2.

Day after day, I tried to approach him, but he blew me off. His calls were brief and to the point until they disappeared altogether. He stopped picking me up at my house, and when we met in the school hall, he replied to my enthusiastic, 'good morning' with a curt nod. Within a week, he'd moved his locker to the other end of the hall. It didn't help that we only had math and chemistry classes together, and when we did, he arrived early and got a seat away from me.

I was slowly losing my best friend.

           Two weeks after the junkyard incident, I tossed and turned in bed like a roasting pig. This cold shoulder treatment was killing me. If I'd told him earlier on... If we'd only pretended to do it because I'm sure those idiots weren't close enough to see every detail... Why did I do it? I stared at the wall as if it would answer my silent question. My hand rose to my lips. I can't deny it was good; shockingly good. The rumours were right; they were soft a baby's. If given the chance, would I do it again..? No! I buried my face in the pillows and groaned. Why would you even think that?! "A distraction..." I reached for my Mac and placed it on my lap. Suren refunded the money with an extra 1k as payment for ruining my face and mood. I scrolled through the contacts. Lydia loves her beauty sleep, and I have nothing in common with Daniel. Most were mutual friends and photography club members. Suren's a no, and I doubt Justin would respond if he saw my name. Raymar was at the bottom. Since the incident, we spoke little, but he'd glance my way as if sending brainwaves of feel-good hormones. At least, I think they were. I steeled myself and sent a simple,

-You awake?

-Yeah.

I froze. Such a quick answer. I hovered over the keyboard.

-What're you doing up? It's 2 am.

-Right back at ya. I'm playing something. You?

-Can't sleep.

A long pause.

-Is it about Justin?

-Yup. 

Another long pause. Maybe I'm just burdening him with my problems. 

-Why is it bothering you?

-Because he's my best friend. I can't lose him like that.

-What kind of best friend doesn't listen?

-He's still in shock, you said it yourself.

Do you think an apology will make him feel better?

My jaw tightened. I couldn't imagine him snapping back since he didn't look like he had a single harsh bone in his body, but I could tell by the tone. What's up with him? Making my worry look insignificant and stupid.

-What's your deal? Even if it doesn't, what's it for you?

The pause was longer this time. I hoped he went into a rage and smashed through his keyboard while he typed something else to snap at me with. How dare he! With that face and quiet personality, you'd never think his mouth was that foul. 

-Fine then. With that much worry, why don't you do it? I dare you. This Friday is the Senior's Ceremony, and the music students are performing an orchestral, right? Who's the chief photographer?

I frowned at the screen. It stunk of a trap, but if I gave up, it'd hurt my pride.

-I am.

-You have backstage passes for that?

-Yeah?

-Then meet him and explain everything. Tell him it was all a game, and it meant nothing, then tell me how it works out. If it does, I owe you one.

-What do you get if it doesn't?

-We'll cross that bridge when we get there. G'night.

The curt way he ended the conversation didn't sit right with me, and neither did the debt, but it lit a fire in me. I'd prove him wrong, then demand headphones. An Mp3 player? Or the video game that just came out. Or a lifetime supply of pudding. I smiled as I slipped into bed. Yeah, maybe that.

              Despite the stress of finals the next week, the school was buzzing with activity. With the seniors preparing for their SATs, we juniors did everything. Programmes, schedules and duties per class. Somehow, our heads didn't explode. That Friday, I woke with a belly full of flames. I'd prove Raymar wrong, even if I had to drag him with me or videotape the thing. Using my camera as leverage, I passed by other music students carrying their equipment to the hall with a nod. Neither Ray nor Justin came through. Good, the more privacy, the better. I walked down the paths, up the stairs of the Technical building and to the Music room. The times I picked him up was uncountable, with the way he always got lost in practice. The entire hallway, no, the entire floor, was empty and the creak of hinges echoed around before I arrived.

            Justin opened the last window, then opened his violin case. He set up the sheets against the piano and took a deep breath as he placed the violin between his shoulder and chin, his face focused. He'd worn that uniform I always saw at the back of his closet; a blazer with our school crest, a crisp white shirt and tie, and pressed black slacks. I'd always joked about how he looked like some spoilt rich kid in it, but now, it fit him like a glove. A breath later, he pulled on the strings. The first note blocked all thought. My breath caught for a moment, suddenly too loud for the violin's cry, such that all I heard was its wail. It tugged at my chest and threatened to yank out my heart until a lump rose in my throat. So sad. The late morning breeze billowed around him, trembled in the drawn curtains, carried the surrounding music, and enveloped him in his world.

I wanted a part of it.

If only a little.

My hands moved on their own, and the shutter clicked. The bow slipped against the violin that shrieked a sour note. The spell broke and our eyes met. He released an audible and hidden gasp.

"Sorry, did I scare you?" I said with a nervous chuckle. He blinked.

"A little." He put his violin back on the case. "What're you doing here?"

"I'm in charge of photography." I raised the camera as proof. He nodded. Silence prevailed, pregnant with tension so thick, only filled with the shifting of sheets as he placed them in his case. I swallowed hard. "I- I also want to talk." He paused, then shut his case and slung it over his chest. I grabbed his arm as he rushed past me. "Justin! You can't keep this up!"

"Gabriel," he glanced over his shoulder. "Let go."

"How long will you not listen to me? Just let me explain, please." Slowly, I felt the tense muscle of his wrist relax, and so did the nerves in my chest. "You know it meant nothing, right? It was just a silly game, so, I don't know why-" A distant bell honk interrupted me, and he yanked his hand away.

"I'm running late. Let's talk later." Right, the orchestral. I drew back.

"I'll wait." He rushed out without a reassuring nod or a glance at me.

              From my vantage point upstairs, I had a complete view of the enormous hall, where everyone had gathered on their folded chairs before the raised stage, where the entire Junior and senior music class sat with their instruments and uniforms. Justin sat in the front row, opposite the cello guys, and I spotted Raymar's mop of hair between two seniors in the back, with their plethora of drums. He kept twirling the drumsticks in his fingers, head low as the seniors talked above his head. After the principal's brief speech, where he kept glancing at me to take his photos, even though my other club members were everywhere in the hall, the conductor took centre stage. She raised her arms, and music silenced the murmurs from the students. It began quietly, like the teasing of a breeze up your back, then rose into a full-on storm, only to calm again. The music told a story of nostalgic memories you don't know you had as if you're a child watching cartoons all over again. Then Justin stood and began the first notes of what I'd heard in the music room, with the rest acting as his background. As before, it tugged at my chest, and drew me in so much that the surrounding rest disappeared, until he alone was on stage. With his concentration and tightly drawn lips, I noticed he didn't need the sheets. It was inside him, the cry of the violin, his cry. What he cried for, I knew not, but I wanted to reach out, grab him, and wipe the tears away. A strong, silent cry. Then the orchestra joined in once more, and the spell faltered. I took in a gasp of air, realising my thoughts as if for the first time, and raised the camera. Focus, Gabe, just focus. I thought, trying to calm my racing heart.

                I made up an excuse to leave the group heading to the cafeteria, dropped off my camera in the clubroom and raced to the music room. It didn't matter if I missed Free Fries Friday, those crunchy fries that I raced for on a normal day; I had to speak with Justin before he ran off on me again. I met his classmates when I peeked into his class. "Gabe! Hey!" a short girl said with a smile. I nodded back, my eyes searching the faces around.

"You here for Justin?" A guy next to her asked.

"Yeah. Where is he?"

"He just got a phone call and stepped out." The girl said. Pigtails, jovial and bubbly. Justin's type. A pang hit me. During the time I wasn't around when he avoided me, did she get closer to him? Is that how she knows him so well? "Should I get him?"

"No, no, I'll wait." I made for the shut violin case propped against the wall as they walked past me. As I sat, I placed it on my lap. It was more or less light, but thinking of him playing it for over twenty minutes without a single mistake over his shoulder, I couldn't help but think they must be sore. We should have a Boy's Day out after finals. Oh, right, we're going to mum's place for the summer.

"Gabriel."

He heaved my name from his lips, and my tummy did a tumble. I blinked at the feeling.

"Justin, hey." I put the case away, feeling as guilty as a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I- um-"

"The talk."

"Right. That." He approached and placed the case on his lap, using the extension to keep a slight distance between us. It didn't matter. This was the closest we'd gotten all week, and I got giddy from the improvement. He fiddled with the strap, and I caught the dents from where his fingers pressed on the vibrating strings. "Justin? Uh, I'm sorry-  "

"I'm moving." He looked up at me, and I blinked at the sudden dump of information.

"Oh. Where to?"

"Maine."

"A vacation home?" He shook his head. My skin pricked. "... When are you coming back? After summer break?" 

"Gabriel, it's permanent." Heavy as lead, the word sunk in and held me in place for a moment. Cotton replaced my tongue, and it sucked my mouth dry until I gulped. At last, I released a sigh, no more like a scoff, though no bone in my body joked as I whispered an unbelieving heave.

"What?" He didn't repeat, nor did he need to. I shot to my feet. "What do you mean, it's permanent?"

"The way it is. I'm not coming back. I'll do my final year somewhere else."

"Is this because of what I did? I told you, it was a silly dare! It didn't even mean a thing; it was Suren's idea, otherwise, I wouldn't kiss my best friend!" Now he stood up.

"Screaming like that won't change a thing," he said, poking at my chest. "You know full well what Suren's dares are like. Last time, Lydia had to stay commando for three days, even when it was fall. Of course, he'd say that! Why do you even hang out with him?"

"Then why are you reacting like this? If you understand, then... Why leave?" I grabbed his shoulders, my voice dropping to a tone I'd never heard. "How many times should I apologise? Five? Ten? Should I pay up? Just tell me, how much? I'll give it to you. Just don't leave." His face twisted, and he wrenched from my hands. The expression foreign to his usually handsome face, he slung the case across his chest. "Wait, Justin!"

"You're disgusting. Maybe this move is for the best after all." Then he turned and left the ball of emotions swelling up in my crumbling self until a grunt of pain escaped me. I withdrew my throbbing hand from the wall and saw drops of blood stain the cream paint. My fingers bent in inhuman directions, skin torn and bone exposed. I stared at my hand for a moment, then at the door, and the lump that came and went throughout the day finally exploded. Sinking onto the bench, I clutched my wrist and cried. I didn't know which was worse; my hand or my guilty conscience.

All I knew was that it hurt. Bad.

             I found Ray leaning against my clubroom door, arms crossed over his chest, having changed out of his uniform. The lack of emotion on his face was a mockery. He expected me to fail, to hurt my pride and return as shattered as I was. His expression faltered when he glanced at my left hand. "Your hand... " He began, then stopped.

"You win." I winced and swallowed the nauseating pain when I moved my fingers. "Don't pull that face. You knew this would happen, didn't you?"

"It was to snap you out of that depressing pit you've dug for yourself. I hate seeing you like that." His voice had a ringing honesty that took me by surprise. He ducked into the clubroom and emerged with our bags, then frowned at my horrific hand. He was shorter, with the pretty magazine-cover face that girls crazed over, and a silver hoop in his ear I hadn't noticed before. Too bad his mop hid all this. Otherwise, he'd become a model by now. "We should head to the hospital. I'll drive you."

"You have a license?"

"Nope." He took my good hand in his and led me down the hallway. "I'll get it soon, though. Wasn't your dad supposed to get you a car?"

"How'd you know that?" I don't remember telling him this.

"You talked about it over lunch one time. About how he wants to get you one, but you'd rather save up." It knocked me to silence for a moment and watched the bags swing on his back as we descended the stairs, still biting back the pain as I held up my hand to reduce blood flow. He'd listened, yet I don't even remember ever saying that. He repeated every word. 

"Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"He's... moving to Maine... What, no soothing words?" The chuckle in my voice was bitter when he stayed silent. So he expected me to lose. Then he stopped and looked over his shoulder with a half smile. 

"Will they make you feel better?" I thought for a moment, then returned his smile.

"No."

There weren't many people in the parking lot, as most just went off home after the ceremony, or to some place to celebrate. He owned a silver Honda closest to the gate. He revved up the engine after seating me on the back. "And Gabe, don't get down over something like that. Who knows, there's probably another fish in the sea." I snorted at that.

"What the hell? It's not like I broke up with my girlfriend or anything." We pulled out onto the main road, in the opposite direction of my house. Of the direction, I'd have walked home with Justin. I eyed him through the rear-view mirror as he drove and clutched my wrist, so the car wouldn't shake it more than it already was. The pain had become so much it was like a numb hot flash in my head. Why was he doing this? Was he to get anything out of it? "Hey," I set myself deeper into the car seat. He blinked at me but kept his eyes on the road. "You won. What do you want?" He glanced at me but said nothing. "Oi, say it so I can wrap up my account, or get an allowance quick enough." He smirked.

That was the first time I'd ever seen that on him.

"It's nothing worth money, rich boy."

"Then what is it?"

"Let's save that for later."

"What?" As soon as I asked, he took a sharp turn, threw me off balance, onto the car door on the other side and awakened the pain again. I winced, hissed, and then set myself back into position. "Couldn't you have at least warned me?"

"That's why we have seat belts, Gabe," he said with slight mockery in his voice. I wanted to get mad, but I only shook my head. So the cold Raymar can get expressive. 

Who knew?

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