The five young boys were of similar experiences. They knew the unfairness of the world, the hurtful judgment from others, everything. They experienced it all. And with these experiences, the dissipated boys crossed paths. When they met, they did not have a lingering feeling of being different, odd, for the first time out of their sixteen years of living. The concealed connection between them could be found clearly in their eyes, even from the perspective of a bystander. As time went on, the boys bonded over these hardships and supported one another, each being the reason for another to live. These boys were all eager to rid of their oblivion and refute the world wrong. They were all different in personalities: one was a joker, one had a bright and cheerful personality, one was serious like a leader yet playful like a child, one had a young and free attitude yet harbored sensitive feelings, and one was someone who was simply satisfied with watching from afar. But in the end, they were all similar. Yes, they were all similar. They were all grenades with their pin pulled.
"What did we do wrong?" The boy Noel asked, as he weeped into the soaked sleeve of his fleece. "What did we do to deserve all of this? Why is it so unfair... Why is everything..." He continued, while helplessly struggling to sit in a standard posture.
"He was so young... He was just in his twenties, just like us. He was a smart kid... He was kinder than most..." Noel glanced up, only to see his dear friend Frederik, who usually seemed to not emote, choke on his tears. Frederik cursed the existence of the world while the normally ebullient Oliver attempted to console him with an incomprehensive expression.
In the midst of the somber atmosphere, George, who seemed to be in a confused daze from all the jargon, stood at the door of the shed. The stormy Aegean eyes of the boy widened with abrupt realization on the occurring situation. He became fully aware that their dear friend was long lost, long dormant. Without notice, the child had an image of his friend, waiting for them at the other end of the tunnel, arms tempting and welcoming. Being unable to bear it anymore, the boy burst into tears with a loud cry of frustration, sadness, and pain while running off into a sprint. The rest of the youth jerked their heads up, in fearful alarm that yet another candlelight would perish.
With the death of one precious friend, dissonance spread throughout the group while some tried to keep them together, like attempting to restore broken glass back to its original shape with pieces already missing. And in seeking to offer support to one another, desperately, pathetically, and earnestly, exertion poured out of the boys as they dashed after George. This was the first time the boys had been so earnest in their lives.
It was just this morning that the boys received the news. The elders had satiated themselves by telling of the tragic suicide of Max Demian with a look of disgust and satisfaction towards the remaining four boys. The adults noticed the clear dissimilitude between the boys and the other children, and acted as if they recognized them as a different breed. The adults had wicked, churlish and egregious smiles, wide and eager to see the friends crumble and weaken. But at the moment Noel and the boys heard the news, they immediately lost all motivation to keep up their tall fortitude.
As the words "your friend" and "dead" were carefully enunciated out of the adults' dry and chapped lips, as if they were attempting to rid of their dialect, the boys lost their emotions. It wasn't until the adults left that they were slammed into a wall of realization. The boys sat in sedentary as endless thoughts and memories that were too far away to retrieve went through their heads. 'Max is dead. Max is dead. Max is gone. Max is dead. Max is sleeping. Max is dead.'
In torment, George ran, ran, stumbled, and ran. His breath came in short bursts while he weeped and his feet tripped themselves, but he couldn't find it in himself to stop running. He wanted to run away from his problems, from his helpless self. He wanted to end his pity for himself. He didn't want to feel anymore. He didn't want to feel anything except numb pain.
