books. When Joey would wake up again, Chandler would be there to offer him some water, to talk to him and to hold his hand. Once in a while, he would kiss him ever so softly and tell him that he loved him.
Those words couldn't be said enough.
"Sir, you need to get out of here!"
Chandler's eyes widened, as he heard one of the doctors shouting at him. The only thing he could focus on was Joey's body shaking violently, his limbs cramping. The machines had started squeaking rapidly. Chandler stood frozen in the center of the room, while nurses held down his boyfriend to prevent him from hurting himself.
After what seemed like forever to Chandler, he was grabbed from behind and forced out of the door on gel-like legs. He felt paralyzed and sick, and he didn't even see the face of the person who dragged him out. Immediately afterwards, he turned to the big glass wall and watched with horror, as the people in the room tried to get a hold on the situation. Not much time later, he couldn't watch it anymore and walked away, terrified and sad to his very core.
Down the hall he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and called Ross, telling him with a lump in his throat that he needed him there. To his relief, Ross was already on his way.
The sound of quickly moving shoes made Chandler look up and recognized Ross walking down the hallway, approaching him. He got up from his chair.
"What happened?" Ross's voice was low, as he finally caught up to Chandler.
"He had a seizure," Chandler then said, feeling a little distracted.
"Oh, God..."
"I didn't know what to do. I just had to talk to someone."
"Of course," Ross nodded. "So, is he okay?"
"What do you think?" Chandler murmured, biting his lip. Suddenly, he realized that he had snapped at his friend and looked down, embarrassed. "Sorry."
"Don't worry about it," Ross said simply and gestured towards two chairs at his left side. Chandler obeyed, and they sat down beside each other.
"I think they're just checking up on him right now." Chandler turned his head to the room, which he had been thrown out of, and he restlessly fumbled with his hands.
"I see," Ross mumbled and then studied his friend. "When was the last time you went home?"
"I lost track of time," Chandler sighed, rubbing his face.
"You need some rest," Ross pleaded.
"I'll rest later."
"You need to sleep and eat."
"I don't care, Ross," Chandler said a bit angrier than he had wanted it to be. Then he sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I... I'm just..."
"It's okay," Ross assured. "I just think you're beating yourself up too much."
"I'm fine," Chandler said and looked up at his friend.
After a little while, they both heard a person coming closer, and their heads moved synchronized towards the doctor, who appeared in a white coat and walked up to them. Chandler and Ross got up from their seats.
"How is he?" was the first question asked, as Chandler looked anxiously at the doctor.
"Not good," the doctor began. "The pressure in his brain caused a severe seizure which we managed to ride out without any damage. He's very fragile right now –"
"Can I see him?" Chandler cut in.
"Yes, but you should know," the doctor raised his voice, as Chandler had already started walking, "it's only a matter of time." He made Chandler stop and turn to him. "His organs are failing, his blood levels are way too past normal, and he's showing signs of damage to his vision and sensation. His motor function is not too good, either."
Chandler had been staring at the doctor through his whole presentation of Joey's state, and he slowly stepped closer.
"What did you say? It's only a matter of time?"
"I'm sorry," the doctor said.
"Don't –"
"You should start preparing yourself."
"No," Chandler said, then raised his voice. "No, you gave him two months!"
"And it's been one and a half," the doctor stated. "Sometimes, we can't anticipate –"
"You can't anticipate?" Chandler ended up close to the doctor, mocking him directly into his face. He could feel his heart starting to race second by second. "Who do you think you are?"
"Calm down," Ross cut in and grabbed Chandler's upper arm.
"This seizure he just had," the doctor dared nervously, "was exhausting to him. It drained the last bit of energy he seemed to have left. And he's in a lot of pain. We've increased his dose of morphine to at least make him a bit comfortable."
Breathing heavily with frustration, Chandler backed away, as he looked down. He felt Ross' grip loosening around his arm before letting go entirely. He turned to his friend.
"I'm not ready," he said with wide eyes. "I can't do it, not yet."
Ross looked into his eyes, concerned and a bit confused.
"I just can't," Chandler repeated and passed by Ross, leaving him and the doctor behind and heading down the hallway.
After running around the hospital in attempt to find Chandler, Ross made it to the main entrance and got outside, where he finally found his friend sitting on a bench, his head bent and his elbows resting on his knees. Ross let out a sigh of relief and approached him.
"There you are," he said, trying to sound a bit cheerful to lighten up the situation – which he knew was in vain. Immediately, he noticed the cigarette in his friend's hand. "Are you smoking?" he asked and stayed on his feet just for a moment beside the bench.
Chandler didn't answer but just kept glaring at the ground. And this was alarming to Ross, who knew that this was one of those times, where Chandler would have made an obvious joke.
Ross sat down slowly. He watched, as Chandler took another drag and blew the white smoke.
"It helps me relax," Chandler finally said. "It always has."
"I know," Ross nodded after hesitating for a while.
They sat like that for a moment, feeling the winter air in their faces, before Ross blew a hot breath onto his hands and spoke again.
"I know it's been hard, what you've gone through, and I know it's hard to say goodbye..." He sought Chandler's eyes, inwardly begging for some attention. "But I really think you should be with him right now."
Chandler didn't say anything right away, just tapping a little with the last piece of cigarette between two fingers.
"It feels like I've been taking his two months for granted," he then murmured. "Should I've done more?" Now he looked directly at Ross, frowning.
"You've done everything you could, I'm sure about that." Ross adjusted himself a bit, turning a bit more to Chandler. "He's been so lucky to have you –"
"He still has me."
Ross tortured his mind for using this past tense sentence.
"Sorry," he said, "of course he has."
"The problem is, Ross," Chandler put out the cigarette butt by the trashcan and looked at his friend, "that I'm not ready to say goodbye yet. I don't wanna say goodbye. It's too soon."
Being very uncomfortable, Ross looked away for a brief moment. He had to be careful with his words towards Chandler right now. His friend was too emotional to handle misunderstandings at this point.
"Joey's up there right now. He's probably scared and confused..."
Chandler shook his head.
"He's got many days left. He's not gonna go yet."
"Chandler," Ross said and placed his hand on his friend's shoulder, "you have to go up there. Be with him through his last time. You're the most important person of his life."
He could see the light tears that seemed to form in Chandler's eyes, and he squeezed his shoulder soothingly.
"Will you just please come with me?" Ross pleaded softly.
Before Chandler and Ross took the elevator upstairs, they made sure to contact Joey's parents and the other friends. The two guys had gone to Joey's room, and Ross had watched silently with his arms close to his body, as Chandler had moved to Joey's side, stroking his sleeping face carefully.
Ross recalled tears in his eyes, while he had seen Chandler bending forward and kissing Joey's forehead. He couldn't even imagine how it would be like to face losing someone he truly loved. He knew his two friends loved each other. It had been clearer to him by every day that had passed.
When the girls had arrived, Chandler had given them the news, and for a moment, they had been in chock, afterwards shedding a tear once in a while. Rachel had brought some colorful flowers which were placed neatly on the small chest of drawers right beside the bed.
Now, Joey was surrounded by people who loved him. His parents were there; his four closest friends were there. And the love of his life was there.
While Ross was at the hospital, he noticed that Joey didn't really talk anymore. And when answering a question, it was barely with a nod or a shake of the head.
Chandler didn't talk much, either. He just watched Joey over with all the attention he could give him – like he hadn't done enough for Joey already.
And then came the time, where Joey got so weak that everyone started preparing themselves. Rachel couldn't stop crying, constantly clutching a tissue in her hand. The other girls were pretty much acting the same way, and they comforted each other at this devastating hour.
After receiving soft goodbyes and a few tears from the friends and his parents, Joey turned his head a little and looked at Chandler.
"I'm sorry that I have to leave you already," he said weakly.
Chandler took Joey's hand in his own and squeezed it tightly, holding it to his mouth briefly, before he smiled sadly at his boyfriend. Tears stung in his eyes.
"I'll miss you," he said, his voice cracking slightly.
"You'll be fine." Joey clearly made an effort to keep his eyes open.
"It's too soon," Chandler shook his head. "It's not fair."
Joey smiled a little.
"I know."
"I'll always love you," Chandler said, letting a single tear fall. "You will always be the one."
"I love you, too," Joey said.
Chandler leaned down and kissed Joey's lips passionately before resting his forehead against his boyfriend's.
"I think it's time to go to sleep," Joey whispered with closed eyes.
Chandler shook his head brokenly.
"Please," he sobbed.
"I love you." Those were Joey's faint final words, as he let out a final breath.
An ever-lasting, squeaking sound filled the room, and Chandler's wide eyes shot to the heart monitor. It showed a straight, on-going line. From behind him, he heard gasps of chock along with some soft sobs. Mrs. Tribbiani cried into Mr. Tribbiani's shirt, choking slightly.
Chandler watched Joey's pale face and felt a huge lump in his throat.
"Joey," he croaked, now holding onto his boyfriend's limp hand even tighter than before. He felt some heavy tears falling down his face, and before he could say more, he broke down completely and started sobbing uncontrollably, almost gasping for air. He felt such sorrow and grief in his stomach that he thought he was going to throw up.
The room was filled with a darkness that Chandler couldn't explain. It was like all light was shut out and death just took over. At this point, Chandler felt as if he had died along with Joey. He felt hollow – but not in a heartless way. It was an emptiness that could never ever be properly refilled.
The sound of grit beneath his shoes was somehow soothing, as Chandler listened to every step he took along the narrow path. Apart from that, the place was quiet. Only a soft yet cold breeze softly touched his face. Every leaf and piece of nature that he crossed was tinged with ice, the surfaces covered with tiny crystals which twinkled in the morning sun.
On this calm and beautiful Sunday, Chandler visited the graveyard with a red rose in his gloved hand. It was beyond the lines that surrounded the city, in the countryside, where no traffic noise was overwhelming and suffocating. This was the place that Chandler went to if feeling a need for a break and some piece.
On this day, Chandler was alone. No-one would disturb him or look at him with pity. He walked deeper into the graveyard, and as always, he suddenly started recognizing it all, by the time that he reached the spot he was heading for. His steps slowed down.
He adjusted himself in front of the grave right before him, squeezing the rose a little tighter, and like every other time, he read the letters on the tombstone:
Joseph Francis Tribbiani
January 9 – 1968
February 14 – 2006
Son and friend
The flowers which had been left beside the stone last time had now faded a little but were still showing some colors of white, red and green underneath the frozen covers.
Chandler thought of Joey every day. But not every thought was a sad one. No, he kept remembering all the good times. Right from the beginning, he hadn't allowed himself to remember Joey, as he was right before he died. The picture had been hard to repress, but Chandler had managed, and now, as he closed his eyes, he would see that lovely smile, those dark brown eyes and those strong hands, which had always held his.
"Hey, Joey," he said, holding up the rose and looking at it, fumbling a little with one of its green, pointy leafs. He sighed.
"It's been a year now. Time has passed so quickly. I just wanted you to know that... I'm okay. Not great, but okay." Chandler studied the grave and smiled.
"The guys are alright," he said. "Ross and Rachel are actually gonna have another kid real soon. Monica is excited about it. You know how she acted, when they were having Emma. I'm pretty sure Phoebe and Mike are working something out as well. Mike seems a bit terrified, though."
Chandler let out a soft chuckle.
"You know what? A week ago I caught myself in dialing your cell phone number, when I wanted to call the office. I felt so stupid. And I still watch Die Hard, even though it's starting to turn a bit cliché and cheesy." He grinned. Then his face softened into sadness.
"I know you would have told me to let you go and move on. And you should know that I'm trying. I'm definitely trying. I've finally been able to move some of your old stuff around. I know I should've done that way too sooner. Well, I guess I still hope for you to come around..."
"Even though I know that you won't." Getting down on one knee, he carefully lay down the rose in front of the tombstone.
"I miss you," he whispered, not exactly knowing why.
Straightening himself up once again, he put his hands in the pockets of his coat. He smiled weakly before walking off, feeling the sun in his face, realizing how warm it felt against his skin. He looked up at the blue sky, imagining Joey looking down at him from above.
"I'm alright."