I’ve spent too many nights questioning why I’m here, why any of us are. The answers never come, and the silence that follows is maddening. People tell me to stop overthinking, but they don’t understand how much it matters—how it’s the one thing keeping me tethered to this world, no matter how broken it feels.

My parents don’t help. They spend their days screaming at each other in this massive, hollow mansion, surrounded by things that mean nothing. I’m just the adopted kid, a shadow in their chaos, never really seen. School is no better. I’m ignored or pushed around, and the only thing louder than the voices around me is the noise inside my head.

Then I met Paul, loud and full of energy. Normally, I hate loud people, but Paul was different. He introduced me to you, and together, we formed Unwanted, a band for outcasts like us. You brought peace to the mess in my mind, and before I knew it, I fell for you. Paul promised he’d stay out of it, that we wouldn’t like the same girl, and I believed him.

Until May 15. Paul broke his promise in the worst way possible. He ended his life, leaving behind a letter for you. I found it later, tucked away in your room, his words full of pain and love—love for you. You cried for him in a way that made it clear: you loved him too. More than me.

I found you on the rooftop of that abandoned building, standing on the edge. I ran, crashing into you, pulling you back with everything I had. I couldn’t stop crying, holding you so tightly it hurt. “Don’t leave me,” I begged, over and over, knowing you weren’t mine to save.

You wanted to follow Paul, and I was nothing but a roadblock. But I couldn’t let you go. Even if your heart was his, even if I could never fix you, I couldn’t let you slip away. Not like this. Not ever.