OH MY GOD I AM ACTUALLY USING THE 'Friendship' GENRE.
This came to me when I was thinking about how cool tree-houses are. I wish I'd had one.
FOREVER
On the day loneliness died, the sun was the brightest yellow it had ever been. Down the street, another kid moved in, and Envy thought he was the sun personified. Of course, at the age of six, he was just glad to have someone he could talk to – someone other than these pompous adults with their fur coats and cigarettes on sticks. At that age, he had been so naïve that he had honestly believed the Sun would want nothing more than to play with him.
At that age, the Sun had been so naïve that he had immediate agreed.
They climbed the tree, all the way up, and it felt like an adventure. At the top was the tree house Dante had had built after she forgot Envy's birthday two months ago. It still smelled of fresh paint, so they did what kids do best; turn a building into a home. Drawings were tacked over the mint green walls, and they pulled the cushions and pillows and toys together under the fort they made from the torn curtains. It had started out looking every bit a tearoom, and now it looked every bit a tree house.
Just before he had to leave, the Sun wrote something on the door in bright red crayon (his favourite shade).
ED AND ENVY
FRIENDS FOREVER
Envy had been impressed that Ed knew how to spell such a big, important word. Now he just wished Ed had known what it really meant.
Everyday, Ed would come over, and they'd climb the tree. It still felt like an adventure three months later, when school started again, and it had become so deeply ingrained in their lives it was a need. Or maybe it was only Envy who felt that way. Ed didn't stop coming, though. Every day after school, they'd get off the bus a stop early and walk the rest of the way, just talking, and then they'd adventure up the tree.
The years passed, and slowly the toys and drawings were replaced by video games and posters. Envy got everything he even considered wanting, to make up for the fact that he didn't have a father and his mother was never home. He didn't know why, but this just made him angrier. Ed said he'd rather have all the crap Envy got rather than his bastard of a father, but Envy felt the opposite way. He never said it, though, just laughed.
He did that a lot.
At school, Ed was building a reputation as a genius. He tackled class work with the greatest of ease, and complained about what a bore it was. Often he'd ask to see Envy's homework, since Envy was in the grade above him, but was always refused. Envy was afraid that Ed would do it better, and prove just how much Envy didn't deserve him.
Envy's reputation wasn't so good. He said he didn't care, because he wanted them to think he was tough. He wanted everyone to think he was made of unbreakable steel instead of fragile glass. He bragged hoping someone would agree. He spoke out for attention. He did everything to keep some kind of focus on him, so he wasn't cast into the shadows by the sun.
It didn't matter that Ed had everything and Envy had nothing. Everyday, Ed came over, and they climbed the tree, and it made Envy feel like he had something. It made Envy hate Ed less.
When Envy graduated from primary school and was forced into the shithole known as high school, he realised that he'd wasted all his time making sure Ed was his. He didn't have any other friends. The others in his grade thought he was a freak, and that made him so angry he had to lash out. He had to protect himself from their sneers and whispers.
He became more and more dependant on those afternoons in the tree house. Even if Ed didn't talk as much, and even if he didn't think Ed cared enough to listen to him, it was his everything. It was his one light. His sun.
Dante was starting to spend more time at home, but not with Envy; with various men she had decided to date. They often tried to bond with Envy, in various ways. He hated them all. He hated every one and thing, especially Ed, for being the only thing that made his life worth living.
Ed adjusted to high school much better than Envy did. He fitted in right away, and worse – he was popular. Suddenly everyone wanted a piece of him, and it wasn't long before he stopped climbing the tree every afternoon. He said it was a bit old, and childish.
Envy loudly wondered what Ed thought forever meant.
Ed didn't understand.
Forget it, Envy had replied, before storming away forever. And he knew what that word meant.
Envy started to live in the tree house halfway through Grade Eight. It was dull now, just another room, only in an unusual place. Every night, he'd fall asleep glaring at the faded red message on the door, and vow never to be fooled again.