I sip on my chocolate milkshake, leaning my head against the window of the busy diner in the mall. Raven, Ryder, and I all listen to Krash animatedly detail everything he's been up to in the last two years which, honestly, isn't much.

He downs the rest of his Coke and says, "Quit smoking cigarettes," then sets the empty can down and takes a couple packs of chewing gum out of his pockets and drops them on the table. "Someone be proud of me."

"Ah, I knew there was something different about you," I say, realizing I haven't seen him constantly holding his signature smoke.

Raven snickers and Krash rolls his eyes, so they say, "We're proud of you," and add under their breath, "I quit over a year ago."

"You smoke weed though, right?" Ryder asks him.

"'Course," Krash smirks.

"Cool. Meet me in room 101 tonight." When he sees Krash raise his eyebrows, Ryder explains, "The room you scared the shit out of Way in."

"Ah," he winks, "I'll be there."

When Ryder bites his lip and turns his face away to hide his smile, Raven and I meet eyes, suppressing our giggles. Krash just goes on talking about his life and his car and his apartment that, by the sounds of it, is even shittier than Raven's. Ryder, sipping on his drink, hangs on to his every word, his cheeks pinker than his strawberry milkshake.

Just then, I feel my phone buzz. The text reads, Are you planning on coming home tonight? Just wondering if I should take something out for you for dinner before I leave for work.

I quickly text Laura back, I was planning on staying with my friends tonight. Thanks though.

Laura: Okay, no problem. See you tomorrow.

Evelyn: See ya.

"Way, how's your life been anyway? Raven told me you were living with your mom over here, but that's it," Krash says, finally running out of things to say about himself. I've never seen him talk so much and I'm wondering if that means he just hasn't had anyone to talk to since he, Raven, and Zero split up the gang. He adds, "From what I remember it's kind of... surprising you're back to living with her."

I think for a few seconds, but eventually settle on saying, "Uh, my life's... been."

Krash narrows his eyes, "What's that mean?"

"Well, you know, lost a custody battle against my mom, kind of moved here against my will, in a long distance relationship with my girlfriend but that's actually going well, missed the birth of my baby sister back home." I shrug like it's nothing, then try and take a sip of my milkshake before realizing the cup is already empty.

Krash's eyes go wide. "Oh," he says.

I laugh awkwardly, "Yeah. It's not boring, at least."

"That's a plus, I guess?" he says, knowing we're really grasping at straws here.

An awkward, tense silence falls over our table and I'm not surprised in the slightest that it's my fault. But, hey, he asked. Ryder doesn't let the silence last long, though, and he slips out of the booth.

"Speaking of boring stuff," he says, taking his empty milkshake cup from the table, "we're all done and this place is getting old and way too crowded."

Raven looks around, scans their eyes from one end of the diner to the other. "There's, like, three used tables and the rest are empty."

"Way too crowded," Ryder says again.

I shrug and slide out of the booth after him and we go throw out our cups. The other two soon follow suit, then we all leave the diner and head towards the exit of the mall. Ryder and I walk in stride, but soon I notice his pace start to slow until he's walking in stride with Krash instead, a few steps behind me. Raven jogs up next to me and we share knowing looks.

Ryder and Krash are opposites like Em and I are. Ryder is the upbeat, energetic one. The glass half full type of guy. Krash is, and always has been, serious, a realist bordering on pessimist. The difference between us, though, is that Em and I were both awkwardly trying to hide our feelings for each other. Krash is quite plainly clueless about Ryder's heart eyes.

I wonder if that's what I used to look like when I listened to Emerald ramble on before we were together, twinkling eyes and a stupid, dreamy smile on my face.

• • •

"Ryder is head over heals!" I squeal, dropping to the floor later when the boys are out and it's just Raven and I occupying the apartment. And Jersey, who crawls onto my chest and rubs against my face as soon as I lie on the floor.

Raven drops onto the couch, stretches out across it with their arms crossed behind their head. "He has been since I told him Krash is tall, long dark hair, rocks a leather jacket. Just his type."

I scratch Jersey behind the ears thinking out loud, "But the question is... is Ryder Krash's type?"

"Dude, I have no idea," Raven says. "Krash barely ever talks about his feelings. Guess we'll have to find out."

"I hope so."

"Me too, honestly. They're so cute together already."

I nod. "What about you, Rave? Got your eye on anyone?"

"Nah," they say simply. "I like being single, but that doesn't stop me from striving to make every LGBT person irresistibly attracted to me, while simultaneously making every straight cis person wonder if I'm even human."

"The sheer power in that is insane."

"Yeah..." Raven drifts off. I don't know what to say anymore. The conversation has died down and the silence in the room is comfortable as I pet the cat and Raven scrolls on their phone.

My mind drifts. I don't know what I would say if I could go back in time to speak to my thirteen year old self, when I sat alone in my plain looking bedroom at the Millers' house, constantly wishing I was somewhere else, wishing I had friends, wishing I had people I could call a family and mean it.

Would I tell her about all the good things, her wildest dreams about to come true? That she'd soon be adopted, feel loved for the first time, make a real friend, make a couple more. Would I warn her about the bad and the ugly?

Raven goes to bed at a decent hour and so I'm alone in the living room, a scratchy blanket pulled up to my chin, the darkness acting as my eyelids that just won't close. I try and focus on the sound of Jersey scuttling around the apartment, the sound of crickets, and cars rushing by through the window left open to let in some light summer breeze. My mind is still reeling, though, and it's only getting worse the longer I try and push away the thoughts. The bad and the ugly thoughts.

All the lying I did and still feel guilty about, how I worried people, how badly I treated them and myself. How I wish things could've gone differently. I wish I would've gone for help sooner, never have spiralled and landed at rock bottom, would up in the hospital, wasted so much time hating myself and hurting myself. How much further would I be in life if I hadn't wasted so much time?

I feel a tear roll down my cheek and that's when I know I failed at focusing on the sounds and pushing away my thoughts. I let them wash over me like a wave now. Wave after wave that's making me sink lower and lower into the couch cushions until my face is completely covered and my breaths are short and muffled.

I feel a hand on my back. "Way?"

Slowly, I peel my face away from the pillow I dampened with my tears and roll over. In the glow of the moon streaming through the window I see Raven standing over me, a concerned look on their face. "Shit," I say, rubbing my eyes. "Um, I'm fine. Sorry if I woke you up."

They sit on the edge of the couch and ask gently, "What's up?"

"The ceiling."

"Shut up, you know what I mean. Why are you crying?"

"I was just thinking too much," I say, never meeting their eyes. I feel like I was caught doing something wrong. "You can go back to bed."

Instead of leaving like I hoped, they ask, "Wanna talk about it?"

"Not unless you can handle an existential crisis at..." I reach for my phone I tucked just under the couch, find it blindly, then check the time. "At midnight."

"I can take it."

Raven repositions themselves so they're sitting, stretched out on the opposite end of the couch, and I sit up. I take a deep breath and say, "I feel like bad things wasted so much of my life, and me being sad about the bad things is wasting even more of it."

"You're sixteen— and I know, I know, I'm saying this as an nineteen year old— you haven't wasted your life. You've still got so much time," Raven says without missing a beat.

"Okay, but I feel like all this is leading to nothing. Like I don't even know what I want to do when I'm done school, but I feel like it has to be something big because Gerard did something big, and so has everyone else I'm used to being around."

"You know that they're going to support you no matter what, even if it's nothing big. All that matters is that you're happy with whatever it is you decide to do."

"Well, I know what it is I want and what would make me happy, but I don't think I'm good enough to achieve it."

"Do you think the pros were pros at sixteen? Didn't Gerard get kicked out of his first band 'cause he couldn't play Sweet Home Alabama?"

My eyes widen. "How do you know that? I didn't even know that," I ask, dumbfounded.

"Doesn't matter," Raven replies simply with a wave of their hand. "I'm just, you know, trash."

"Okay," I say slowly, "well, I lack motivation. What I want to do is publish a book one day, but I don't think I'll ever be a good enough writer to get a book published."

"A lack of motivation is something that can be overcome, so if you really want to publish a book, and it's what you're meant to do, then you'll be able to do it."

"How do I know that it's what I'm meant to do?"

"You just have this ache in your chest that feels like homesickness when you picture yourself doing anything else with your life."

"Oh," I say.

We're quiet for a long time after that, until I can hear Raven's deep, steady breathing that tells me they've fallen asleep at about 1AM. Going back and forth with them helped, I realize. The whole "talking about it" and "not bottling it all up" thing actually works. And eventually, I fall asleep too.