I'm going to be up-front: I've always had a crush on Snitch. I mean, come on. He's perfect. Dark hair, blue eyes, tall, cheerful, silly... everything I've ever looked for in a guy.

Too bad he's gay. And taken, to boot.

But I've come to accept it. I don't mind. Actually, he and Skittery are a really cute couple. I love hanging out with them. We'll go out to lunch, me, Skittery, Snitch and our friend Mayfly, and Snitch and Skittery will get into a fake argument, where Skittery will end up biting Snitch's shoulder, Snitch will scream about abuse, and we just have a generally good time.

I've never considered us, like, really close friends or anything, though. We're on the "hug on special occasions" level, you know? Right below "talk to each other when you're bored in class," and just above "randomly being invited to each other's house for no damn reason." We knew each other, we went out to lunch together on half-days, we had classes together, we were both in band... there were plenty of connections. But I never claim to know him as well as, say, Skittery does. I mean, come on. Skittery grew up next door to him. They've always known each other. Hence why they're perfect together and I have to accept my unrequited love. Hah.

I remember the end of sophomore year. Snitch and Skittery weren't dating yet, no one knew either of them was gay, and I was in a particularly strong part of my circle of crushing. I followed him out of band one day and got him to tell me that he was moving because his parents were getting a divorce. That surprised me. I'd gone to his birthday party earlier that year, both his parents had been there, and they'd seemed to get along fine. But what did I know? It might have been an act, special for his sweet sixteen.

He never told me about his fights with Skittery; I had to find out about them from other people. I remember a big one last year, so bad that Snitch showed up in English wearing his own gold class ring with the opal in the center, instead of Skittery's silver one with its amethyst jewel. I asked him what was wrong, and he just shrugged and said it was okay. I pressed him and he finally answered that he and Skittery were having "...issues." His exact word. "Issues." That's what he always said when I asked him what was wrong. It was right before a long weekend of some sort when he had this big fight (and I seem to recall it was at the same time that he was having some kind of argument with his mother). I took him aside after class right then and told him to make things right over the weekend because I cared about him and didn't want to see him sad anymore. He hugged me, gave a weak smile, said thanks, and went on out to lunch, leaving me to shake my head at his hardheaded-ness.

I've never understood him and I probably never will. I don't really care to, 'cause I like the way things are right now. I like being his friend. I like being Skittery's friend (because to be honest, I know Skittery better; I was Skittery's friend long before I was Snitch's).

But I saw something last weekend that made me re-think my friendship and my closeness to Snitch. Not that I wanted to withdraw it or anything after I saw this, but... I wanted to make it better. I wanted to be closer to him. I wanted him to trust me enough to tell me these things. Because I didn't want to learn about that sort of thing in such a way next time.

We have this tradition in marching band, a March-A-Thon. It's our big, hugeass, eight-hour practice, from seven to six. It's usually when we get all our work done. It's the big push day. The upperclassmen, like Snitch, Skittery and myself, love it.

We get a lunch break around eleven during March-A-Thon. This year, I sat outside the band room in a big circle with all my really close buds- Mayfly, Mondie, Twitch, David, Blink, Mush, Gracie, Doc, Becks... everyone. Skittery and Snitch joined us as well. We had fun with each other, like we always do. I stole everyone's pickles and gobbled them up before anyone noticed. Skittery lifted up his brownie and made a crack about "special" brownies. Doc and Snitch messed up their hair and refused to talk to us in anything except Monty Python or Mel Brooks quotes. Mayfly, Mondie, Twitch and I all burst into song, anything from RENT or Chicago, until David and Blink got sick of it and started an impromptu rap about the pains of Broadway freaks. The usual.

Then Snitch suddenly got up and walked away, towards the parking lot. I paid no attention to it; Mayfly and I were up getting refills on our Powerade when he left and what could be so wrong with it? Snitch did random things like that all the time.

But when we sat back down, I noticed that Skittery was in a mood. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Skittery was as bad as Snitch when it came to sharing problems. I frowned and glanced around. "Where's Snitch?"

Skittery's jerked his head back, gesturing at the parking lot. I looked out there and saw Snitch standing on the curb under a streetlight, by a gold van, talking to a woman, his mother. After a short study, I was shocked to notice that she was yelling at him. It was at just the right space away for me to hear what was wrong, but there was no doubt that she was yelling at him. In front of everyone. Now, Snitch is a very respected figure in our band. He's a section leader, vice president of the band council, and is always there to pump people up, always finding something to hype on, no matter how random it is (I remember an incident involving wearing your sunglasses upside down). He's a favorite. Everyone likes him.

And here's his mother. Yelling at him. In front of the entire band.

My hand went to my mouth, and I shuddered, disturbed.

Skittery was muttering to himself: "What the fuck is she doing here? She's supposed to be on a fucking cruise, the bitch. I can't believe she's doing this."

I nodded my head and bit my lip, unable to say anything in fear that I would throw up the food I had just eaten. I didn't know why this had affected me in this way, just that it had. I was shaking. I wanted to cry. Watching him lower his head and stare at the ground, shuffling his feet and swaying from side to side... that wasn't the Snitch that I knew. That wasn't the happy, lovable boy with ADD and faster reflexes than I could ever dream of having. That wasn't my sweet friend who had dragged me into his orgy fight with Skittery, even though I no longer wanted to be in his orgy once he called the scary tenors into it.

That wasn't the friend that I loved, respected and adored.

"Don't watch, Swinger!" Mush hissed suddenly, and I gasped and looked down at my food. But I couldn't up but glance up and watch out of the corner of my eye. I couldn't believe it. I just... I couldn't.

How could I have not known? I knew that Snitch had issues with his mother, especially since he started dating Skittery. I knew that Skittery hated Snitch's mother, and visa versa. But I didn't know that he was this worse off for it. No wonder he spent so much time at his father's house; his mother was a fucking bitch.

Eventually she left, but Snitch was so humiliated that he retreated to the boys' bathroom for the rest of lunch break. Skittery looked anxious, as if he wanted to go after him, but he knew better. Snitch didn't want to look anyone in the face until absolutely necessary. We had to leave him alone until he was ready to come back from that scared, ashamed boy that was hiding in a bathroom stall, until he could become his hyperactive typical self.

But it was awkward.

It was something I never want to happen again.

I love Snitch. I don't think I'll ever know if it's purely platonic, if it's something more than that, or a combination of the two. But I care about him so much that this affected me. I'd never seen that side of Snitch before. Even when fighting with Skittery, he would smile. Even when worn out and exhausted from lack of sleep and too much band practice, he would smile. He was just... always smiling.

And his mother had made him stop.

That bitch.

I know that I'm not Snitch's closest friend. I'm fully aware of the possibility that he might not care for me as much as I care for him. But the fact remains that I do care.

And I don't want to see him sad anymore.

But I don't know what to do about it.

So I just sit outside the circle and pretend I don't know. Pretend I don't care as much as I do. I let him go on acting and playing his game. He seems happier that way.

And I just want him to be happy.

.::AUTHOR'S NOTE::.

I really didn't know how to end this because, to be honest, it hasn't ended. This pretty much is my friendship with someone that I know. This actually happened. And it bothered me so much that I didn't know how to make it go away until I wrote it down.

So I wrote it down.

Now it's just a question of what I do with it.

::sigh:: Ah well. Anyhoo. Now that I have this out of my system, next up should be, well, the March-A-Thon chapter of While the Thunder Rolls or the next part of Pushing Back, whichever I finish first. Look out for them. Ta!