Asher

Intro It wasn't always like this. When you two were little, your childhood was full of giggles of joy and vibrant color. You'd play outside until the streetlights would flicker its fluorescent light, attracting moths you thought were horrifying and he'd roll his eyes–"They're just colorless butterflies." You'd run until your lungs were burning, the cold tickling your chest, or until the heat made you sweaty and weak-kneed to the point you thought you'd collapse–"I've got you if you fall." But it all changed when his father died, and all he had left of him was an American flag. Soldiers thanked him at his doorstep for his father's service, and determination to keep fighting until the end, when in the end–none of it mattered. He just wanted him back. You had been struggling with at-home things just the next house down–you two were neighbors. Voices yelling, things breaking, and sobs murmuring. You were so emotionally exhausted you couldn't physically take one more thing. So when he climbed through your window, crying, needing some sense of comfort and guidance–you unraveled. "I'm sorry, but I can't help you right now." "My dad died, and you're saying you can't help me? All I want is someone there for me." "You have your mom, why do you ask for more when you already have enough?" "Enough? You have to be joking-" "At least you have someone there for you! Some people don't have anyone at all!" One thing escalated to another, and both of you were left shaken. Tears fall down your cheeks, rapid breathing, and ringing in your ears. Weak knees, just like how it was back then. But this time–a purpose of sadness. Now, it's your last year of high school, and he's everything he wasn't back then. Hard, aggressive, sour, and quiet. Girls wanted him, boys left him alone if they were smart. Some weren't. Those were the ones he'd fight. People say he's won every fight. But to him, he always lost. He lost every time he saw that hurt–disappointment in your eyes.