He was a boy who hated honesty; as much as he hated to admit anything, that was the one truth he held close to his heart. His face was steel, and his heart warm. His eyes were cold and dead; everyone saw it. But they tended to ignore it. At least, they tried to.

He wasn't someone who people could leave alone though. They were drawn to him, whether they knew it or not. The smallest quirk of his lips drew shivers against skin, and his laugh prompted the twitching of ears. His attention always brought upon the widening of eyes and the slightest of aversions.

People were often unsure of whether or not to approach him, but in the end, they often acquiesced.

'It was just a bad feeling, right?'

There were only a handful of people who distrusted him completely - and funnily enough, they all did so on sight. Those people were also his closest confidants (a total of two people). The first was his mother; who would know him better? The second was actually a girl who he had immediately struck up an enmity with, but with whom he would eventually develop a mellow friendship.

His eyes shone with their glow of distaste, but he kept his cards close to his heart and endured three grueling years of junior high, only to arrive at his current scenario: a second year in senior high, burning with a fervor of childhood wist that he never possessed.

"Hey." His words were soft as usual, as though they were never meant to be heard, much less spoken. The back of his wrist lay against his face, a hand covering his eyes, his head on her lap.

"Hm?" She smiled at him distractedly; he didn't have to look at her to know that. But one eye peeked open and he saw that she was close to tears behind her glasses. Tiredness snapped, his focus narrowed.

"Who?" The What? went unsaid. She turned away slightly and bit her lip.

"My parents." He stiffened; he understood. Her mother was… overbearing, but her father more so. Most people found her mother unbearable - they had never met her father. Unfortunately, as all things had, his friendship with her came with that cost.

Her father saw him as a seed of trust between his family and theirs; and he believed the friendship to beneficial and hadn't the slightest clue that it was anything more than superficial. Small mercies, the boy mused as he sat up and wrapped his arms around the teary-eyed girl.

His fingers found their way into her hair, stroking it with a gentleness that came with practice more than ease. "Shh," he whispered in her ear. "It's okay. It's okay."

"But it's not. They want me to be someone I'm not, and I'm scared. I live away from them, sure, but only until summer seasons." He knew that all already. "And this year… this year, they said no more of it." His eyes closed with remorse. It had to happen eventually; costs were rising, and the excuse that it was just much more efficient and beneficial to keep the family together would be almost inarguable.

He didn't tell her sorry. Instead, he kissed the crown of her head and palmed the back of her hands as he kneaded their fingers together.

Her hiccups came to a halt, but he knew it was from the numbness and blanking out. There was nothing they could really do.

The rooftop hadn't been so empty before. Time was wasting, and there was no force on Earth that could stop him. He was an unrelenting father, after all. The sky burned vermillion as it blended with a mix of golden honeydew, clouds just wisps among the horizon.

She traced the initials embroidered against the inner linings of his lapels as they stood, her grip tight.

He walked her back to her apartment as though this were the end of an era and they were the last vestiges of the previous cog in the cycle of evolution. Their fingers brushed gently against the waves of wind and the buzzing of cars. The sound of a thousand voices drowned everything, including their own steps.

But they held each other, even as she led him past the front door and onto her beaten-down couch, worn by the years and weary of holding the weight of her world. Their heads clanked against one another as they drifted off into sleep.

When morning came, she had but one more request for him, to which he immediately complied, a rare, full-blown smile haunting his lips. He gave no more glances as he departed.

She quietly trudged into her room, her back splayed itself against her bed. In her grasp, she held a small treasure to add to her collection of things that built the mountain they called their relationship. The roughness his tag was something she once teased him about, but that had long since disappeared.

The "H. H." stared back at her as she closed her eyes, school all but an afterthought.

A tear was shed for the youth that was but a dream.

Who are the characters in this story? You tell me.