A fresh layer of snow had appeared overnight, glittering picturesquely in the sun. It was a glaring contrast to what Louis was feeling, yet an appropriately beautiful scene for Rosemarie's service.

Louis set his face in an appropriately neutral grimness as he was greeted by each new friend and distant relative who had made their way here from near and far to bid Rosemarie farewell. But the only face Louis wanted to see was the one face that was conspicuously absent. He was starting to think that David might not make it at all.

When Nabila and Jennifer arrived, giving their solemn condolences, Louis had asked after David, but Jennifer had said that he was taking a cab. Louis tried to pay attention to greeting everyone instead of searching the outskirts of the park for a familiar figure.

It was nearly time for the service to start when Louis finally caught sight of him, the sheer relief of it hitting him like a truck. David was wearing a dark blue sweater and blue jeans under his taupe winter coat. It was so David that Louis actually had to hold back a laugh, but he contained his smile to his eyes. He looked uncharacteristically nervous and as he made his way over, Louis realized he had his guitar slung over his shoulder. Louis's heart raced.

“David,” Louis said quietly as David came to stand beside him, so close that their shoulders brushed. “Thank you for being here.”

"Of course," David said, though he looked pale. He looked over at the casket like he expected it to bite. Louis knew the feeling.

The crowd settled into rows of folding chairs as the minister began speaking, but, impulsively, Louis caught David's wrist before he could do the same. David shot him a questioning look but whatever was in Louis's expression had David giving him a short nod and half a smile. David settled back beside him, arms pressed together once more. Louis didn't let go of his wrist and David never pulled away.

When it was time for him to speak, he forced himself to release David's wrist—though he was half tempted to drag him up to center stage anyway. David gave him an encouraging nod and Louis looked out over the crowd. He was not prone to stage fright, but there was a bleak sort of terror in having to say the words that marked the last page in Rosemarie's book.

Louis swallowed, then spoke.

"Thank you for being here today. Both for Rosemarie and for everyone here feeling her loss. It's a comfort to see so many faces of those she loved and those who loved her."

There was a murmur of assent and Louis could see the glistening of tears in many eyes. In a strange way, it was a comfort to see the grief that her loss brought. It was a grief that mirrored the love she'd shown and been shown in life.

"I've found myself at a loss for what to say," Louis continued. "To me, Rosemarie was a sister, parent, friend, and confidant. She was the person who always knew what to do and happily—even stubbornly—gave every part of herself to the people she loved."

There was a bit of tearful laughter at that and Louis let himself smile fondly, though his eyes were starting to sting. He glanced down briefly to compose himself before looking up to the crowd again.

"That's what she was to me. But she was so much more than that, too. I look around and I see what she was to all of you. A patron, a teacher, a neighbor, maybe only a brief acquaintance. Even so, she'd be glad to see you here."

He paused, letting that sit.

"Rosemarie's life was characterized by love. She loved life and this world and the people in with a passion that most can only aspire to. If you keep anything in memory of her, I hope that it's that. I hope that you will leave here with the warmth of her love and with her passion and I hope you will keep her alive in your hearts and your memories by filling your own lives with the love and joy that she would have wished for every one of you."

Louis met the eyes of everyone in the gathering, lingering a little longer on David’s than anyone else’s.

“Thank you, again, for being here today, and thank you for being here for each other in the coming days."

There was a scattering of applause and Louis stepped back towards David and the minister took center stage again, asking for anyone else who wanted to speak.

As they went through the rest of the service, David's fingers worried at his sleeve with more and more fervor until Louis couldn't stop himself from grabbing David's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. David's fingers stilled, then wrapped around Louis's, returning the gesture.

“If there is nothing more,” the minister said after a final query, “we shall commit—”

“Wait,” David said, then made a face like he hadn’t meant to. All eyes turned to him, including Louis's. He swallowed visibly. “I, uh, I’d like to say a few words, if that’s all right.” He glanced nervously at Louis who could nod, releasing his hand with a degree of regret.

“Thank you,” David said to no one in particular. He stood at the head of the casket, and looked down at it for a long moment before taking a deep breath and spoke, not to the crowd, but as though to Rosemarie. Louis's eyes burned.

"Rosemarie," David said, "first, I swear I will finish the shelf. I think that your friends will help me fill them with books in your name."

There was a sound of agreement and a couple whistles from Rosemarie’s book club that actually made Louis's lips quirk up. David smiled warmly at them in acknowledgment.

"Second, I kept a secret from you. Did you know I played the guitar? Did Louis ever mention that? Anyway, though," he said, "I, uh, I know this was your favorite song and I thought—" his voice cracked and he rubbed self consciously at the back of his neck. "I thought I should play it for you, at least once."

David dropped the guitar bag from his shoulder and pulled off his gloves before taking out the instrument. David shook his hands to loosen them or warm them before playing a couple notes and correcting the pitch. His eyes met Louis's and he could see something just short of panic in the bright blue.

"You'll have to forgive me for the mistakes. I don't usually play for an audience," David said with a self-deprecating smile, then took a deep breath and strummed a chord. And another. Then a false one.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, then started again.

And then he closed his eyes and he sang.

Louis's eyes burned at the sound of her song, the one he had always heard in her voice, now echoed in a deeper one. Louis could almost hear her voice in the melody, echoing the one verse she sang wrong every single time. Louis wondered if David realized that he'd done the same thing. He struggled to keep his breathing even as he listened.

This was a gift, he knew, as much for him as it was for Rosemarie. He only wished Rosemarie had been alive to hear it.

When the last wavering note on the guitar was stilled by David's hands, Louis finally relented, tears streaming down his face. David's eyes were wet, too, his nose red from the cold.

"Thank you," David said quietly, resting his hand briefly on the wood of the casket before packing his guitar away again. There was a round of applause and a couple stifled sobs. David's eyes remained determinedly fixed on the ground as he came to stand beside Louis once more.

As the minister interred her to the ground, Louis could only press his arm against David’s in thanks. David's hand found its way back into his and Louis squeezed it.

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Throwing the first bit of earth on the grave was almost as hard as watching them take her body from the home she'd never return to again. This was really their last goodbye.

There were muttered condolences and then the crowd of Rosemarie’s loved ones slowly dispersed as the ground was covered by earth. Louis couldn’t bring himself to leave, though, even as the casket was covered completely, even as the ground was filled to a soft mound, the dirt a stark scar amidst the blanket of white.

It was almost surreal that she was gone. Louis couldn’t quite wrap his head around it. It seemed almost like the world had stopped and Louis wasn't entirely sure he was still here, either, even as a hand rested on his shoulder.

Louis finally looked up from the grave to meet David's gaze. He was openly crying, eyes even brighter than usual behind the tears.

“I’m sorry,” David said. “I’m just really sorry.”

“Me too,” Louis said, looking back to the grave.

David stood beside him for hours as the sun slowly set behind the cemetery and the cold seeped through him. Still, he couldn't bring himself to leave and he was selfishly grateful that David didn't either. But he knew it couldn't last. The world hadn't stopped, and they both had a reality to return to in the morning.

"Well," Louis said, tilting his head back to look up at the stars just beginning to appear, "goodbye, Rosemarie."

David didn't say anything and Louis forced himself to look at him. This was more than just goodbye to his sister.

"I guess this is goodbye for us, too," he said.

"You're making it sound like this is the end," David said.

"Isn't it?" Louis kept his gaze level and David's brow furrowed.

"It doesn't have to be," David said. "I don't want it to be. You have a phone."

Louis nodded, knowing that their friendship would die out with distance and busy work schedules, just like the closeness they'd already lost.

"You don't agree," David said, his expression hurt. "So much for staying friends, huh?"

Louis flinched, then felt a rush of irritation. "We've barely even been friends since we split up," Louis said. "Why try to keep up the pretense?"

Louis was being unfair, but it was either push David away now or hold on and never let him go. There was no in between. No compromise. A clean break was all that Louis could give him, anything else and he would shatter and he didn’t think he could put himself back together after that.

Everything he'd had to give was in his letter and David had already made his choice, putting a wall up between them and, if there was a door, Louis hadn't found it.

“I could go back to Weldstone Harbor, you know,” David said. “I lived there for ages.”

Louis scoffed, bitter that he wanted so desperately to take what David offered, even knowing how selfish that would be. “You know that that’s not where you belong. You still have half a season to film and, once that's aired, they'll ask you back for a third.”

“What makes you think I belong here?” David argued. “I don’t even have an apartment in Midtown. And if the series isn't picked up again, what then?”

Louis met David’s eyes with a hard stare. “Then you will find where you do belong, but it’s not following me back to Weldstone Harbor over a brief friendship.”

David's expression turned into one of such anguish that Louis knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that David was just as in love as Louis was, even if he didn't realize it himself. The fact that it didn't matter anyway was enough to break Louis's heart all over again and, with it, his remaining patience.

"It's getting late and I still have to pack," Louis said, turning to leave. He'd mad it five steps when David's voice stopped him dead.

“If you don’t want me around,” David said haltingly, “then just say so. But don’t pretend that it’s for my own good. That’s not yours to decide.”

Louis felt like he was suffocating. His chest ached and he couldn't find his breath.

“I care about you more than anyone else in the world,” Louis said, his voice breaking. He didn't turn around. “But I don’t want to hold you back from what you can do, David, and I can’t stay with you. That’s not where I belong.”

David let out a broken sob and Louis clenched his fists, forcing himself not to turn around again. He wished there was another answer, one that gave them both what they wanted and also let them stay together. He wished there was a choice that wouldn't hurt this fucking bad. But there wasn't.

David had something here that would give him a chance to grow and to realize that it wasn't Louis propping him up, but his own talent. Louis would return to what he knew and what he was good at and, if he was lucky, remember why he did it in the first place.

It would be hard, and maybe a little more bitter than sweet, but they would persist. They would live.

Louis forced his legs to move.

"Louis!" David called after him.

Louis didn't look back.

David didn't follow.

*****

The house was empty. It was no more or less empty than it had been since Rosemarie died, but it felt more final now—like even the ghost of her was gone. And maybe it was. There was something of her presence that had lingered but was now gone. Like the eternal soul that she'd always believed in.

His bags sat at the front door, already packed and ready to be loaded into a cab tomorrow morning.

With nothing else to do, Louis wandered upstairs and poured himself a glass of water, standing idly by the stove until he'd finished it. He set the glass down in the sink then started to turn.

Louis froze, looking back at the glass sitting alone in the sink. It hit him, then, that she'd never scold him for that again and it was suddenly too much to bear. His knuckles turned white where they gripped the counter, his head falling forward as he tried to keep himself from flying apart.

She was gone.

She was really gone.

Louis slid down the counter until he was seated on the floor, his face buried in his arms. He forced himself to breathe, trying to remember that, even though she was gone, the world hadn't stopped. There would still be another tomorrow.

But the thought of it just broke loose a sob. He sat there and cried for he didn't know how long before he forced himself off the floor, making his way to her room like a moth to a flame.

He hadn't been in there since she died, but he suddenly needed to be close to whatever was left of her, the familiar sights and the smell of her perfume.

Louis opened the door slowly, feeling like he was entering some off-limits place. He practically tiptoed into the room.

Nothing had changed in the last three days. It looked almost exactly as it had before she died.

The only difference was the unmade bed.

Louis shuffled over to it and carefully replaced the bedspread, stroking his hand over it until it lay smooth over the entirety of the bed, just like she'd always kept it, even on her worst days.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with the house. For now, it would just wait. Eventually, he would have to find someone to take care of it, because he didn't think he could ever be in this place again without the profound emptiness of her absence smothering him.

Once he had replaced the floral bedspread and fluffed the pillows, Louis took another look around the room, memorizing every inch of it just as she left it.

The closet was full of all of the brightly colored scarves and blouses that she favored. There were more shoes than there was space for and her jewelry box overflowed with impractically large baubles that she seemed to collect for the joy of having them rather than the pleasure of wearing any of them.

On her bedside, there was a copy of a romance novel, so well loved that it was missing half of its cover. Louis ran his fingers over the cover and sat down on the bed. A rush of her scent greeted him and he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.

He picked up the book and found a letter beneath it. Louis frowned, heart racing as he picked it up.

It was a green and pink rose-print envelope with his name written in her neat cursive. Louis recognized it as part of a stationary set he got her for her 38th birthday. It was a gift she had rarely used because she insisted that such nice paper could only be used for special occasions. Seeing it now made him smile a little, even as he opened the envelope with shaking fingers.

She'd written the note by hand in black ink, her handwriting soft and familiar across the page.

My darling Louis,

I am not good with words, and this is probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to write, so you’ll have to excuse the tear splotches, they are as much out of frustration as grief.

I thought a lot about what last words I wanted to leave you with, and I fell short.

The most important thing that I need to say is just how much I love you and how proud I am of the man you’ve become. I know that, even when I’m gone, you will continue to make me proud, just as you always have.

All of my most treasured memories are of the time you and I have spent together. Things weren't always easy and our parents did a lot of things wrong, but I've always been grateful that they gave me you. I wouldn't have changed that for the world.

I have, unsurprisingly, left everything I own to you.

I don’t know what you’ll do with it all, and I don’t really care. One man’s junk may be another’s treasure, but the reverse is true, too. You have my blessing to get rid of that duck sculpture in the front hall. I know how much you hate it.

Louis, if you need to sell the house, I want you to know that that’s okay. I have loved nothing in this world as much as I love you and I hope that you’ll carry that with you until we meet again. (Hush, I know you don’t believe in the afterlife, but let’s just pretend for now.)

Don’t miss me too much and don’t forget to live while you’re alive. I did, even in the end. Perhaps especially in the end, and that’s one thing that I certainly don’t regret.

I am glad you found people around you who love you and who see you for who you are. I'm glad you found David, too. Don't let go of the happiness you've found, Louis—not without a fight.

While I had the chance, I wish more than anything that I had had your courage. I wish that I had been able to chase after what I wanted like you always have. That is one of the things I admire most about you, Lou.

After I’m gone, I want you to promise me one thing. Don’t ever stop being you. The world is better with you in it.

All my love,

Rosemarie

Louis carefully folded the letter back into its envelope and tucked it in his pocket. Even beyond the grave, she always seemed to know what Louis needed to hear.