Buddies: Two best friends, one untold love-will they finally risk it all?

PLAYLIST 1: "Hey, Stephen" by Taylor Swift

This story begins like any other: with a boy, and a friendship that neither of them knew would be so defining.

It was a sunny afternoon, the kind of day where everything feels light and safe, which was ironic, because Oliver Grant was running for his life. A tall, lanky kid with perpetually mussed hair and clothes that seemed a size too big, he sprinted down the schoolyard, hoping—praying—that maybe, just this once, he'd get away.

Oliver was quiet, a little shy, and softer around the edges than most of the boys in his grade. It was probably that softness, combined with his naturally timid nature, that painted a target on his back. Bullies loved that about him. And today, they were especially relentless, taunting him as they closed in.

He took a sharp corner around the school building and suddenly realized his mistake. Dead end. Oliver skidded to a stop, his heart pounding as he turned to face the boys. They closed in, laughing as they circled around him. A voice in his head whispered, Stay down, stay quiet, but something in him burned hotter than the fear. Enough was enough.

Summoning every ounce of courage, Oliver shoved the biggest of them. "Leave me alone," he said, his voice shaking but steady enough to make his point. The boy snarled, and with a swift, brutal shove, knocked Oliver to the ground.

It would've been so easy to stay down, to let them win. But Oliver, determined not to be seen as the scared, sissy kid everyone assumed he was, staggered to his feet. His fists went up in a clumsy imitation of a boxer's stance. He had no idea what he was doing, but he was going to prove—at least to himself—that he wouldn't be pushed around forever.

The bullies exchanged smirks, and before he could even brace himself, a fist crashed into his left eye, sending him sprawling. He hit the ground, dazed, feeling the hot sting of tears mix with something wet on his cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the pain away, and tried to stifle the sobs building in his throat.

Then, he heard a voice—a sharp, confident voice that rang through the haze of pain.

"Hey! Pick on someone your own size!"

There were sounds of a scuffle—thuds, yelps, footsteps scattering in retreat. Oliver cracked one eye open and found a boy standing over him, hands on his hips, a confident grin spreading across his face.

"You alright?" the boy asked, reaching down. "You know, you didn't have to get up and fight back like that. If you'd just stayed down, they might've gone easier on you."

Oliver scowled, grabbing the boy's hand to hoist himself up. "And what, let them keep making fun of me? No thanks," he replied, wiping a mix of tears and blood from his cheek as he squinted at his rescuer.

The boy laughed, a warm sound that felt like sunlight after the rain. "I like your spirit! My name's Stephen. Stephen King. Think we should be buddies."

Oliver knew Stephen King from school—the kid everyone seemed to like, the one with a natural charm that made teachers forgive his lousy grades and classmates hang on his every word. He was the kind of person who'd never need to throw a punch because his confidence alone could clear a path. And for reasons Oliver didn't quite understand, Stephen had chosen to use that charm, that effortless ease, to stand by him.

Oliver managed a smile, still rubbing his sore eye. "Well, Stephen King, guess you're stuck with me now."

They walked away from the scene together, and from that moment on, Oliver Grant knew his life would never be the same.

***

For as long as he could remember, it had always been just Oliver and his mom, Leonor. Being a single parent wasn't easy, and she often worked multiple jobs to make ends meet, leaving Oliver alone most of the time. But he never complained.

Then Oliver met Stephen. Leonor lovingly called him "O," a nickname she extended to Stephen, calling him "S." The names quickly caught on, and soon "O" and "S" became inseparable, not just as buddies, but as a team of two, rarely seen apart.

S started visiting almost every day, feeling more at home with O and Leonor than he ever did with his own family. At home, he often felt invisible, overshadowed by his half-sister, Bianca, who seemed to get all the love and attention he craved. With Leonor, though, he found a warmth and care that felt closer to family than he'd ever known. He affectionately called her "Auntie L," and Leonor loved knowing that O wasn't alone, especially on the nights she had to work late.

The two boys had a knack for causing mischief, whether it was dismantling a bicycle and failing to put it back together, or concocting "scientific experiments" with mud, leaves, and twigs. Leonor would just laugh, grateful that O finally had someone to share these adventures with.

Leonor sometimes stepped in as S's guardian for school plays and parent-teacher meetings, moments when his own parents were absent due to work or simply forgetting. She couldn't quite understand how a family could overlook someone as wonderful as S, but she was glad to be there for him, treating him as part of their family.

O and Leonor weren't wealthy; once, they'd had a more comfortable life, but that was before his father left, and they'd seen both sides of life's abundance and its hardships. But even with the juggling act of work and bills, Leonor always found time for O. To her, family was everything—a belief she cherished, even if she didn't understand S's parents' indifference. Family, she often said, was gold.