The day after she died, Otto opened her letter. He was alone now. Stormy and Ian had left. He had booze given to him by Rep. He was ready for the pain he knew was sure to come.

He sat on his couch. He opened the letter...

To my love Otto,

I love you. I've loved you so much. I feel like I keep repeating it, keep telling you these things. After Tuck, and after Chelsea...you'd think I was just playing, that I was just hopping lovers. It was true...Tuck was a good friend, and I enjoyed his company. I enjoyed him. But I didn't love him. I liked him a lot, perhaps it could've developed into love if I tried harder. But I was scared, and he was already entangled with someone else. It wasn't meant to be, I told myself. Because I was waiting for someone else. When you started dating Eva, I told myself to be happy for you. She was your crush, the one you loved the most. I told myself to be happy because you were and I was! Anytime you were happy Otto, I was happy.

When I was with Chelsea though, I wanted so desperately to fill the void it felt like you left me with. You had no idea but I became lonely, desperate for a touch that was solely meant for me. With Chelsea, I flirted, and we came together. But I was so hard on her, I wanted something from her...no demanded something from her that she wasn't ready or willing to give. It wasn't her fault that we conflicted, but in the end, my heart always knew it was never meant to be.

And then you told me how you broke up with Eva and it was so terrible of me. It was terrible that I was like yes. I felt happy (though I shouldn't have) that you were in the same misery as I was. That you shared in a love with no fulfillment. Oh god, I felt so terrible so happy because you were mine again. It feels sick and wrong but....You were mine again. My best friend, who I could spend time with again. Our time were filled with each other. So selfish of me, I always wondered why you would see such a selfish friend like me.

But you accepted me, and we moved to this time, this place where we are now, and I can't help but feel that it was okay. I'm writing this letter to tell you this, because we've always been honest, true to each other.

When I pass, If I pass, which assuming this letter gets to you it means I have, I want you to stay true to yourself. Please don't close yourself off Otto, because that won't make you happy. Don't be alone, because we are a pair that doesn't do well alone. You have friends, You have people that care for you. Can you make more? Talk to Ian! He's my best friend, He's me but a guy. He's going to be hurting too after this. I know you both will mourn but I want you guys to live!

I want you to live. I want you to continue living, god Otto please don't stop. Don't ever die, even after I do, years after I do.

Live and do things and be amazing. Be the best, because that's what I thought of you as. You were my best, the best friend, the best lover, my best love.

I can't write much more, but I hope you realize how much I loved you with this letter but that I don't wish you to stop loving. Don't stop being Otto, don't stop.

I love you so much Otto.
Nevada.

It hurt to read. He kept picturing the dying girl frantically writing her dying words to him, and it hurt. Of course he wouldn't die. He never died. Fate would not allow him the grace of death, just the ugliness of surviving. He was good at it. Too good.

Don't be alone. Make friends.

With what? Her friends? <******** that. ******** everything. The tears were already pouring. The pain was already tearing his insides apart. Nevada had written ugly things about herself she likely assumed he'd detest her for, but it didn't change a thing. He'd loved her. She was his other half. Everything together felt natural and real. And so easy.

She was gone.

She was really gone.

The letter was crumbling in his grasp, his tears beginning to stain the paper. He choked back sobs, curling into a ball on the couch. He wanted her back. He needed her back. There was a great hole in his heart, and he needed her to live. He'd survive. He;d be around, but he wouldn't be himself. How could he go on without her love? Her body, her voice. His mind swirled in agony, and he just wanted to disappear. He wanted this terrible pain to end.

He'd watched her get torn apart, dying slowly and in agony. And now his soul would die in emotional agony.

- - -

Had it been a few days? A week?

A lot had happened. Many people came to see him. None of them were Nevada.

Mimsy put up a posting on Twitter. A meteor shower was coming. He could make a wish. Hah... how childish. But then how did he end up here? Back on the cliff himself and America had been on drinking beers?

The night air was cool on his face. He was layered up despite the balmy tropical air at night. He laid himself down. He didn't bring booze this time. Just himself, splayed out on the grass as he stared up at the expanse of stars.

Really, he was just so small. Compared to the great sky above, filled with worlds, galaxies and impossibilities he would never understand. His problems were so great to him, but so small to the universe. He was a blip. A blink barely visible. This made him feel better, like perhaps he really didn't exist in the greater scheme of things. He was small, and that sky was so big. Laying there, he could feel the Earth move through space. Riding it through the cosmos, this small little life form, on a big planet, in a grand galaxy.

He felt small, but he felt lighter. Nothing revolved around him, and that was okay right now. Cut loose from the imaginary strings he'd assumed he'd been bound with.

So then, it was time to make his wish, he supposed.

A shooting star flew overhead. Otto breathed out slowly, closing his eyes and making his wish.

Let this year be kinder to me than it has been. Give me something that won't break.

In the span of two months, he'd suffered much. He'd left Death, and tried to make a better existence for himself in Sun. He'd broken up with his supposed sweetheart, Eva. He'd learned of Nevada's grave fate, he'd fallen in love, and had that love taken away from him. He'd had his heart torn every which way it could be torn.

He just wished, maybe, that he could be given something better. Maybe he could let his heat heal. Maybe he could just catch a break.

Or, he could lay here. Just lay there, and let time slip away. Pretend he didn't exist.