Murphy stood alone by the old oak tree, shaded by the branches so the sun could not see him. He wore a hat, and a dull hooded jacket. He slumped against the tree and kept his eyes down. No one looked at him. He was as invisible as he'd hoped to be. As he had to be.
It had been four years since Wells died. The boy he'd tormented for many years prior. The boy he'd beat up and bloodied and threatened, while the rest of the school stood and watched, laughed even. And then the boy died. And everything changed.
Someone by the building caught his eye. Someone with dark curly hair and a small backpack slung coolly over one shoulder, two girls under his arms.
Bellamy. Exactly as he remembered him.
Murphy swallowed hard. His best friend. His old best friend, that is. Once, they were both cool, both popular, both had two girls under each arm. It seemed keeping the old ways had been more important to him than loyalty to his friend. Or maybe he blamed him for Well's death, too.
Bellamy was surrounded by other kids. All laughing and smiling, the entire group hushing every time he opened his mouth so as to hear and hold onto each word he spoke. The girls always giggled afterwards. Murphy couldn't say he blamed them. There had been a time when he was just like those girls. How pathetic he had been.
But it hadn't felt pathetic. He had always by his side, an equal, when he spoke, Bellamy would shush everyone else so he could hear. No, it hadn't felt pathetic at all. And not nearly as hopeless as it truly was.
Suddenly Murphy was guided into an unwelcome memory.
They'd been in the library, just the two of them, Bellamy's usual throng of girls and jock friends gone, for he expected none of them had ever once entered the library, and would never expect their beloved football star-Bellamy to spend his time reading. It had always been pleasing that none of them knew Bellamy nearly as well he did.
They were leaning against a bookshelf. Bellamy was entranced by something he'd picked up.
Science and the Common Understanding by J. Robert Oppenheimer.
Bellamy had always been secretly smart. A secret nerd.
"What?" Bellamy looked at him suddenly, smiling.
"What?" John grinned back at him.
"You're staring at me," he said.
"Oh," John flushed, realizing it was true. He had been staring.
"I was just watching you read," John tried to explain. Bellamy looked suspicious, but a smile was still plastered on his face.
"Oh," he said softly. They smiled at each other, sunlight from the window catching the brown in Bellamy's eyes and turning them a brilliant gold.
And then there was a moment. A moment to think things through, a moment to hold himself back-
But instead he let himself crack.
"Bell," he muttered.
He leaned into him. They were already so close, it was not much of a movement. But Bellamy saw it coming. He jerked away-
Murphy closed his eyes. Not now. He would not let himself be pitiful right now. The past was the past, there was no use lingering in it. This was his life now, and this life had no Bellamy in it. He just had to deal with it. Just like he had to deal with the fact that Bellamy would have never wanted him anyways.
When Murphy opened his eyes, he saw Bellamy eyes from across the street. His heart lurched. They were so beautiful, Bellamy's eyes, still so beautiful. Enough to bring him to his knees. Murphy felt himself moving forward, in a trance almost, away from the old oak. The light shined on his face.
Far away Bellamy let his arms fall from the shoulders of the girls. He took one slow step-
One of the two pretty girls that had never liked Murphy with long brown hair and a bright red sweater latched onto his arm and pulled on it, laughing about something. Bellamy snapped away.
Murphy slunk back into the shadows.