James Anderson sat at his desk, a photo album and a bottle of bourbon in front of him. The funeral director had told him to pick out a photo of Phil to use for the obituary. They could use the official campaign photo, but James wanted to use a different one.

As e looked through the photos, tears rolled down his face. He couldn't remember the last time he had cried. He hadn't cried at his father's funeral. He had cried at his mother's. She had died exactly one month after his father and the fact that she wanted to die, had left James feeling abandoned and unloved, despite being almost 30 at the time of her death.

What was he supposed to do without Phil?

Phil had been his rock. His champion. His number one supporter. His best friend. He owed everything to Phil. And now he was gone, leaving James to figure it all out on his own.

And, to deal with Blaine.

James closed the photo album, took a swig of bourbon straight from the bottle and went over to the window. He looked over the expansive backyard. He saw Blaine, walking with another boy. A slender boy with brown hair. They were holding hands.

James watched as they walked into the woods part of the backyard. Blaine had built a fort back there as a young boy. He also had a treehouse.

James sighed. He was too depressed to even care. Besides, he had to go to Phil's condo and find a suit for the burial and see what campaign information Phil had stored there.