A/N: Yay, my first story on FP! Okay, not really my first, but the first I’m going to leave on. It’s a little sappy andI'm sure it'sway too melodramatic, but I like it. It's different from my normal writing style, but I like how it came out.

Warning: This story does contain slash, but nothing really happens between them.

Painful Memories

I remember…

I remember those happy days of our youth…

You were so perfect, so beautiful…

It felt like those days would last forever…

I remember when we first met. God, it was so long ago. We were so young. But even so, I loved you. I always have, and probably always will.

Just how long ago was it? Ah, yes, it was in second grade… my family had just moved, and I didn’t know anyone. That first day of school, I sat in the classroom, feeling so alone and lost. And then you came, like an angel. You sat down beside me, to keep me company. From then ever after we were best friends.

It turned out we lived on the same street. We were together always; inseparable. I tried denying it at first, but the more I knew you, the more my feelings for you grew. You became my world, my raison d’être, my everything. Your sweet, innocent, beautiful face, your quick and joyous laughter, your infectious smile… And it almost never occurred to me to tell you, everything was just so perfect as it was.

And then we grew up, and we went to high school together. We always arranged our classes so we had as many together as possible; you even took art classes for me, and I took music ones for you. That was how you discovered your love for photography, and I my love of guitar. We always used to joke around about girls, and talked about them, but neither of us really actively went after them. I knew I wasn’t attracted to girls, knew you were the only one for me, I never cared we were both male. And I often found myself wondering about you; you never had a girlfriend either… but I didn’t want to chance it. It seemed silly to risk years of friendship when things were fine as they were.

Then we graduated together, and decided to live our dream of backpacking across Europe. Your family was so well off, we didn’t need to worry about money, which was a good thing, since we didn’t actually backpack; we took buses, trains and sometimes planes to get where we wanted. It was a magical experience; everything we so was so amazing, made even more so just because I was with you. I still feel those were probably the happiest times of my life.

But we came home, and things began to change after that. Your mother died, and then your sister committed suicide. You’d been so close to both of them all your life, you might’ve been able to handle your mother’s death, but not your twin sister. It left you empty inside. You never really healed from it. It was painful for me too, since I’d known your sister so long, but I tried to be strong for you. I tried to help you, console you however I could, because seeing you in pain made me feel like dying. Gods, it hurt so much, all I wanted was for you to be happy, for that beautiful smile to rest playfully on your lips again.

But no matter how hard I tried, I felt you slipping away from me, away from everything. You retreated more and more into your own mind, drawing away from the harsh realities that threatened you.

I think the one thing that killed me the most was the day you looked at me, your eyes blank, and asked me who I was. You couldn’t remember me. It only lasted a moment, the recognition quickly returned to your eyes, but it terrified me. What if one day, you forgot me and never remembered? It hurt, hurt so much, the thought of being lost to you.

I imagine it was your defense; reality couldn’t hurt you in that place, the place you’d go sometimes. I always knew when you were gone, from the blank, dull, lifeless look in your eyes. That look always terrified me, and every time I saw it, I wondered if you were going to come back, or if this were the time you’d leave forever. Even in your lucid moments, there was something dull about you; your beautiful light was fading away.

I was desperate; I didn’t know what to do. I could see that I was losing you, every day more. The days went by in a blank haze; I convinced you to move in with me, and I got a job, so I could try to take care of you. At some point, your father had died too, but at that point, it seemed as though you hardly cared. You were left with a hefty inheritance, but you didn’t seem to want to touch it, and I was never going to make you do something you didn’t want to do. So I worked as hard as I could, and somehow I got us by.

Finally, finally, after the longest time, you slowly started to improve. You started to come back from the dark place you’d been headed towards, the place where I couldn’t follow you. The moments when you lost yourself became fewer, and father in between, then seemed to vanish entirely. You still weren’t as happy as you’d once been, and I was afraid you would never be, but I was still so happy. At long last, you were coming back to me, I had you back. And I really did. I still believe that if it hadn’t happened, we could have been happy.

But I suppose it wasn’t meant to be. Fate can be so cruel. My god, you were there, you were back, and I even began to see your light again. You even started to smile again, albeit rarely… Why, why did it have to happen?

The bastard… somehow, he gained your trust. I don’t know why I didn’t see it immediately. God, I was so BLIND! The fact that you were opening up and finally talking to other people again made me so happy that it clouded my mind, made it so I couldn’t see until it was too late.

At first, I almost didn’t notice the change in you. However, it soon became clear something was wrong. You suddenly seemed to be scared all the time, and I just didn’t know what was wrong. I tried to ask you, but the fear would just well in your eyes, and you’d shake your head, not saying anything. After maybe a few days of this, I knew something was very, very wrong. It infuriated me that I couldn’t figure out what it was, protect you from it. So I trailed you the next day, to see what would happen. I followed you to an alleyway, where you met with him, the evil bastard, the one I didn’t know I should hate until it was too late to stop it.

I saw him hand you something, and somehow, I instantly realized that he was a drug dealer. But it just didn’t make sense; you’d always been so against drugs. Even in your darkest depression, you never even considered them, and I knew you didn’t take them now. I was with you often enough to know. I continued to tail you, and saw you deliver the package he had given you to some random person. I knew something was wrong, knew this wasn’t your choice; I could see the terror in your eyes with every step. The person gave you some money in return. After that, I decided to confront you.

After you left, had continued walking for a bit, I came in front of you and blocked your way, demanding an explanation. At first, you tried to deny it, and the terror in your eyes tore at my heart. Then finally, you broke down, sobbing on my shoulder telling me everything. How you had accidentally seen –him- selling drugs. How he made you become an errand boy for him. How he’d threatened to kill me, if you didn’t obey him. I held you tight, and resolved to make him pay for hurting you.

You insisted that you had to give him the money, or you and I would both be killed, and I foolishly decided to let you. I’d come too, watch from a distance like before, to make sure nothing happened. After that, I thought maybe we could move away, and get out of all this. But that decision, to let you do that, proved to be the biggest mistake of my life.

Somehow, I think he knew, the bastard, could tell you’d told someone. Or maybe he’d intended to do something like this from the start. All I know is that when I saw a black car pull up, and saw him put the cloth over your face, I lost any semblance of reason. I cried out and ran madly towards him, my only thoughts being of you, that I needed to save you. But I felt something heavy hit the back of my neck, and blackness overtook me. The last thing I heard was -him-, telling his goons to leave me there.

I don’t know how long it was before I awoke, but I instantly began to hunt for you. I don’t even remember that part; somehow, I could sense you, sense that I was getting close to finding you. Finally, maybe an hour later, I did. And I instantly knew I was too late.

They had ditched you. Just thrown you in some random alleyway. At the site of you, I felt the urge to vomit. You were bleeding from multiple wounds, including your head, and it was obvious they’d beaten you. On top of that , your clothes were askew, and I blanched, feeling another wave of sick horror as I realized what they’d done to you. I wanted to gag, I wanted to sit down and cry my eyes out, I wanted to murder them, horribly and painfully… but even with all that, it was something else that, to me, was so much more terrifying. You were still conscious, but your eyes…they were dead. You were gone, gone to that place, and even though you were still breathing, I knew you’d never come back to me.

I did manage to call an ambulance somehow, and gasp out what had happened. It arrived after what felt like an eternity, an eternity during which I felt as though it was my own life slipping away, as though I was the one who’d been horribly beaten, beaten within an inch of my life. Absolutely sick with terror, grief, and rage, I remember climbing into the ambulance with you and being rushed to the hospital. The doctor took one look at me and asked if I was going to be ok. I nodded, a short, strained motion, never looking away from your abused form on the stretcher.

We reached the emergency room, and they tried to ask me what happened, but I was absolutely mute, I couldn’t say anything. I filled out their forms, telling them you had no family, but you were fully insured, which I knew was all they’d care about. Then I just stared ahead blankly, silent tears running down my face until they finally told me your condition was stable, and I could see you. I burst through the doors, desperate to be reassured you were still there. You were, your heartbeat was steady, all your vital signs were normal, but at the same time, you weren’t. Your eyes told me that you were far, far away.

And now I am here, sitting next to you in the emergency room, holding your hand and listening to the beep of the heart monitor, as sobs rack my frame. Oh god, there’s so much I never told you… I haven’t even told you how I feel… Now I’m afraid I never can. You’re awake, oh god, you’re wide-awake, but your eyes aren’t focusing on anything, they’re so far away… Your mouth is smiling, but I know it’s not a real smile, and it’s painful to look at. I feel like you’ll never come back from where ever you are, and I know I can’t go there, and it just makes the tears flow harder. I love you, I have always loved you, absolutely, completely, and now you may never know.

The nurse comes in, and gently places her hand on my shoulder. I look up, seeing her concerned face as she informs me that your condition isn’t as bad as initially thought, and they’re going to move you to another hospital room. I can come if I like. I nod in response and stand up, following behind, as the doctors put you on a stretcher and move you down the hallways. I refuse to let go of your hand, and they allow it.

We reach your new room, and they get you settled on the bed. The nurse informs me that you may have to be moved to the psychiatric ward, after your physical wounds heal. I nod dumbly. Then I speak, for the first time since we got here.

“Can I stay with him?” I ask softly, voice catching a little. The nurse just looks at me for a moment, eyes wide with surprise, perhaps surprised at actually hearing my voice.

“Well, alright,” she says, regaining her composure. Then she smiles softly, and adds, “I guess you really can talk, then.” I simply nod in answer. The nurse pulls up a chair next to mine, which I have positioned next to your bed, so I can still hold your hand; I don’t want to let go of you again, if I can help it.

“This must be hard for you,” the nurse says in a gentle voice. I can tell she’s trying to help, and I appreciate it, but I’m still not ready to speak, so I simply nod again.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your relationship with him?” she asks, indicating your still form lying on the bed. You seem to have fallen asleep. I stare at you for a moment, pondering whether or not to answer her question. Finally, I do.

“He lives with me. We’re….best friends. Since second grade…” A wistful smile plays on my lips.

“You love him, don’t you?” It was not an accusation, and hardly even a question. More of a statement. But I nod anyways.

“Yes…” My voice cracks a little with emotion. The kindly nurse puts a hand on my shoulder.

“I’m sure he’ll recover in time,” she says. “Don’t lose your faith in him.” I shake my head violently in the negative; I will never leave you, ever. “I should be going now,” the nurse adds with a smile. “I’ll pull some strings; you can stay here for the night. Just try to get some sleep.”

“Thank you”, I say softly, hoping she can hear the gratitude in my voice, despite the tears that are threatening to overflow again. With that, she stands and leaves. Once she’s gone, I simply lean over you and soon start sobbing once again. Finally, after what feels like hours, my tears subside for a time.

“I love you…” I say softly, before falling asleep, still draped over your thin body.

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A/N: Now that you’ve read the story…. Yeah. I know it’s an evil ending. But it works. Even if it was written kind of badly. Yes, nothing ever happens between them. He had a very pure love, I guess… He might’ve pursued it on a more physical level if the other boy’s life hadn’t come crashing down. Didn’t want to add the extra agony.

Reviews would be appreciated, if you care to leave one. I don’t mind if you flame me about my sucky writing, but please no flames about the slash-ness