The first time I noticed my best friend was different was back in middle school.

He had come in looking a bit twitchy and afraid, flicking his fingers back and forth as the teacher started lecturing the class about being on time. Nero was never one for being the center of attention; he usually kept to himself, only ever talking to me or his older brother Credo.

He always told me that he felt uneasy in crowds, said he didn't like when other people took up his breathing room. I usually laughed it off and told him the uneasiness would most likely fade as we got older, sometimes you just tend to feel helpless as a kid.

Of course, I had been wrong.

Things only got worse.

Once Nero and I hit eighth grade, it became more apparent that he was dealing with serious problems. We couldn't eat in any place that held a crowd, no fast food restaurants or cafes. He told me he didn't like when everyone's voices morphed together, described it as a loud buzzing sound ringing in his ears.

I did everything to accommodate Nero, me and him had been together since early grade school, best friends in all sense of the word, I wasn't just going to abandon him because he was slightly different from the rest.

So, on most days we'd hang out in quiet spots and talk about all the places we wanted to be at besides this shitty town. Nero had always wanted to go to New York or Los Angeles, any place 'where the city lights sparkled like a million tiny stars.' I told him I'd follow him wherever he ended up going, we'd get an apartment together and start our own business. We could meet new people everyday and be our own bosses.

Nero always called me an idealist and I always told him we had control over our own lives, no fate or god writing our stories out, if he wanted something then he could go and get it. It's as simple as that.

My best friend always smiled when I said such things, even if he thought I was living in a fantasy world.

Once Nero and I hit ninth grade his behavior morphed and changed into something far worse then before. We had sat on my roof top the night before new years and watched as the stars shined brightly. Nero had confessed to me that night that he had developed some weird obsessive behavior.

His rituals.

He told me that every night before going to bed –for whatever reason- he touched the wall nine times and washed his hands until they were raw. I didn't understand at first what that meant.

After all, small towns make small minds.

The rest of the year however, I observed Nero's actions. He'd count his steps when we walked and washed his hands multiple times for no apparent reason. He insisted on touching random trees and walls, mumbling about how he just 'had the sudden urge to do it.' I became even more worried with every crazy ritual he came up with.

Soon I started plotting different ways to help him become normal again.

My first plan was to help Nero be more social. Most days it was just me and him hanging out and keeping to ourselves, he didn't have any other friends besides me and…maybe that was part of the problem.

The first person I introduced into our friendship was Trevean Fulgur. He stood at 6 foot, two inches tall, lean body with stubble already forming on his face. To put it bluntly, the kid was a frickin giant!

He was the sport-sy type of course, every coach wanted him on their team despite the fact that he had insisted he didn't have time for extra curricular activities. Trevean was friendly and charismatic, always helping others and doing good deeds. He was the epitome of what a jock should be; if it weren't for the fact that he had to use most of his free time to take care of his sick mother, maybe Dan would have had a larger group of friends.

Either way, most lunches I had spied him eating by himself and decided one day to invite him over to our table.

Nero was wary at first; clueless as to why I had invited somebody to our table out of the blue. I laughed it off and said that Trev would be good for scaring off bullies. Which, as it turns out, he was.

Him and I got along fairly well but…Nero started putting up a reserved wall when Trev was around. He'd stay quiet during lunch and only spoke when asked a direct question.

Frustrated, I had added a fourth member to our group: Kyle Matio.

Kyle already knew me and Nero for quite awhile beforehand actually. His older brother was friends with Nero's older brother and occasionally he'd hang out with us outside of school. He was a quiet kid, always sketching in his notebook and chattering on about how he traced back his bloodlines and found that he was related to Picasso in some weird way.

He and I never got along.

Kyle was slightly annoying and in my opinion: a compulsive liar. But, seeing how the kid was just as reserved and quiet as Nero was, I thought they'd get along swimmingly. Of course, my theory had backfired when Nero came up to me one day and said 'Kyle couldn't tell the truth to save his ass.'

Turns out Nero hated him as much as I did.

Go figure.

As summer came fast approaching, I decided to add one more member to our little group of loonies.

His name was Casey Wilson but everyone called him 'Spacey.' The kid was a jokester and a slacker and he usually took trips to the principles office on a daily basis. I would also come to find that he was a stoner, which is apparently how his nickname came to be.

Spacey was always laid back and his motto was 'let life flow like an ocean.' I never understood what that meant. Actually, I never understood what half the things he said meant. He always talked in metaphors and hippie langue.

Surprisingly though, Nero took a liking to him.

He never told me why, but sometimes I suspect it was some sort of idolization. Nero looked up to spacey, he wanted his laid back attitude and 'take life as it comes' personality. At first I was bit cautious, last thing I wanted was for my best friend to get hooked on any kind of drugs but after some time, I realized the fascination was harmless.

So, for awhile things were pretty good. Nero had been becoming a bit more social and our little group had actually worked together quite nicely. Essentially we were the out casts of the school, all for different reasons and problems. That's decidedly why we worked so well together, we all had a mutual understanding.

Ninth grade had ended on a good note; each of us had gone our separate ways for the summer (including me) and for once, we were all looking forward to the school year to come.

That summer I had gone to Texas to visit my family while Nero stayed at home and worked on his photography. We talked on the phone once a week and from the sounds of it, he was doing pretty decent.

Then, I came home to find that he was a complete and total mess.

The night that I had arrived back, Nero had knocked on my window with a whimper. I was startled at first but opened the window quickly when I realized it was him. He fell onto my room floor sobbing and smelling like he hadn't showered in days. Nero told me about how his parents called him a freak. He told me how his rituals had gotten worse, constantly counting steps and touching random objects. His anxiety had also increased; he couldn't bear to be in crowded stores or places in general.

Things were not the lovely picture Nero had painted, apparently they were far worse then my fifteen year old brain could deal with.