Apologies for any mistakes you might come across!
___________
Devon Blackwood
Devon didn’t look back.
Not when Raven’s voice cracked. Not when the lie—the “I’m fine”—hit the air like shattered glass.
But that didn’t mean he didn’t hear it.
Didn’t feel it.
He walked the block in silence, hands stuffed deep into his sleeves, the weight of the sketchbook in his backpack like a stone pressing into his spine.
He hadn’t meant to be there. Hadn’t planned to run into Raven. But somehow, the universe had drawn them together again, like it always did. Even when Devon tried to stay away.
Even when it was safer to stay gone.
He’d seen Raven earlier, from a distance. Stumbling out of school grounds with bruised eyes and anger carved into every movement.
He hadn’t meant to follow.
But something in Raven’s walk said don’t leave him alone.
And yet, when they finally collided—by accident or fate—Devon said nothing.
Because what could he say?
He wasn’t someone people listened to.
He wasn’t someone people let close.
And Raven—Raven..
Devon recognized difference when he looked it in the eye. He also recognized an impending crash.
The same way he recognized, too familiarly, bone-deep pain behind fake smiles. The same way he had watched teachers glance over bruises on his own arms, flinch at his silence, and then look away.
No one ever asked.
And when they did, it was always too late.
Except Raven—
So he didn’t press.
Didn’t ask Raven what the bruises were from. Or why he looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
But Devon remembered the sound Raven made when their shoulders brushed. A sound that wasn’t pain, exactly. It was something else.
Like he’d been seen.
And didn’t know how to handle it.
Devon made it to his house, ignoring his mother and brothers, made it to his room, bare and quiet, before he let his fingers twitch.
He looked at his sparse room with an emptiness that felt heavier. The blank look in his face didn't change when his eyes zeroed in on the knife laying on the bed. Without thought, without words, he moved towards it.
Until he remembered Raven again. Remembered him yanking his pocketknife and blade away. Remembered him standing up for him. Remembered him forcing a smile and being a pillar everyone could lean on when he was actually crumbling on the inside.
Devon blinked, and his fingers twitched again.
He headed to his desk instead.
He opened his sketchbook.
And started drawing Raven again.
Not the golden boy.
Not the athlete.
Not the smiling lie.
But the one from earlier.
The one with shadows under his eyes.
And a wound he didn’t know how to cover anymore.
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Thanks for reading!
Just as the title of the chapter suggests, this is just an extra, and that's why it's so short. It's not supposed to be in the story, but it gives you a glimpse of what Devon thinks.. or rather HOW he thinks..
So what do you think?
Don't forget to vote, comment what you think, follow and stay close by for my next update!
See ya soon!
~Anon.
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‡† The Unseen †‡
General Fiction"Two boys. Two shadows. One chance to fix one another." _________________ "A friendship that goes beyond brotherhood. One that explains cries. And pain. And smiles. And silence." _________________ [Disclaimer: This is not a gay novel..] After deat...
