High school.

It was the year Neil died – that was the last time Steven saw Charlie as a boy, and that's when this whole thing started.

For the longest time, Steven couldn't believe Neil was dead because he couldn't believe that Neil would actually kill himself. Todd, perhaps, caught in a cloud of worthlessness, might off himself; or Cameron, who was more prone to dramatics than most people realised – but not Neil. Neil was too creative, too bright, too friendly and happy and full of life. How could someone like Neil, Steven reasoned, not realise that life doesn't end just because one dream does – new dreams come along, or old dreams rear their heads again.

Now, Steven realises just how young they all were – barely pubescent teenagers, for goodness' sakes, running around at night and smoking pipes in caves and laughing at pictures of naked women. Steven and Pitts had spent an entire semester trying to build a radio. They had no idea.

Except for Charlie, of course. Charlie had an idea. Charlie knew what he wanted. Even if he wasn't exactly sure what that was.

Which is why, after Charlie had refused to sign Nolan's stupid piece of paper and consequently got expelled from Welton, he invited himself along to a party being held by one of the seniors on a balmy night in spring, and cornered Steven in the greenhouse.

"Why didn't you sign the paper?" Steven asked. He fiddled with cuff of his shirt, giving away the fact that while he desperately wanted to see Charlie, doing so was expressly against his parents' wishes.

"Why did you sign it?" Charlie returned.

"Because, in his own terrible way, Cameron had a point – " Charlie spat into a rose bush at the mention of the name, and Steven sighed. "Carpe diem is an excellent thing, but getting kicked out of school achieves nothing."

"So what do you want to achieve, Meeks?"

Steven shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. Something."

"Something?" Charlie sneered. "Come on – "

"I mean, I'd like to invent something. I want to make things."

"Okay, so – "

"- so I kinda need to go to uni. Which means I need to graduate from school. Which means I need to stay in school, if you see what I mean."

Charlie sat on the bench and pulled a crumpled cigarette from his pocket. He lit it carefully, and blew a smoke ring across a bed of azaleas.

"You don't need uni. You could build a car out of Knox's bicycle right now. Why don't you come with me, and we'll make something together."

"Come with you? Where are you going?"

"I don't know. Chicago, maybe. New York, Los Angeles. Wherever there's life."

"Are you serious?"

The smell of nicotine mingled with the scent of the tea roses. Steven felt light-headed. He sat next to Charlie and rested his head against the cool glass of the greenhouse wall.

"Well, I can't stay here," Charlie said. "I've practically blown all my opportunities in this town – "

"What about your father – "

"I'm not going to live off my father," Charlie growled. "I need to do this – I need to be this – this thing. And I want you to come with me."

"Why?"

"Because it's us!" Charlie shot to his feet, waving the cigarette around wildly and raising his voice. "It's you and me, Meeks. It's – "

"There isn't an 'us'," Steven said, breaking the dream of the lie before he became too attached to it.

"What are you talking about?" asked Charlie. "Of course there's an 'us'. There's always been an 'us'. There'll always be an 'us'. Come with me, we'll fight crime and stick it to the man. What do you say, Meeksy?"

Every part of Steven wanted to say 'yes' – every part of him, except the part of him that was rational; the part of him that wanted to get through life without having his heart broken by a manic demi-god who didn't even realise the power of his own words; the part of him that was scared.

"Principles are great," Steven said, softly. "But I can't live by them."

Charlie waited. Steven had no other answer. So he stomped out his cigarette, and sauntered over to the greenhouse door, hands in his pockets. "I can't believe you."

And Steven had thought that meant he was weak or pathetic or boring. Charlie couldn't believe how boring he was.

If he'd heard then what he hears now, the next ten years might have turned out very differently; but he didn't and they didn't. They only turned out the way they did, in that funny old way things have. And that's how it all began.