Henry

Everything felt numb.

Looking at his motionless body, I couldn't seem to stop wondering why.

Why me? Why me, of all people you could choose to hold your life in their hands, why me?

It never ceased to amaze me how his perfect complexion was still soft and even. Any normal person would look horrendous at this point. Their hair would be disheveled around their head, their lips pale and cracked, body an empty vessel.

Chandler didn't look like that. His dark hair splayed around him like a halo, reminding me just how perfect he actually is. His lips were still full- a little chapped, but still welcoming. His brows were laid perfectly straight and effortlessly groomed above his resting eyes.

It made me wonder if he looked the same to everyone else, or if my love for him made me blind to reality. It couldn't possibly. Chandler has always been loved by all. He was the boy that girls giggled about in the back of the classroom and the handsome young man that all guys wanted to be or be friends with.

It always made me feel out of place. As he would hook his strong arm around my narrow shoulders after school, ready to walk home, I felt the stares of others. I didn't have to be a mind-reader to know what they were always thinking; it was obvious. To make matters worse, I'd heard more than enough whispered insults floating through the air as we passed by our peers.

'What the hell is Chandler doing with him?'

'Chandler Lee and Henry Sallow are best friends? Of all people? What a pity party.'

'Who would've thought the prince would befriend a weirdo like him?'

I understood them, though. Why would someone so perfect and popular possibly want to be friends with me? What did he have to gain?

Nothing- I couldn't give him anything.

The only thing I had to offer was a promise that I'd always be there for him, day or night, no matter what. He'd promised me the same, and that meant everything. To me, his social status meant nothing. The Chandler Lee that others knew was still the sweet, cheeky, loving one that I did too. He was always himself; always real.

All because I helped him walk to the nurse's office that one day after he'd gotten into a brawl in the school yard, I thought he felt indebted to me. I hated it. I did what I did because it was the right thing to do. I didn't know who started the fight at the time, but it didn't matter. Robby Delgato was the biggest asshole in the grade, and everyone knew it. He picked fights for fun, simply to get a rise out of people. It didn't surprise me when I found out later that he was the one who'd started it that day.

In a selfish way, I'm thankful for that. Sure, I never want Chan to be in pain and I would never want him to go through any inconveniences, but that day is what brought us together.

If I hadn't stumbled across the scene after tutoring; if I hadn't seen a group of boys running away as they heard someone coming, I doubt I ever would have spoken to him.

┏ •◦ flashback •◦ ┓

I slung the strap of my bookbag over my shoulder as I rounded the corner to a back alley of the school. It wasn't the most scenic walk home, but it was faster to leave this way rather than walk through the main gates and have to go around the entire building.

Just as I'd stepped into the cold and desolate alley, my ears were bombarded with shouts and disgruntled groans of discomfort. I stopped moving out of instinct, afraid of being seen.

Sunlight flooded in from the opposite end of the alley, leaving the group of boys a mass of outlined shadows, their features blurry and their forms too far away to be distinguishable.

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I gulped as fists flew through the air, clashing into each other and pulling and yanking on shirts and neckties. I couldn't tell how long the fight had been going on, but as I took a step backward to walk away from the scene, my foot kicked a pebble.

I cursed inwardly, squeezing my eyes shut and hoping more than anything that they didn't hear me. Instead of running at me full speed and knocking me to the ground as I expected, hurried footsteps clambered down on the pavement as about five or six boys ran the other direction, out of the alley, and hopped over the fence protecting the school property from the public.

"Shit," one of them exclaimed, all confidence gone and worry thick in his voice before they scattered, "Somebody's coming! Let's go!" As soon as their bodies could no longer be seen, I was about to turn and leave, pretending I'd never seen anything. It would mean taking the long way home, but I didn't know if there were more of them on the other side of the alley and the last thing I needed was to get into trouble with a bunch of rebellious pre-teens. I was about to turn on my heel when I noticed something slumped against the wall. I squinted and took one step closer, trying to analyze what it was.

Then, a struggled cough wheezed out from the form against the brick wall, and I gasped, realizing that it was surely a person.

Before I could think twice, I started toward the person, my pulse rabbiting in my neck. The early evening wind chilled my neck and face, the only skin not covered by my school uniform or coat. The dark alley felt ghostly and eerie as my pace quickened, a sick ache in the pit of my stomach. The closer I got, the more worried and anxious I became.

As I came to a halt in front of the person, my breath caught in my throat. Seeing him up close, I vaguely recognized him. He had transferred to my homeroom class that semester. He was always surrounded by friends, and never got picked on by our teacher. His name was something that started with a 'C', but I couldn't remember exactly what. Christopher? Connor? Caleb, maybe?

I didn't know what to say. I couldn't just stand there and continue to stare at him. I also couldn't just walk away and pretended like he wasn't there; like he wasn't hurt.

It was then when he raised his head, his narrow eyes meeting my own large, round ones. I swallowed, wincing as he was about to speak but doubled over in pain, grasping his side. I panicked slightly,

"A-are you okay?" My eyes were frantic, looking everywhere from his slightly bloodied face, already forming bruises under his eye and jaw, and his side that he was holding, "You don't look so good..." my obvious remark seemed to make him chuckle slightly, head still lowered exhaustedly.

He didn't answer right away, eyes squeezed shut as he took a deep breath before he looked back up at me, "I'm fine." He stubbornly looked back down to the dirty concrete beneath us and put a bloodied palm against it, pushing himself up into a squat and groaning as he stood to his full height.

We were only thirteen, but he easily towered over me. I wasn't short for my age, but I wasn't exactly tall either. This boy looked like he was about ready to be in high school. His build was lean, but already slightly muscular. His hair was groomed neatly atop his head, bangs perfectly styled even after what he just went through minutes ago. His complexion was slightly tanner than my own but soft and creamy like the sun had kissed him just enough to grant him some color. I couldn't tell if he had been held back a grade or if he was simply blessed with good genes.

He grunted and moved to step away from the wall, but his leg seemed to give out, sending him toppling into me. I luckily caught him around the waist just before we both went down, my own ankle twisting uncomfortably as I struggled to hold up his weight before he stumbled back to both feet.

"Please," I started, looking at him as the chilly wind blew past us and through our hair, "let me take you to the nurse's office." He huffed, closing his eyes for a moment and running a hand down his face before looking down at where my arm was secured around his waist helping him carry his weight.

He nodded and took the first step back toward school. The first few movements were clumsy and left us both slightly embarrassed. When he'd start to lose his balance, his grip tightened around my shoulder, tinting my cheeks pink and willing that it was simply the cold weather.

"I'm Chandler," he offered into the quiet space around us as we neared the entryway of the student administration office, holding the heavy mahogany door ajar just enough for us to both squeeze through, "Chandler Lee." His hand that wasn't clasped around my shoulder reached out in front of us, open and waiting for me to meet him in the middle.

"Henry Sallow," I replied, grasping his hand with my own and shaking lightly.

In that instant, his eyes softened, and his lips parted, flourishing into a smile brighter than any star I'd ever seen. Even as his face was a mess, and his voice was nothing more than a tired rasp, he shone like a beacon of light in a world full of darkness. I felt my own lips start to form a grin along my face, a flush spreading high across my cheekbones.

Probably from the cold weather.

"Nice to meet you, hero." The sudden, new nickname made my brows raise high, confusion written along my face. I wasn't one to have many friends, and the ones I did never gave me a nickname. He laughed softly, clapping me on the back lightly before nodding his head in the direction of the nurse's office, "Come on," his smile still shone bright and soft all at once, "Mind helping me walk just a few more steps?"

As we walked into the nurse's office, his smile never completely faded. Even as the head nurse walked up to us, face twisted in horror, it never fell off his face.

His smile seemed to be contagious, the nurse looking puzzled as to how he was smiling when he was in such condition, but I sighed and couldn't help as my own lips seemed to turn upwards as well.

I didn't know if he just smiled to put on a strong face or if he was always like this. Either way, there was a comfort behind it that made me feel like it didn't matter how badly hurt he could be, he'd just keep on smiling.