Archive of Our Own

Etho swallows down the lump in his throat. He tugs at his face mask.

He’s terrified.

“You ready?” Bdubs asks him.

People are leaving the bus now, an unofficial timer to prepare himself.

“I– I suppose so.”

“Hey– remember middle school? You were so afraid then. And then after that everything was great. You made new friends, met all kinds of people, learned new stuff. Go in with an open mind.”

“How are you so confident? We’re going to be in classes with older people. We’re back to being the youngest.”

Bdubs shrugs. “We start the day with homeroom. Everyone there will be a freshman too. Just find someone in your next period and stick close to them.” He stands up and puts a warm hand on Etho’s shoulder. “Breathe.”

He sucks in a shuddering breath, shoulders shaking.

“You’ll do fine.”

Etho stands up from his seat and follows Bdubs out of the bus. He toured the high school before, and the outdoor courtyard and pickup area are familiar, but besides that this is uncharted territory. He scrambles for his schedule and scans over it. His homeroom is Mr. Notch, room 214. There obviously can’t be 213 other rooms in the building, so Etho can’t understand how he’s supposed to find his homeroom.

He decides to follow Bdubs into the school, far too many students cramming through the double doors. Etho had hit his growth spurt early, making him one of the tallest people in his class, but somehow he still feels towered over. There are students– students, at the same school as him– with fully grown facial hair. Not wanting to be caught staring, he runs to catch back up with Bdubs.

They’ve been friends since before either of them can remember. When Etho’s parents moved south the first friends they made were with their neighbors, the Goodmans. Bdubs was his first playmate, first friend, first person he added to his contacts and shared his crushes with.

“Etho?” he asks, a concerned look across his face.

He snaps back to the present. “Yeah?”

“Do you know where you’re going?”

“No.”

“Same here.” Bdubs keeps walking, occasionally glancing at room numbers.

“Then– why– are you just going to walk around the entire school?”

He shrugs indifferently. “If it comes to it.”

“We’re going to be late!”

“Etho.” Bdubs turns around to make eye contact. “We got here thirty minutes early. We have plenty of time. If you need to, you can go to the office.” He starts walking again, heading towards a staircase.

“What if there’s no one I know?” Etho asks, fingers anxiously tapping on the railing as he ascends the stairs.

“This is where nearly everyone from Hermit Middle School ends up. There’ll be someone you know.”

“What if I don’t understand what’s being covered?”

“You will. You made AB honor roll last year. You’ll be fine.” Bdubs reaches the next floor and peeks his head into the hallway.

“But–”

“I think I figured out the room numbers. The first digit is the floor or location. So we have History together on the main floor, Physical Science is probably in the second building, and your homeroom should be somewhere around here,” Bdubs interrupts.

“Can’t I stay with you a little longer?” Etho asks, or pleads, really.

“Nuh-uh. Go on,” Bdubs instructs firmly, pushing Etho into the hallway before heading down the staircase.

Etho breathes in. And then out. He adjusts his face mask.

He quickly finds his homeroom. It’s not too far away, a blank bulletin board hung up beside the door. Etho lingers for a moment to make sure he has the right room before he heads in.

The classroom is about a fourth full. Sure, there’s probably someone Etho knew in his homeroom, but they have yet to arrive. His eyes scanned over the students. He recognizes one of them, very vaguely– a tall, skinny blonde sitting in the second to last row. Jimmy, Grian’s brother, if he remembers correctly. Went to Empire Middle.

Etho awkwardly stands in the doorway until Jimmy catches his eye. Their gazes meet for a moment before Jimmy looks away. Of course he doesn’t remember Etho. When had they even met? In the corner at one of Scar’s birthday parties?

He sits two desks to the left of Jimmy. Nobody else has taken a seat adjacent to his, meaning he has room for any Hermit who might be late. He knows Bdubs’ and Tango’s schedules, but there are still plenty of his friendly acquaintances who could show up.

It’s not long before the main rush of students starts to enter the room. Etho notices Impulse enter, but he goes to sit on the other side of the room with a lanky brunette and muscular redhead. The seats around him fill up, until there’s only one left, between him and Jimmy.

Despite his hopes he doesn’t take notice, even as their teacher heads up to the front of the room. Etho can tell from their conversation that he’s surrounded by the rich, sporty crowd. He doesn’t want to be stuck around these kids for the rest of the school year, not without someone he can quietly converse with.

Mr. Notch comes up to the front of the class right as the bell rings and starts to explain dress code, school events, cellular devices–

Someone knocks on the closed door.

Etho’s eyes flick over the room. The only empty seat is next to himself. Now he has to sit next to the kind of kid who manages to be late on the first day of school.

Mr. Notch opens the door and lets a stocky boy with a lock of bright green hair in. He wears a white polo shirt, a simple yet expensive looking backpack slung over one shoulder. Standard well-off, minimal effort, popular, athletic boy.

He hands their teacher a tardy slip without a shameless grin before collapsing into the desk next to Etho. Jimmy gives him a casual fistbump.

Etho adjusts his mask. His time at Life High isn’t starting off on a good note.

Mr. Notch finishes explaining everything they need to know, then passes out locker numbers and combinations. Apparently they’re expected to leave their backpacks in lockers for the entire school day until they leave. Their teacher stands up and leads them into the hallway.

Etho finds his locker without a hassle, ducking around the mob of students. To his knowledge they were assigned by last name alphabetically. Jimmy should have the locker right below his.

Unfortunately he doesn’t. The kid with the green lock of hair comes and squeezes his way to the locker, which he somehow knows the combination to.

This sets off all sorts of rule follower bells in Etho’s mind.

The kid seems to notice him staring. “I traded with my friend. I wanted to be over here.” He dramatically leans against the wall. “Seems a little cuter at the other end of the lockers, huh?” he says embarrassingly loudly.

Etho hates these kinds of boys. Flirty and straight as Styx. They don’t seem to comprehend that their comments might be taken seriously by their fellow guys.

Not that he has any experience.

He quickly finishes unlocking his locker and shoves his backpack inside.

“What’s your name?”

Etho shuts the locker. “Etho Slab.”

“Nice. I’m Joel. What’s up with the face mask? Covid’s over.”

“I . . .” He doesn’t exactly have a good excuse. It’s been two years since he’d returned to school masked after lockdown. But now he just wears it like second nature. “I don’t know.”

“Cool,” Joel says surprisingly. “You do you.”

So the flirty boy is woke too. As much as he hates to admit it, Etho could have a much worse locker buddy. “Thank you.” He quickly backs away to let Joel finish stowing his backpack.

Joel is proving himself not to be the standard rich soccer boy.

He’s surprisingly nice to girls, and though his friends are awful, he’s by far the best of them. Maybe Etho should’ve guessed from the dyed hair that he has a lesbian sister. Joel has quite a big mouth and Etho learns all sorts of things about him just from listening in.

And Joel is also quite pretty.

A little on the shorter side, but with finely toned muscles. When he smiles his skin remains smooth and unblemished, all except for mirrored dimples next to his lips. His eyes are so dark they look black from a distance, but they turn a golden amber when hit by the sun.

Even the back of his neck, which is all Etho gets to see of him outside of homeroom and lunch is gorgeous.

Etho draws his mind back to the task at hand. He’s supposed to be taking notes on bone meal and its use in the farming industry, not staring at his classmate. The rest of Science passes in a blur before the classroom files out for fifth period.

He heads outside. Lunch is considered a free period, and with summer still lingering in the air they’re allowed to eat outside. A few of his friends from Hermit have already taken a seat at one of the picnic tables.

Etho slides onto the edge of the bench next to Tango. He seems to be missing a good bit of context, but it isn’t too hard to answer a couple of questions about minecraft mechanics.

He’s interrupted by Bdubs muttering complaints as he sits next to Etho.

“We all got held back an extra five minutes because one of the Empires kids thought it would be funny to make origami out of one of the textbooks,” says Bdubs, ripping open his lunch bag excessively violently.

“Sorry about that.”

He sighs. “Be thankful for your schedule.”

The doors into the school suddenly burst open dramatically. Etho recognizes them as the popular, athletic crowd, immediately picking Joel out. He’s talking to Jimmy, wearing a lopsided grin on his otherwise perfectly symmetrical face.

Bdubs lets out an unhinged growl as they pass that elicits no response. “Stupid Empire boy.”

Etho’s brows knit together. “Jimmy?”

“Yeah, the blonde one. Idiot.”

Grian glances over from his place on the other end of their picnic table. He’s Bdubs’ brother Scar’s boyfriend, a few years older than Etho. “Are you calling my brother an idiot?”

So Etho is right about that.

“Yeah,” Bdubs answered, tone unwavering.

Grian shrugged. “You’re not all that wrong. His test scores . . . aren’t exceptional. They thought it would be best to send him to Empire for middle school where he can get . . . ‘specialized’ education. It does unfortunately mean that he’s most at home with those kinds of people.”

“I mean, I have a couple of good friends who went there, and they aren’t all that stuck up. The other day, I actually . . .”

Etho finishes up his lunch quickly as Impulse talks about the two friends he’d made. He hates having his mask down. It makes him feel exposed, vulnerable. Hideous.

He looks over at Joel, sitting at another table, alive with chatter. The boy isn’t sitting in a group, the group is sitting around him. He looks so lively, so kind and caring and bright and sunny like the sun.

Etho surveys his own table group. Everyone is paying attention to Impulse and his story.

He pulls out his phone and takes a discreet photo of Joel.

“What are you doing?” Bdubs asks quietly.

Etho feels his mask heat up against his cheeks. He had hoped no one would notice. Of course he couldn’t be that lucky. Thankfully it’s only Bdubs, and no one else seems to be paying him any attention. “N–Nothing.”

“You’re clearly doing something. You were taking a photo.”

“T–The lighting was nice. It was a pretty scene.”

Bdubs yanks his phone from his hands. He taps in the code, which Etho gave him a couple of years ago for a project, and opens up his photos.

“A pretty scene? This is a hideous image.”

Etho chews on his lip as Bdubs pinches in on the screen to zoom in.

“Who’s this?”

He swallows. “Joel. He’s in my homeroom.”

To his dismay he feels Tango lean against his shoulder. “Ooh, does Etho have a . . . crush? Joel, you say?”

Etho grabs his phone back, but he doesn’t deny anything. “A little quieter, please?” he requests. He’s never been more grateful to be wearing a face mask.

His two closest friends oblige.

“Him? Really?” Bdubs eventually says in a poor excuse for a whisper. “He’s one of . . . you know, those kids.”

“I know,” Etho responds, knowing he should be hopeless, yet isn’t. He finishes off his lunch before heading to math with Bdubs.

There is a bulletin board in front of the office.

Etho began checking it two months into school. It’s how he learned about the Minecraft club and Science Olympiad. Every morning he checks in on it, and it’s already a part of his routine, easily. Most of the time there aren’t any new announcements. But today there are the results from the fall sports tryouts.

It’s not hard to guess which list he checks first. Boys Junior Varsity Soccer. And there he is, Joel Beans. Aside from that there’s one more flyer, this one about the games and where to watch them.

Soon enough school ends. Etho has the window seat today, Bdubs turned around to argue with Scar about some mundane thing. He’s put in his earbuds, Wallows blaring over the ambience of the bus conversations.

Are my songs already sung?

Am I done with sounding young?

He feels Bdubs nudge his shoulder and grudgingly pauses his music. “What is it?”

“Did you hear about what Joel said in Mr. Jeb’s class?”

Etho doesn’t usually engage in Bdub’s endless stream of gossip, but he’ll take any crumb of information about Joel he can get. “No.”

“He called one of his friends the f-word. And not, you know, fudge. The fa-word. The bad word for gay.”

Oh. That wasn’t the kind of information Etho was expecting. He unpaused his song and replaced his earbuds.

Does our optimism rust–

Bdubs taps him again for his attention, much harder this time. “You can’t just ignore this, Etho. I said he was one of those boys. It’s alright to be wrong about people.”

He fumbles for some reason to defend him. “Who are you to say he doesn’t have a pass?”

“When has he given any indication of queerness? He’s the straightest boy you’ll ever meet. He plays soccer and went to private school. He’s loud and insensitive.”

“Have you gotten to know him? How can you claim that he's insensitive?”

Bdubs narrows his eyes cynically. “Have you gotten to know him? Or is this your idealized vision of a fifteen year old you’ve only ever seen from across the room? It’s not good for you, Etho. You’re only going to hurt yourself.”

He doesn’t give him an answer, firmly presses his earbuds into his ears, and resumes his music.

But I’ll learn how to adjust.

“Please?”

Bdubs frowns, but his expression seems forced. “It’s not going to change anything. Why don’t you go by yourself?”

“I– I really don’t want to be alone. Just this once? Tango said he might be there,” Etho reminds.

Bdubs remains silent, arms crossed, face steely, until he eventually gives in. “Fine. But you owe me. What time does it end?”

“It should be over by four. We can head over to the field now,” says Etho. He starts to walk towards the doors outside.

“This is a one time thing. One time, ” Bdubs reminds, increasing his pace to keep up with Etho’s long strides.

A week prior he had discovered on the bulletin board that there would be a Junior Varsity soccer game after school today. Etho neither played nor watched soccer, but he couldn’t care less about that. Of course, Joel’s presence did play a part in his enthusiasm, but he continued to tell himself that he was supporting school spirit.

The soccer field isn’t really a soccer field. Their school has just one field, the football field, wrapped around with a track and repurposed for whatever sport is in season. In this case it’s soccer. There are six small bleachers on either side of the field, around a dozen people sitting on each one. Life High isn’t known for its sports, and has a student fanbase to match.

This does at least allow Etho and Bdubs to get nice seats. They sit on one of the middle bleachers at the top, where they can view the entire area. It's been sectioned off by a colored rope across the grass. Both teams are running drills on either side of the field by their respective goals. It isn’t difficult to find Joel, the streak of unnatural green in his hair standing out. He seems somewhat good at soccer, at least from what limited knowledge Etho has.

Apparently the opposing team is from QSMP, another high school referred to by just its acronym nobody knows the full name of. They seem about average, maybe a little taller than his school’s team.

Soon enough the game begins.

Etho understands just the basics, yet watches intently. Bdubs manages to pay attention for the first half before eventually giving up and taking out his phone. The final score is three to two, Life’s first Junior Varsity soccer win of the year.

Bdubs drags Etho back into the school building before he can get anywhere near Joel, insisting that it was a one time occurrence.

It isn’t.

Etho and Bdubs go to every game, until the soccer season inevitably comes to an end.

Etho sits down at his monitor. One of the factors he took into account when choosing his high school was its wide variety of clubs, including the Minecraft club. Surprisingly small, despite being devoted to one of the best selling video games of all time. At least a third of it is people he knew before, Bdubs, Tango, Scar, Grian, Impulse, even Cleo. There aren’t many of them, but enough that Etho feels safe in his little group of nerds.

Club sign ups ended after the first month of school. That meant nothing, of course. Lizzie and Skizz had each joined much later. It wasn’t a hassle. Anybody can simply waltz into the media center and boot up minecraft if they want to. And today, somebody does.

Etho isn’t expecting for them to be Joel.

He saunters in, completely calm and confident, as though he already belongs. Joel takes a seat and pulls up what seems to be his own personal account. Etho catches a glimpse of an enormous castle in the thumbnail of one of his worlds.

He keeps staring, completely entranced with this distant, popular boy who’s exceptional at Etho’s favorite hobby.

Eventually Bdubs, who sits next to him, takes notice of his lack of activity. “Etho? What are you . . .” he trails off as his eyes land on Joel. “Why’s he here?”

“I mean, he’s a great builder.”

Bdubs tightens his lips. “That’s nothing. Over-detailed and lacking texturing.”

“Well, I think it’s pretty good.”

Bdubs grits his teeth, barely peeking through his slightly open mouth. He looks as though he means to say something, yet he remains silent. His hands return to the keyboard, face angled to where Etho can’t see it. He mutters something to himself.

“What was that?”

A pause. “Nothing. You just can’t seem to understand anything, can you?”

Etho doesn’t bother responding. Bdubs is prone to strong emotions that twist his actions in irrational ways. He’s learned by now not to question them. For all he knows, he might’ve just gotten an unsatisfactory grade on a test earlier that day. Besides, Joel is in the Minecraft club now. He can easily leave. Shouldn’t Etho make the most of it while it lasts?

He doesn’t say another word until the clock hits four and everyone leaves.

It wasn’t that hard, really. Scar and Grian started dating as sophomores, and they’ve only gotten closer since. Grian rides on Etho’s bus at least twice a week nowadays to spend the rest of the afternoon with his boyfriend. It gives them plenty of time to talk over the bus seats, about all kinds of things. It’s reassuring to know that Life High is relatively free of homophobia. And apparently once Grian starts talking about his brother it’s very easy for him to go on for quite a while.

As it turns out, Jimmy was working with Etho on a class project, randomly assigned as a partner. So of course they needed to exchange numbers. As it turns out, they have a decent amount in common, and neither deleted each other from their list of contacts. In fact, at the time Etho considered him nearly a friend. Acquaintances at the least.

Not close enough to breach each other’s friend groups, and yet it happens anyways. Etho supposes he can’t complain. Jimmy and Tango became, to everyone who knows them’s surprise, inseparable. Tango moved to their table at lunch, and so of course Etho decided to join him. It was a shame that Bdubs was too stubborn to join them, but it was at his own consequence anyway.

Etho was somehow added to their group chat, too. He texts three times as frequently as before. In fact, he and some individual people have struck up a good friendship.

He’s impossibly happy. Elated, ecstatic, euphoric.

So of course, for some inexplicable reason, Bdubs has found a way to be sour.

They’re on the bus. It’s just them, with Scar over on Grian’s bus. Etho is listening to music when Bdubs interrupts him.

Traded patience for my prid–

Bdubs pulls out one of his earbuds, forcing him to scramble to pause his song so he can seamlessly resume it later.

“Why are you friends with them all of a sudden?”

Etho considers turning his music back on, but he’s spoken to Bdubs less than ever in his life this week. He figures he owes it to him. “I mean, we’re in high school. A whole new batch of people to make friends with, right?”

“When have you ever been optimistic? When have you ever wanted to ‘make friends?’ It’s weird, Etho. I don’t like it. I know why you’re doing it all.”

He swallows down the last bits of doubt still clinging to his throat. There isn’t any going back now, is there? “Why don’t you like it? Can’t you just be happy that I’m happy?”

“Because I know that you won’t be. He’s going to break your heart. I’m trying to protect you.”

Etho bites his lip. “I don’t need to be protected.” He scoots away from Bdubs and looks out the window. His finger brushes the play button on his phone.

But I can no longer hide.

It’s not an obsession.

That’s the lie Etho tells himself, over and over.

He knows all too well what it is, what it means.

Pictures. So many pictures. He can pull up his photos anywhere, at any time, and be met with a grinning Joel. They have each other’s numbers. They text just about daily. Most of the time it’s about homework, or help with a project. Technically it could be called cheating, but Etho, for once, doesn’t mind. He’d do anything for Joel.

Earlier that day he’d sat next to him. And they talked. Oh God, they talked. Maybe it was about Minecraft, maybe it meant nothing to Joel, but it meant everything to Etho.

He doesn’t walk home, he floats.

“Hey– Etho? Are you listening?”

“Hm?” He looks at Bdubs, who started waving a hand in front of his face at some point.

“You’re spacing out.”

“Oh.”

They continue walking in silence.

“Etho . . .”

“What?” he responds, more hostile than he intended.

“He doesn’t love you.”

“This again?” He’s sick of this. Bdubs, over and over, doubting and chastising and treating him like an idiot. Etho’s not incompetent. He knows that it’s all probably pointless. He swears he knows.

“Have you ever stopped and thought? Is this random boy who you want to be with forever? Does he know you better than me?”

Etho doesn’t bother guising his confusion. “Of course not. I’ve known you my whole life.”

Bdubs opens his mouth, eyes dark.

Silence.

“You don’t know anything.”

Then he storms off, walking twice as fast as Etho despite his short legs.

Just a little comment.

Etho had been flying, everyday. Riding the updrafts of hope, soaring through skies of optimism.

A single rock, thrown into his wing, and he goes crashing down.

It was during lunch. The topic of crushes had inexplicably come up. Of course Etho was ecstatic. What would he do? Imply it was a boy, or risk suggesting that they were at that very table? Listen quietly, pry something out of Joel? This was his chance.

He hadn’t needed to do anything, as it turned out. They started teasing Joel, about some alleged crush from middle school. Lizzie, from homeroom. Joel had denied it, to Etho’s delight. Another step in the right direction.

But Jimmy kept on pressing, until Joel finally responded, his face flushed. He spoke in an embarrassed whisper, so quiet Etho barely heard it.

A confession.

It hurt Etho more than Joel himself.

And it hurts, it hurts so much.

Etho lays splayed out on his bed, Wallows blasting in the corner.

Know it's better for my health, asking questions doesn't help.

Joel doesn’t like him.

Of course he doesn’t.

Who was he, to hope for such a dastardly thing? Of course Joel is just like the rest of them. Straight, flirty, stupid.

No, Joel is fine. It isn’t Joel’s fault. All of this was his own doing, the consequences to his own actions.

Stupid.

He rolls over and buries his head into the pillow.

'Cause all night I'll be focused on finding my worth

Where did he go wrong?

Etho thinks back to that first day. Joel was sitting next to Jimmy, obviously. And the locker . . .

Lizzie. Last name Shadow. She had the locker next to Joel. That was why he’d been so loud. It was never meant for Etho.

Every thought is gonna hurt, he's probably taking off her shirt.

Stupid, so stupid. He’s so stupid. What else was there?

Joel is a good builder. That’s all there is to it. He joined the Minecraft club to play Minecraft.

They were friends, and nothing more.

Right now, there's no logic or time for this shit.

Stupid.

Idiot.

Etho presses the pillow closer to his face. Maybe he can suffocate himself if he tries hard enough.

Bdubs was right.

Bdubs was right, of course he was.

He know Etho better, he knew what was best for him.

And what did Etho do?

Shoved him away with hostility.

But I'm gonna take the hit, 'cause I know the benefit is good.

He pulls away from his tear stained, snot sticky pillow to pause his music. He sends a quick text to Bdubs.

You were right.

There’s no response. Odd. He’s usually so quick to respond to his texts.

I’m sorry.

He waits another few minutes, his phone silent.

Bdubs. Answer. Please.

Still nothing. This is uncharacteristic. Unsettling. Etho doesn’t like it. Something happened.

He pockets his phone and runs over to Bdubs’ house.

Nobody answers the door.

Etho doesn’t see a car in the driveway. Scar wasn’t on the bus. There’s nobody at the Goodmans’ besides Bdubs.

He knocks again, heart picking up speed. Bdubs at least opens the door, no matter how upset he is. Etho had walked home with him. He knows he’s somewhere in there.

Etho eventually gives up and enters an uncomfortably silent home. Whenever Bdubs is angry he can be found blasting music from his room, but all Etho hears is the sound of his own footsteps on varnished wood.

He wanders into the living room, dining room, kitchen, before heading upstairs.

Bdubs is in his bedroom, door wide open. Sitting on the bed with his face to the window. Natural light slips through the shut blinds, the only source of illumination in the room.

He’s quiet, still. Both legs straight, feet planted on the carpet.

One hand on the bed.

The other grasping a gun.

“Bdubs?”

He gives no acknowledgement besides a laugh, dark and turbulent, clawing at Etho’s ears.

“Why are you here?”

Etho wishes he knew the answer. “Don’t do it. Please.”

His knuckles whiten around his weapon, back tensing. “And why should I listen to you? You’ve shown, you don’t care about me. No, not at all. Why don’t you run back to Joel? Why do you care?”

“I– You’re my best friend.”

“You haven’t done much to prove that as of late, have you?” Bdubs lifts his gun to his lap, almost threateningly.

Etho’s on shaky ground. One wrong word, one traitorous pause, and Bdubs crashes into the numbing waters.

He speaks before Etho can finish forming the words on his tongue.

“So oblivious. You were so oblivious.”

Etho doesn’t know what he’s talking about. “What?”

“Don’t pretend that’s not why you’re here now. That’s the only reason I ever crossed your mind. Come to tell me I’m just a friend, that you’ve never thought we could be anything else.”

And just like that Etho realizes..

Bdubs . . . he’d been so opposed.

Does he know you better than me?

Etho says nothing. This is too much, too much to think about while his oldest friend is sitting suicidally in front of him.

“I didn’t know.”

Silence.

Bdubs lets out a sigh. Not of annoyance or disappointment, but of acceptance. He turns the gun over in his hands. “Why don’t you leave already, Etho? Don’t busy yourself with me. I already know you don’t care.”

“Bdubs–”

He lifts up his weapon and presses it to his temple in an instant. “Leave.”

“I–”

His voice grows louder, not asking, but commanding. “Go. Get out.”

“Please.”

Silence again.

The shaky moment as Etho realizes that the ice is only cracked. He can try, try his hardest, and maybe he can save Bdubs.

“I’m sorry.”

Bdubs relaxes just a little.

“I wish I could forgive you.”

The ice shatters with a gunshot.

Bdubs is gone.

Grief. Some form of shock and grief, bundled together into a knot in Etho’s stomach. He calls, three furiously punched numbers. Then there are sirens, someone tells him to leave.

He doesn’t want to leave. All of this, all of this is his fault, all of it. Bdubs and gone and he did this. He was stupid, so so so so stupid. Bdubs was right, Bdubs loved him, Bdubs is gone.

They drag him back. Bdubs isn’t dead. There’s a pulse, apparently. Etho doesn’t care. Maybe if he follows Bdubs, no matter where he goes, to the white gates or river Styx, he’ll be forgiven.

Somebody has their arms around Etho’s waist, holding him back as they load up Bdubs.

He hears sobbing, loud, desperate pleading. Not from himself but instead Scar, restraining Etho even as tears stream down his face.

He stops fighting it. Despair sinks into his bones.

Etho puts his head on Scar’s shoulder. The two people who knew Bdubs best, crying for him.

They make him go to school.

They don’t understand.

They don’t know what he’s seen.

Etho was there, with Bdubs, in his room.

Bdubs, so short and frail.

Bdubs, spouting confessions he never earned.

Bdubs, taking his gun

And

Then

Gone.

They tell him everything will hopefully be fine. Bdubs is injured, but miraculously alive. There’s a chance he’ll survive. It’s not Etho’s fault.

They don’t understand.

Everything is Etho’s fault.

What if Bdubs never gets the chance to forgive him?

But there’s nothing he can do. So he takes a solemn ride to school.

It’s during Chemistry, near the end. This is usually the highlight of his day. He gets to stare at Joel, then go to lunch and maybe even talk to him. But now it’s unsettling, quiet without his longing thoughts.

A stranger enters the classroom, who Etho vaguely recognizes as one of the school therapists. She exchanges a few words with the teacher, then comes over to Etho.

Muted words.

Etho cries for the rest of Chemistry.

Joel does not comfort him. Nobody does. And why should they?

Bdubs is dead.

It’s all his fault.

Etho listens to music.

I know that all this pain is good.

Calm.

I know that feeling all this pain is good.

Peaceful.

It reminds him of Bdubs.

I know that all this pain is good.

And all his guilt.

I know that feeling all this pain is good.

The song keeps playing.

Etho never paused it.

So I can hide it away, yeah, I'll hide it away.

A gunshot rings out.

And I'll hide it away for good.