This one is a bit different. It's not romantic. It's based off of something that I went through. I used the characters to represent people in my life.
And it's sad, but i was sad making it and it kind of just worked it's way into writing.
Steve sat on the concrete steps of the school, playing with his shoelaces. His best friend had not been at school for a week, and his teacher told him he was showing up today. So Steve decided to skip playing tag with the kids at recess, and wait for his best friend.
Their favourite game to play was wipeout. They would both stand at opposite ends of the balance beam, walk towards each other and try to shove the other off. First one to touch the ground lost. They played it everyday, no other kid ever went on the balance beam unless they had joined the game, which multiple kids had been doing lately. But nobody played if one of the two were away. It was simply an unspoken rule. So the balance beam had been empty all week.
A black and orange sports car pulled up, and Steve jumped to his feet. Tony got out of the back, smiling faintly as he walked over. Steve jumped up and down, sprinting over to hug his best friend.
"Hey Steve." Tony said, but he seemed off. Almost sad, like he'd given up. One thing Steve knew for sure, Tony never got down like this, at least not this bad. He was always full of energy, practically trembling with excitement, like he was constantly sugar high.
Steve then noticed the principal behind him, and Tony's mother walking towards them. Steve looked at Tony worriedly, who only stared at the ground.
"Why don't we go inside and talk?" Their principal, Ms. Brown said, touching Steve's shoulder and leading them all inside to her office.
Tony sat down in between Steve and his mother, head still hung in sadness. Steve's eyes were darting from person to person, trying
to figure out what was happening in his small 3rd grader brain.
"So, Steve, you know how Tony was sick last year?" Ms. Brown started, and Steve slowly nodded his head.
"Well, Tony's sick again sweetheart." Ms. Brown said, and Steve's eyes widened.
"I thought you said it was over?!" Steve practically shouted, and Tony began to sob quietly. Steve felt tears threatening to leave his eyes as he embraced Tony, letting his friend cry on his shoulder.
"This means Tony might not be at school as much anymore." Tony's mom said, rubbing Tony's shoulder softly.
"But it'll go away this time, right?" Steve asked, and Ms. Brown looked sadly at him.
"We don't know."
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Two months later, all the kids were outside, celebrating their last recess in third grade. Tony had come to school that day, to celebrate with everyone. He'd been feeling bad for the last two weeks, and only came in yesterday and today.
Today was the official last wipeout game until September. Tony was determined to play, even though he'd been getting weaker and it was harder for him to play. Steve and him had been watching all recess, laughing as a kid fell and clapping as the other jumped off in triumph.
"Hey Steve, one last round?" Tony said, and Steve smiled.
The two were perched on opposite ends of the balance beam, smiling as they death stared each other. They began to shuffle down the beam, and their hands collided, slightly pushing. Steve could feel Tony's strength withering, so he weakened, and Tony pushed him off the beam, Steve falling onto the wood chips, laughing.
"I won!" Tony yelled, jumping off and helping Steve back up. The class cheered, and the recess bell rang, signalling the end of their last recess.
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Summer was hard. Tony had been really sick the entire time, and Steve was lonely. He went to summer camp all of July, and he called Tony everyday, going over to his house whenever he could. He couldn't wait for school to start, even if Tony only came once every two weeks.
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It was almost the end of November. Tony hadn't come to school since Halloween. He's been in the hospital since the 10th. Steve only visited once, the scary sight of all the cords and tubes attached to Tony's small, pale and fragile body almost made Steve throw up.
Steve's mother was on the phone, hushed voice and in the laundry room, like she was hiding something from little Stevie. When she finally came out, she looked at Steve with sad eyes.
"We're going to Tony's house, to see him." Steve's mother said, dreading the coming question.
"He's out of the hospital?! Is he getting better?!" Steve said with a grin. The expression on his mothers face made him falter, the hope that was there five seconds ago nosediving into the floor.
They arrived at the Stark's house, greeted by Howard. He had a sad expression on, and he picked up Steve, giving him a piggyback into the living room, and setting him down lightly on the ground with a pat on the head.
Steve's heart fell into the floor at the sight. Tony was lying on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. His face was pale, and he was so, so skinny. The tubes and machines were gone, only one clear tube that rested just outside of his nose, connected to a small metal tank.
"Hey Steve." Tony said, voice hoarse.
"Tony." Steve's little voice went dry as he crouched by Tony's torso, knees pressing into the wooden floor. Tony's arms were at his sides, and Steve rested his head on one, facing Tony.
They talked for hours, it was almost eleven when they left, and it was the most important hours of Steve's life.
"See you Steve." Tony called out.
"Goodbye Tony." Steve said with a small smile, voice a little more cheery.
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The next morning, Steve was woken by his mother at around six am. His mother had tears in her eyes, and a phone in her hand.
Steve knew.
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A week later, Steve sat crisscrossed on the wood chips, staring at the empty balance beam. He tugged at the black tie around his neck, clutching at cat stuffed animal that belonged to his best friend, holding on for dear life. He hadn't spoke at all since the morning that everything changed, only saying one sentence while he looked up at the gloomy dark clouds.
"You told me you would get better."
