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Deep Hazel eyes, focusing on the dark alleyway pavement below them. He walks out the door with a slouch on his right side, due too the fact he is dominantly left. A dance beat softly whispering from the Town Hall’s doors and windows. I walk out onto the blacktop looking around with a urgent expression across my face. I find him sitting against a light pole, his face buried into his hands, his hands buried into his knees, he looked a wreck. Flurries of a early winters snow dropping to the ground too the beat of the music.
He had many reasons to be depressed he just never told them too anyone, he was like me. Keeping things bottled up till he found himself with a razor shaking in his hand, or crying himself to sleep on occasion. We were exactly the same that’s why we were together, we understood each other, but didn’t understand ourselves.
I run to his side, and get down on the ground, my knees scrape and immediately begin bleeding. I take a look at him and know not to speak but to just comfort. This wasn’t a time to ramble on-and-on about how life is a one time kind of thing, suicide is idiotic, It was one of those “I need someone to hold me kind of moments”.
I sit on his left side, my knees up, I looked like a small child compared to his 6’3, two-hundred-something, large, muscular physique. I then place my left hand on his back and rub it up down as his body quivers from the muffled sobbing I hear from his hands. He takes his face out of his hands, his eyes swelled and blood red, tears dripping to the indents on his cheeks. He puts his head into the crevice between my shoulder and neck as he begins sobbing again. I kiss the top of his head and place my left arm around his shoulder, and push the hair out of his eyes with my free hand.
The dance beat is now lost in the sound of muffled sobs, car horns and the snow lightly covering us. His phone lay in between us the screen lit up, I pick it up with my right hand to check the time, I see a message up from his friend, Harrison, I read it. The message reads “Their was a accident, a blue Voltswagon beetle and a 18 wheeler off of route 40, The Beatle’s driver was taken out on a gurney in critical condition, the Beatle is totaled, tags reading ‘H57J9N’ Is Mags home?”
It was his sister, Maggie. I remembered the tags from when she dropped us off at the formal, she said she was going to the Giant off of 40 too pick up a few groceries. I held him closer as I feel his pain bolting from his body to mine, as I feel my eyes tearing up. Black drops soiling my aqua gown, my make up running down my face. I used my right hand too lift his chin up bringing our eyes level.

With a slight lisp and a few hard breathes I manage too speak.