❝So, I guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. And maybe we'll never know most of them. But even if we don't have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there. We can still do things. And we can try to feel okay about them.❞

-The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky

✕✕✕✕✕

It's been a month and 2 days since my soulmate became an angel. And things have changed for the better, it seems.

I told Kat and Macy everything - from the crash to the reapers to saying goodbye to Will for real. Like rain on a country road, my emotions poured out endlessly, deflating the cloud that'd been hanging over my head for so long. My companions were shocked at first, but quickly rushed to comfort me, Macy hugging me and Kat squeezing my hand.

"I'm so sorry, Li. I promise you, I'll do anything I can to help you heal," Macy told me over my shoulder. After a moment, she let me go and looked me in the eyes, her inner artist continuing, "Once... you were a star. And then you were a supernova. And then you were a black hole. And now you may feel like nothing at all. But sometimes, nebulas can form again. And you will be okay."

I tried to ignore her romanticization of the situation, knowing that no matter how oblivious she may be sometimes, she's always had the best intentions at heart.

From behind Macy, Kat said with genuine empathy, "I'm with her. We're going to help you. I'm not letting my sister be taken away from me again."

My muscles relaxed as I thanked god above that they didn't judge me. To them, I said, "Okay."

"So, just to confirm..." Macy cocked her head. "Mor was Will? When we went to Australia, that was actually just Will in disguise? That's kinda sweet. It's like you guys got a few last happy memories together."

That's not quite how I saw it when we were traveling, but looking back, the memories were happy. The thought of them made me smile. It was really a ghost of a smile, just like the boy I loved, gone within an instant with the promise of always being with me.

He is with me. A month later, I know it for sure.

Not a day goes by that I don't feel Will encouraging me onward. It's usually subtle - a gust of warmth in a freezing classroom, a sunny day in a week of storms. Sometimes, as I lay in bed at night and continue to have nightmares, I toss and turn and swear I can feel him holding me, brushing my hair back from my pallid forehead and telling me tomorrow is another day.

It's because of this that I've been able to pool the strength to do something I've dreaded for a while: accept the help I've always been offered, and go back to therapy.

I'll never claim therapy as a catch-all fix for my mental illness, because it is not. But talking to Dr. Pavone again, along with taking my meds and opening up to my friends and holding on to the last breath of the late summer, has made me feel a lot better.

Sure, there's never going to be a time I don't miss Will. And my emotions are as mercurial as they've always been. Sometimes I'm sad, sometimes I'm happy, and sometimes I'm somewhere messy in between.

But it's enough for me to move along. Enough for me to get up in the morning and try my best to make Will's legacy last. I go to the football games with Veronica, wave to Macy cheering on the track, root for the Jackals as they slowly adjust and get better through the season. They may not win the championship again, but they're in the playoffs right now. I'm pretty sure it's mostly because of one thing, which I witnessed: Trevor's confrontation of the team over how quickly they moved on from Will's death.

Coming out of the auditorium one day, I passed the guys guzzling Gatorade outside of the weight room. Bestowed with the duty of giving pep talks, Trevor stood before all of them and addressed them point blank.

"I know things have gotten hard," he said. "It's not because of anybody's lack of skill or coaching, it's because we've gone through shit people shouldn't have to go through. We lost the heart of the team. And I think ignoring that isn't going to help. Will would be shaking his head at how badly we've been doing lately. We need to get better."

I ducked away at that moment, as Trevor launched into a speech involving football terminology I didn't know and team inside jokes I didn't understand. Luckily, none of the other guys saw me walk by, but I caught Trevor's eye at the last moment.

He nodded at me solemnly, letting me know I wasn't alone in this either, that there was someone else out there protecting our best friend's legacy.

The next game, they won. Trevor got the victory touchdown. And when he did, he turned towards Veronica and I in the bleachers and pumped his fist and grinned, just like Will used to.

And so, with that, there was only one place left I could infuse with the spirit of Will: drama club.

I never grew any fonder of Hamlet. But I did remember how much I loved acting in general, so I threw my heart into my portrayal of Ophelia, as did Veronica with her role, Gertrude. We took solace in each other, referencing all our old musicals as much as we could, being wistful about the days of Beauty and the Beast and Grease and everything in between.

Slowly, everyone else started opening up, too, until it became a normal thing to laugh about how fun those were, to admit that things were different now. And slowly, I started to feel much more comfortable, because now, talking about Will was not a taboo subject. My troupe and I stopped walking carefully on ice and started letting it break underneath us.

A month later, it's finally showtime.

Veronica and I are standing in costume in the wings. The curtain's closed, so we can't see the audience, but I know who's out there. Macy and Kat and my mother, taking off work to support me, sitting next to the slowly recovering Brooke Nyquist. The entire football team, paying their respects to Will's other world. Freshmen who may never know how bright the high school was before; seniors who are ready to leave the high school and find that brightness again.

I'm ready to leave, too. But I still don't know what I'm going to do with my life, now that I have it.

"God," Veronica says with a sigh. "I really wish we had more money to do a musical. I miss when there was music and not just endless fucking tragedy."

"Maybe someday, one of us will get rich and come back and donate thousands of dollars to the music program," I suggest.

She chuckles, though not without a hint of sadness. "Maybe we can even do what they did in Glee and renovate the entire auditorium and rename it in honor of Will."

In response, all I do is smile. Not a particularly happy or sad smile - just a smile, gentle and knowing, because I don't have to reply for Veronica to know how much that would mean to me. How much it would mean to many people.

"Guys!" the voice of Jordan Costello, Hamlet's player, carries over to us from where he's standing talking to Violet Bucks. We both turn to look at him, and he waves us over, saying as we approach, "Guess who's here."

"Uh, the President of the United States?" Veronica guesses.

"Jesus, no, I'd refuse to perform." Jordan shakes his head, his dark hair falling into his face. "Talent scouts! And not, like, shitty, fake scouts. Like actual agents who have gotten people onto Broadway before."

My eyes widen and my skin heats up. "Oh my god, seriously?"

Violet nods, hardly able to contain her giddiness. "They emailed Summers a couple days ago, said they heard about the tragedy and misfortune our theater department's seen and wanted to check us out."

Holy fuck, I think. People die in car crashes all the time. Schools are de-funded all the time. What is so different about Ashdown that somehow talent agents took notice of our story? Who could've possibly tipped them off-

And then, as a warm breeze comes through seemingly from nowhere, I realize. There's only one person watching us all from above, concerned with the well-being of the club and its members, most likely able to affect things ever-so-slightly.

Against the circumstances, as Jordan begins to panic over the pressure now surmounted against us, I take a deep breath. Although I'm just as stressed as he his - if not more - I have a weird, unwavering hope in tonight.

"Look, we just have to do what we usually do, all right?" I tell them when there's a break in Jordan's rambling. "Just make it work. Move along. Act like we always have. We were great once; even after everything, I see no reason why we can't be great again."

✕✕✕

The play goes perfectly.

It's just Shakespeare, something you might read in an English class, but we make it our own. Veronica fits perfectly as a beautiful, troubled queen; I, a suitable young dead girl. But after Ophelia dies, I somehow feel more alive than I have since Will's death.

When we take a bow, we get a standing ovation.

It feels wrong to stand there without Will, to hold Veronica and Jordan's hands underneath the spotlights instead of my boyfriend's. But as I look out at the crowd, I feel a sense of pride, knowing this is what he would've wanted me to do, knowing that so many of these people came to our show to honor his legacy.

I look to my sister and Macy and Mama, and Will's mother beside her. I still haven't spoken to Brooke, but she and my mother have been talking a lot recently. I heard she and Frank finally filed for divorce a week ago or so, and I doubt it's finalized yet, but he's already moved out and gone. Now, she waitresses at The Fox's Den and lives alone with Blue in a house once full of life.

Maybe I should talk to her too, I think. Another thing to do with my time.

As the lights dim and the curtains close, the cast rushes giddily backstage. As the auditorium empties, we praise each other's performances and drown bottles of water before heading outside to the cool air of the night time. We usually let the parking lot clear out before leaving ourselves, and besides, this is where our closest friends and family come to congratulate us.

The sky above, painted indigo and streaked white, is filled with clouds. But they begin to part as my family approaches me, plus Macy holding two bouquets. She's walking in time with Kat and Mama, but when we lock eyes, she comes forward with a smile.

"A million roses for thee, my dear Ophelia." She kneels and presents the flowers as if its a dowry, and I take them gently. As the plastic wrapped around the ends crackles underneath my grasp, I think about how wonderful it feels to finally hold a bouquet without the intention of putting it on someone's grave.

"My deepest thanks, my fair lady."

Macy's grin grows wider as she stands back up. "It's my pleasure!" For a moment, her bubbly tone turns serious. "Honestly, though, Lila, you were amazing."

As she speaks, I breathe in the smell of the roses, fragrant and full, like a strawberry spring on the coming horizon. Christmas is not far away, but after that, it'll be a whole new year. Graduation will come and go, and then some of these things I rely on now to get me by will disappear.

For a moment, anxiety begins to stir in my stomach. Taking a deep breath, I look up and around - at Macy's glow, at Kat and Mama behind her, at Veronica and my other friends a few feet away. Then my eyes land on Mr. Summers, standing at the edge of the parking lot, talking to two people I don't recognize. The talent agents.

My heart skips a beat, because I know my comfort lies in them. Maybe Veronica and I will become starving understudies living in New York City. That's not quite the warm beach residence I had in mind, but considering it feels like I have the sun on my side, I think I can make it work.

"Thank you, Macy," I finally say. "Not just for the roses, but in general. I just have to say that after the crash, you were the only person I really trusted. And you never gave up on being nice to me. Thank you for that."

Macy's mouth parts in surprise, her brown skin growing rosy. "Lila, of course! I would never abandon you."

I don't think the smile I give her in return is enough to show my gratitude.

"Anyway, I've gotta go give these to V," she tells me, waving the other bouquet. A few petals fall inadvertently. "Congrats again!"

She bounces away, past her girlfriend, towards Veronica. In the meantime, my mother steps forward for her turn congratulating me. Mama wraps me in a warm hug, and I wrap my arms around her, thankful that she's able to be here tonight.

In Spanish, Mama tells me, "You were spectacular, Lila. Absolutely wonderful. I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you," I echo.

We seperate, but she keeps a tight grip on my arms, staring me straight in the eyes and taking me in wistfully. My hair is in curls, tied back at the temples, little fake flowers woven in along the way; for a moment, Mama lets go of me only to wipe a tear from her cheek and brush aside one of my loose locks.

"For a while, I was terrified you'd never find joy again."

"So was I," I admit.

"So was I," Kat interjects. "I'm so happy that it seems you have."

Both Mama and I turn, letting Kat in to hug me as well. As she does, the moon seems to shine a little brighter, making the pavement around us glint with silver. Like the color of a Reaper's scythe. Or a northern star.

I resist the urge to look up at the sky. My sister lets go of me, and says, "It all went so smoothly. You were perfect, Jordan was great, even Veronica was charming. I forgot how well you guys performed together."

Unable to keep looking down, my eyes flicker upwards, towards the great unknown of the final horizon, towards the Heavens where so many wait for me - for all of us.

And there, as I'd expected, stark and bright against the Vermont night, is Polaris. The Northern Star. Will's star.

I feel that comforting summer breeze. As if I'm staring into Heaven itself. As if Will is standing here, arms around me, reminding me I'm always going to see him again.

"Even after everything," Mama continues, "Your production was amazing, and now you've even attracted scouts. It's all coming together perfectly."

Knowingly, coyly, Kat adds, "Seriously. I swear, it's almost as if you have a guardian angel on your side."

"Yeah," I agree with a smile. "Almost."

✕✕✕✕✕

A/N: And, a year after it all started, it's done.

Goodbye, Lila. Goodbye, Will. Goodbye, Ashdown.

I'm going to make a seperate chapter for my final author's note. Read on!

Also, this chapter is dedicated to colorsofleaving for all her very kind comments and votes! Thank you so so much!

As always, stay positive and stay awesome. 

xoxo, Athena

✕✕✕✕✕