"We were friends at first, I guess, but when he came back that first time, and he was different. Harder, I guess. I dunno... we didn't get along like, at all. Fought about everything."

Even shit we didn't disagree on. Everything.

"Then I guess we stopped." And I'm not sure if it's something Mike should remember. It's not like we hung out a lot, like he came and visited like Dean would do, or that I talked about him. He was just there. Always. 'Til he wasn't.

"Couple of weeks after you... after you died, I got drunk and went and passed out in his bed. He just... let me stay there. I can't even remember if we talked or what but we slept 'til mornin' and then he walked me home. Tom was really freaked out. He asked me if we'd fucked."

I dash a hand across my face before I realize that I've been crying silently for the last half a block, shoulders hunched and my head tilted down.

"I don't know what the fuck you're supposed to do with this shit, Mike. I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to do, either."