You know, the last thing I expected at 3 in the morning wasn’t by my phone going off, but the fact that it was a call. And not only that, a call from my best friend, Cody. In all my years of knowing him, he definitely wasn’t a night owl, and especially not at 3am. Still, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of concern in my gut. Cody did mention going to Brad’s party tonight. What if something happened to him? Something bad? Something...really bad?

Of course, I was immediately proved wrong when I was greeted with when I answered the call was muffled giggling.

“Uh...Hello?” I asked, both confused and concerned.

Silence. More giggling. Then....

“Hey...I’m lookin’ for a...Seymour Asses?”

I rolled my eyes. I should have known. “Dude!”

The receiver practically bursts from the laughter that follows. (A group of people seemed to be listening in to...whatever this is.) I sighed, and tried to collect my thoughts into something a little kinder. “Cody, are you...uh, are you okay?”

“I’on know...I think so? I—hicc—hope so.”

“You hope so? Cody, are you drunk or something?”

Cody chuckles again, sluggishly. “Y-yeah.”

I let out a deep sigh, and drag my hand across my face. “Well...do you have a ride home?”

Another lengthy pause. “No. My mom’s away on another business trip, and I don't want Nathan to pick me up.”

I groan. Nathan is Cody’s new stepdad. I’ve never met him, but Cody has repeatedly made the sentiment that he...isn’t the best person to exist, we’ll say. I can definitely see why he wouldn’t want to ask too many favors from him.

“Okay. I guess I’ll come pick you up.”

At this point, I had gotten out of bed and thrown some clothes on; a pair of black shorts, a white t-shirt, and a bright orange hoodie. The hoodie was Cody’s, the one he had left at my house the night we took acid with Lindsey, Cody’s girlfriend at the time. I had never taken acid before that night, so my experience wasn’t very good. I ended up having a panic attack—the worst one I’ve ever had—and Cody had to walk me home. The next thing I remembered was waking up the next morning to find a note on my bedside table—Hey, dude. Text me when you wake up, or something. Codster—and that orange hoodie wrinkled up on the floor. And there it sat, for weeks on end, until I had picked it up to wear tonight.

“O-okay. Do you know—hicc—where Brad’s house is?”

“Not really,” I remark as I slide the hoodie over my head. (It still smelled like Axe body spray and the dollar-store hair gel he buys in bulk every Saturday.)

“It’s on the corner of...uh, Garden, and…fuck, Harrier? Dunn?”

I sigh, already growing tired again. “Is Brad there?”

“Uhhhhh hold on—BRAD! ARE YOU THE...Oh.—Yeah, he’s here.”

“Can you just ask him what the address is?”

——

Sneaking out of my house is always easy to do. Comically easy, in fact. My parents’ bedroom is on the second floor, and they could probably sleep through the goddamn apocalypse. My bedroom was on the first floor, just down the hall from the basement, which was where the back door was. The keys to the moped was always sitting in the same place on the coffee table (the upper left hand corner, right next to the massive pile of college brochures).

The only problem was getting to Brad’s house to Cody’s house and then back to my house on time.

Come to think of it, Brad was more of the problem. His house was all the way across town, a whole 30 minutes away. Driving there, picking up Cody, sneaking him back inside his house, and driving back would be an hour and a half long journey at the very least. And I had to be back at home by 6:30 to get ready for school.

I was taking a major risk to do this.

But, y’know, anything for a friend, right?

I finally pulled up to Brad’s house about at 5:00 a.m. His house was small, not entirely what I imagined when he bragged about his “epic party castle” of a house. It just looked like a regular, one-story suburban house, save for the garden of red solo cups scattered around the yard. I parked by the curb in front of the house, and waited.

A few moments pass before the door swings open. Brad walks out, dragging Cody behind him. Cody’s hunched over like he’s just been kicked in the gut, groaning in agony. I sigh for what feels like the tenth time tonight and get off the bike. Christ, what has he done now?

Before I have to ask, Brad tells me. “He thought it would be a bright idea to try to chug a whole can of PBR...in less than a minute. Tried to get us to time it on our phones, too. Ended up puking all over my mom’s bed.”

Cody grumbled weakly from his hunched-over position. “Couldn’t make it…to the bathroom...”

I take Cody out of Brad’s grasp, and led him into mine. The smell of alcohol on his clothes was so strong I couldn’t help but gag a little. “Uh, thanks for making sure he didn’t, like, leave the house, or whatever.”

Brad chuckles in the stereotypical jock way that only stereotypical jocks can. “No problem, man. Keep it real.” He holds up his hand, expecting a handshake from me. I reciprocate, somewhat awkwardly, with the hand that isn’t holding Cody upright. “Yeah, same to you.” Brad goes back into the house, and I start leading Cody to the moped. “If you have to puke again, try not to get it on me or the moped. I don’t want to my moms to kill me.”

Cody nods as we climb onto the bike. “Alright.” He wraps his arms around me, almost in a death grip, as I start the engine.

---

I never realised how little happens in my town until now, driving through in the middle of the night. Now, you know how New York is always called “The City That Never Sleeps”? Low Gap, Missouri would be called “The City That Always Sleeps” if anybody gave enough of a shit about it to name it. It’s not the smallest town in Missouri; it’s actually fairly big. It’s just so insignificant. The only real reason people come here is because they can’t afford to live in a bigger city, like St. Louis.

But, strangely, driving through it at the crack of dawn while my drunk best friend sleeps on my back is the closest I’ve come to liking it. Everything is just so quiet, and peaceful, not like how it was during the day. It’s kind of endearing.

At 6:00, I finally pull into Cody’s driveway. “Hey,” I whisper, moving my shoulder to stir him. “We’re here.”

He groans. “God, how are we gonna get in? The front door is really loud. I don’t want Nathan to see me and call me a piece of shit drunk again.”

I sigh, looking around the house for a place to get in.

“Hey, wait. Dude, my windows open!”

Sure enough, The window to Cody’s bedroom was slightly open. It was perfect.

We snuck over to the window. It was on the first floor, so it wasn’t a very daunting height. Cody is still fairly intoxicated, so the issue came from him trying to climb inside safely.

It takes about 10 minutes of struggling before Cody slides through the window and into his room with a sharp thud!

“You okay?” I whisper.

Nothing. “Cody?”

Some rustling. Then...

“I’m okay!” He hisses out the open window.

I let out a relieved breath. “Okay. Good. See you in a couple hours.” I finally got him home safe. I can finally go home.

“Hey? Jonathan?”

I turn back around to see Cody’s head sticking out the window.

“Uh, yeah?”

“I...I’m really sorry that I made you come to Brad’s in the middle of the night to pick me up.”

I walk up to the window. As I get closer, I start to see that Cody’s eyes are swelling up with tears. He’s probably still a bit drunk, but I couldn't help feeling like he really felt bad.

“No, no, no,” I said quickly, instinctively going to slide into the window and wrap my arms around him. “It’s okay. I’m not mad. Really, I’m not.”

“R-really?” Cody whispers, moving to wipe away the tears rolling down his face.

I mean, I was a little mad when I got woken up in the middle of the night by his crank call, but he wouldn't be able to get home any other way. I was, most likely, his only chance.

“Yeah, really. Cody, you’re my best friend. I’d do anything for you.”

Cody smiles. And not in the stereotypical jock way that his other friends do, he genuinely grins super wide, tears still gushing down his face. He sniffs. “I’m sorry you have to see me like this.”

I pull him into another hug, a tighter one. “It’s okay. It’s been a long night.”

He laughs. “It really has.”

I look over at the digital clock. 6:20 a.m. “Shit, I really gotta go now. I got ten minutes before my moms wake me up.” I quickly slide out of the window and start back again to the moped.

“W-Wait, Jonathan!”

I turn back around again, and sighed. “Yeah?”

“Is that my hoodie?”

I look down. I completely forgotten that I had put it on. “Oh, yeah, it is. You want it back?” I start taking off his hoodie before Cody has time to answer.

“N-no, you can keep it! It...it suits you better. And, orange isn't really my color, anyways.”

I smile a little, putting the hoodie back on. “Okay. Anything else you wanna tell me?’

Cody pauses for a moment, contemplating...something. “No, not right now.”

I wasn’t sure if he actually meant it, but I didn't have time to think about it. I turned one last time, got on the moped, started the engine, and took off.

Thankfully, I make it back to my house a couple minutes shy of 6:30. I parked the moped in the garage and make a dead sprint around the side of my house, into the back door, up the stairs, and into my room. I sit down on my bed and sigh as my alarm clock starts going off.

I did it. I managed to sneak out of the house and get back in time. All because of Cody. Like I said before, it was a major risk, but I did it anyway.

Anything for a friend.

red--

color of love, lust, infatuation, obsession.

color of valentines passed between middle school lovers, and roses nearing blossom.

color of decaying falltime leaves,

crushed under feet,

swept into gutters,

discarded & forgotten by winter arrives.

color of blood, staining clothes, ruining tile, a life lost, but never forgotten.