In the attic, everything was coated in a layer of grime. Yellowed light filtered through the dust in the air, capturing its erratic dance like a spotlight. Ben stooped down, fingers hovering over a wrinkled box with a torn side and soft edges. Lifting the lid, he emancipated new billows of dust, sending the particles freely into the air and scattering them across the ground. With a cough, he took the photo album from the box, hesitating before flipping open the first page. Mildew and must burned his lungs and he coughed again, this time making more of an effort to retrieve his breath. When he turned his watery gaze back to the album, his eyes rested on the single picture caught in the yellowed film. His breath faltered, tears welling up in his eyes.

He wouldn’t cry. He would not cry.

The three of them smiled back; Chris had his hand around Rachel’s shoulders, and Ben had pressed himself against her arm to fit in the frame. He remembered the night they took it: smiling, carefree, naive. The night after, he had gotten his scar.

It was two months ago, but he remembered it clearly. The night had been waning, submitting to a gray sky and the waking sun. Ben’s bedroom was dim, illuminated only by the screensaver on the television and the brightening sky peering through the blinds. The group had rubbed sleep away from their drowsy eyes, substituting rest with movies and card games. Dawn came as a surprise. Ben supposed that exhaustion would catch up with him halfway through the day, although he couldn’t be bothered to care.

“Maybe it’s a good thing we don’t do this often. It’s not that I don’t miss you guys, but I’m gonna be too tired to function tomorrow,” Rachel had said. They sat on the floor, pressed against the foot of the bed to get a better view of the screen. Rachel leaned back on the bed frame, a grin gleaming in her eyes. 

Ben smiled back at her. “Today. You’re going to be too tired to function today,” he said. 

Rachel rolled her eyes, snapping her gum. “I’m gonna be tired. You get the picture.”

“Actually, we should do this again. This was fun,” Chris said. 

Ben was pretty sure Chris just wanted to spend more time with Rachel, but he bit his tongue. Chris’ feelings were transparent to everyone in the room, and Ben didn’t need to waste his breath stating the obvious. Rachel was pretty enough, with long, straight hair falling to her back and a lopsided dimple on her right cheek. Not exactly Ben’s type, but Chris was head over heels. The poor guy was too chicken to ask her out, but she’d probably get tired of waiting and do it herself. Ben’s gut twisted. It was whatever. Rachel wasn’t the kind of person to forget about the friends she didn’t date.

Rachel grinned again. Ben hummed in agreement, lifting his gaze to the ceiling as if he were contemplating something important. He wasn’t really. There never seemed to be much to think about, nothing so critical that made his mind linger. For now, he was replaying the rom-com they had finished thirty minutes prior. He’d probably be thinking about something else in a handful of minutes. He had never really wasted much time on things like social injustice and politics. He'd much rather let his brain jump from subject to subject. Rachel always said he was too easy-going. He would argue that upsetting himself was pointless.

“Yeah, I’m down to hang again. One of my friends is hosting a party at his parent’s place. Would you guys wanna tag along? I could introduce you,” Rachel said. 

Chris nodded a little too fast, and after a second, Ben joined in with a shrug.

“Sure. Sounds fun,” Ben said, a content grin lingering on his lips. Rachel’s smile stretched even wider at this, and she messed with the camera strap suspended from her neck. Ben snorted. He already knew what she was going to ask. She was like an open book, wearing her old camera like a necklace and packing her photo album in her bag. Her photography class must have inspired her, or maybe she suddenly got sentimental.

“Wanna take a picture to remember this night?”

Ben shut the photo album, clasping it between his hands like he was afraid to let go. Maybe he was. If he set it down, put it back in the dusty box and left it to rot, he would be leaving a part of his life behind forever. He knew he would have to do it eventually. But he didn’t have to right then, did he? He could stay like this for as long as he needed, head leaned back against the wall of the attic, photo album clutched between his fists, breathing in dust. Thinking. Remembering.

If only he didn’t have anything to drink…

Ben wished he had never gone to that party.

It was the night after their first get-together. The party was small, smaller than the ones Ben was used to. A handful of cars were parked along the edge of the sidewalk, all banged up and dented in some way. There was no activity in the driveway and no noise could be heard from inside the modest house. He wondered if Rachel had told her friend that she invited him. The party seemed to be too intimate to show up unexpectedly. It looked more like a friendly get-together than anything.

Parking the car, Ben asked Rachel, “You told your friend that we’re coming, right?”

“Yup.”

“It looks pretty small,” Chris noted, peering out of the window. 

Rachel shrugged, unbuckling her seatbelt. With a sigh, Ben turned the engine off and stepped out of the car, glancing up at the welcoming house. Rachel walked to his side, carrying a case of beer. She nudged his ribs with her free elbow, eyebrows drawn together quizzically.

“What are you sighing about? We used to go to parties together all the time,” she said, a breathy laugh punctuating her sentence.

 Ben sighed again. “It just doesn’t look very fun,” he said.

“Don’t be like that.  It’s gonna be plenty fun. Plus, Damion’s excited to meet you guys.” She smiled up at Ben hopefully, light from the house gleaming in her pupils. 

Chris walked up to them, and they continued towards the door. Rachel knocked, and after a few seconds of awkward silence the house opened up to them, revealing a tall young man whose smile seemed to consume half his face.

“Rachel! I’m glad you could make it,” he exclaimed, eyes flicking over to Ben and Chris. Ben waved back at him. The man ushered the group inside, and after closing the door behind them, turned to introduce himself.

“It’s nice to meet you! My name’s Damion. You two must be Ben and Chris; Rachel told me all about you.” 

He was still grinning from ear to ear, friendliness rolling off him in waves. Chris stuck out his hand and Damion shook it eagerly, grasping onto his palm with both hands as if he were meeting somebody special. Ben couldn’t help but wonder how he could act like he was starved of human contact when he was hosting a small party in the next room.

“Nice to meet you,” Ben said, surveying the room. The house was bright, illuminated from every corner with haphazardly placed lamps and unceremoniously decorated with plastic plants. The faint sound of jazz drifted into the entryway, along with the sour smell of cigarettes. The living area was in the next room over; he could see a sliver of it if he peeked his head past the wall.

Rachel led them into the kitchen, which was connected to the living room and scattered with people. She dropped the case of beer onto the table and without another word to Ben made a beeline for the group of college kids loitering by the snacks. Chris followed, leaving Ben stranded in the kitchen. Dammit. He took a bottle of beer from the package Rachel had just set down to occupy himself.

She looked like she was having fun, already introducing Chris to the group of kids. They must be her friends from school. Ben scowled slightly, taking a sip of his beer. Why would she invite him to this party if she was just going to ditch him for someone else?

She probably expected him to follow her. Well, it was too late for that now.

“So, Ben, tell me about yourself,” Damion said, reminding Ben of his existence. Ben startled and turned to face him. He was still smiling.

“Oh, um… There’s not much to know about me, to be honest.” Ben’s lips were tight. He hoped that Damion would notice his uncomfort and move on to talk with someone else.

“Come on, there’s gotta be something,” Damion urged.

Ben shrugged, taking a sip of his beer. “I like to play guitar, I guess,” he said, the tip of the bottle still lingering by his lips. He watched Damion cautiously, praying that he was standoffish enough to ward him off.

Damion’s eyes lit up. “That’s not nothing,” he said, missing Ben’s hints. “ Are you any good at it?”

Ben wasn’t sure how to answer. He wasn’t Brian May, but he liked to think that he wasn’t bad. He knew a handful of songs, but he never came up with any of his own. He just played for fun, that’s all. He didn’t really care if he was good or not.

“I’m fine,” he said. 

Damion nodded in approval. “So, how did you meet Rachel? You two seem like good friends,” he said, glancing over Ben’s shoulder to look at her. 

Ben followed his gaze. Rachel was laughing, elbowing Chris in the side. He understood why Damion might be confused about their friendship; she was bright, bubbly, sociable, alive. He was just along for the ride.

When he met Rachel, Ben was young and not very outgoing. His parents had fussed over his ‘friend situation’, as they liked to call it, worrying that he was doomed to be lonely forever. In an act of desperation, they had introduced him to one of their friend’s kids, and much to their relief, they hit it off right away. Rachel was not only a good buddy to have around, but she also pushed him to hang out with more of his peers, and eventually introduced him to Chris. The three of them were inseparable.

Well, they were inseparable until they got to college. They all got pretty busy, but since summer had arrived and the work was finally dying down, they decided to start reconnecting. And now here she was, pulling Ben to yet another event, once again pushing him to meet new people. Rachel hadn’t changed a bit.

But she was with Chris, not him. He hoped that they wouldn’t forget about him once they got together.

He didn’t know what he’d do without Rachel.

Ben turned back to Damion, exhaling the silhouette of a laugh. “We’re childhood friends.”

“Oh, really? I thought you two were together.” Damion said, eyes twinkling.

Ben shook his head quickly. “No, no. We’re not… a thing. She’s more like a sister to me. I wouldn’t date my sister.” It was true. He had never seen Rachel like that; changing their relationship in any way would probably just ruin it.

Damion laughed. “Oh, I see. That’s really special! I’ve never been that close to a friend before.”

Ben nodded in agreement, ignoring the last part of Damion’s statement. He looked over his shoulder again. Chris was wrapping his arm around Rachel’s waist tentatively, as if afraid she’d bite him. She leaned into his touch instead.

He bit the inside of his lip until he tasted blood.

No, this was good. They were finally flirting. On the opposite side of the house. WIthout him.

They would still need him once they got together, right?

“You know, I’m actually going to a Green Day concert in about a month and the friend I was supposed to go with just bailed,” Damion said, snapping Ben out of his thoughts. “Would you wanna go? You seem like you’d be chill to go to a concert with.”

Ben looked at him cautiously, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t know. I might be busy.”

“Take my number, then. Let me know if you change your mind.”

Three hours and twenty four minutes later, Ben decided that the night had gone on long enough. The glare from the lamps in each corner had made the house seem offensively bright as the sky outside continued to dim. It was too loud; he didn’t know that so few people could produce such an obtrusive roar.

Ben examined the room for a moment before his eyes fell upon Chris and Rachel, relief washing over him at the sight of them. They sat on top of the kitchen table, leaning against one another as they spoke to the same group of kids from before. Rachel was caught in a giggling fit; Ben couldn’t see her expression, but he could imagine the wide grin straining against her lips. He doubted that whatever made her laugh was really that funny.

With a sigh, Ben set his empty beer bottle on the counter and walked over to Rachel, tapping her lightly on the shoulder. She looked up at him with mirthful eyes and a laugh still trembling in her throat.

“Yeah?” she asked, face flushed.

“I think I’m ready to go now.”

Rachel tilted her head, confusion gleaming in her eyes. “Already?”

“I’m tired,” he said, avoiding eye contact with the college kids across from him. The smoke from their cigarettes was much stronger now that he was closer to them, and he couldn’t help but notice that the odor had drifted all the way across the house. He wished they would’ve smoked outside.

Rachel’s grin dropped slightly before she nodded, hopping off the table unsteadily. Chris followed, and Ben started to walk towards the door. He could hear them still lingering in the kitchen, saying goodbye to their friends and thanking Damion for the party. Ben continued to walk, hoping that his urgency would make them leave faster.

He did feel kind of bad about not enjoying the party. He knew that Rachel really wanted to be there and he could learn more about her new life if he stuck around, but he couldn’t make himself stay any longer. The chaos had disconnected his eyes from his brain; he was there but he wasn’t really, like he was watching a movie. His hands had grown sweaty enough to make drinking impossible. There were too many new faces, too many introductions, and way too many weird plastic plants. It was too much. He was ready to go.

Ben opened the door. The fresh air collided with his skin like a slap to the face, cold and sudden and much more pleasant than the cigarette fumes he had been breathing in all night. He blinked quickly, then glanced over his shoulder to see if his friends were following him.

Chris and Rachel were a few paces behind him, fingers intertwined and hands dangled beside their knees. Other than their hands the two were oddly separated, as if refusing to acknowledge the connection between them. Chris held a bottle in his free hand, taking a sip in an attempt to seem much more indifferent about the whole event. Rachel wore a satisfied grin, as if she was telling the whole world that she had made the first move.

The dread hit him like a car.

“Were you not having fun?” Rachel asked as they walked towards Ben’s car.

He hesitated a moment, unsure of what to say. She seemed disappointed, like he was the one to let her down.

Ben shrugged. “It was fine.”

Rachel sighed in relief. It was quiet again, no sound but the tapping of their shoes against the pavement echoing off the driveway. Before they got into his car, Ben turned to Rachel again.

“Would you mind driving? I’ve had a few beers,” he said. Rachel nodded, so he slid into the passenger seat. Chris lay down in the back, closing his eyes.

She sat behind the wheel and paused, eyebrows furrowed. “Damn. I forgot my camera at home. I was gonna take another picture.” Her voice was low, the ends of her words slurring slightly. She sounded drunk; was she drunk? Ben shook his head, sinking down in his seat. Rachel wouldn’t do something that would put them in danger. He buckled his seatbelt and leaned back, closing his eyes as the engine began to growl.

The exhaustion he had been fighting through the duration of the night washed over him. He leaned against the window, forehead pressing against the cool glass as his breathing slowed.

Ben woke up when the tires shrieked, the whole vehicle flinching to the side. His stomach dropped as the car began to fly.

It was time to put the photo album away. Ben’s legs were cramping after being stuck in the same position for too long, and when he stood, static shot down his veins. He winced, setting the album down and leaving the attic, brushing the dust from his jeans. The crash had been two months ago, but the dust collected quickly. The end of an era.

Rachel and Chris were gone. He was lucky to have made it out of the wreckage alive, or at least that’s what the doctor told him. He was lucky that someone had been there to call the police. He was lucky that he only suffered from a scar running down his temple.

He didn’t feel lucky.

He could barely breathe when he thought about it. It was his fault, anyway. If only he had called an Uber, or stayed the night, or gotten someone else to drive, or something! Rachel was clearly in no condition to drive and he had still trusted her. They wouldn’t have died if he didn’t ask her.

Ben wondered what Rachel would think if she was here. He had been cooped up in his house for two months without anyone to talk to; she wouldn’t like that. She would probably tell him to move on. Make new friends. She’d say that if he stayed stagnant for too long, he would never be able to start moving again. Probably.

With a sigh, Ben took his phone out of his pocket. He dialed a number, and after three rings, the person on the other end picked up. It was quiet for a moment.

Finally, Ben spoke. “Hello, is this Damion?”