If anyone had told Katie years ago that she’d become a sentimental fool, she would have kicked them in the shins (or somewhere much worse).

As it was, she spent the following day in bed, pretending to be sick with a cold. Her eyes were running, but it was tears she hadn’t shed for years and there was no trace of any sort of virus. She watched romantic comedy after romantic comedy and kept a box of tissues on her bedside table. Old photographs and photo albums were strewn all over the bed; there were hundreds of pictures of she and Aaron as they grew up together. In all of them, Katie noticed she looked the happiest she could ever remember looking. As they got older, the photographs of the two of them became sparse, and gave way for photos of Katie and her family; in those, she didn’t look happy at all.

It was 3pm when the phone rang for the fifteenth time that day. It was Aaron again, and he left another message. This one sounded more forlorn than the last four.

“It’s me again. Would you please pick up? I feel like a stalker. Okay, fine, but we need to talk and you can’t hide from me forever.”

In defiance Katie turned up the volume on her TV and snuggled against her pillows, blowing her nose and tossing the tissue into the little purple trashcan she kept beside her bed. If she’d allowed herself to, she would have surveyed the apartment and looked at all of the things Aaron had given her over the years. The cat clock, the trashcan because she was a messy person and Aaron liked to remind her of that; there was last year’s Christmas present which wasn’t an object, per se, but it had been a trip for the two of them to Australia, a place Katie had always wanted to visit. It had been one of the best times of her life. Other gifts included multiple DVDs and a Care Bears radio from when she was eight.

After she’d looked at all the photo albums about three times each and cried over memories she’d forgotten about, there was a knock at the door.

She groaned loudly and pulled her duvet over her head. “GO AWAY!” She yelled after the knocking persisted. “I’m not here!” Another knock, this time it was louder. “Aaron, please just leave me alone!”

“It’s not Aaron!” Yelled the person behind the door. “Open up or I’ll break it down! Don’t think I won’t! I may be small, but I have a hefty kick!”

Katie pulled herself out of bed and stalked to the door, pulling her bathrobe tightly around her as she did so. “Brendan,” she said once he stepped inside, “I’m not in the mood right now.”

“You’re not in the mood for visitors?” Brendan questioned sarcastically, looking around the messy apartment. “I can see you didn’t clean up for me. I’m glad to know I’m so important to you.”

She flashed him a wan smile and wandered into the kitchen. “I’m sorry. I’m just…” she gestured vaguely. “…a mess.”

Brendan folded his arms and leaned against the doorway, watching as she filled a kettle with water and set it on the oven. “You know how we promised each other when we first met that we’d always be honest?”

Katie turned to him briefly, surveying his face to see where he was going with the conversation. Assuming it wouldn’t case her any grief, she nodded and dropped a teabag into a huge mug.

“You look like shit.”

She laughed. “Thanks, Bren. Just what I needed.”

“Tough love, Kit Kat.” He stepped into the kitchen and engulfed her in a hug. After a second, he pulled away, but held her at arm’s length. “He’s more of a mess than you are.”

“Who?”

Brendan gave her a look as if to say ‘don’t pull that crap with me’ and poured the steaming water into her mug; he handed it to her and then gently prodded her to the table, where she sat heavily and toyed with the teabag as he got himself a soda from the fridge.

“You haven’t called me Kit Kat in ages,” she said, smiling in remembrance when he sat down across from her.

Brendan grinned. “I haven’t seen you.”

“I have a phone. And a computer.”

“So do I.”

Katie groaned and sipped her tea. “What are you doing here?” Her voice was soft, and she looked more worn out than she had in a long time.

Brendan ran a hand through his hair, stalling for time. “I went into Perisol’s room this morning to see if he wanted to go sight seeing with a few of us. He looked so bad, Katie. He had bags under his eyes and they were blood shot and his hair was all over the place, and you KNOW how bad it was if his hair was out of place. He hadn’t slept all night. He was rambling like an idiot when I asked him what was wrong.”

Katie sighed heavily and pulled her hair off her neck as she gazed out the window, wondering what to say.

“You need to talk to him,” Brendan said eventually.

“I know.”

“Like, right now.”

Katie looked back at him, letting her hair drop from her fingertips. “I don’t know if I’m ready. I don’t know what to say to him.”

“Just talk to him,” Brendan said gently. “You’ll know what to say when the time comes.”

Katie smirked, wiping a tear from her cheek. “When’d you get so deep?”

Brendan leaned back in his seat, smiling from ear to ear. “I’ve been through this enough to know what has to be done.”

She ran her finger along the rim of her mug, glancing at him every so often as he drank his soda and flipped through the latest issue of People.

“Can I ask you something?”

It startled him, her speaking, since it had been quiet for so long. He closed the magazine and gave her his full attention. “Shoot.”

“How’s Amanda feel about all of this?”

Brendan rolled his eyes. “You’re not serious. You still think they’re dating?”

“Well, I heard they were---”

Brendan stood up. “You should know better than to listen to that crap.” He put his palms on the table in front of her and leaned down. “He’s in love with you, you idiot.”