"It's twenty-five dollars and ninety five cents. Card or cash?"

With the flickering light right above the two boy's head it was hard to actually understand what was written on the banknotes, and for how much he hated it, Vincent had to pay that way, his card was totally drained.

"Cash." he mumbled, pulling every piece of paper outside of his wallet.

The boy behind the counter started to impatiently tap his fingers on the table, he was about twenty years old or so, and looked quite pissed and suspicious towards the french boy for no apparent reason.

"Finally." the Junior sighed as he put the exact amount of money requested on the counter. "Have a nice night."

The cold breeze of the night made Vincent shiver as he exited the store.

He felt mad for some reason.
Not because of that rude cashier who didn't even gave a greeting to him.
That feeling was caused by something else.

Or someone.

The french boy stood by is motorcycle, parked right outside the store, and quickly got on it.
After putting on his helmet and starting the bike, Vincent drove away from the gas station, with a bad feeling building up inside of him.

"I hope Zak is okay." he murmured to himself as he waited for the traffic light to turn green. "If the slightest bad thing happened to him, I won't forgive myself." The light changed to color, he sped up. "Ever."

That awful sensation loomed over him.
Something was off.

Vincent shouldn't have left, even if Zak knew about him going to get gas.

'I fucking promised to stay by his side the whole time, yet, here I am. Fuck, I hope he stayed with the others.' the Junior scolded himself, frowning and gritting his teeth together. 'I have to fucking move.'

After a few minutes of riding slightly above the speed limit, Vincent was finally back at Zelk's home.
He quickly parked his motorcycle and hopped off it. Removing his helmet as he jogged towards the front door, he freezed at the sight of a boy passed out on the grass, face down. His eyes widened once his glance landed on the light blue hoodie wore by the teen on the ground.

"Zak!" Vincent breathlessly gasped out, throwing his helmet away as he kneeled down beside his friend. "Fuck, Zak, please!"

Grabbing the short boy's shoulder, Vincent turned him on his side, frantically searching for his heartbeat. Two of the french boy's fingers gently pressed against his wrist, no pulse.

'Fuck.'

Moving his hands away from his arm, he tried on his neck, nothing.

'Zak, please.'

Panicking, Vincent leaned his ear against his friend's chest.
There it was what was searching and hoping for. A regular, rhythmic and loud heartbeat.

He leaned on the floor and just hugged the short boy, insulting himself mentally. He wasn't going to forgive himself for leaving him alone. For breaking a promise.
Zak was everything to him.

A pained groan grabbed Vincent attention, who immediately broke the hug and lifted his upper body from the ground with the help of his forearm. Zak's face contorted into a hurting expression as his eyes squeezed together, accompanied by a lament.

"Holy shit, Zak! Are you ok? How are you feeling? What happened?" Vincent questions flowed out of his mouth as he got unable to contain himself.

"Agh..." the short boy groaned, once again. "Vincent..?" he forced himself to open one eye, squeezing the other one shut. "Why... did you leave me? You promised..." Zak asked in a hoarse whisper, overwhelmed by every single inch of his body hurting.

"I told you I was going to the gas station during the party! I'm so fucking sorry, Zak, I shouldn't have left anyway." the french boy excused himself, arching his eyebrows.

"What? You said you were going after the party..." the boy by the raven hair murmured, frowning.

Those words stabbed Vincent.

"I told you before entering the house, Zak." he replied in a whisper, his expression changing into a hurt one.

A moment of silence towered between the two friends for a pair of moments, the short boy was the one breaking it, only after realizing that situation was totally his fault.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered, looking away from his friend.

"Fuck off, It's my fault, not yours. I made a promise and I fucked up again. I shouldn't-" Vincent vented, getting cutted off by Zak arms wrapping around his torso.

"It's my fault. I drank when I promised not to." he admitted with a hoarse voice, weakly. "Can we please not talk about this now? I want to leave." he whispered as he buried his face into his friend's chest.

Vincent stayed silent for a couple of seconds trying to reorganize his thoughts, then sighed and nodded.
He gently moved one of Zak's arms around him on his neck.

"Ready?" he then asked, giving his friend a concerned glance.

Without finding the force of answering, Zak simply nodded, getting up and then dragged by Vincent.
He tried his best to walk without putting all his weight on Vincent, but all his efforts were vain.

The french boy helped Zak to sit on the motorcycle and to put his helmet on, while he stared blankly at one indefinite point in front of him.

"Vincent?" he asked, without moving a single inch.

"What?" his friend replied after reclaiming the helmet he threw on the ground earlier.

"Can I please come over?"

Letting Zak's question without a reply, Vincent put on his helmet on, staring at him with a concerned expression printed on his face.

"Zak, tomorrow we have school, you have everything at home-"

"Please." he begged in a whisper, finally moving his glossy eyes on his worried friend.

Vincent knew what the problem was.
He wasn't going to leave him behind again.

"Of course... We'll arrange something for tomorrow." he replied with his thick accent, getting on the bike in front of him. "Hug me so I can tie your wrists together. I don't want you to pass out and fall off."

Zak did as requested, leaning his head against his back and wrapping his arms around his lower torso.

He felt so lucky to have Vincent in his life. Still, he felt like he wasn't enough for him.

Vincent deserve more and better than him.

The wind couldn't caress Zak's face during that ride. Numbness came back stronger than before.

A light and feeble feeling of gratitude was everything he proved.

The short pushed himself closer to his friend as the sudden fear of losing Vincent overwhelmed him.

"Thank you for everything, Vincent."

=============

"So, you're telling me you felt sick and got home, but still, multiple people saw you at an unspecified party right after school? Carder, do I look like a fool?" the red haired woman harshly shouted, hitting the table with a punch.

The Junior flinched, shivering imperceptibly at the screams of the Principal.

Darryl obviously snitched on him, and Zak felt more than stupid.

"I feel obligated to suspend you from any form of interaction with the baseball team right away."

"No, please. It's not how it looks like, give me one last chance." the little one begged, bouncing his leg nervously.

"Carder, have you even realized how many chances I gave you?" the woman replied, narrowing her eyes.

"I'm begging, please. Baseball is literally everything I have left! It's literally the only thing that makes me want to actually come here at school!" Zak sincerely admitted, tilting his head on the side as he arched his eyebrows. "I swear I won't disappoint you again, just give me one last chance!"

A heavy silence filled the office.
The middle aged woman was studying Zak head on foot, letting him drown in his thoughts and anxieties.

"Please, believe me when I say I regret going to that stupid party, because I really did." the Juniot added in a murmur, letting his eyes fall down on his shoes.

"Zak Carder." the Principal recalled his attention after a long sigh, closing her eyes. "You better not disappoint me once again."

The raven haired boy abruptly lifted up his head, looking a her speechless.

"Yes, I'm giving you a last chance. And it will be the last one, this time."

Zak started breathing properly again, breaking out in a relieved smile.

"Thank you so much, I won't disappoint you."

She stayed impassible, still starting at him with her usual pissed and harsh look on his face.

"Noveschosh said to me he was going to be here for you at the library, tonight. And from now on you will go studying with him every single day after school. You will think about not disappointing him, not me." the middle aged woman concluded, closing the pen she was fidgeting with the whole conversation. "You're dismissed."

Taking a sigh of relief, Zak got up and thanked the Principal again before exiting the office.
He didn't really cared about having to pass every days a week after school with that boy called Darryl, as long as he would remain the captain of the baseball team.

"So? What did she say?" Vincent, who waited for him outside the office, asked with curiosity.

"She got mad, obviously. And, guess what?" the short boy tucked his hands into his hoodie, tilting his head to the side as he waited for an answer.

"What?"

"I have to stay after school to study with Darryl. Everyday." he replied, sighing and letting his head fall forward.

"Oh."

Vincent stared at him, unable to restrain himself anymore. He wanted answers, that night and morning were a nightmare for how tormented he was.

"Zak." he recalled his attention, with a note of nervousness in his voice.

"Mh?" he hummed in reply as he tilted his head back up.

"Can we talk about what happened yesterday?-" Vincent attempted to ask, making Zak snap immediately.

"No. There's nothing to talk about." the short boy murmured in reply cutting him off, turning his back to the french boy as he started to walk towards his classroom.

Sighing, hurt by his usual reaction, Vincent walked faster to reach him, silently siding him.

=============

Time passed painfully slow that day, but eventually, for the last time, the bell rang dismissing the students, filling the silent room with relieved sighs and various conversation.

"Zak, want me to wait for you 'till you finish with Darryl?" the french boy proposed, putting his belongings in his backpack leaned on the chair.

"Nah, don't worry about me." he answered, closing the zip of his bag.

There was silence between the two for some second.

"Can you do me a favor?" Vincent started, hesitating a moment before asking.

"Ye, sup?" Zak asked, giving him full attention.

Vincent freezed as his eyes meet his friend's ones.

"Nah, forget it. Just text me once you're home." he brushed it off, grabbing his shoulder. "I'll go, see you tomorrow!" he quickly greeted as he exited the classroom with other classmates.

'Why are you doing this, Vincent? You'll get hurt.'

Heading to the library, his thoughts started twisting in his head once again, causing him to lose control over his body.

'Darryl doesn't even know me and probably already hates me. I'm one hundred percent sure I'm gonna be a problem for how bad my grades are. I bet he doesn't even want to help me. What am I even gonna say once I get there? And what if-' his deep thoughts got interrupted as he bumped into someone's back.

He took two small steps behind him, realizing only then he was already in the library.

"Jesus Christ, I'm sorry." he quickly murmured excusing himself, avoiding to look up.

"Uhm, Zak?" the unknown soft and high-pitched voice of the boy in front of him asked.

The short boy lifted up his head, studying quickly who he ran into: it was a taller, blonde boy, he was wearing a simple black hoodie with red stripes that ran along the edges of the hood and down the sleeves.
He looked dorky, probably because of the slim glasses he was adjusting on the the bridge of his nose.

"Uh, do I know you?" Zak replied in a frown, confused.

"Oh, right, I'm Darryl." he introduced himself, smiling softly. "I'm the one who will help you with your studies."

'Jesus Christ, are you fucking kidding me? What a great start.'

The short boy couldn't form any kind of phrase for a long moment, and ended up staring silently at the blonde boy, causing him to uneasily fidget with his hands.

"Uhm, should we sit down?" the Senior started flustered, improvising with the first thing that came up in his head.

Receiving an extremely high-pitched "Yeah." from Zak in reply, Darryl lead him to an empty table and sat down followed by the short boy repeating his actions, seating next to him.

"So," the Senior started, pulling out some books, a pencil and a calculator from the backpack he leaned on the free chair next to him. "Miss Johnson gave me access to your grades, I hope it isn't a problem for you." quickly closing the zip of his bag, he turned towards Zak, giving him full attention. "And yesterday I created a plan to follow to improve your study methods and, in turn, your grades."

Trying to process his words, the Junior stared in awe at Darryl.

"Wow. Aren't you even mad at me for not coming yesterday?" he asked frowning and slightly shaking his head.

"Why should I be?" the Senior replied, adjusting his glasses once again.

"I mean, isn't the answer obvious?" the short boy asked in turn, narrowing his eyes out of confusion.

"Oh, I expected you being a muffin and not coming, after all it was the first day of school."

Him using the word 'Muffin' as a censor made Zak smile and snort slightly, his dorkiness made him adorable.

"Alright, that seems legit. By the way it isn't a big of a deal, you seeing my grades, everyone know they're bad, so." the short boy l shrugged, pulling out of his backpack his belongings and spreading them with no delicacy on the table.

"Uhm, mind if I ask why you're a Junior? There's was nothing written about a year loss." Darryl hesitantly asked, tilting his head.

Gritting his teeth at his question, Zak anxiously searched for something he did really need in his pencil case.

"It's not important." he spat in reply, avoiding eye contact. "Can we start now?"

Respecting Zak privacy, Darryl started explaining him his nee schedule, scribbling something on his block.
And in that that strange way, the private lesson started.

A new start.

============

Tiredness overwhelmed Zak as he walked out of school, and he still had to walk for more than twenty minutes before arriving home.

That private lesson wasn't even that boring, it was just caused him to feel too much, and all those emotions drained his energies.

Bad thoughts started twisting in his head a usual.
He was sick of it. The idea of a button that powers off emotions and thoughts sounded lovely to him.

Plugging his headphones in, Zak pressed his thumb on the phone's screen, on the play icon, and as he put the phone back in his pocket he rose the volume to the maximum.

Somehow, despite the tiredness, the short boy wanted to run. But that way, he would arrive home sooner.

His dad was for sure mad and drunk, and he proved on his skin how dangerous was that dangerous match for his safety.

'Fuck it, I'm taking the longer way.' he cussed as he started to run down the streets, cradles by the music and the pleasant breeze.

The wind caressing his faces didn't felt the same way as before. He didn't feel at all. Numbness swallowed him.

'It's as if I'm slowly fading out of existence.'

Tears rolled down his cheeks without notice.
His lungs and legs hurt, but he kept running.

'I miss being happy.'

He ran as fast as he could, without stopping.

'I miss being loved.'

'When will my happiness come back?'

[2704 words.]