Page 182 of Toxic Kiss

“Oh, come on, man.” I scoff. “She is a fucking loser, a go-nowhere wannabe. Is that who you really want to hang around?”

“Yes,” he bellows in my face. “Haven is my best friend.” It’s a slap to the face as he glares at me.

“I’m the one who has been a terrible fucking friend. I’ve stood by and let you treat her like crap because it’s nice to have a guy friend who gets me. Someone who loves writing songs as much as I do. Someone who can take my words and make them come to life. I’ve been caught up in the idea of one day being famous at your side, but it’s not worth it. None of this is worth it. Haven is an incredible person, and I am a bigger piece of shit than you, because I’ve let you do so many horrible things to her. So many that I’ve lost count.”

He takes a step back, and real fear hits me as I see him shutting down and pushing me away.

“Fine, I’ll be nicer to her,” I say, and a big part of me is relieved. Relieved to finally have a reason to let my feelings for Haven breathe.

Patrick shakes his head and takes another step back. “No, man. It’s too late for that. I’m done. I want nothing to do with you and your fucking bullshit.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yeah, I fucking do. I’m physically sick to my stomach. I guess I should be thanking you for tonight. You finally did something that I can’t laugh off or make an excuse for. I just can’t. I’m done. No friendship, no amount of fame or money, is worth selling my soul to the devil.”

He turns and marches away, hands clenched into fists.

“I’m not the devil. It was supposed to be funny. I didn’t mean…”

Patrick spins and points at me.

“Shut the fuck up. Don’t say another word. It’s all lies and manipulation. That’s all it’s ever been. You wanted to come between Haven and me, and I fucking let you. Hell, I don’t even know if you like being my friend or love torturing her so much that you tolerate me.”

“That’s not true. You’re my best friend.”

“Yeah, well…find a new one. From now on, if you want to bully Haven, then get prepared to face me every fucking time.”

Patrick stomps away and doesn’t look back.

I hold out my arms, desperate as I grasp at straws as to what to say.

“What about our songs?” I yell after him.

“Fucking keep them. I don’t want them.”

For the first time since that night, I look my best friend in the eyes and let out the sob that has been locked inside my chest for five and a half years. The grief flows out of me, and I all but tackle Patrick, wrapping him in my arms.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” The words tumble free. “You were right. I loved Haven…and acted like such a fucking waste of space toward her.” The sentences run together as they spill from my mouth. “All this time I’ve blamed my mother for my father’s death, but I made the same mistake. I hurt those I love the most for money, power, fame, and popularity. I’m the pathetic one. You died because of me. It’s all my fault, because I just had to see how far I could go.” I gasp and suck in a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry.”

I can apologize a million times, but it won’t ever be enough to fix what I did. It will never bring him back. It won’t fix what I broke inside of Haven or me. The words are worthless, but I say them anyway.

Patrick hugs me back, his arms warm as I fully breakdown and give myself over to the suffocating surge of guilt and anguish that has haunted me for years.

“It’s going to be okay. You two will find your way. Trust her.”

“I will. I promise. Please forgive me. Please, I’m begging you to forgive me.”

He doesn’t respond, and I pull back to beg for his mercy again, but he’s gone.

I blink and stare at the blank space where Patrick stood, and then turn in a circle. No. Not again.

“Patrick? Patrick?”

Nothing but silence.

Shuffling over to the mattress, I drop down and crawl under the weighted blanket, then I curl up in a ball and cry.

The quiet presses in, heavier than anything I’ve ever carried. He’s gone again…and this time I don’t even have the lie that he may come back. I’m left with only the unbearable truth.