ok so there is some sensitive material in this, so _WARNING_
I wrote this for a competition on discord. the theme was sad stories.

Hung Over Grease
As I wait for them in the lobby of the school, I think of the best thing to say to my friends. Maybe the cause of my anxiety is fear of rejection Maybe it's fear of being made fun of Anyways I don't really know. I rehearse my words over and over in my head, even whispering outloud to myself every so often. I contemplate what they might say, and what i should say back, as not to seem too sad, happy, depressed, mad, nothing overboard I don't want to worry them I leaned back against the cool tiles of the wall, tensing as someone comes through the doorway behind me, slamming their hand onto my shoulder roughly. A deep voice speaks out behind me,
Greasers Like you don't belong here The gruff voice seemed almost familiar, and I turn, looking back at my friend, a huge smile on his face, and his hair slicked back, with buttload of grease, as usual.
Oh screw you, Aiden. You tryna scare me half to death?
Sorry, Kid. forgot. He looked at me apologetically, and ran a hand through my short golden-blonde hair.
Just the other week, I had been jumped. That's our slang for beat up, or ganged up on. Those snobs beat the tar outta me. Broke my nose real bad, and one of em even had rings on, so it cut up my face. I remember, it was in the park, by Wards house. They were laughing, and screaming Greaser at me as they drove around in their black mustang, before getting out. I ran, for a while, until my mind screamed, my chest hurt, and my mouth filled with the taste of blood. The one with the rings, while he was throwing punches at me, I remember him saying, This is what you get, Greaser, for tryna run. This is what you get. They call us greasers because the only thing we got to be proud of is our tuff hair, and our reputation. Tuff, means cool. Like when someone says, oh damn that kids gotta tuff looking Mustang, it's just the car looks cool.
You seen Ward around lately? I ask, tilting my head just a bit.
Nah, last I saw him was friday, at the drive in. he didn't seem too great.real torn up bout you cutting again. That an his older sis just kicked the bucket last monday. Maybe we oughta check on him later? Aiden shoves his hands in his ripped pockets, and starts walking towards the door, just as the bell rings, signalling the end of school.
Hm. maybe. I start following Aiden out, just as the rest of our crew comes and joins us in our determined walk out of the school lobby. Hey Matt, Cam, Hunter, n Ky. Wanna go over to Wards place, check on him? They nod, throwing playful punches at each other, and we all sprint out of the school. We race across the football field and after fooling around for a bit and playing a couple games of tag, we get to his street, and the large, yellow, Victorian house. Peeling paint, crumbling pillars, and a door that's always unlocked. Just like it always was. We all go in through the back door, the one only we use, and into the living room. Cam and Hunter had already disappeared into the Kitchen, probably searching for a Pepsi, or somethin. The other four of us start down the hall, but we stop as his mother comes down the hall, crying as she walks towards us. The tears roll down her cheeks, and my gaze softens as I study her face.
He He locked the door and won't answer me- her voice breaks, as she talks. She starts sobbing again, as Ky and Matt lead her back towards the living room, speaking softly. Aiden and I slowly go down the hall, and my forearms start to itch. I absentmindedly scratch at them, blood beading up under my fingernails. Dear God Ward, please be alright My thoughts race, it gets harder to breath, as I come to his door, and knock.
Ward, You alright?!? I yell, hoping he can hear me. All i can hear from the other side of the door, is the A.C, The squeaking of the walls, and something Creaking like there's something heavy hanging. tension fills the air around me, as if the whole house is waiting. Waiting for something. But I don't hear any breathing. It's as if there's nothing alive in his room. I look at Aiden, seeing his worried expression matches mine, and I try again. Ward, Open the door, please! It's me, RJ!! The walls quit squeaking, the A.C stops suddenly and something seems to be scraping against wood. I try the door, to find it, as his mother had said, locked. Aiden, get your kit out. we all carried around switchblades, and lock-picking kits. He works at the door for a few minutes, I can hear the kitchen clock ticking, as if counting down for something. I heard the lock click, and a gasp from the other side of the door. My eyes widen, as I shove the door open, and survey the room. It's a mess, more then usual, like someone had been throwing things. The lamp is smashed, and the window is jammed close, the cot in the corner flipped upside down, and the rest of the room in shabbles. The tips of his toes just barely touch the surface of a small wooden stool, and his eyes are wide, filled with sadness and despair. Hes hanging from the ceiling fan, in the middle of the room. I stare, my eyes just as wide as his, and I suddenly cant move. My knees weaken, and my stomach turns as I watch his face going pale.
He mouths, I'm sorry. just as his eyes close, and his body goes limp. I cry out, rush over, and flick my knife out. I slashed at the rope holding him up, and he falls, his body crumpling onto the ground. I pull the stool away from him, and sit on the stained carpet, tears starting to roll down my face. Aiden walks in, watching me as i hold my friends limp body close to me. Why.I barely manage to mutter, my voice breaking. My throat starts to burn, like it does every time I cry. Why do you have to take him away from us?!?! I scream suddenly, my voice seeming to come from nowhere, the tears turning to hot angry ones. I yell, not at anyone in particular, just to yell. I don't understand. Why life takes people we love away from us, even when we need them the most. I still don't get it.
Even five years later, when most of my friends had moved or died. Cam got Leukemia, probably from all those cigarettes he smoked, died only two years ago. Hunter drank himself to death the week after Ward hung himself. Matt got a girlfriend only a year after, and they moved to San Francisco, I wonder if their married yet. Kys a deadbeat dad to a bunch of kids of a preppy ex-cheerleader girl he hooked up with around our senior year. he works at a repair shop, never married the cheerleader, and hes barely getting along, living just a block away from the drive-in. And Aiden still lives down by the beach in that old white house like he did when we were kids. His parents are long gone, mine too. I reckon all of our folks are, cept Wards mom. Aiden helps Ky at the shop every so often, and likes taking walks from his house down the beach. I live just up the street from him in an old yellow Victorian house, one with peeling paint, crumbling pillars, and the musty smell of something nostalgic.
After he died, Wards mom couldnt stand to stay inside that house, so she moved out, let me buy it from her. Now she lives in a small house, on the other side of town, content with her arts and crafts and whatever else she does. I visit her every so often, smiling and eating the dry shortbread cookies from the blue tin on the kitchen table.
Aiden, when ever theres something on his mind, he walks up to the old yellow house, and sits on the front steps, watching the ocean while smoking a cigarette. He says it's a bad habit he picked up from his old man, before he got sent to the grave as well. He sits, and stares, this thoughtful, almost worried look on his face. I sit with him and listen, like I did with the rest of the gang, before we split up. He always says to me, just before he leaves, you know, before you and Ward mentioned it, I never noticed how beautiful the sky is when the sun goes down then he walks down the road, to his old white house by the sea.
Now, as the sun starts to set, I push open the squeaky black iron gate doors to the Cemetery, and wander along the line of trees until I get to the one at the end of the last row. I stand, setting a bundle of roses next to the grave stone, and I feel the heavy feeling in my chest leave. My mind, for the first time in five years, quiets, and all i can hear, is the world around me. I look up into the setting sun and smile. Goodbye my friend. I murmur, as the wind picks up, ruffling my short gold hair and sending rose petals drifting across the field. The ocean shines with the fading light of day, casting rays of light off the glittering surface. The world seems to be at peace, at least now it does. I close my eyes, and start back down the hill, to the old, yellow Victorian house. I forgive you.