Kindergarten:

Noah Brown moves to Illinois when he is five years old and is immediately accepted into J. P. Henderson Elementary School against his wishes, two blocks away from his new life and twenty nine hours away from his old one. He misses the warmth of San Francisco. He doesn't like how unwelcome he feels on his first day of school, the sky swirling with muted greys and blues that scream discomfort.

His cubby is small and his hope is shrinking. He misses his friends and the patch of grass out front that was great to watch the sunset on. He wants to go home, but he is driven back to the half-empty house that makes him feel sick. His chest is tight as his mother tucks him into a sheetless bed, promising a better tomorrow and tucking a small bear into his tired arms.

First Grade:

Noah finds that music is the only thing he hasn't lost when his father pulls out a worn, blue CD and sticks it into the player of the car on the way to school. He holds his backpack in his lap and closes his eyes. His right knee, pressed up against the back speaker, feels the vibrations of an early morning happiness that he forgot existed.

When he steps out of the car and onto the concrete outside the school, drowning in the grey of 7:34 am, he notices a bright blue in his periphery and turns, bag in hand, to see the only splash of color he'd seen in awhile - a tall brunette boy slides out of a tall, white truck and slings his brown bag over his blue jean jacket, adorned with pins of every color.

Noah shuts the car door and tries to walk toward the boy, but a crowd of bus riders slips past him, sweeping the boy from his sight.

Second Grade:

Noah is playing on the playground when an ambulance speeds by, screeching. He frowns and watches as it turned into the parking lot beside the fence. He steps forward and sticks his fingers through the diamond, metal shapes and rests his forehead on the cold bar. He observes as the brunette boy in a denim jacket is brought out on a gurney and stuffed into the back. Noah is incredibly confused as to why the boy is laughing, but the bell rings (screeches), and he is tugged away from the fence by a teacher.

Third Grade:

The boy with the jean jacket's name is Shane Davis. He likes butterflies and denim and has read chapter books since Kindergarten. Noah's eyes are wide open as Shane tells him about some of the page-lengths he'd read. He's got a black boot on one of his ankles because he fell somewhere. Noah doesn't want to ask why, but he also really wants to ask why.

Shane's house is on the other side of town from Noah's, so Noah can't see his butterfly collection. Shane promises with both pinkies and a bonus pinky toe that he'll bring in one of them for show and tell. Noah nods and thanks him before sharing his lunch with him. Home seems closer and his anxieties about music class seem to wither under the flickering fluorescent, caged lights of the cafeteria, and Shane's voice seems to be the reason.

Fourth Grade:

"That doesn't make any sense," Shane snorts as he shovels cold spaghetti into his mouth.

"It's all about energy, you wouldn't get it," Noah mumbles. He flips through the book with his left hand, eating a PB&J with the other. "It's high school stuff."

Shane gives him a look, mouth full. "I'm thmarter than you."

"You're not. You don't believe in anything." Noah holds up a hand to shield his eyes from the mess that is Shane eating with his mouth full.

"Hey," Shane finally swallows his food. "I'm smarter than you BECAUSE I don't believe in anything. I'll believe in aliens, though."

"Really?" Noah asks, surprised.

"Kinda. It seems more real than ghosts," Shane says with a shrug, "There's gotta be aliens somewhere. At least another type. Or else, we're the aliens."

"You're being weird again," Noah complains.

Shane shakes his head. "You are."

The next day, Shane comes in with a bright green alien pin on the collar of his jacket. Noah smiles so wide, his cheeks hurt. He almost cries when Shane places a cold ghost pin in his palm. This is the first time they ever hug. 

Fifth Grade:

Shane comes over to Noah's house for the first time. He marvels at Noah's posters and his CD collection; asks when Noah listens to each CD, how often the CDs are played. Shane likes music a lot. Noah asks his mom if Shane can sleep over, but Noah's mother tells him he has a birthday party to go to. Shane shrugs and thanks him for letting him come over at all.

Sixth Grade:

When Shane tells Noah that he likes Derrick, Noah looks at him funny.

"How do you know you like him?"

"I don't know," Shane says, honestly. "I just feel like he's good."

"At what?"

Shane thinks about it for awhile.

"I don't know," he says again. "Maybe I don't."

Noah nods and turns back to his book.

The next day, when Shane tells Noah that he's boyfriends with Derrick over the phone, Noah says, "That's cool." He doesn't understand how Shane finds Derrick to be attractive, but he will support his friend anyway.

When Derrick breaks up with Shane five months later, Noah asks Shane to come over and spend the night. They eat popcorn and Noah sees Shane cry for the first time. But it isn't ugly or loud, it's quiet and calm. Noah wishes he could cry like that. 

"I wish I could cry like that," Noah says.

Shane wipes his eyes, "Really?"

"Yeah."

"What do you cry like?" Shane wonders aloud.

"Like this--" Noah wails cartoonishly and gets Shane to laugh a genuine and surprised laugh. The redness in Shane's nose lifts after a few minutes and they both feel better. They watch superhero cartoons and compare hand sizes.

Seventh Grade:

Shane gets his first F and Noah laughs at him for it. Shane shakes his head and pushes him off with a gentle smile.

"Maybe I shouldn't have made so many jokes in that paper that was worth twenty five percent of my final grade."

"Maybe," Noah shrugs. "At least you killed it in all of your other classes! You're doing great."

"Thanks, man," Shane smiles. "Really. This would usually wreck me but you're helpful."

"I know," the shorter boy laughs. "What do you wanna do this weekend?”

"Watch movies?"

"That's boring. We always do thattt," Noah whines. Shane's eyebrows raise, confused at the increased speed of his heart at Noah's higher voice.

"Then what do you wanna do?"

"I dunno," Noah sighs. "We're boring."

"We are NOT boring. How dare you," Shane places his report card down on the table and looks at Noah. "Let's get IHOP afterschool and go to the pet store and look at the cats."

Noah thinks about it for a moment. It sounds a little bit like a date but he nods. "I like cats."

"Same," Shane smiles.

Shane invites Noah to his birthday party and Noah gives him an early birthday present: a darker jean jacket, more in tune with his new style. Shane cries and hugs Noah around his shoulders tightly, repeating, "Thank you, thank you, thank you" a million times. He wears the jacket everyday.

Eighth Grade:

Noah goes out of town for a week during school on a trip that his family had planned months ago, so he had to go. Shane nearly begs him not to go, telling him that the only reason he goes to school is because Noah is there.

Noah gives Shane a big hug before he leaves, making Shane promise him to go to school every day. Shane promises with both pinkies. 

While in Texas, Noah loses his phone and doesn't notice until it's too late. He feels incredibly embarrassed when they have to go into a phone store and buy a new one. Luckily, he has Shane's phone number memorized. He texts Shane as soon as his phone is active that he has a new phone and not to worry about him. Shane responds with a million heart emoticons and an exclamation point. Noah smiles.

When Noah returns to Illinois, his reunion with Shane happens in the front parking lot of the school. Noah runs to him and Shane picks him up, swinging him around.

"Sorry, I lost my phone on the second day I was there," Noah laughs when he's put down. Shane looks at him funny. "Hopefully you didn't send me anything important."

"Which... which day did you lose your phone?" Shane asks cautiously.

"Monday. Why?"

"So you didn't get the texts I sent on Monday?"

"...No. Why? Were they important?" Noah asks with an excited smile. 

"Uh... no." Shane looks away and adjusts his bag on his shoulder, letting go of Noah’s hips. "They weren't. We should go inside."

Freshman Year:

Shane shows up to Noah's house with his bag packed and a wide, eye-crinkling smile on his face. He is there right on time, unsurprisingly. Noah ushers him in, waving to Shane's brother as he pulls out of the sloped driveway.

"Sorry for the mess, I should have warned you about the other company," Noah apologizes sheepishly.

"Other company?" Shane raises an eyebrow and scans the living room, nodding at the empty Goldfish bags, soda cans, pillows, and blankets strewn around the floor. "You have other friends?"

Noah shakes his head, "No, but Jake has."

Shane smiles. "Good. I get all your attention."

Noah scoffs, "Not necessarily. We've got to babysit."

"Eh, they can handle themselves. Where are the little mongrels, anyway? I haven't met 'em yet."

"Noooo, Shane," Noah whines. "Don't approach them. They're loud and will just leave us alone if we don't acknowledge them."

"Does that actually work?" Shane drops his bag on the brick ledge of the fireplace, sporting a doubtful look. Noah doesn't respond. "Okay, buddy. I'm gonna say hi."

The shorter boy groans, "That's such a bad idea."

Shane walks toward the back door that was just slightly cracked open, the noise of two careless boys screaming outside seeping though the strip of light (a stark contrast to the dark of the house). He places his hand, fingers splayed out, on the door before looking back at Noah, who is already wincing at what is to come.

"You're really scared of these kids, Noah," Shane says, almost disappointed. "It's gonna be okay, man."

"I know," Noah says, even though he didn't.

Kids are monsters. Especially in pairs. Especially with water guns. 

Shane pushes the door open. Two nine year old kids turn on their heels and aim their water pistols toward the source of movement, expecting a short, tan, wide-eyed and colorful Noah Brown. Instead, they have the opposite: a pale skyscraper wearing a dark denim jacket over a black ensemble. They let their arms fall in surprise.

"Heya, boys," Shane waves. "If you shoot water at me, I will break your little guns in half."

Noah shakes his head. He can picture Shane as a demon in his head, doing exactly that. He can also picture a little boy in a bright jacket being lifted into an ambulance. He wants to frown at the darker shade of the jacket Shane now owns. It makes him think about how time has passed. "Amazing."

"Yep," Shane reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a mint tin. Noah raises an eyebrow as Shane opens it, revealing five cigarettes and a red lighter. "Do you mind?"

"Nah," Noah is surprised Shane smokes. He doesn't seem like he would. He seems too... good. "I'll grab the ashtray my mom keeps around."

"Thanks," Shane grins.

Sophomore Year:

"Are you sure you're not a demon?" Noah asks as he shuts the car door with his hip.

Shane looks at him, pulling his sunglasses off of his face. "What?"

"You said you're not a demon when I asked last week, but I'm starting to doubt that."

"Well, first, you're wrong," Shane says, effectively stopping Noah's heart. "I never said I wasn't a demon, I'm pretty sure I said that people say I am."

Noah squints. Shane smiles. It is a good summation of their friendship.

Junior Year:

Shane begins to act strangely. He smokes much more when he comes over. His jokes, though just as dark, don't quite feel like jokes anymore. Noah's worry has overflowed past the threshold of silence.

"Shane, man," Noah places his hand on Shane's shoulder. The tall boy almost jumps, but he keeps his shoulders tense. His face is full of sharp shadows, his face divided right down the middle as he stares into the forest beyond Noah's fence. The porch light's orange glow exposes Shane's right side and exposes the invisible smoke as it creeps up toward the sky. "Are you really okay?"

"What do ya mean, Noah?" Shane asks in a nonchalant way that nips at the inside of Noah's ribs. "I'm dandy. Always."

Noah looks out across the dark yard, his stomach uneasy. The cold is nipping at him and the entirety of his being wants to scream at Shane to put his stupid jacket back on. He looks so plain and lost without it, and seeing Shane's arms made him incredibly uncomfortable.

"Where's your jacket?" Noah asks. "Aren't you cold?"

"No," Shane sighs out, leaning his head back and inspecting his poison. "I'm perfect."

Noah stares. "What are we doing?”

Shane takes his eyes off of his cigarette, the hot orange tip getting closer and closer to his fingers. "I don't know what you want me to say, Noah."

"What happened?" Noah sighs. The to us is silent, but Shane understands.

A single tear appears from the corner of Shane's eye and it's out of character and it's so vulnerable that it makes the sky feel much closer to them both. "I don't know, Noah." The tear glows and reflects the light. Everything aches.

"Do you want hot chocolate?" Noah's voice is raw. He doesn't like how Shane is saying his name. 

"I want you," Shane says, leaning down and extinguishing his cigarette in the middle of the orange ashtray Noah's mother had gotten from their summer trip to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. That week that destroyed him. The week that introduced the idea that he couldn't survive without Noah. He stands and holds his hands out, pulling Noah to his feet.

Noah looks up at him. Surely he doesn't mean that, he thinks, and smiles at his friend. Shane just looks down at him with drowning eyes, glancing down to Noah's fingers in his. He sighs.

"What kind of hot chocolate?"

Senior Year:

Shane tells Noah he's in love with him in the parking lot of J. P. Henderson Elementary School at 11:49 pm on a Sunday night. He had picked Noah up in his brother's car a few hours earlier, taking him to get a milkshake and joking around, driving down streets they'd never been.

When they pull up to the school, Noah is confused. But his stomach is full and Shane is in his jacket, and things feel right, so he doesn't question it. Shane parks near the cafeteria and opens his door. Noah follows suit. There is no sound but the bugs in the grass, but even they seem to feel tension as they fade in and out with no rhyme or reason.

"What are we doin' here?" Noah asks, curious. He follows Shane around the back of the school, down to the blacktop and the playground where they first officially met after Shane had finally come back to school with his special jacket on and Noah could identify him.

"I just needed to find a secluded place to murder ya," Shane says with a tired smirk. Noah laughs. Shane opens the gate to the playground, and Noah walks past him, moving his sneakers so that his feet sink into the newer gravel. The equipment hasn't changed, and Noah smiles as he looks over everything. It's all the same.

"How are you gonna murder me?" Noah turns around to look at Shane, who is standing against the fence with a muted smile.

"Clearly," Shane says, pushing himself off of the fence. "I'm gonna tie you upside down to the top of the slide."

Noah laughs, doubling over. "I can't die from that! What else are you gonna do?"

"I couldn't murder you if I wanted to," Shane's voice is soft.

Noah smiles, "Eh, I think you could. If I talked about ghosts enough. You hate me when I talk about ghosts."

"Not even then."

The shorter boy sighs and takes one final spin around the playground before turning back to Shane, wondering what happens next simply with a look.

"Let's sit on the swings."

Noah nods and makes a run for it. Shane saunters carefully after him, not speeding at all. He is terrified of tonight. He is terrified of his friend's reaction. Terrified of what happens afterwards.

Noah sinks on one of the lower ones, while Shane sits on the higher swing next to him, though still his legs are nearly at his chest. Shane wraps his hands around the cold metal. He feels Noah's eyes on him and he doesn't know what to do.

Noah speaks up first, "Thanks for the food tonight."

"Not a problem," he says before adding, solemnly, "that's the fastest way to a man's heart."

Noah laughs for a long time, shaking the swing set. Shane is frozen, his feet planted and his hands gripping so tight and hot to the chains that he's afraid he might melt them in half.

"Noah..." Shane says, his body throbbing and his blood hot, "Do you remember when I was dating that guy, and you said you didn't care that I was dating him?"

Noah's head turns quickly, "Yeah, man. Why?"

"I just..." It was dark. Shane closed his eyes and tears flooded his face. He can't hear anything over the pounding of his ears. He takes a shaky breath, "You have no idea... how much that meant to me."

Noah was probably smiling. "It's no problem, big guy. You know we'll be best friends until we die. And even then, we'll be ghost friends."

"I'm in love with you," Shane says. The words escape his mouth and drift to the moon and they'll never come back. Shane wants them to come back.

Noah's presence turns cold. "What?"

Shane stays silent. He pushes himself back and forth on the swing, keeping his eyes down. Even the dark is blurry through the tears, he can't even focus on his own hands as he holds them in his lap. He tangles his hands together, digging his nails into the back of his hand.

Gravel crunches to his right. "Dude..." The chains of Noah's swing clatter together as Noah stands in the dark.

Shane squeezes his eyes shut, a sob climbing up his throat, burying its claws into his tongue. He doesn't let it out.

"Shane, I care about you so much...”

It's all over for Shane. He sits and sways and waits for Noah's excuse that will inevitably be the axe that comes down and lobs his head off.

".. but I have Helen."

Shane nods in the dark. A pool is forming in his palms. He lets it fall onto his shoes and the gravel below.

"Yeah," he says, voice sputtered and wrecked.

"I'm sorry if I... like... you know," Noah's voice is shaking ever so slightly. "Made you think..."

"No," Shane shakes his head solemnly and smiles to no one in particular. "I knew you didn't... I, uh. Just needed you to understand."

"I'm gonna... go grab a taxi. Okay?" Noah says quietly.

"Yeah."

Noah leaves Shane to think, and he does. Maybe too much.

Freshman Year:

Noah moves into his dorm in late August, setting up his desk with all of the knick knacks he's gotten used to over the years.  He's left many of them at his childhood home, twenty nine hours away, the ones full of memories, the ones that Shane touched, the ones he'd stared at for hours after he'd gotten home on a summer night after high school graduation.

His roommate is nice and he is tidy, he doesn't say much and doesn't bring anyone over.

While unpacking, Noah finds a pillow case that smells like cigarettes and he retreats into the bathroom, holding it to his nose as he sits silently in the bathtub, wondering if anything will ever be okay again.

Sophomore Year:

Noah rolls an old ghost pin in between his fingers as he reads a textbook on Sociology. The library is nearly empty but it's all he has to study in. His roommate transferred schools and his new roommate is a lot to handle. Loud and annoying. Not very smart. 

Noah swears he sees Shane behind one of the bookshelves, looking at books with disgust, but upon closer inspection, it's just another person who happens to wear darkened denim. Noah's heart sinks. For the first time in a few days, Noah wonders if Shane has changed his number. For the first time in a few hours, Noah imagines what Shane looked like alone on a swing set in the dark, in the cold. For the first time in two years, Noah realizes what a terrible friend hewas to imply that Shane had misinterpreted Noah's friendship.

Junior Year:

Noah breaks up with Helen after two years of torturous thoughts of Shane. She asks why, looking into his eyes with so many questions, and Noah can't answer any of them. So he doesn't. He says he's sorry, he gives her a hug, and then he plans a summer trip to Illinois.

Noah calls Shane's mother's number before booking his plane tickets. She answers, the actual Mrs. Davis, and Noah braces to get chewed out and maybe damned a bit, but when she realizes it's him, she shouts with joy. 

"Noah! How are you, baby! We all miss you here so much. It's been awhile since we heard from you!" Her voice is shrill and joyous through the receiver and Noah wonders if Shane told her anything about what happened between them. He mustn't have.

"I'm well, Mrs. Davis. Thank you! I was just checking to see if Shane still lived in Illinois. I haven't talked to him in awhile and I was thinking of visiting," he says slowly. He's terrified that Shane may not live in Chicago anymore. It would feel so wrong to see him somewhere else.

"Of course he's still here, Noah. Finally moved into his own apartment a month ago," Mrs. Davis's voice is solemn. "We thought we'd lose him for awhile, but he's doing well. I think a visit from you would just brighten him up."

Noah winces, "You do?"

"Oh, Noah. Yes! Are you going to tell him that you're coming to visit?"

"No, I think I'll keep it a surprise. But, do you think you could send me his address? I'm coming down there in a few months and I wanna plan everything out well."

"Of course, dear."

When Noah hangs up the phone, he cries into his hands. He doesn't know why.

Senior Year:

Noah is standing outside a blue and grey apartment complex. It doesn't look like a place that Shane belongs, and it makes his heart feel numb looking up at the building that blends in with the sky seamlessly.

On the plane, Noah had worried that maybe Shane had already moved on. Friend-wise and Love-wise. Both are understandable, but Noah is so homesick that he just wants to see him. It doesn't matter if Shane screams at him to get out. He just needs to look at him again and say how sorry he is.

How different Shane was now... that was also a concern. Maybe when Noah says hi, Shane will act weird. Maybe Shane won't even be someone Noah wants to be friends with... That is a terrifying thought.

But regardless, Noah needs to see Shane. It doesn't matter who he is. 

Noah walks up the three flights of stairs to apartment 130, slowly and carefully. His hands are shaking and his shirt is too loose on his body from hours of travel. Everything feels like a dream; everything is blurred at the edges and Noah feels nauseous.

Noah stands in front of the door for ages. He wonders if Shane is dating someone, if Shane will open the door and already have a guest. His brain rushes back and forth. His hand moves of its own accord, reaching and knocking five times on the door. Gently.

"Coming!" A voice calls from inside. Noah freezes and all of the air rushes out of his lungs.

The clunk of two locks opening. The door opens quickly.

Shane stands there in a light blue sweater, his hair a mess and black glasses resting on his nose. He looks so... soft. His face transforms from a soft smile, ready to welcome a neighbor or girl scout, into a softer look of confusion.

"Noah?" Shane's voice cracks. His eyes become misty.

"You look exactly the same," Noah says for some reason.

"You don't," Shane says quietly. He steps back and sweeps a long, long, long arm to the side. "Come in?"

"Yeah, thanks." Noah steps inside and a weight falls off his shoulders. "You haven't changed at all."

Wall to wall posters of butterflies, interesting bands, old movie posters. The smell of coffee and cigarettes. Three jean jackets hang on a coat rack. Dark blue carpet, light blue couch with three dark blue pillows and one covered with colors.

Shane is just standing, staring at Noah, one hand on his hip and the other over his mouth.

"Noah, can you tell me why you came, please?" Shane whispers. 

"What?"

"I just need to know if I can hug you."

Noah cries.

"I love you," Shane mumbles.

"Me too, one day," Noah promises. Shane retracts and holds up his pinkies. Noah cries again.