It's dark and cold outside. Well, it's nightime in Canada, it's not always sunny and hot at midnight here. And especially being on the rooftop, it's easier to be caught in the cold windy breeze, but thank God for sweaters.
But there's just something about the night, the breeze, the way it runs through my hair, pulling it back like a wave of pitch black against the deep blue color of the night sky. The way that the stars just sit there in the middle of the sky, being the only source of natural light, with the bright moon, it just makes everything seem magical.
"Do you ever just stop to realize how beautiful the night time is?" I ask Devon, not taking my eyes off of the sky.
"No." he replies, and it makes me laugh how honest he can be sometimes. I put on my hood and just lean back and lay down on the blanket that I'm sitting on. Devon lays next to me, and we just stare at the night sky, with Nickelback music coming through the speakers of my phone. I hear my phone vibrate, and I sit up and check it. It's a text from my ex, Michael, who just broke up with me, and is begging for me back. It's getting really annoying.
"Is that him again?" Devon asks, sitting up, and I nod. "Seriously? Do I need to have a talk with him?"
"No, seriously, you don't have to. I can handle this myself." I say, facing him. He looks me in the eyes.
"Madelyn, you know that I would do anything for you. And if that means having a talk with that douchebag, you know damn well that I will." he says. And I know that he means it, because he looks me in the eye. He only looks me in the eye when he truly means something. "And, maybe, possibly fight..." he says, lowering his voice. I gently push him.
"No, Devon, seriously. I got this." I say, laughing.
Okay, let me just explain something real quick. No, Devon and I are not dating, I don't even like him in that way. And besides, there's no way in hell that I would be allowed to have a boyfriend over at the house at midnight. My dad knows better, and he trusts Devon. He's my best friend, we met on the first day of sixth grade, four years ago. Everyone thinks that he's in love with me, and everyone tells me, and thinks that it's obvious, but I honestly don't think he is. I mean, we're so close, to the point it can get disturbing. Let's not get into that.
But anyways, Devon is my best friend. He actually saved my life, and that's how we met. Must I get into the story? Ugh. Fine. You curious nosy people.
It was the first day of sixth grade, and I had been transferred to a new school, because, well, I got expelled. Let's not get into that. But anyways, he was in four of my classes, and I noticed that day that he didn't stop staring at me. It was kinda creepy, but I got used to it by the time sixth period was over that day. Anyways. I felt like everyone hated me just because I wore a lot of black that day, a band tee shirt, and I kinda avoided everyone because I didn't know anyone. And basically, I looked like an emo, and I assumed everyone was against that, given the looks that everyone gave me. I was depressed, and I had thought about suicide, but never attempted.
So, that day, after school ended, I ran straight to an alley behind the drug store that was next to my school. I had a pocketknife that my dad gave me for protection, and I was just about ready to slit my wrists, when Devon walked down the alley. I didn't want to do it with anyone around, so I just put away the knife and waited until he left. But he didn't leave. He sat down right next to me and just started talking to me, as if he knew me. I remember the conversation like it was just yesterday.
"You don't want to do that." he said, staring at the wall across from us. I asked what he was talking about, and he didn't say anything. He just held out his hand, waiting for me to give him the pocketknife, and eventually, I did, because I knew that he wouldn't give up.
"When you die, where do you go?" he asks. He still doesn't look at me, and he puts the pocketknife in his backpack.
"Heaven." I reply confidently.
"See, that's the thing. Nobody actually knows for sure," he says, turning to me and looking me in the eyes. "For all we know, your spirit could go into a Windex bottle. You don't know for sure if you're going to Heaven or Hell. There's no proof. It could all just be a myth, you don't know. So do you really want to kill yourself if you don't even know where you're going?"
I stared at the wall and thought about his words. I really considered them, and I realized that maybe I should give my life a second chance.
And ever since then, I haven't attempted or even thought of committing suicide, and Devon has been my best friend and we've never been closer.
So yup. That's the story on how close I am with Devon.
But really, we're just friends, and that's all. I mean, yea, I love him, but not in that way. Everyone thinks he's in love with me, but he would've told me if he had feels for me, because he tells me everything. Including when he has feels for a girl. And it doesn't bother me, and when I tell him about a guy that I like, it doesn't bother him. So no, we're no together like that, I don't like him like that, and he doesn't like me like that. We just have an extremely close friendship.
My dad climbs onto the roof and tells us that it's about time for us to get down, and we do as told. We go downstairs and sit in the living room and sit on the couch and flip through all the horror movies on Netflix, as we always do. "I'll make popcorn!" Devon exclaims, jumping up from the couch. When I settle for Paranormal Activity 2, I get up and grab a blanket, and Devon comes out of the kitchen with a big bowl of popcorn is his hands, sets it inbetween the two of us, climbs under the blanket that I'm using, because it's completely pointless to waste another blanket when we can just use one big one. I press play, and we have the usual Friday night as we always do.
