The moon slowly rose within the skies, its gentle rays casting a shadow over the town, paving the streets in a soft glow. From the trees came the birds, their shrill cries filling the night's air as the crickets began their music, only ceasing when someone stepped upon the grass, enticed within their own conversations to notice the simple beauty of the world.

But from inside, everything seemed so distant, so foreign. And so instead, the boy focused on his friends who sat, seated at a table. Their mugs filled with a dreadful liquid, one which left a foul taste in his mouth, and yet filled him with a sense of serendipity. How could the smell of bitter coffee beans fill him with such content? He often thought of this, pondered why he still drank it, but this was their thing. Sitting here on a Friday night with a mug of coffee, watching dully as the world passed them by. And it had. Years had passed since their elementary days, and as their senior year came, they found this place to fill that sense of dread that lingered within them, this one place that still brought them together when nothing else could.

He glanced towards Firkle, the younger boy of the group. Who often wore his bangs to the side, so that it lay over one eye. But as the boy grew older, they found that he had lengthened considerably, and often walked in a way so that his shoulders slumped, fists often jammed in the denim of his jeans. The boy wasn't much of a talker, and often shied away from new people, but when it came to his friends he was more of a listener, and only spoke when he felt he had something to contribute to the conversation.

And Henrietta, she hadn't changed much. Still clinging to that old pipe that she smoked from, the foul air often clinging to her like a disease. Her hair now fell to her sides, and she continued to dress herself in black linens, often choosing that of a simple, yet promiscuous dress. Her lips were often colored with a dull purple, with an eyeshadow to match. Whenever she wasn't talking about how crappy her life was, or how awful her parents were, she found it funny to poke fun at her friends. Calling them out on all the stupid shit they did.

As for Mike, the boy's features hadn't changed drastically. His body too lengthened, skin pale. Yet he stood tall, as if he had a purpose, and his gaze sharpened. His hair still sat in a heap atop his head, and his clothes rested somewhat baggy against his frame, as if to hide all of his imperfections, with multiple piercings that sat against his ears. Throughout the years his fixation on cigarettes grew, and they found that he could go through a single box within a day, spending whatever money he could to continue on with this addiction. And yet they never asked, for neither of them truly cared. In reality they were living this life as it was; a simple excuse just to get by. Whether they died or not simply relied upon fate, and Mike truly believed that, so he continued on with his life as one would, with doing what he so thoroughly enjoyed.

But Pete, why he hadn't really changed. Whereas his body grew, he found himself to be the heavier one of the group. He wasn't scrawny as the rest of the boy's, but he wasn't heavy like Henrietta, he was somewhere stuck in the middle of it all, but he didn't much mind. He often dressed himself in a black button up with black denim jeans, the only thing different being those purple colored shoes in which he loved dearly. He still smoked, but his obsession with nicotine wasn't nearly as bad as Mike's, and he found that his mood had grown considerably darker than the rest, yet the boy found himself longing for something more. Something sincere, a companion, and maybe even a friend-

"Pete?"

The male was torn from his thoughts as he glanced towards the group, at the faces that were now drawn towards him, in an attempt to pry into his own mind. But the boy simply took this in stride and brought the mug to his lips, taking a well needed sip of coffee before again meeting their gaze, "Yeah?"

"Look who the cat dragged in." Henrietta was the first to speak, pointing her sharpened nail in the direction of a boy they had gone to school with, the blue beanie hiding that of his hair as he leaned across the counter, towards a waitress who smiled down at him, obviously taken by his charm.

Throughout the years Stan had grown into a remarkable young man, lean and chiseled, popular with his classmates, and his teachers. Everyone had come to adore the boy, with that crooked grin and those piercing brown eyes. But there was only one girl that had caught his eye, his first love and the woman he was destined to be with for all of eternity.

Wendy, that's who the waitress was, why they had taken to each other so fast. He had come to visit her at work, to free her from this boredom, this hell that it was, working at Bennys.

"What the fucks he doing here?" If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was Stan. At the way the boy always seemed so smug, so arrogant, almost as if the world were at his fingertips. As if everyone were waiting at his beck and call, "Fucking idiot."

Mike snickered, and Henrietta gave him one of her old famous roll of the eyes. And it was at that very moment, that Stan turned and his eyes caught theirs. With a friendly wave the male sauntered over, placing an elbow against the table top as he brought his chin to rest against his palm.

"Oh hey guys," He began, a faint smile playing against his lips, "Fancy meeting you here."

"Yeah, like we're not here every day." Henrietta snickered, taking a drag on her pipe before looking towards Firkle who kept quietly to himself, his gaze fixed on the coffee before him.

Stan glanced at the group, his eyes resting on one, then the other, before coming to rest upon Pete's, and with that same cocky smirk, the male winked, "Well, I'll see you all later, I've got some business to take care of."

And then he was off, waving at the group before pushing his way through the entryway, and down the street from whence he came. The group began to talk about how annoying he was, how annoying they all were, but the boy couldn't help but think back to that final moment, where he had drawn a smile and winked at him. What the hell was that all about?

"What a fucking idiot."

Henrietta snickered as the group began to quiet down, and as if all in unison, they grabbed at their mugs and took a sip of their coffee.

When Wendy had finally made her way over, the group had finished their coffee, and when she handed them the bill, Henrietta eyed her suspiciously. Fishing the loose change from her coat pocket as she then dropped out on the table between them. But as Wendy reached for the money, the woman caught her eye, "So tell me," She began with a devious grin, "Is that fuck boy of yours any good in bed?"

Wendy stared at them with disbelief and snatched the change from the table, before stomping back towards the register, dropping the money within the till before slamming it shut.

"Guess not then."

Mike snickered at this, as did Firkle but Pete simply focused back on the window, at the street light that dimly lit the road that lied right outside those doors. At the silhouette that had now emerged, it's back leaning against the post as he brought a cigarette to his lips, the red ember burning through the darkness.

"I need a smoke."

Pete scooted himself from the seat, and made his way outside. Slowly, he inched closer to the figure, stopping a few feet from the male as he took a loose cigarette from his pocket, lighting it as he now faced the street, "You're girlfriend know you smoke?"

Stan glanced towards the male, the nicotine falling from his fingertips as he smashed the tobacco against the pavement, "You gonna tell on me, is that it?"

He glanced towards the male, and simply shook his head as he took another drag on his cigarette, "Nah. Secrets safe with me."

Stan continued to watch the boy as he finished his cigarette, tossing the end to the side of him, and with a grimace Pete turned, his gaze falling to the floor as he began, "Unless…I let it slip that pretty boy here isn't as perfect as everyone thinks he is."

The taller male tilted his head to one side, as if to ask where this was going, but then the boy began to smile, and chuckled, mostly to himself, "You think I'm pretty? What are you, gay?"

"W-What? No, shut up. Have you not listened to anything I was saying?" Pete stood, incredulous, arms folded at his chest. With a huff, the male turned on his feet, and began to walk off, pulling out another cigarette as he laid it between his lips, "Fucking idiot."

But the male watched from the post, looking at the figure as it disappeared off into the night. With a chuckle, he focused back on the Café, as Wendy approached him with a smile. And as they made their way down the street, he turned to her, "Hey, do you think I'm pretty?"