A tall, muscled boy of twenty-three walked down Ruby Street on a cool October morning in Paxurbs, Rhode Island. He ran a hand through his black and red hair, shoving his calloused hands into the pockets of his baggy jeans. The wind ripped through his ripped tee shirt, making him shiver slightly.
He looked around suddenly, as though he didn’t want someone following him. He saw only shoppers bundled up against the cold, bustling to their various destinations, their bags swinging at their sides. He was relieved none of them noticed him slipping into a dark alley.
A small fire gave the boarded up buildings that lined the dingy road a shadowed appearance. He walked toward the doorway of a condemned apartment where the silhouette of a man stood waiting. He felt a scar on the rough hand he exchanged a crisp bill for a miniscule package with. He turned back to the busy street, and satisfied that no one had noticed his detour, he joined the throngs moving about.
He came to a small brick building and pushed open the heavy wood door. He jogged up filthy stairs to the top floor and walked into the small apartment he shared with his best friend, Jonathan. He tossed his keys onto a tiny table and strolled to the living room, noticing another window was broken, littering the wood floor with broken glass.
Members of the band he sang for, Everlasting were scattered around the room. A tall red headed boy was twirling a drumstick between his fingers, freckles standing out against his pale face. He was sprawled across a moth eaten couch, humming tunelessly. A short blond boy was leaning against the wall opposite him, playing the bass strapped around his neck quietly. Sitting in a wooden chair wrung his hands, his face pale. He was sweating and shivering, his dark curly hair disheveled. He stood up slowly, seemingly unaware of where he was.
“Jonny what’s wrong?”
“Alex,” he told the newcomer, ignoring his question, “I – I have AIDS.”
“How?” The boy named Alex gasped, aghast. He shrugged.
“No clue. It could be a lot of things. It’s just a hazard living these days.” Alex began to pace, beginning to feel sick. “I must’ve had it for awhile. They told me my T-Cells are low as well.”
“Are you okay?” he asked, realizing that the other two were watching intently.
“I don’t know.” There was a deafening silence as dark storm clouds became visible outside the shattered window. Alex felt a nasty pang in his heart as he realized Jonathan would be lucky to live much longer.
“Well,” he said at last, “There’s nothing we can do. Do you still want to rehearse?” The others all nodded, so he began to set up.
Hours later, as he walked through the small park near his apartment, it began to rain. Cold droplets fell through the rips in his shirt. Shivering, he sat on a hard wooden bench and looked around at the dying flowers. Lyrics strong in his head, he pulled out a piece of paper and started write a new song, humming and singing to himself as he wrote.
He suddenly became aware of light footsteps next to him and stopped singing. He looked up into the concerned face of a beautiful young girl, her light brown hair flowing slightly in the wind. Her tan face was bright with peppy hazel eyes. He realized he had been crying and wiped the tears away, hoping she hadn’t noticed them.
“Are you okay?” she asked kindly. “You seemed really upset. And that song was beautiful; did you write it?” He nodded.
