nicer in blue

0. Hearing The News

It was pretty dark outside for a summer afternoon. As if the weather could have somehow predicted the words that were going to tremble my entire existence.
As if the little bastard would know that I was gonna ask about him when I dropped by Steve's place.
Michael and I were long done at the time. 7 months since our last conversation, 3 since our (my) last text. I'd still see him around, hanging out with some of our friends and a bunch of people I didn't know back then.
Oh, what a fool I was.
"Hi, Stevie! How's it going?" I shout as I'm making my way around to the fridge to get some soda.
I was used to Steve's lack of response, so I didn't notice his expression until he joined me in the kitchen.
He pulled out a chair for himself, staring at the floor in utter, complete silence.
"What's wrong?" I asked, completely clueless about what was going to come.
Steve was shaking by now. He just stood there, sitting on that goddamn chair, with his face covered by sweaty, shaky hands.
"Just" he sighed, after a couple of minutes. "How can you act like that, knowing what happened? Were the bimbos in Las Vegas that nice?"
"Well none of them compare to your mother, but..."
"Get out."
By that point, I was extremely confused. Steven was our sensitive little bitch, but he always laughed at my jokes. Especially if they were about the woman he hated most.
"Look, I'm sorry, okay? But I have no fucking idea what's going on and I've been gone for three weeks. By all means, fill me in."
Steve took a deep breath. He seemed to love my new sneakers that much because he would bluntly stare at them for no end.
Eventually, he spoke.
"You really don't know what L did, do you?"
"Well, we kinda unfriended each other on Facebook and he blocked both of my sisters on Instagram so no, I have no idea."
Another deep breath from Steve. When he finally glanced at me, his eyes were so red, I was afraid they were gonna explode.
"Dude, Michael killed himself."
"Bitch, what?"