Written in the Stars

It happened so fast, I didn't know what to do. I feel like he left me here, alone, just so I could be traumatized by the life-scarring images engraved in my mind. There are five pictures of him in my house. In the living room, the hallway, and two in his old room, now the guest room. He was my best friend and I saw him get killed...

A few of his close friends and family are at my house to watch the video he made of his will. It isn't anything official, just something he made when he was bored a month or two ago. We're streaming it live internet so the fans can watch.

"Pierre, I want to talk to you later," Chuck said.

"Okay," I replied. The video began...

"Hello, this is Sébastien, obviously. I want my friends, family, and fans to watch this. So, if you're watching this, I'm dead right now. Okay, now onto the subject of who's getting what." I zoned out for 15 minutes. The video is about twenty minutes long. I thought about what was next in my life, I mean, Simple Plan isn't going to work as well as it has for the past twelve or thirteen years. It's just hard to think about one of my best friends is dead. He's never going to speak, or live, or do anything ever again. His life is over. It's now my turn to make sure everyone knows what he has done to try to change peoples lives. I can't stand feeling like this all the time. It makes me feel like there is no reason to live if all you ever do is cry and be sad all the time... When I heard some familiar names I came back to Earth. "Now I have a few special things to give a few special people. David Desrosiers, I want you to have my two basses; Jeff Stinco, I want you to have my guitars; Chuck Comeau, I want you to have my laptop and desktop computers; Patrick Langious, I'd like for you to have my video camera; mom and dad, I'd like for you to have my car; and to my best friend, Pierre Bouvier, I am giving you my special guitar. That's all; I hope everyone enjoys what received. I love you all very much, as I say my final goodbye." I was crying when he said he wanted me to have his special guitar. It was his favorite of all. It means a lot to me.

"Jeff and David, his guitars and basses are in his room. Patrick, his camera is up there too. Chuck, I'll help you get the computers. Mr. and Mrs. Lefebvre, here are the keys to his car, you can take it now, or whenever you want to." I handed Mr. Lefebvre the keys and went upstairs to help the guys.

"Pierre, do you think you'll be okay alone tonight? You can stay at my house, or I could stay here if you want," Chuck said.

"Can You stay here tonight?"

"Yeah, no problem." I grabbed the video camera and handed it to Pat.

"Pierre, don't do anything you'll regret, it gets better," he whispered and left.

"David," I said, handing him the instruments, "here are his basses."

"Hey, Pierre, call me anytime you feel the need to. Even if it's three in the morning, I'll answer it."

"Thank you, I really appreciate it." Everyone noticed that I was taking Sébastien's death the hardest. "Jeff, his guitars are over here; there are six."

"Do you think you can help me get them in my car?"

"Of course I can," I said, grabbing two of them. He took two also. We carefully walked outside to his car. "I'll get the other ones." I got the others and brought them outside to Jeff.

"Thanks. Be careful and don't do anything stupid."

"Okay." I went inside; it was only me and Chuck.