He'll be waiting. Once she turns to go, he rests his hand over his heart and watches as she makes her way with the utmost uncertain certainty he's ever seen back down the hall to her room.

Finally, when she's out of sight, he closes the door and moves his hand from his chest to the spot on his face where he can still feel her kiss. It feels like a very, very long time later that he moves over and retrieves his saxophone from where he dumped it so unceremoniously on the floor.

It's his other best friend; good thing he doesn't have to choose between the two of them. He lifts the sax to his mouth and plays his heart out.