"I know you're mad at me," he texted. It'd been days since he'd gotten a reply. "You should be. Hell, I'm mad at me."

Jason had messed up. Before his death, he'd had a best friend; the only person he could count on at all times. And then he'd died, and come back, and his life had turned upside down. His friend deserved to live a normal life, away from his bullsh*t, he'd decided. He should've just moved on, just left well enough alone, but no. He'd just had to reach out to his old friend online, pretending to be a stranger. All he'd wanted was a little bubble of safety from the mess his life had become. And for a few months, he'd had that—they'd grown close once more; he'd felt normal again. Happy, even. It'd felt good, so damn good to have this one thing.

So much for that.

Of course Jason had let it slip who he was. Of course his friend, if they were even still friends, was furious with him. He'd messed everything up, as he always did, and now his light in the dark had gone out.

"Look, I'm sorry I let you think I was dead, okay?" he texted again. He should shut up, he knew that, but he just had to try and salvage things. This was the one person he desperately needed in his life. "Damn it, just talk to me."