"I need to get help, Patrick. You've been the biggest, most greatest friend I could ask for, but..."
The pain was evident in his face as he realised the meaning of Pete's words. It would be a long, long while before they ever saw each other again. There was the longest moment where neither of them said anything, before Patrick looked down at the steaming mug of tea cupped between his hands.
"Pete, you're my best friend. Can't we stay in touch?" Patrick knew that the shake of Pete's head was going to happen, but it still didn't soften the blow. At all. In fact, it almost made it worse-he knew that everything was going to change, and, in a way, it made him angry. Angry at himself that his best friend had been going downhill and he hadn't realised, angry at Pete for not wanting to stick with him, angry that Pete of all people had to fall into a deep, disgusting depression that he needed intense help for.
"I...I can't, I'm sorry. It's just, I want to get this over and done with and I don't think I can with the thought of the band and I'm sorry-"
"Pete, it's okay, I get it. You need to do this, for you and nobody else. Just remember that you're my closest of friends and nothings going to change that, not anything. I hope everything turns out okay." Smiling, Patrick pressed a closed fist against his mouth and squeezed Pete's shoulder with his free hand. Pete's eyes closed as he turned his head away, a single tear rolling down his cheek, followed by another and another.
Needless to say, it was a sad scene-two men, one wallowed by depression and the other, helpless to do anything about it, tucked away in the corner of the little cafe that smelled of scones and coffee. After a clear up of their tears, they quickly changed the subject to small talk about their favourite places to eat, places to visit.
That was the last time they would meet before losing themselves to their own projects. For Pete, his project was saving himself. For Patrick, the project it was working out who to be without his best friend.