You don't even want to imagine it.

In almost every person's life, there is at leasts one time when they sit back and wonder, What if one of my friends died tomorrow? But you prevent your imagination from wondering too far. It hurts too much. No one wants to imagine what it would be like if your last conversation with someone was a pointless one, or worse yet, an argument.

When Gordo was younger, he had this immortal view of himself and the people he knew. They were invincible. Sure, he'd see people killed on the news everyday, but he never thought twice about that happening to his family or friends. Nothing could touch them, like they were in their own bubble.

Gordo had never had a close friend or relative die before. There was his one grandmother, but she lived in Florida and he had only seen her once or twice, at family reunions. He didn't understand how it could happen to him. At times, he often thought that made God gave him special treatment. Why, he could not figure out. He saw so much suffering around him, yet he felt so blessed. And now, God had killed his two best friends.

It's not fair. He wanted to scream at God. He thought he'd believed in fate, but what good could come out of this? Misery until his dying days? No, it just wasn't fair that some people got off scot-free and others lead lives of pain and suffering.

Well, who said life's fair? That's what people would say when they had no other excuse for being unfair. Who said life's fair? Supposedly, God is just in everything does. And if He controls our lives, then shouldn't our lives be just, too?

It just doesn't make any sense. It was too much for his mind to handle. He needed a getaway, even if only temporary, to escape the hassle. Escape reality.

So he lied down in his bed, and fell asleep.

~~~~~~

Gordo awoke the next morning to the sounds of a racket downstairs. It sounded like there was a car driving through their living room. When he got up and went to the top of the stairs, that's when he saw a sight so pitiful. It was Mrs. McGuire, pushing Matt along in his wheelchair. Mr. McGuire followed behind them. All three looked ruefully somber. Behind them were Gordo's parents, carrying a couple suitcases.

It had completely slipped his mind that today was the day the McGuires would be coming to live with the Gordons, temporarily. Then again, lots of things slip your mind when your friends are suddenly killed one day.

He watched as his parents and the McGuire's debated as to how to get Matt upstairs. Finally, they agreed that Mr. McGuire and Mr. Gordon would carry him up. And from his room, Gordo watched yet another pitiful sight. After all, it wasn't like Matt was still 10 and weighed less over 100 pounds. Matt was 15 now, and at least 140. But Matt just lied there and accepted it, as if he felt no shame.

Gordo didn't understand this nonchalant attitude. Didn't he just feel a tinge of humiliation? He was in high school, and he was being carried up the steps by his father. It's mortifying.

Finally, they reached the top and walked towards Gordo's room. Then, he ran back and lied on his bed, pretending not to notice their arrival. They knocked on the door.

Come in, Gordo announced. The door opened, and in walked the three, with Matt still in the men's arms.

Hi, Gordo, Mr. McGuire said, smiling in this fake way that anyone could see through. Mr. McGuire was a naturally cheerful, smily kind of guy, but Gordo knew what he'd been through. Instead of calling his bluff, Gordo smiled back.

Hi, Mr. McGuire. Gordo inhaled. Hi Matt.



Mr. McGuire and Mr. Gordon moved towards the bed and sat Matt down.

Well, uh, I guess we'll be leaving you two to...be by yourselves for a little, Mr. Gordon said shakily. Breakfast will be in about an hour. And as quietly as they had come in, the two exited the room.

Awkward silence followed. Gordo and Matt hadn't seen each in two years. Two years never felt so long. And the last time Matt and I had an actual conversation, it was talking about the girl he liked, Melina. I never thought I'd ever have to talk to him about the death of his sister, and his own attempt at suicide.

Gordo wanted desperately to ask him: Why? Why did he even consider doing something so stupid as to commit suicide? What could've possibly been so terrible that he felt the need to kill himself for it? He hoped it wasn't about...please, no, not that.

You're wondering why, Matt said, with his head hanging limply from his neck. At that second, he wished Matt didn't know him so well. It's Lizzie.

Gordo said, trying to sound rational, do you really... How can I phrase this? Do you really think it was... He paused. Worth it?

Matt turned to him, and stared at him with a fire in his eye Gordo had never seen before. Burning, passionate hate.

What the hell do you know? Matt spat out. You're the asshole that left her. Figures you don't give a damn about me, since obviously you didn't give a damn about her. Then, Matt got to his feet, and although wobbly at first, he limped out the door, gripping his stomach as he did so.

Gordo had never seen Matt so infuriated about...anything.

What did I say wrong?

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[A/N: I don't know if anyone that reads this lives near Philadelphia, or at the tri-state area, but if you do, you might've heard a news story within the past couple months. A 17 year old boy was shot and killed on Wednesday. That boy was my brother's friend. The feelings my whole family has been feeling were a bit of inspiration for the update of this story. I never even met the boy, but something about it hit hard.

RIP Will Rouse. You will be missed.]