I'm running.

It's cold.

The road to the hospital is long.

There are no cars.

No life.

My skin is shivering.

My eyes sting.

I'm tired, but my legs keep moving.

I can't control my body anymore.

Slowly, houses start coming into sight. They are small, glowing. I can see functioning families inside of them. Men, women and children sitting next to a raging fire. I recognise a few of them. We all went to the same school. It's strange to think they have come so far and I've been left behind.

Drowning.

Struggling to swim to the surface of life.

Unable to breathe.

There are few people on the streets.

I try to ignore them.

I quicken my pace, trying to avoid catching anyone's attention.

My legs are wobbly. But I can see the top of the hospital, peaking out between the rooftops.

I push on.

I look up at the sky. It must be 04:00 by now. The stars flicker like tiny rays of hope.

What if I get there and he's dead? What would they do with him? He has no one. Or at least he thinks he doesn't.

I can see the hospital now. It's dimly lit.

As I enter the doors, the warmth pricks my skin. I run up to the desk.

A women sits there, tired, clicking a pen.

Like the clicking clock.

The faint smell of bleach.

"What do you want?"

"I need to see someone."

She looked at her nails, then eyed me up and down.

"What's a handsome young man like you doing here this early?"

"I need to see Logan."

"Honey, there are lots of people in this hospital? I need a full name."

I'm getting anxious now. I'm breathing heavily. My arms are getting heavy.

"L-Logan Michaels."

She types it in to her computer.

"There isn't a Logan Michaels in this hospital. Maybe you mixed up the wrong hospital?"

I can feel the tears.
"No. There is a Logan Michaels here. I tell you there is. Please tell me there is a Logan Michaels here."

"I'm sorry but-"

I'm crying now, trying to support myself against the desk.

"HE HAS TO BE ALIVE."

I feel my heart drop, my mind sent into a spiral of regret. I had nowhere to go now. I had completely ruined his life.

"Sir."

"WHAT. What more do you need to tell me."

"Logan Michaels isn't here. But he's alive. He left last night."

I can feel my chest rising and falling faster.

"H-he's alive?"

"Yes."

I run.

I run out that door.

I run to his house.

I run.

Even though my legs are failing beneath me.

I will get there.

The sun is staring to rise. Sunlight dribbles over the distant mountains. It's a sickly, pale shade. But as I walk further, it turns to a pastel purple. I can feel the light caressing my cheeks, the warmth tingling on my skin.

The apartment is close to the hospital.

I sprint up the stairs.

I don't pause before ringing the doorbell.

Alexandra opens it.

"Oscar?"

"Alexandra. Is Logan inside?"

"No? Isn't he at the hospital?"

"He left last night."

"Come in, Oscar."

The apartment is small, messy.

I look into his room. It overlooks the street. There are stickers on the walls, and my drawings pinned up on each side. His bed isn't made.

"Has he slept here?"

"I haven't touched his room since he went to hospital."

I walk over to the closet.

A thought strikes me.

He might be leaving.

He might be going on the train.

We bought the tickets for today.

But it leaves in half an hour.

As I open the closet it is still full.

He hasn't touched any of his clothes.

"I need to go."

"Oscar? Do you know something?"

"I need to go."

I walk.

And I walk.

And I don't stop till I get to the station.

It's just like the day we bought the tickets.

Early morning.

Cold.

The sky pale, but calm.

The station is mostly empty.

I look at the seats. He's not there.

I check the bus stop. He's not there.

I wait.

I get on the train.

I check all the carriages.

He's not there.

I wait 'til it leaves.

I watch everyone who gets on it.

He's not there.

I start losing hope.

He's gone.

I've lost him.

I start to walk away.

I don't know where I'm going.

I don't have anyone to go to.

I can't go to Lilly.

I can't go to my parents.

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse his bike.

It's up against the wall.

It's still broken.

He never fixed it.

But, in the basket there's a note.

I open it.

Dear Oscar,

You finding this means you care. Or maybe you don't. You just stumbled across it. Either way, I'm glad you found it. I need to explain everything.

The first day I saw you, in that art class, I fell for you. I fell for you hard. That was the reason I talked to you. I knew you were shy but I was going to do anything for you.

You were that boy. The perfect boy. The boy with dimples and freckles and glasses. The boy who I wanted to hug. I wanted to run my fingers through your hair.

You were always there for me. You were such a good friend .

But fear controlled you. Your parents controlled you. There was no way you could love me back.

As you know, I was depressed. It wasn't your fault. I was depressed before I met you. I never felt loved. And I know you loved me. But you never loved me in a love way. You didn't want to be gay. It's all the fault of those bullies. I would punch one if I could . But I was weak. I pretended I was confident. I wasn't. I tried to 'live in the moment' and all that crap to hide my feelings.

I had to make sure you never found out. I didn't want you to hate me.

I've wanted to kill myself so many times in the past. But I didn't want to hurt you. The thought that I could wake up in the morning and see your smile or hear your laugh kept me alive. The hope that you might love me too.

When you married Lilly, I thought it was the end. I thought I would just tell you and it would all be over. I thought I could just be rejected and then go. Finally, I would lose the false hope I had been feeding on since I met you.

But then you said you loved me.

You made me think life was worth living.

You made me think I hadn't been lying to myself for all those years.

You made me think it was real.

When you confirmed the truth, and told me what you truly felt, I knew it was the end.

Be careful, Oscar.

Don't play with people's emotions like they're toys.

Some of those toys break.

I was that toy.

Goodbye,Oscar.