"Come on guys," Taylor said, nudging Jude discreetly, "let's all break into my house, get drunk and make out."

Jude couldn't believe how sneakily Taylor had used this opportunity to try and get him and Connor closer. If it worked, he would have to find a way to repay her. Taylor was bad-ass; she knew stuff - simple as that.

Connor smirked at her words and looked to Jude mischievously. Since they had kissed in the smaller boy's bedroom the day before he had not been able to stop thinking about how right it had felt. The moment their lips touched, Connor knew that he could no longer deny that he was gay.

"Come on, let's do it." Connor quickly encouraged. Eager to spend more time with Jude.

Seeing no better option, Jude climbed onto his bike and pedalled after his friends down the dark streets headed to Taylor's home.

"Don't worry about my dad," Taylor whispered, as they snuck in through the patio door, "he sleeps like the dead."

"What about your mom?" Daria asked.

Taylor snorted, "She is actually dead."

Her three companions froze on the spot, shocked by the sudden, raw admission.

Unable to contain a giggle, "Just kidding," Taylor said, "she is at a yoga retreat."

As they made their way to the kitchen, Jude became apprehensive, turning to Connor he whispered, "This is a bad idea."

Nudging his friend lightly on the back, Connor reassured him, "It's fine. Come on, let's get some beer."

Before he and Jude could reach the kitchen, they were beckoned by Daria to the living room where Taylor had taken a bottle of rather expensive brandy from her father's cabinet. They passed the bottle around, each of the teenager taking a solid pull of the amber liquid, not wanting to seem like a wet blanket to the others. Jude had just taken a long sip and was about to hand the bottle to Taylor once more when they were startled by a light coming on in the stairwell.

"Who's there!" a man shouted from upstairs. Startled, Jude dropped the bottle which shattered on the tiled floor.

"It's my dad," Taylor whispered frantically, "let's get outta here!"

As the teens raced for the patio doors, Taylor's father rounded the corner into the living room. Unnerved by the noise which he had thought to be intruders, he saw four shadowed figures moving through his home. Panic rising and without realising, he pulled the trigger,

A loud bang. A flash of fire from the muzzle of the gun. A cry of pain. And that is when everything began to change.

"AAAAHHHHHH!"

The piercing cry made Connor's blood run cold. It was Jude.

"Dad!" Taylor screamed, as her father made for the light switch, "Stop! It's me!"

"Oh my god!" Daria shrieked, as the lights brightened the room.

Jude lay on the floor, clutching at his collar bone, dangerously close to the neck.

The sight of his friend on the ground broke Connor from his paralysis. Rushing forward, he knelt next to Jude and tried to lift the boy up onto his lap.

"NNNNNNAAAAHH!" Jude cried, "IT HURTS!"

Connor took one look at the wound Jude was holding, he could see blood, thick and dark steadily seeping between the pale hand Jude had pressed to the point.

"No! No, no no, no," Taylors father repeated in shock, "What did I do?!"

Daria stood holding Taylor, both girls in tears.

"Call 911! Somebody! Please!" Connor shouted. "I need a towel. Something!"

Snapping from his daze, Taylor's father rushed to the phone and dialled the emergency number as the girls rushed to get towels from the downstairs bathroom.

Connor's heart was pounding in his ears, every cell in his body was alive with a mix of fear and desperation. "Hang on, Jude." he said, "Hang on."

The blood soaking Jude's t-shirt and jacket frightened him. Though he tried to fight it, he could not stop the trembling that crept through his body.

"Help is on the way," Taylor's father said as he fell to the floor beside Jude, panic in his voice. "I'm so sorry."

Daria and Taylor rushed back into the living room. "Here you go," they spoke in unison, kneeling beside Jude and giving Connor towels gathered from the bathroom.

"Is he going to be alright?" Daria asked through tears as Connor slid a towel over the bullet wound and applied pressure.

Connor couldn't focus. His mind had been overloaded. "I don't..." he stammered, "Daria just..."

A cold hand slid into his, the grip scarily tight, he looked down and was confronted by the pleading eyes of a pale and trembling Jude.

"C...Connor..." his voice rasped.

"I'm right here, Jude," he reassured his friend, "You're going to be okay."

Chest heaving, Jude barely managed, "I'm sc...ared. It's so... sore."

Connor could feel himself wanting to break down. He fought back the tears and tried to smile at the smaller boy, "Just hold on, okay? The paramedics will be here soon." He gave Jude's hand a firm squeeze, trying to convey all his strength and hope into his wounded friend.

Minutes later, sirens are heard converging on the house. Taylor and her father rushed out the door to meet them.

Jude coughed violently in Connor's arms. Startled by the harsh sound Connor looked down at his friend. There were flecks of blood on his lips, which had turned alarmingly blue. He appeared to be struggling to breathe.

"Con...nor," he whispered desperately.

"Jude? Are you okay?" the boy asked, fighting to remain calm.

"I... I don't think..." is all he could manage before losing consciousness.

Before Connor could react, two medics came rushing into the room, immediately taking charge of the situation and politely but firmly, moving Connor out of the way.

He stood to the right, next to Daria and Taylor who were both pale and speechless. The flurry of activity is too much for him to take in coherently. He catches only bits and pieces.

"... I couldn't see... intruder in the house..."

"Bullet wound... right clavicle, fragmented bone matter..."

"... pulse is weak... get me a breathing tube..."

"Put in a call... police dispatched..."

Events unfolded in a matter of minutes, but each new flash broke down the weak wall of composure that Connor had been desperately holding in place.

The paramedics moved Jude skilfully onto a stretcher. As they rushed him out to the waiting ambulance, he heard one of them speak through their radio.

"Jude Adams-Foster, 2330..." they were giving contact details, "call the next of kin... ICU... survival uncertain."

He couldn't take it anymore. The walls inside him broke. Connor began to cry.