The moonlight shone through the tiny window of the basement. It reflected off the trembling boy's knife. A droplet of red falls to the ground in the sudden silence. The blade shook in his hand before being dropped to the cold floor with a clatter. Blood smeared from the knife onto the cement as the boy and his companion backed away slowly. Harsh breaths were expelled as the held air was released. The two teens shared a glance, both examining the other's face. Both were horrorfied.
"D-Dave..." One stuttered in a whisper.
The other opened his mouth to speak but only shook his head as the growing panic washed over him. He had thought his uncoolness had peeked during the chase but hee had been wrong. So very wrong.
"What do we do?" The first boy squeaked, quivering in the dark. His voice got louder as panic rose and adrenahline effects faded. "What do we do now, Dave!"
"I don't know, how am I supposed to know!" Dave said back.
Just then, footsteps came from upstairs and police appeared, guns drawn, at the top of the stairs.
"I don't wanna go to jail, John," Dave turned his head to face the slightly smaller boy.
The two said nothing after that as the officers took it from there.
"I'm so sorry," A tall business man said, holding John's shoulders. "I wouldn't have left if I knew anything even near this would happen. I wouldn't have left in a million years."
John hung his head slightly and avoided eye contact.
The man, his father, continued. "And Dave, I can't believe this would happen at all let alone the night he comes over. But I'm glad he did because maybe you wouldn't have survived if you were alone."
No reply.
"I'm just glad neither of you got hurt," His father said, pulling him into a manly hug.
"I guess there are just 1000 ways to die and one of them is being stabbed by John Egbert," Dave said, attempting to bring a little humor into the situation.
The law and things had finally died down after two long weeks. People's questions had stopped and things were largely back to normal... at least on the outside.
That night was the worst night of John's life. He didn't know about Dave, but seeing as Dave wasn't the one to ram a knife into some serial killer's chest, he couldn't have an equal say.
"Dave, no," John said seriously. "That was bad even for you."
"Yeah, I know," Dave admitted, shrugging and casually leaning back on the bed in his room. He gazed up at the ceiling in silence.
"I don't think I'll ever go in my basement again..." John said quietly. "I barely even want to enter my own house at all."
Dave sighed. "I don't blame you, man. New hangout spot; my place for sure. The hood has been officially moved. Inform the authorities, shit is going down. It's happening. Shit is happening."
John stared out the window as Dave ranted. Something he could never tell anyone about that night was how it felt to take a human life. As expected, it really was terrifying, BUT there was a certain exhilerating factor to it that John couldn't help but almost... enjoy. Other feelings tangled up in a jumble, covered in adreniline, making the pleasureable ones nearly undetectable. People probably didn't usually even notice them, but they were just barely there, hanging in the very background. John knew of them. They were like a secret only he knew.
Dave sat up, studying his friend. He knew that he could never understand what exactly happened for John, but he could try, and he could try to help. That's what cool guys do for their friends. They help out bros in tough spots. "Hey dude, if you ever want to say something, I'm all ears. Don't even worry, I was there too. It was pretty fucking scary and shit but I have you covered."
The bespectacled boy looked up, almost startled out of his reverie. "Oh, thanks, Dave. I'm fine, though."
Dave looked at him through his sunglasses, trying to see anything John was hiding.
John could see his suspicious state and pulled out his cute little smile. "Really!"
It was his own little secret.
Only his.