Milton Mamet had always been an unusual child.. he would be described as the outcast in school, even though he usually got higher grades than anyone else. He never had any friends, and it seemed he preferred the comfort of his books and his bug collection over human companionship. Though this wasn't entirely accurate. He did have one friend... Philip Blake. Philip and Milton were as different as night was from day.. and those that knew the two of them would say that Philip did have a tendency to boss Milton around. Milton always winced at his words, but ultimately, he did whatever Philip did. He seemed almost tied at Philip's waist... afraid of being alone and at the risk of being forced to talk to other kids his age.
Philip was the trouble maker.. he was a prankster, and he had a large circle of friends unlike poor Milton. Often, when the two were not in school, Philip would be over at a friend's house while Milton sat outside under the shade of the sycamore tree in their backyard and tried to ignore the sound of his parents fighting inside of the house. He often felt lonely when Philip wasn't alone. His mother tried to comfort him and give him as much attention as she could spare, but somehow it never seemed to really make him happy. She was a troubled woman.. and he knew it. His father had drank heavily most of Milton's life, and while he had never gotten confirmation from his mother.. he was almost absolutely certain that his father had cheated more than once. He would often times take off and stay gone for several days at a time.. and Milton would find himself standing on his bed with his ear pressed against his bedroom wall, unable to tear himself away from the faint sound of his mother's sobs in next room. He had been under no illusions of normality when it came to his home life.. but he always pretended his parents were happy if he was ever asked about it. He always pretended he was happy, too.

As Milton sat under the cool shade of his tree, he would talk to his favorite bug, Mr. Jubbs; something that had started when he failed to block out the screams on his own. Sometimes he imagined that the small brown beetle would talk back to him, speaking words of comfort.. telling him he had a future and a life waiting for him so far away from what he felt and knew now, and if he could just hold on for a little longer, he would see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Milton's life had been torment for as long as he could remember.. and he knew that he had repressed things in order to protect himself. He imagined his parents had a happy marriage at one time, he just couldn't remember it. He also imagined that he didn't always feel so awful when undressing himself, he just couldn't remember feeling any different. His father had been unnecessarily cruel to him, but it wasn't the mental and emotional abuse that threatened to break him.. it was the physical. Every day he questioned whether or not there was any point in getting out of bed... but somehow, he always managed to do it. While some would say this was a display of courage, Milton felt he just didn't have any other choice.
He just wanted that life that was waiting for him. He just wanted his mother to smile again. He wanted to be able to protect her. He wanted so much more.

He felt like his life was on the brink of a huge change, and he fought tooth and nail for it.
The truth was.. his life was on the brink of a change. It just wasn't the change he had anticipated.
Philip made his way to Milton's backyard one afternoon, listening to the sound of the grass beneath his feet, until the sound of yelling invaded his ears. It was faint, but it was there, nonetheless. He had never known Milton's parents fought... especially not like that.

Milton sat beneath his tree with his head in his hands, and his bug sitting in it's little carrier in his lap. Philip jogged over to him and kicked at the ground in front of him with one of his boots, causing dirt to land on Milton's pants. Milton dusted himself off frantically without looking up at him, and he heard the sniffles that escaped from his friend. He sat down directly in front of him and put a hand under his chin, forcing Milton to look at him.

"Hey man, what's wrong with you?"
Milton jerked away and wiped at his sore, teary eyes. They were red; a clear indication that he'd been crying for a while.
"Nothing is wrong with me." he said nonchalantly, but Philip wasn't buying it.. and Milton's pokerface had always been so terrible.
"Oh, okay. So.. Why're your parents fighting?"
Milton's eyes widened and he shook his head as if to say, 'I don't know', but Philip saw his grip on Mr. Jubb's carrier tighten significantly.
"They do this often?"
Milton sighed, and he guessed that they did.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Why not? My parents fight too. You've heard them."
Milton suddenly found himself standing, his hands clenched into fists at his side, and tears threatening to fall all over again. He looked down at his friend and instead of saying something hurtful like he had wanted to, he frowned.
"I'm going to the comic book store. Can you watch Mr. Jubbs while I'm gone?"

It was safe to say he wasn't inviting Philip to join him. Milton had a vast collection of comic books he would bury himself in when things were especially grim at his house, but his father would never take him to the comic book store, so he always walked there to get the latest issue of his favorite comics. He had bought so many, he knew exactly how much they cost, and he always had his allowance on hand to pay and leave quickly without speaking a word to anyone there or along the way.

When he had almost arrived home, he heard them. The fire trucks. He broke into a run and prayed that they weren't headed down his street for the reason he feared.. but as he turned the corner, his worst fear had materialized in front of him. He saw the sky illuminated by the flames.. the flames that had engulfed his home. Suddenly he felt as though roots had come up from the ground and held him in place, he felt that he couldn't move even if he tried. Yet somehow he had made his way to the house, and he felt the firefighters hold him back and ask him questions that just didn't register. That could have been muffled whispers for all the sense and impact they had.
"That's my mom!" he screamed, and he felt that what he should have screamed was, 'that's my mom and dad', but the truth was there deep inside.. he was more concerned about his mother than he had been his father. He needed to see her face telling him that they could just find another house.. that they could just rebuild.. and that he wouldn't have to worry about his father anymore... and that...

that she loved him.

Philip and his parents were there, and Philip had Mr. Jubbs with him. Milton's lower lip trembled pitifully when he heard a firefighter talking to someone somewhere behind him, and he assumed that it was Philip's parents.

"There were no survivors.." though the man had lowered his voice, those words were the loudest thing in Milton's entire world right now. Louder than the sound of his screams.. and louder than the roars of the fire that had taken his mother from him and everything he'd ever known.
He watched the house as though he were watching his own life burn down.
Philip slid Mr. Jubbs' carrier into his hand, and he looked down at it. It suddenly held more meaning than anything ever had before. He remembered his mother helping him get Mr. Jubbs out of a tree, and taking him to the store to buy the small carrier. Mr. Jubbs had always creeped his mother out, but she humored her son and always respected Mr. Jubbs as if he had been a member of the family. If she was honest with herself, she could admit that that small bug had taken care of her son in ways that she just couldn't. He had been the companion she hadn't been able to be in too long.

A tear fell from Milton's pale green eyes, and Philip reluctantly put his hand on his friend's shoulder. Even though Milton didn't particularly care for being touched.. he didn't shrug it off. Philip smiled and whispered a promise of a better future:
"Mom and dad want you to come live with us. We'll be just like brothers."

Milton looked up at him and nodded twice. He had always loved Philip's parents, and he didn't have anywhere else to turn. It was the smart, obvious choice.

Philip's heart ached as he looked into his friend's teary eyes, and knew that words could never take away what had happened. But maybe what Milton needed right now wasn't an eraser to erase the past. Maybe what he needed was to know that he wasn't alone.
Philip patted his back lightly and smiled his most reassuring smile yet,
"Hey Milton?"
Milton raised an eyebrow, too far in shock to even utter a single word.
"I'm on your side."

Suddenly, while looking into the face that was lit up by the light of the flames in front of them, Philip saw a weak smile. A smile that told him that Milton was down, but that he would never be out.

So no one told you that a heart could be forever
Well I'm not leaving cause we're in this thing together
And I don't know which way will take us home
I'm not ready to go alone

So no one told you it don't matter where the road leads
Cause where we're going no we won't need anything
And this is not
Goodbye
I'm always on your side