My Only One

Vic's Pov

I took a small drag of the cigarette, patiently awaiting the footsteps I heard behind me. Inside, I knew who was coming. I knew by the way he walked, how heavy his footsteps, how they became shorter the more I came into his peripheral vision.

My conclusion was to tell myself I didn't care, which I decided was okay since I was only cradling a bottle of Jack Daniel's and three packs of fags and on a normal day, it would be normal to care. Taken into consideration that my eyes were probably still puffy and swollen from feeling sorry for myself, I just took another swig of the bottle and another drag of the cigarette, hoping my instincts were wrong.

But karma had a way of biting you in the ass whenever it could, I found.

"Vic?"

I wanted to laugh, because he knew it was me, that was for sure. It was easy to tell by little things he did, perks of knowing him for so long. He was only calling out my name to get my attention so he could continue making sure I was alright, and all of it made me want to laugh. How well I knew him was humorous.

Little did he know, it also made me want to cry because he was the reason I was out here, regretting every single thing I'd ever done in my sorry, goddamn life. Jaime had always been the reason for my confusion, so I settled for welcoming more of the death stick and nodding, motioning my hand to let him know I heard him.

"Are...are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm just sitting out here feeling sorry for myself." I felt it was best if I was just honest, to spare us both the dramatic scene, having the feeling we'd dealt with a lot of those recently.

Jaime sighed from behind me, and I heard him walk the distance to the swing beside me and sit. I'd yet to look at him. There was something about tonight that was making me feel extremely weak; fragile, even.

"You know," he spoke up, a hint of angst lining his voice as he began pushing himself in the swing back and forth, the lazy movements creating a relaxing, familiar creak to grace my ears. "This park holds a lot of memories."

I held back a chuckle as scenes unfolded in my head.

"Are you ready, Hime?" Nine-year-old Vic practically sing-songed as Jaime propelled himself back and forth on the small swing.

"I don't want to do it, Vic." He pouted, but nevertheless, he still added power each time, kicking at the ground and desperate to go higher. That's what Vic told him to do.

"Just do it. You'll be okay, Himey." Jaime frowned greatly, squeezing his eyes shut and jumping, making Vic's eyes blow wide. "Jaime, open your-"

Too late. The eight-year-old had collided with the hard ground, and Vic heard his least favorite sound. Jaime crying. He really hated it when Jaime cried.

"O-ow. Vic."

"It's okay, Jaime." Vic mumbled as he crouched by him, watching the younger cradle his knee. "How bad is it?"

"My knee h-hurts, and I think I cut my l-lip."

Vic pouted back at him, grabbing the small first aid kit out of his back pocket. "That's no good. Here, let me fix it."

With shaky hands, because he didn't want to hurt his best friend, Vic applied what his mother called the sting spray. This made Jaime yelp, and Vic cringed at the sound.

"That hurts!" Jaime squeaked, covering his knee so Vic couldn't spray anymore.

"I'm sorry! It's to get the germs out."

"Oh." Jaime responded, hanging his head. "I don't like germs. You were only trying to help."

"I was. Now let me finish." Vic scolded and grabbed the bandaids, placing a colorful one on his friend's knee. "There. All done."

Jaime pouted again. "Aren't you going to kiss it better? Mommy said it starts the healing process."

Vic wanted to roll his eyes, but instead, since he did get Jaime into this, he leant down and gave the bandaid a gentle kiss, looking up to a grinning Jaime. But while he noticed his smile, he also noticed the cut on his lip that was now bleeding a little.

"Oh." Vic stuttered, reaching into his backpack for gauze and trying not to startle his friend. "Your lip is bleeding a tiny bit."

Surprisingly, though, Jaime just nodded, letting Vic dab away the blood silently. This was weird, because usually when he heard blood he'd immediately freak out. Either way, this time he didn't, and Vic had him cleaned up in no time.

"There isn't really anything else I can do for your lip."

"It's okay. Just finish it."

Vic looked confused for a moment, until he saw the younger roll his eyes, pointing at his lips then to his own cut. So, Vic didn't over-think it. He just leant in, and pecked Jaime's lips, and only did he learn later why his best friend blushed that day, and went home early.

"Things were simpler when we were kids, weren't they, Hime?"

He nodded, and I could see from the corner of my eye that he was fighting back a smile.

"Yeah, they were."

The silence soon fell over the two of us and the park, the kids long since gone, leaving behind their day to dream about being an adult. How wrong they were to wish to be older! Growing up is what they should detest with every being in their bodies. It corrupted people.

It made innocent friendships deteriorate in time because when you grow up, change happens. I didn't like change, and they shouldn't either. Change meant losing things you love, and gaining things you'd give up in a heartbeat to have your lost things back.

Growing up was a lie; a sick, twisted corruption sold by people and the government. Television sells it to be great and happy, easy and fun. Like new and exciting like toys on Christmas that excite the kids when they see it, the big mystery of getting older, and making something out of yourself.

Nothing was a bigger lie than that.

I'd only made an asshole of myself in the past years, and really, I would give anything to be a kid again.

"There you go again, thinking too hard." Jaime whispered, shaking his head. "You do that a lot."

"There's a lot to think about. A lot to regret, you know. A lot to dwell on."

The boy beside me exhaled wearily. "Are you mad at me because of last night or something? Because this whole dramatic mystery act you're pulling-"

"No, I'm not mad. And thats not why I'm upset, or whatever. I mean, I'm disappointed, yes, but-"

"Disappointed?" Jaime asked incredulously, interrupting. "Why disappointed? I didn't mean to ditch you."

"I'm not disappointed because you ditched me. I saw you with him. I don't know, I guess I thought you were stronger than that."

"I was drunk-"

"I know that now. It's why I'm not mad at you, or I suppose even disappointed. I just don't get it."

Jaime was confused now, and he tilted his head as he began to calm down. "What don't you get?"

"You went back to him, so fast. You never came back to me. Why are you so... weak all of a sudden? You used to be the strongest person I knew."

As soon as it left my lips, I regretted it. My chest tightened, and I could hear his gasp. My head began to pound because what was I thinking?

"Vic, I-"

"I'm sorry." I spluttered, jumping up and doing my best to ignore the pounding regret in my head. "I should go, I didn't mean to...I'm sorry."

"No. Lets just...not." I glanced down at him, confused as to why he wasn't crying or storming off. "Please. I've had a weird week, and I just want my best friend, okay? I know you don't mean it. It's okay. Lets just go home and watch movies and forget things for a while."

I smiled. Jaime never ceased to surprise me.

Nodding and offering my hand, my heart shimmered with pride for being his best friend. Even after all the fuck ups, I still was his best friend, and that was more than rewarding.

"I'd be honored, Jaime Preciado." I replied in a mock English accent, helping him up as he smiled, his dimples prominent. He ducked his head, me leading him on the path back to the house and soon wrapping my arms around him from behind, telling myself I was just cold and my arms weren't aching to hold him. "Oh, and for the record, you're still the strongest person I know, Hime-Time."