Ok so this is a spelling story for school, and I was feeling really bad for not updating When We Were Kid, so I decided to post this as a peace offering to any who are mad at me for not updating. It might turn into a multi-chapter story but I don't even know. I just write on this one when I have writers block and when I need to turn something in or just when I'm having a bad day, so there might be some random crap in here.

And an FYI, I have never been shot in the leg, so it will most likely be in-accurate, just sayin'.

So, without further ado, here's the random crap that my mind comes up with!

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Absolution means forgiveness, and forgiveness was the one thing that seemed to avoid Gilbert like the plague. He never meant to do anything bad, but sometimes, he had to, if only to survive. Now, all he wanted was was this absolution, that had always been with held from him. Absolution for his father who had pulled the trigger, absolution for himself, who had left them bleeding. The only person who could give them that forgiveness was laying on the other side of the door, a bullet hole in his leg.

Gilbert took a deep breath as he knocked on the door. As he waited, he prayed to whatever god was up there that the person would at least get that he was sorry, so sorry. Nurses hurried by around him, staring at his silver hair and blood red eyes. He hated when people did that, but he was used to it.

Gilbert knocked again, this time receiving a weak, "Come in." in response. He pushed open the door to find the person who had spoken, sitting up in the lone bed in the room. Gilbert was shocked to see that he was no older than himself. Gilbert racked his brains, searching for some form of recognition. He realized with a jolt that it was the best track runner for their school. He was a quiet kid, so people just tended to ignore him.

The boy on the bed had shoulder length blond hair and eyes that seemed the purple. He held a sketch pad and pencil. An artist, Gilbert thought as he stood awkwardly by the door, waiting for further invitation.

The boy looked up from his sketch pad and smiled. The sight of that smile made Gilbert feel slightly reassured, he didn't know why. The boy gesture gestured for Gilbert to sit in the visitors chair by his bed. Gilbert took one look and quickly shook his head. The other's parents and loved ones had sat in that chair, he couldn't defile it with his presence. The boy looked confused, but let it slide and sat there smiling like nothing had happened. Gilbert walked a little bit closer to the bed. He was having a trouble with his thoughts.

Why was this kid smiling like that? Didn't he know that Gilbert's father was the reason he was here? Who Gilbert even was?

"I know what you're thinking, and yes, I know who you are and no, I don't blame you for running, or what your father did." the boy said, and for the first time since Gilbert had entered the room, his masquerade seemed to slip. His features seemed to droop and the hard outer shell of his eyes to crack and fall away, leaving behind a pair of beautiful, lost looking purple eyes. Gilbert had the odd urge to put his arms around him. "I know you're sorry. I know because you cried for me. I heard you before you ran. When your dad told you to shoot me." Gilbert flinched as he said it. "You said no, I heard you. So, the least I can do is give you the peace of mind of knowing that I forgive you." he finished, loosing a bit of the lost look in his eyes. Gilbert looked ready to cry himself. Before he knew what he was doing, he had walked the rest of the way to the bed and wrapped his arms around the other.

"What's your name?"he asked into the other's shoulder.

He felt the other chuckle. "Matthew. Matthew Williams." he said.

"Thank you Matthew Williams." He whispered into the others shoulder, tears rolling down his face and onto Matthews shoulder. He had given him the one thing he had always wanted, to be forgiven, and he would never forget it.