Generation Nothing *A Fabulous Killjoy Tale*

If My Velocity Starts To Make You Sweat, Then Just Don't Let Go

Watching the others disband, I try to stand as tall as possible, to see Kid. I can't wait to hug him because he's safe. And then punch him because he was worrying me.

But I don't see him yet. I stand on one of the overturned chairs, peering over the sea of heads. When I see him, my heart sinks. Why is he still talking to Atomic Grimace and the other Fabulous Killjoy? He's not leaving. No one is. So what is going on? He is standing, his face expressionless, like it was, nodding along to them. He is too good at concealing his emotions. I try to crack him, but he is frozen. Suddenly, I notice Kid's hand twitch the slightest bit.

Something is very, very wrong.

My better judgement betrays me, as I begin to approach the three of them. Lucky enough, the two Fabulous Killjoys are walking away just as I reach Kid.

Kid doesn't see me coming, so I spook him when he turns around and I'm standing there. By the initial look on his face before Kid regains his cool self, I know a catastrophe has occurred.

When he finally looks up, Kid doesn't even give me his trademark fake smile. He doesn't let me know it's okay. For the first time, he isn't going to give me the same bullcrap.

This means the situation is worse than anything we've encountered.

Kid looks at me and looks back down. He is sitting on one of the benches, by what once was the ticket desk for the subway. I sit next to him, wordless. I reach out to touch his shoulder and he shudders, his face buried in his elbows.

It was years before Kid looked up again. Not years. Maybe a few minutes, but it feels like much longer. Kid raises his head just the slightest bit, to see if I am still here. Where else would I go? His fists are clenched, but I see his Logo patch peeking through his fingers.

When Kid notices I am looking at it, takes it out and holds it in his open palm. We both stare at it for a bit. We finally make eye contact again.

"Tell me." I say suddenly, to my own surprise. I expect Kid to take a breath. To touch my shoulder. To deliver the death blow softly. But he doesn't. Kid doesn't hesitate.

"I'm leaving."

And there it is. My hopes of a false alarm are shattered. It wasn't a false alarm. The war has truly begun now. Now it's time to fight.

Except I can't. They won't let me fight. Kid is lucky enough to be nineteen, but I'm not.

After a while or so, I realize that Kid is staring at me, waiting for a reaction. I quickly release the breath I'm holding, but I struggle to collect another one. Before I start choking on oxygen, I continue the conversation in a low, emotionless tone.

"When."

"Today." He replies immediately, matching my voice. I regain my strength to breathe again, but don't speak.

We aren't making any contact. He's facing away from me on the bench.