You were best friends and he his eyes were sort of like the ocean. You tended to like the ocean. The beach was the only place you wouldn't get criticized for wearing your sunglasses the whole time.

And they were big and blue, like the sky that really never ended, just looped around until it reached itself again. You liked that. As if they were never ending.

His name was John and your name was Dave, and you guys were best friends in elementary school. He was that really smart kid, the kind of geeky know it all into Star Wars and ghost stories. His mom picked his outfits out for him in the mornings. Said she embroidered the days of the week onto his socks so he'd always have a pair for each day.

And that made you laugh on the playground because John was kind of just a big dork, but you guys were friends. Good friends. But he wasn't the uncool dork, he was actually the really cool one with a lot of friends. The kids loved him, really. But not you.

Because you were Dave, the weird kid with too many freckles, and your eyes were red and that freaked them out. You wore the same pair of shoes to school every day, unlike John who had fancy loafers with the days of the week on the inside seams- yeah, she did those too. And your socks rarely matched- same pair of jeans too, since your dad never had much money after mom left, but that was okay because you got by.

But the first day of elementary school, the very first day of first grade, you made a promise.

"We're going to stick together, right Dave?"

"Yeah man."

Pinkies locked, you and John agreed to seal the friendship from day one, blonde hair blowing into your eyes as the wind gently blew throw the playground.

From that day, it was set in stone that you would be best friends, and no doubt about it, you were.

In second grade he came to your birthday party and you guys ate poorly made cake with runny icing. Your dad made it. But you ate it anyhow and pretended to enjoy it, then laughed when you all felt sick. But you loved it.

And in third grade, when you drew him a picture for his birthday. You were never too into art, but John seemed to appreciate it. So you quickly scribbled down, on a scrap piece of notebook paper, the two of you on the swings and wrote a little 'Best friends forever' and a dumb looking heart- of course, because you'd forgotten his birthday as always, so you drew it at lunch- and handed it to him at recess.

You still remember that big, cheesy smile and the way he said thanks. You held out your hand for a shake but he caught you by surprise with a hug that made your heart stop. From that day, you were know as 'gay' together, but you didn't really know what that meant, and neither did John so you just laughed about it.

And of course fifth grade, when you ate even worse cake at your birthday party because dad over baked it. When it was time for presents, you opened up the red box John had brought with him for you.

A pair of shades. Dark lenses, dark frames, and when you slid them on, John gave you a toothy grin and nodded his head.

The next day you wore them to school and the teacher told you to remove them.

You didn't.

The day after, the same.

And the same.

Until your dad finally became extremely fed up with the office referrals you'd bring home. But you didn't really care. You felt cool in those glasses. Besides, your best bro gave 'em to you. Of course you'd keep them on.

Middle school was the same, constantly being made fun of for your sunglasses 'obsession,' but you and John just laughed about it all the time. And dad got a job, which meant a stable income. You got a new pair of jeans. You and John celebrated by having a sleepover, in which you promised you'd stay up all night together, but ended up crashing at ten from all the caffeine.

John was still the cool, smart guy, and you were still pretty lame, but you made a new friend. Her name was Rose, wickedly smart, and gorgeous as well. John always sort of made fun of you guys, laughed and sang that stupid 'Rose and Dave sittin' in a tree' song, but there was a tone of jealousy in his voice, one you didn't understand, but ignored.

Things were good. Great, even.

But high school was different. Dad had been promoted, head boss, getting tons of money each week. You had a pair of jeans for every day of the month, fifty new pairs of shades, some sweet braces, your own laptop- pretty much anything you asked for, you got. And even though you had tons of new shades, dad was disappointed to find that you only wore your old ones. The ones from John.

But John never noticed. No. John was more focused on himself, which pissed you off quite a fucking lot, seeing as he never texted any of your fourteen cell phones like ever.

He was always busy complaining about how his mom had lost her job. And he wore the same jeans to school every day, same shirt, hair rarely washed. He looked sad, tired, with dark bags under his eyes and his glasses were cracked.

Those oceans- well, eyes- seemed dull. As if the waves had washed happiness away. Happiness and hope.

And sure you were concerned, but he was the cool kid, right? Besides, you had priorities, like planning parties and going to parties, hanging out with your bros and of course, with your girlfriend, Jade.

You had tons of friends, no longer the lame kid, but you were cool because you had money and you grew into your freckles so they all thought you were 'pretty fly,' as they all said.

Whenever you saw John, and he saw you, he'd sort of smile at you and wave. In the halls, when you passed, he always said hi, and never missed the opportunity to see you. And of course he made fun of your freckles. Seeing you was really the only time you saw his eyes glowing again.

John didn't seem to be interested much in you though, so you just stuck around and hung out with your new friends. They were cool. Really cool. And you were working towards becoming a music producer, so your friends were always listening to your demos and, of course, loving them.

And sometimes you hung out with John, gotta give yourself some credit, right? Especially when he complained about how you never spent time with him, and always blew him off for your other friends.

You spent a lot of time with him actually. Well, once. When he came over to talk to you. But that counted right? Even though he just complained again. About how you blew him off. Again.

"That's not fucking true, Egbert."

"Actually, it is. All you do is hang out with Rose and Jade and all of your other washed up friends that don't even actually care about you. They just like you for your money and they think you're cool."

"Don't talk about my fucking friends like that. They are cool, and they like me for me, not my god damned money. At least I fucking have friends. What about you, huh? All you do is complain about your life anymore and you just mope around. You're a pretty god damned worthless friend, Egbert. Ask about my fucking day for once. Care about me for once. Not that fucking hard you dickhead."

And you slammed the door in his face. He never came back. To hang out with you. To help with homework. For anything. You felt sort of bad but he was fucking selfish.

So you just kind of blew it off. You'd fought before, it was nothing and you always made up.

But John stopped saying hi to you in the halls. And soon enough, he'd take other routes to his classes to avoid seeing you. Whenever you spotted him, he'd scutter away. And he never really looked too good with cracked glasses and greasy hair, but for some reason he was still good looking in your eyes.

Two months passed. You hadn't seen John at all. Not at school. It's like he'd disappeared. The day before Christmas break he was back, though, looking tired, worse than before, and silent. He looked at you once in the hall, taking his old route, and you stopped dead in your tracks as the girls you'd been walking with kept moving through. You sort of looked down at the ground for a second and paused. Was Egbert okay? He seemed really down, probably over exaggerating as always, but still. The bell rang for school to let out and you dropped your books and ran the way John had gone. But by the time you got outside, he was already getting on his bus and you stopped. You stared. And you swore you saw him in the window as the bus pulled out. Crying. Sobbing. In tears. He was a wreck.

You stood there for a good ten minutes until a janitor asked you to leave, so you did. You walked home since you missed your bus. You took a different route home. A different street. So you wouldn't pass Egbert's house.

At least you had parties over break, right? Great times with Rose and Jade, no John of course, but hanging out with other friends got your mind off of the stress. And it was Christmas eve when you came home around midnight to your mansion like house.

"Sup dad," you called as you kicked off your shoes by the door. Asleep in the chair with a rootbeer in his hand in front of the tv, as always.

So you went up the three sets of stairs to your bedroom and opened the door to find the lights off, which was strange because you always left them long so you wouldn't come home to a dark room. So you turned them on. And there was a piece of notebook paper on your bed.

"What the hell?" you murmured as you plopped down and grabbed it, bringing it up to your face so you could read it better.

"Dear Dave," it started.

Your heart sort of skipped a beat as you frowned and began to read.

"How've you been? Or is that too formal, I.. I miss you. I miss you a lot Dave. Not this douche bag you act like now, I mean the real you. Like, you you.

And I mean I kind of love you. A lot."

Your heart stops this time.

"And I know you like Jade, I mean it's obvious the way you guys are always together. You probably knew I was gay from the start. Is that why you ditched me? But no, really. I love you a lot. And this is sudden but I do. More than anything. And even though I know you don't care about me anymore, so you don't know what's been going on, you're the only one that makes me smile.

"And I know I'm a worthless friend. I mean come on, you said it to my face. But I tried. I tried really hard but mom lost her job and I'm a nobody at this point. You're cool. You're right, you've got better friends than me. Way better friends. I'm just a loser and I know you don't care about me anymore."

Tear drops hit the page.

"I tried to tell you, Dave. I tried. And you wouldn't listen and you don't care and… I can't do this anymore. You were my everything, my partner in crime, and even though you made fun of me for my embroidered socks you always wore those glasses and you stayed by my side and then you just… You just left me. And I can't take this because I love you and I miss you and it's too god damned hard to be without you every day. What did I have to do to show you? Buy you more phones? A bigger house? More fucking shit that you don't need? The things that attract your 'friends?' But no, they're better than me. You like them. And you hate me, don't you?

"I miss you Strider. And you don't even know. But I can't blame you. They're better and I'm really nothing and the cuts on my wrists, the ones you never noticed? They're open. Every day I'm reminded of how worthless I am. How terrible of a friend I was. But you never noticed. I was too afraid to tell you anyway. I didn't want to hurt you."

Sobbing. Page is soaked.

"But it doesn't matter I guess. I'm sorry. Sorry I've been so dumb. But we promised, right? Even though you have better friends and maybe you don't even think I'm your friend, well.

You're still my friend. And I love you more than the world.

But by the time you're reading this it won't matter because-"

Your eyes go wide.

"-I'm dead now."

You tremble. Eyes shrink.

"But it's okay. Don't feel bad, I mean you won't, but in the slightest chance that you do, don't. Because no matter what I'm gonna love you and you'll always be the best ever, to me. Best bros, right? Until the end?

Love, your best bro ever, John."

Your trembling causes the paper to slip from your hand, falling over onto the back side. And you see a picture.

It's you guys. You and John, of course, on the swings. And your sloppy little writing. 'Best friends forever,' it said, with a little heart. You. And John.

You get up. Turn off the lights. Lie down on your bed and take off your cool kid shades for the first time in what felt like years.

And you cry. You sob. You hurt.

Because his eyes were like oceans and those were the oceans you loved, the only ones, the ones that made you blush and made your heart flutter because no matter what happened, you knew you loved that damned Egbert the whole from the bottom of your heart.

You close your eyes and let out a deep breath as you hold the picture in your hand.

"Miss you too, Egbert," you mumble through tears. "Miss you… too."