Don’t talk to strangers. It's a phrase most children have taped to their foreheads, etched in their brains, a scar on their moral code. Somehow, mine was not there. 

My name is Casper Michaelis. My parents had never taught me the simple things in life. Right and wrong were always known as life experiences rather than lessons to be taught to their children. Most would say something of that nature is ‘irresponsible parenting’ or some dumb phrase like that, but I didn’t think so. It allowed me to reach out, to keep lessons tied with permanent memories that molded my moral code. I didn’t have quotes and phrases read to me in textbook form; instead, stories to mark what I stand for and why I am this way. 

I come from a Korean family. My parents are immigrants who traveled from our home country to the place I grew up for most of my early life: England. I moved to New York for middle and high school, and that was where I found myself needing to blend in. The place was filled with everything I loved: the breezy rush of people passing by, the urgent need to keep walking, and strangers bumping into each other on the street only to apologize and continue on their way as if it wasn’t much of a bother. People spoke to each other busily, interacting and not caring for personal space. I loved it; this place where I could so easily assimilate and make myself larger than life. Those things came easy to me since I was never restricted from such things. Suddenly being tossed into a crowd as the new kid was probably the most exciting experience of my life. 

“Yo, Bubblegum!” That nickname made me laugh. It was one that was only spoken by one person in my life. He used it because of the flashy color of my hair: a bright, blazing pink. Trust me, I liked the attention. I turned my head to look over my shoulder, a catty grin spreading across my face. The rustling of the green leaves around me and that familiar voice carefully withered away the image of my past. He is no longer a stranger, this man. 

“Where have you been, Nate? I thought I’d age another twenty years if I waited any longer,” I spoke with a chuckle, correcting the circular glasses on my face as they had been pushed down after my sudden head-turn. It was ages ago when I met Nathan Williams. I am an adult now and the two of us are bonded in a way I can't describe. I wouldn’t call him my best friend, though. My best friends are the people I talk to daily and keep in constant contact with, afraid of losing them if I forget to reply to their messages. Best friends are the people I’ve met that I go to when I need something or someone to exchange stories with. Best friends are there to keep you on your feet when you need a helping hand. That's all swell and good, but Nathan was never that type of person to me. 

When I moved to New York for the first time, I planned on creating a new appearance for myself. I’d decided to rise myself to fame and to do that I would need to know people, and have connections and conversations with those unlike me. It was pretty difficult to find those who have ticked every box in the checklist when all you do is chatter though. I attracted social butterflies like a magnet and the people I wanted to talk to the most didn’t exactly share my interest. But I didn’t care about what people thought; their not wanting to speak to me wasn't my problem so I would shove myself into their social bubble anyway. Maybe this was one of those times when I needed to be told of boundaries but I still don’t really regret anything.

One day, I was walking back from school and a boy was sitting crouched on his porch. His black hood was up, the strings tangled into a sloppy bow. His knees were closely held to his chest and he seemed to be in a timeless daze. He kept an opened green can of some sort of pop beside him. The aura around him seemed awfully gloomy, almost like the despair would grapple over me and drag me down if I climbed into his social bubble. That was the first time I'd seen someone like him not actively seeking attention. The people like him in my high school were always complaining about how sad they were, crying and sobbing without doing something to fix themselves. Those things frustrated me. I couldn’t understand why they did such a thing. It was a small part of the reason I wanted to know more, not only for my career but also to ease my frustration and reach a level of social awareness that I hadn't had before. 

The first few days I walked down that street, I’d thrown a glance his way, occasionally waving hello only to get ignored in a way I never had before. I noticed one day he had his hood down and I could see his face briefly. Tanned skin without any blemishes, unusual for a high schooler; deep turquoise eyes; finely sculpted features that were so different from my soft ones; smooth, silky blonde hair that was cut short just above his pierced ears. He could be popular is what I thought. Usually, it didn’t bother me when others didn’t enjoy my presence. I was used to it so I only hung out with those similar to me. This boy; however, made me feel ostracized. 

I became petty, shoving my hands into my pockets and acting as if I didn’t care about him anymore to see how he'd react… but nothing. He didn’t respond to my obvious grapples for attention. How exactly was I supposed to reel him in? I wanted to have a conversation. I wanted to know more. His name, his personality, his age, his story. Why did he sit there every day staring at nothing?

At some point, the days seemed a little brighter and his spot started to look a little less uninviting. Somehow, I stomached the ability to stop my feet at his house instead of walking right past like I typically do. I stared at him. He stared back. I grinned. He didn’t grin back. I couldn’t see an expression in his eyes. It was blank like a blue, cloudless summer's day. 

“What’s your name?” I spoke first, breathing life into weeks of silence but to no avail. He didn’t respond. “You’re a tough cookie.” I laughed. Well, he didn’t beat me up for talking to him so what was there to be afraid of? It was my golden opportunity, so I took the chance. I walked up his stairs, entering his little bubble of gloom and sitting myself down beside him with a huff. I could see my breath. “Cold out here, isn’t it? I'm Casper Michaelis, by the way. Nice to meet you.” I lent out a hand like it was a formal interview, only to withdraw as my enthusiasm was, once again, ignored. I didn’t stop. “You’re pretty dull, huh? That's okay, I'm good with people like you. You’ll like me eventually, everyone does.” The words came off my lips like butter but the blonde didn’t seem to find me so slick. He shifted, turning away from me slightly. I could hear the air come out of his nostrils and he sighed in exasperation, obviously tired of my personality. I continued talking though, my stupid grin unwavering. “I'm planning on heading into the modeling industry. Seems ambitious but I'm rebellious. See, my parents want me to do something different but I told them I’d do what I want and slammed the door on our relationship.” 

The blonde picked his head up, looking at me in a way that hit me harder than words would have if he’d spoken it instead. He wanted me to leave. Instead of doing so, I got straight to the point. My smile deflated like a balloon and I leaned back on my arms, averting my eyes and looking to the sidewalk with lidded emerald eyes, “I figured it’d be nice to get to know someone who doesn’t want me around,” I joked wryly, “I don’t think you want me here right now though. We’ll take it step-by-step. I told you that you’ll come to like me. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?” I reached out, lifting the boy's hand and cupping it with my own, shaking it briefly before standing up and brushing my designer clothes off. Within a few moments, we met eyes and I left his side.

The next day, I met him in the same spot. He had his hood down, trudging his shoe against the ground and picking at the skin on his fingers. Was he waiting for me? He lifted his eyes as I paused in front of his house, keeping his turquoise gaze locked with mine. I smiled, pleased at his awkward stature.

 He never pushed me away. Week by week, he continued to listen to my incessant rambling about each hour of my day. I wondered why he never told me his name but I soon got used to his silence. He’d only sit there at first, clearly uninterested, but then he started to look in my direction, leaning with his chin in his hand as I spoke. Sometimes, he’d have two drinks placed beside him; one meant for me and the other for him. He liked sparkling water, flavored with lime. I hated it but drank it for the sake of keeping his attention. 

I gave him my phone number and address as I started coming less frequently, but he never used either of them. I never got a single text or call, my phone remaining empty with nothing but spam calls and the occasional modeling agency. 

Knock knock. That day I opened the door I fully expected a door-to-door salesman but there he was; blonde hair, eye bags, dimly lit turquoise eyes, and a bag from a nearby convenience store clenched in his hand.

“Nathan Williams,” A deep voice rang in my ears as loud as an orcas call, but his tone was soft and insecure. It caught me by surprise, as I hadn't expected that to come out of someone so quiet and unobtrusive. He kept his eyes on the ground, “That's my name.”

“Nathan,” I repeated, giving him a slow nod as I processed that voice of his along with my sudden success. I managed to talk to him. This was our first conversation; a brief and quiet four words to begin a lifetime of friendship. At the time though, I didn’t think too much of it, “So what's up? Why did you come?”

He looked at me as if I was stupid, staring at me as if I should already know. I knew why he was there but pretended to be oblivious so I could hear his voice again. Someone who was previously voiceless, I could now hear. Instead of answering like I expected him to, he barged inside, shoving past my shoulders and intruding into my house. Bold and unexpected. He sat himself down on my couch, rummaging through the bag of what I had correctly assumed to be cans of sparkling water and handing one to me with a steady gaze. 

“What, did you miss me?” I asked, taking a seat beside him and cracking open the can. Nathan shrugged in response, but I could tell that was a yes. I mean, why else would he have come over?

I didn’t tease him anymore after that. Instead, I took a seat beside him, leaning back against my couch and beginning my ramble of the day. Our conversation breezed through topics like our favorite foods, recent political events, and philosophical ideas. Now and again Nathan opened his mouth to add a comment or two, and every time I responded without judgment or questioning his expression seemed to relax. His shoulders dropped from the sides of his neck and he spread his legs, sinking into my couch. I found myself getting caught up in the moment; minutes turning into hours.

“You’re persistent.”

I looked at Nathan as he spoke, grinning cheekily, “yeah but you came around, didn’t you?” Nathan just looked to the side, shrugging once again. I found it amusing, his little mannerisms I picked up on. Shrugging his shoulders was a yes. It was the best I’d get as acquiescence. 

“I missed the company.”

I laughed, reaching out to pat his back. After that, we talked more until the sunlight on our faces disappeared. The sunny air of the sky darkened until small specks of white remained to hover above the house in which we spoke.  The paint on the walls of my home dulled but our conversation remained exciting and enthusiastic. I didn’t expect to get along with someone who was the complete opposite of me. He began talking more, his slender arms remaining in his lap awkwardly as he spoke about how he daydreamed on the porch every day. He described how his head was always filled with thoughts of his family, his ex-lovers, his dull high school life, and his lack of friends. He told me how things changed when I came around, how I was frustrating at first, and how he warmed up to me. I laughed again, crinkling my nose as he described how he hated my outward appearance. We continued, and he talked about how he was insecure about his voice, about how he was teased for it.

“Some people called me an echo chamber.” He muttered, rubbing at his fingernails and pursing his lips, “So I just stopped talking altogether.”

 I snorted, covering my mouth as I tried not to laugh. The blonde just stared at me, and I wondered whether he would be offended that I found such a thing to be hilarious. Then, a small smile. He chuckled, a deep, charming voice that warmed my heart. I'd never heard it before, nor had I ever seen him smile. I was happy to watch him express himself. I rubbed under my nose, cracking up a little more. We laughed for a while and he told me how that was the first time he was able to find an upsetting moment of his life a little less depressing. 

“Sometimes you just need to let go of what other people think. Just laugh and smile. I learned a long time ago that some people won't understand you, but some will. Some will judge out of jealousy but keep your arms open and inviting and the right people will come your way. The world isn’t that kind of a place but there are people in it that can make you see it in a more beautiful light. I found you interesting, and you didn’t push me away. And personally, I think that voice of yours is pretty nice. Isn’t that good enough to keep you content?”

Nathan smiled, fiddling with the can of lime sparkling water in his hands, “Yeah. That's enough for me.”

“I promise you won't have to go through all that again as long as I'm around,” I swore, holding out my pinky finger like a child. He stared at it momentarily but was quick enough to meet my hand, interlocking his own pinky to solidify our pact.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” 

Those days were so long ago and now that I think back, I didn’t expect to be so compatible with that guy. I looked at Nathan who sat beside me on the grassy field. I chuckled to myself, which caught his attention. The boy smirked. God, he had the biggest ego now; some confidence, and a bartending job too. After all that, he ended up joining me in my modeling career. I told you he could be popular. He was unsure at first but he caught on pretty quickly, rising to fame by my side. He’d started working out as well, though his outfit choices hadn't changed much. Honestly, it shocked me to see such a tiny, shy kid bulk up like that. 

“You’ve turned into a gym bro, Nate,” I joked, leaning back.

“Oh yeah? Must be all the lime soda,” Nathan retorted, reaching out. I felt his knuckles meet my head, digging into my scalp as he gave me a noogie like I was a child. Oh, how the tables have turned.

A grin spread across my face and I looked at him, “Must be.” Nathan has never been someone I’d consider my best friend. We met in circumstances where I wasn't exactly looking to make a close friend. I was acting on impulse, and somehow we ended up tied together like soulmates. Yeah, that's what I’d call him. Nathan is the type of person I could stop talking to for years and we could come back someday in the future and still have the same friendship that we did when we parted. Nathan is the type of person to have opinions different than mine but he would still sit and listen to my side as well. He's the type of person to drink lime sparkling water in the corner of a staircase; to make silly, childish promises, and to keep them until we’re old and wrinkly. He's my un-best friend. My soulmate.

Hannah Mattamana is a senior in the class of 2023 and she has been painting with watercolors and writing stories about her characters since early elementary school. She uses these mediums as a way of self-expression and to explore ideas and topics from her imagination that couldn’t be found in real life. She enjoys topics that revolve around fiction and fantasy, also dabbling in some adventure as well. She wants to become a concept artist in the future and hopes to continue writing stories about her characters for years to come.

About this story: "This piece is about my two characters; Nathan and Casper, who have two opposite personalities. This displays how they have met, how they’ve come from two different backgrounds, and how eventually they become un-best friends."