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Chase had spent his entire life helping.
At the age of 6, he would help his grandpa and dad move things down from the attic, rewarded with a popsicle on a hot summer's day and stories to explain archived photos of old relatives.
It wasn't much weight to bear, even on the shoulders of a 1st grader. He enjoyed the weights company, and enjoyed the challenge and responsibility that came with it.
It was comfortable.
Safe.
Easy.
At the age of 8, he would help his mom with baking gluten-free cake that actually tasted good.
They would take turns mixing the batter, and Chase's mom would pretend to look away as he stole licks off of the wooden spatula.
He would blow out his candles and his mom would lean over and ask what he’d wished for and he would giggle and inform her that if he told her the wish wouldn't come true, and she would fake disappointment as if her evil plan got foiled and Chase would laugh again and hug her and never tell her that his wish was for everything to stay like this forever.
The weight was even less than the last one.
Chase was able to stand and walk upright while the weights almost acted as his tether to reality and sense of self.
If life was always like this, Chase would live every day like the sun was going to explode tomorrow.
But sadly life only stays like that when you still sneak teeth under your pillow and squeal when you get five dollars in return. Life only stays like that when you wake up every morning and walk downstairs to find your dad at the stove making scrambled eggs and your mom drinking coffee and waving at you with a smile on her face that actually reaches her eyes.
He was 10 years old when the first big weight came tumbling down.
He had been at his house doing pretty much nothing when his mom got a phone call and when she answered it her eyes froze for a very long time and stayed like that for ever and ever to the point where Chase couldn't tell whether or not the look was just imprinted so deeply in his mind or if her original face just never existed at all.
He was whisked to the hospital without any explanation or any time to prepare for when he saw his dad’s body.
Still. Lifeless.
He looked almost at peace, as if he was just closing his eyes and had fallen into a deep sleep rather than taking his last breath.
That was the biggest weight Chase had carried at that point in his life.
He had struggled to walk and carry on, but seeing his moms horrified face, he knew he had to keep going, to keep walking and even take some of her weights, because he knew that if she fell apart Chase wouldn't have anything left in life to carry his weights for and he would trip and they would fall on him and crush his body then tumble everywhere, causing an avalanche.
Chase pretended he was okay, mostly for his family’s sake. He knew that a traumatized child would just add more weight and responsibility onto their backs and he would gladly take it all. Anything for them.
Chase was now 16 and he had carried on like that for a while, only occasionally being able to hand off some of his smaller weights to Deacon for a few hours.
Though the weights were so incredibly heavy and he was tripping over himself constantly, he made his best effort to walk up straight and smile, cracking jokes and being his normal cheery self because his mom was walking right beside him and her back was arched and her face was sweaty because of all the things she had to carry, yet she still managed to be fine.
So Chase would do the same.
Chase was 17 when the biggest weight of all dropped.
His mother was diagnosed with cancer, and would have to move into Deacon's old room so Chase’s aunt and uncle could take care of her.
It was remarkable Chase was still able to walk, with his mom not beside him anymore and him having to carry a great deal of her old weights while she carried the biggest one of all.
He felt like he was about to cry, but knew he couldn't.
He knew he couldn't because his mom wasn't even able to get out of bed most mornings and she hadn't cried since the death of her husband.
She would only have slightly glossed over eyes and a solitary frown tug at the tips of her lips.
She was strong, so Chase had to be too.
Chase’s next weight was found in a random book in the middle of his local library.
A list and guide to magic keys that would allow him to go into books and collect some weird substance called narratonin.
When he learned that the narratonin could grant wishes, though the responsibility still added a tiny weight to Chase’s back, he was able to pick up the pace a bit and add a little more sincerity into his smiles.
He could finally be useful.
He could save his mom.
He started going into books immediately, but was always interrupted by some pale idiot around his age who kept trying to steal his key away from him.
He was able to deal with it, though.
Takes one to know one.
What he wasn't able to deal with was when he started to develop genuine feelings for the pale idiot.
The weight was a light one at first, but kept growing bigger and bigger until it made up a good chunk of Chase’s haul.
Chase has held on for years, and the weather has barely changed that.
He would walk through sunny and cloudy and rainy days.
But he felt a storm approaching.
He was afraid to drop his weights.
He was so afraid and that just made him more mad.
But every time he saw Buddy, everytime they kissed, everytime they locked eyes and he could tell Buddy cared about him.
A little bit of weight was lifted, and Chase could pretend that everything was okay, just for now.
He didn't know if he should drop any weights entirely, he didn't know if he should drop them all at once, and he didn't know if he should just try to run and see what happens, but he knew he couldn't keep living like this.
Because with Buddy by his side, everything felt possible.