I can’t deny that I’ve always had a bit of a soft spot for the boy who never fit in. I used to feel bad for him, watching from a distance as the rest of the guys played football, battled on the Xbox or whatever other dumb shit boys did, and he would sit on the sidelines. He was always invited to join in—unlike me—but he hardly ever did.
I’ve always wondered why. Why he felt he couldn’t get involved, be a part of their group.
We all know he was different, that his interests lie in other places, but that didn’t matter. He was—he is—a part of them. He just keeps himself on the periphery for some reason I’m still yet to discover.
Because of me?
I shake that thought from my head the second it even lands.
There’s no way I had anything to do with it. I’m still trying to force myself to believe those words he said to me this weekend.
He can’t have meant them. Surely.