It's been.. a couple days since your best friend since middle school killed himself. You haven't been the same since then. I mean, who would, honestly? You can't eat and you look like shit. It's been all over, there was a ceremony and everything. People pretending to give a shit about the same guy they barely side glanced and you might honestly just follow suit.

During your lunch period, instead of dealing with the deprecation of your ability to keep yourself from sobbing in front of the cafeteria, you find yourself roaming back to the restroom that no one hardly used, locking the door behind you and refusing to look through stalls to see if anyone was residing and doing their business, crumbling against the sleek, cold wall that stood behind you.

Then there was a click!

Mason waltzed out. He was a boy that merely crossed paths with you, someone you never felt to get involved with. With black fluffy hair longer then any average boy, brown dark eyes and an obsession with all black and leather, he was typical. Known dealer, dick and flunk out, he wasn't worth talking to. Everyone knew that.

Mason stopped in his tracks, his body stiffened, his hand planted onto the door of his stall.

"What... the fuck." he muttered, voice low.