Dirge: It is impossible to tell you all how proud I am of this.
He had always been there for him.
That was the thought that came to him and made him wince as he saw the coffin being lowered into the ground.
No matter how terrified he had been of him, no matter how much he avoided him, Todd had always been there when Pepito needed someone to gripe to about life, or when he needed a shoulder to cry on.
Todd had been the one who was terrified of everything, mainly because everything scary always came to him, and he had had two parents who hated him with a burning passion and a homicidal neighbor, and yet Todd had never cried. When his mother was so drugged up she couldn't speak, he hadn't cried. When Johnny C. had killed someone right in front of him, he had ran screaming, yes, but he hadn't cried. Even when he had showed up at Pepito's house, bruises covering his face and arms from his fathers outraged beating, he hadn't cried.
And maybe that was what drew Pepito to him.
Three months ago, when Pepito was having a very down day and some kids ventured to make fun of him, Todd had come out of his personal bubble and defended the Anti-Christ.
Todd had always been there for Pepito, so why hadn't Pepito been there for Todd? Why hadn't he gone to the movie with his best friend? Why hadn't he been there to protect the teenager from that car? If he had gone, maybe Todd wouldn't be the one in that coffin. Maybe it would be someone else, or no one at all.
The worst part for Pepito was that he hadn't been able to tell Todd how he had felt about him. It wasn't so hard to say; I love you, Amigo.
So why couldn't he say it?
There had been millions of times that he had wanted to say it, times when he had been thiiiis close to saying it, times when Todd looked like he wanted to say it too...
But he had never said it.
Tears spilled out of the black-haired youths eyes, making the dark skin beneath the bi-colored orbs moist.
He was only seventeen... Only seventeen, dammit! He had a whole life to live ahead of him, but one car had taken his life away. One goddammed red convirtable car, droven by a drunk couple, leaving the movie.
The movie was Star Wars, which had always been a favorite of Todd's. Pepito had never been drawn to it, so he used homework as an excuse to not go. He had actually been playing video games, and that made his heart hurt. He had lied to his best friend, the one he loved, and that cost the boy his life.
One red convirtable. Just one, and the couple was still alive. Alive, and mot likely partying with their friends, unaware of the Goth Mexican-American who was standing alone under a tree with his hands clenched tight in front of him. Todd had died on November 23, during the fall season, just as the trees began to lose their leaves, dotting the ground in color.
Todd had loved fall. He had loved the bright colors, had loved shuffeling through the leaves and listening to them crinkle beneath his black tennis shoes. Sometimes, when he came over to Pepito's house, he would have an orange leaf or two stuck in his hair, indicated that he had jumped in a leaf pile. But Pepito had never mentioned it.
Once they had jumped in a leaf pile right in front of the man who had just finished raking the leafs into a three foot tall pile and was in the middle of a sigh of relief. He had chased the laughing boys down the street with a rake, cursing a red streak and calling them names. Pepito had wanted to melt his face off, but Todd never enjoyed that, so he ignored his urges.
Todd had been his best friend since kindergarden, and had been Pepito's only friend, since the other children where too scared to go near the Anti-Christ. They had known each other for twelve years, and those twelve years gone, bang boom crash, in one second.
And it killed Pepito inside.
"You know..." Johnny C., Todd's maniac of a neighbor, sidled up to the black haired youth, "He loved you too."
And that made his death just a little bit more bearable.
(my computer says that 'Todd's' is spelled incorrectly. That's fucked up, no?)