Thus, their strange friendship continued.
The boy who never had friends.
The boy who never had real friends.
And the girl who was never truly accepted.
Over the next two years, they had plenty of time to learn about each other. And yet, a barrier remained—an invisible wall that kept them from being completely honest. Each of them held secrets they refused to share, truths too personal to put into words.
But that was fine. They had an unspoken agreement not to pry, a silent understanding that some things were better left unsaid.
Philip sometimes wondered if this was how all friendships worked. Even if he didn't know everything about the sharp-tongued, mischievous Rose or the socially inept yet strangely dependable Darklight, he still felt he understood them more than anyone else. And they, in turn, understood him.
It wasn't the ideal friendship he had imagined, but it was enough. It satisfied him. He didn't ask for more.
So then, why…
"Darklight got into another fight!"
"Eh? Seriously? When are they gonna kick him out?"
A group of kids stood nearby, gossiping loudly.
Philip frowned, irritation flashing across his face. "That's because he actually has good grades and a future—unlike the rest of you."
The group turned to him with glares of annoyance and disgust. "Uh, no one was talking to you."
"I know. But you're so loud it feels like you're talking to the entire school." His tone was sharp as he walked away, ignoring the insults they threw at his back. "Like a bunch of damn monkeys…"
He sighed.
As always, he hated the way Nicholas handled things—always throwing himself into problems that weren't his own, always taking the hit or the blame for someone else.
Even after all this time, Philip still couldn't understand it.
Why was his friend so determined to help others?
"You should really stop doing that."
Philip confronted Nicholas, his arms crossed, expression firm.
Nicholas blinked. "Doing what?"
"Acting like a villain. Antagonizing people. One day, someone might actually try to hurt you for it." Philip's tone carried a weight of concern.
Nicholas smiled at him—yet it was a hollow one. His eyes, once lifeless, now held something even more unsettling. Not warmth, not amusement, but something… unfamiliar.
"Don't worry. While I seem to have crappy luck in most areas of my life, evading death is where I'm particularly fortunate."
He chuckled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head as if his words weren't deeply unsettling.
"You don't have to worry about me. I'll be fine."
Philip gave him a skeptical look. "Will you, though? You don't even know what high school you want to get into, right?" He replaced his frown with a teasing grin, hoping to shift the mood.
Nicholas's eyes widened slightly. "Ah. You're right." He chuckled. "If it comes down to it, I'll probably just go wherever you go."
Philip rolled his eyes. "Don't be like that. With your grades, you could get into any school you want."
"Come on now. You know I have nothing better to do at home, so I just end up studying. Meanwhile, you barely study and still manage to keep up with me." Nicholas effortlessly redirected the praise back to his friend.
"Ever so humble, aren't you? Keep in mind, I'm still behind you."
Nicholas furrowed his brows. "Only because you don't study. If you actually tried, you'd surpass me easily. Between the two of us, you're the real genius here."
Before Philip could respond, an all-too-familiar voice interrupted.
"Haah~ Why are you two talking about something as boring as studying?"
Rose slung her arms over both of their shoulders, using them as makeshift crutches.
"We were also talking about high schools," Nicholas answered, deliberately looking away from her.
Rose narrowed her eyes at the back of his head. "Huuh~? Why would you be talking about something like that?"
Philip groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Because we'll be finishing our third year of middle school in less than two months, Rose. You should already have an idea of where you want to go."
"Well, to be fair, I don't know either," Nicholas added quickly.
Rose turned to him with a bright smile. "Ah, I knew I could count on Nicky!" She ducked behind him, using him as a shield.
Instead of Nicky you might as well call him Micky… Mouse… Philip's thoughts rambled.
Nicholas deadpanned. "Am I just your meat shield…?"
"Only against P.P!" She winked, causing Philip to wince while Nicholas snickered.
"This girl…" Philip growled, but there was no real anger in his voice.
The three of them laughed, ignoring the disgusted glances of their peers.
Guess he wasn't wrong, huh? Sticking with him really did ruin my reputation. Not like I care, though. Philip smirked to himself.
"Oh! Oh, oh! Let's go to the arcade after school, alright? I'll see you both after class!" Rose waved at them as she ran off before either of them could refuse.
"She didn't even give us a chance to say no…" Nicholas muttered. "How cunning…" As always, the monster of logic found meaning in things that had none.
Philip sighed, patting his friend's back. "It's fine. Not like you would have refused anyway, right?"
Nicholas tensed up.
"That's… true," he murmured, as if coming to some realization.
Philip frowned but said nothing.
For some reason, an uneasy feeling settled in his chest.
After school, they all walked together to a nearby arcade, taking a shortcut through an alleyway at Rose's suggestion.
Neither of the boys had any complaints—except…
"Nicholas Darklight! Told you I'd get back at you!"
An obnoxious voice echoed through the narrow alley.
Philip and Rose turned toward the source. A sweaty, loudmouthed boy, around their age—maybe a year older—stood near the exit. Next to him loomed a taller teen, or perhaps a young adult, with a strange haircut and a long line of tattoos snaking up his left arm, stopping just below his neck. His lean, almost scrawny frame clashed with his attempt at intimidation.
Nicholas arched an eyebrow. "Do I know you?" His tone was devoid of interest, however Philip could tell his friend was tense.
The sweaty boy's face turned red. "How could I forget you?! After the humiliation you put me through—!"
"That doesn't narrow it down…" Nicholas muttered under his breath.
Philip and Rose burst into laughter.
The boy twitched, his jaw tightening. "I told you back then—you don't know who you're messing with! I'm way outta your league! But it doesn't matter anymore! Just like I said before—my older brother is gonna kill you!"
While the boy ranted, Nicholas tilted his head slightly, as if deep in thought—or at least, that was Philip's assumption. With Nicholas, it was always difficult to tell.
"Ah," Nicholas finally said, his eyes widening slightly in recognition. "I remember you now."
Philip, still watching the taller teen warily, asked, "So who is he?"
Nicholas sighed. "Upperclassman at our school. I caught him harassing a girl two years younger than him." His voice was calm, but Philip noticed his fists tightening around his backpack straps.
Rose's expression darkened. "Eh? Harass? You don't mean…" Her gaze flicked to the sweaty boy, barely taller than her, and her lips curled in disgust. "Gross. Disgusting. Drop dead."
Her words struck a nerve. The boy stepped forward aggressively, but his older brother held him back with a firm grip.
"I almost didn't want to bother with this." The taller teen scoffed, casting a sideways glance at his younger sibling. "It's already pathetic that an underclassman beat you up." His voice dripped with disdain. "But now that I've come all this way…"
His gaze settled on Rose. More specifically, on her hair.
A slow grin spread across his face. "Well, now. This is interesting." His tone shifted, turning eerie. "A member of the Rose family. Didn't think I'd get this lucky. The big man is gonna pay handsomely for bringing in her head." He let out a low, rasping chuckle. "One might even call it fate."
The glint of a pocketknife flickered in the dim alley light as he took a step forward.
Philip and Nicholas immediately moved in front of Rose, shielding her.
The older teen snorted. "Aw, how cute. The itty bitty brats think they can protect their friend. Don't worry—I'll kill all three of you."
Philip's eyes flickered downward. A rock.
Without hesitation, he swung his foot, sending it flying into the older teen's chin. The impact snapped his head back with a grunt of pain.
Nicholas didn't waste the opening.
With a burst of speed, he sprinted toward a nearby dumpster, eyes locked on a wooden frame leaning beside it. His fingers dug into the brittle wood, and with a sharp pull, he tore off a broken wooden plank.
The alley fell silent for a moment. Then Nicholas turned, gripping the makeshift weapon in his hands. His expression was unreadable. His stance—calm, measured.
But Philip knew.
Nicholas wasn't the type to fight for himself. He fought for others.
And right now, he was preparing to tear someone apart.
The thug recovered from the blow to his chin, a snarl twisting his face. "You little shit—"
Nicholas lunged.
The broken plank in his hands swung upward, intercepting the downward slash of the knife. Wood met steel with a harsh clack!
The thug staggered back, sneering. "Oh? You actually got guts." He flipped the knife in his grip. "Let's see how long that lasts."
Nicholas didn't answer. He simply adjusted his stance, holding the plank like a makeshift sword. His eyes—usually indifferent—were sharp now. Focused.
The thug rushed forward, slashing wildly. Nicholas sidestepped, deflecting the blade with the plank. Each strike sent splinters flying. His counterattacks were swift—striking the thug's ribs, forearm, even nearly catching his jaw. But the thug had experience.
A feint. A sudden lunge.
Nicholas reacted a second too late.
The thug tackled him, slamming him against the pavement, pinning him down with his knee.
The knife gleamed in the dim alley light as he raised it high.
"Die, kid."
Before the blade could come down—
WHAM!
Philip crashed into the thug, sending him sprawling sideways. The knife clattered to the pavement as the two boys scrambled, working together to force the thug onto his stomach.
The thug thrashed beneath them, managing to free one arm. He grinned wickedly, launching his fist at Philip's face. Time seemed to slow as Philip froze, unable to react. But just as the punch was about to land, Nicholas grabbed the thug's fist, pinning it to the ground. The sight snapped Philip out of his daze, and he quickly moved to restrain the thug's other arm.
"Got him!" Philip grunted, forcing the thug's arm down.
Nicholas pressed his forearm against the man's back, keeping him pinned. Then—
A sudden, sharp pain.
Philip gasped.
The thug's younger brother stood behind him, eyes wide with panic, a knife buried in Philip's shoulder.
Nicholas's eyes widened. "Philip—!"
Before the boy could yank the blade out for another stab—
CRACK!
A hand wrenched his wrist violently.
The sweaty boy yelped in pain before a knee slammed into his stomach. He barely had time to wheeze before Rose drove her fist into the side of his head.
He crumpled.
Rose exhaled, flicking her hair back as if nothing happened. "Honestly. You boys take forever to finish a fight."
She spoke with confidence, but her whole body trembled as she stared at the knife lodged in Philip's shoulder.
Philip, though visibly pale, focused on breathing and keeping the thug pinned.
Nicholas and Philip exchanged glances before looking at Rose.
Rose hesitated. "What?"
Philip muttered, "Nothing."
Nicholas, turning his head away, mumbled, "You looked cool."
Rose sighed, stepping toward Philip. Her hand hovered above the knife's handle.
"Don't touch it!" Nicholas snapped. "If you pull it out, it'll start bleeding worse. Did you call the police?"
"How could I not?" Rose huffed. "You were practically waving your phone behind your back. Luckily, I caught on and took it before either of them noticed. Called the cops already."
What? When did that happen? Philip thought, his vision growing blurry. His eyelids felt unbearably heavy.
Before he could collapse, Rose caught him.
Through his fading sight, he saw Nicholas throw one last punch at the thug's face—hard.
Then, his best friend knelt over him, eyes darting over his injuries, assessing.
"You're… you're going to be alright," Nicholas said, voice barely above a whisper. "E-everything's going to be alright."
If Philip hadn't been on the verge of unconsciousness, he probably would have made a joke about Nicholas stuttering.
Instead, he saw something else.
Emotion. Raw and unguarded.
Philip forced out a weak chuckle. "Really… I just can't understand you."
His eyes shut.
Nicholas Darklight was an enigma.
On the surface, he seemed unreadable, emotionless. But that couldn't be farther from the truth. Nicholas Darklight was the most emotional person Philip had ever known.
Compassionate. Understanding. Kind. Honest to a fault. And—
A complete and utter worrywart.
He was everything Philip wasn't.
That's why Philip Philips could not understand Nicholas Darklight.
And yet, despite that, despite everything…
He was glad Nicholas was his friend.
…
When Philip woke up, all he saw was a blinding light.
For a second, he thought he was in Heaven.
Then he thought better of it.
He didn't consider himself a decent enough person to be in Heaven.
As his eyes adjusted, he realized he was in a hospital room. The steady beep of a heart monitor filled the quiet space. He glanced down at his shoulder, noticing the bandages wrapped neatly around his wound.
Then he saw them—his two best friends, asleep at the edge of his bed.
Philip's cold heart was almost touched.
Almost.
When they finally woke up, they wasted no time, practically tackling him in a hug. Philip groaned but didn't push them away. Instead, he let them squeeze the life out of him as they hurriedly filled him in on what had happened.
The two thugs had been arrested, and the story had even made it onto The Vale Union—a popular newspaper and broadcasting channel that covered all news in Fusionight City. Of course, their names had been censored, but the fight had still made waves.
Shortly after, Philip's parents came by.
They took one look at him, noted he was alive, then left just as quickly.
Philip sighed as his friends exchanged glances.
"They're… busy with work. They saw I was alright, and that was it," he muttered.
Nicholas furrowed his brows. "'Busy?'" He repeated the word like it physically disgusted him. "How could a parent ever be too busy to—"
He cut himself off when he saw Philip's bittersweet smile.
"It's fine. I'm used to it. I can't really complain—thanks to them, I've never had to go hungry and got all the games I wanted," Philip reasoned.
Nicholas didn't seem convinced, his jaw tightening, but before he could argue, Rose spoke up.
"Well… I'm kind of in the same boat." She shrugged. "My mom and dad are divorced. My dad travels the world for his job—something about being an archaeologist. And my mom…"
Her voice trailed off.
A brief silence stretched between them.
Nicholas and Philip exchanged glances. They both remembered what the thug had said earlier—something about the Rose family.
They had questions.
But they didn't ask.
Instead, Philip and Rose turned to Nicholas.
"My turn, huh?" Nicholas sighed. "Well… my situation is kind of weird. I think." He ran a hand through his hair. "My mom died during childbirth. No, not mine—stop giving me those looks."
Rose and Philip looked away sheepishly.
"It was when my younger brother was born."
Philip and Rose both sat up straighter.
"You have a brother?"
"Yes, now stop interrupting." Nicholas crossed his arms. "Anyway. Ever since she… died, my father's been down. I don't think he blames my brother, but I can tell it's hard for him. He's not comfortable around him. But… he's been trying. Trying hard at work to support us. Trying hard at home to be there for us. Trying hard to make us happy."
Nicholas's voice softened as he spoke, a small smile forming.
"That's why… I can't accept what you both just told me."
Philip and Rose didn't know what to say. Actually—
"Then how about a sleepover? At my house?" Philip asked.
Rose perked up immediately, but then her excitement dimmed. "I'd love to, but my mom would never let me."
The mood soured slightly.
Philip turned to Nicholas. "And what about you, N.D.?"
"I'll… try," Nicholas said after a pause.
The three seemed to grow closer that day.
On the night of their first sleepover, Philip discovered that Nicholas didn't live too far from him. As his friend settled into his sleeping bag, Philip couldn't help but start the conversation.
"You shouldn't blame yourself."
Nicholas paused, turning to look at his friend. "How can it not be my fault? Like you said, I antagonized someone, and when they struck back, they hurt someone I care about. How is that not on me?"
Philip frowned. "You should forget about that. This isn't one of your fights; this was beyond your control. Besides, I got a cool scar out of it. See?" Philip grinned, pulling his shirt aside to reveal the wicked scar on his shoulder.
Nicholas's eyes widened. "That's…! You shouldn't be proud of having a scar," he muttered, voice low with frustration. "They exist to remind you of your failures. Of trauma. And because of me, you'll have to relive that every time you look at it."
Philip rolled his eyes and smacked the back of Nicholas's head, lightly. "If anyone's at fault, it's that gross guy's. As a matter of fact, fuck him!"
Nicholas raised an eyebrow at his friend's crude language, but a small smile tugged at his lips. "Yes. Fuck him… but not literally, right?"
"Of course not! I can't imagine anyone willingly doing that!" Philip scoffed.
They had a few more sleepovers.
…
Before long, their school year was coming to an end. The three of them promised to keep in touch over the summer, and for the first two weeks, they honored that agreement.
Then Nicholas started responding less and less, always saying he was busy.
And finally, when school started again, Philip wasn't sure what had happened. He had caught a bad fever and missed the first week. When he returned, everything seemed normal. Nicholas was the same as ever—even making sure to bring him all the homework he had missed, much to Philip's dismay.
But when the three of them were together again, something felt… off.
Nicholas and Rose still interacted like before, but there was a subtle shift. Nicholas spoke even less than usual, and Rose had stopped teasing him as much. It wasn't outright awkward, but there was a distance between them.
Philip didn't like it.
Still, life moved on. Nicholas's methods of shouldering blame remained the same, but he had become sloppier about it. Eventually, Philip and Rose started taking the role of the "villain" from him, resolving conflicts and taking blame in his place.
When Nicholas confronted them about it, Philip simply said, "See? That's how we feel when you do it."
Nicholas seemed to understand the logic, but he never backed down from his ways. In the end, the three of them turned it into a strange competition—who could rack up the most detentions.
It was fun, in its own way. But Philip still felt something was missing. Like a barrier had been put up between them just when he thought he had broken it down.
…
Near the end of middle school, Nicholas dropped a bombshell.
He wasn't planning on going to the same high school as them.
Rose and Philip had picked the sciences, but Nicholas refused to say where he was going. And Philip knew why. If Nicholas told them, he and Rose would try to follow him.
And Nicholas wasn't wrong.
"But… why?" Philip asked.
Nicholas smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. His once-bright gaze had dimmed, returning to the way it had been four years ago.
"You know how I always go along with what you two decide?" Nicholas said softly. "I realized… I've never actually made a decision for myself. Not really. And before you say anything, I don't count the choices I've made to help others. I mean decisions that directly impact me.
I want this. And you two shouldn't try to follow me—you should chase what you want instead."
His explanation was calm, though even he seemed unsure at certain points.
Then, Rose spoke up, her voice barely a whisper. "It… isn't because of that, right?"
Nicholas's expression softened. "No. That, too, was my choice. I'm not avoiding you two because of that. Besides, it's not like we won't see each other again."
Philip didn't like this. At all.
It was clear that, in his absence, Rose had learned something about Nicholas. And she wasn't willing to share it. Philip respected that.
But it didn't stop him from feeling left out.
…
They didn't see each other much over the summer, aside from a few phone calls. In high school, Philip and Rose were placed in the same class and spent most of their time together.
And then, a troublesome rumor spread that they were dating.
"Monkeys, all of them," Philip grumbled as their classmates chattered around them.
Rose giggled. Philip glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She was pretty. Badass, too.
He supposed he wouldn't mind if—
The bell rang, cutting off the thought.
By the time the second semester rolled around, Nicholas finally started hanging out with them again. And when Philip found himself alone with him one day, he asked,
"So… will you tell me? What happened? Anything?"
Nicholas had gotten into a special high school. Not one for elites, but a place focused on preparing students for careers in law enforcement, emergency services, and hero assistance, while also still having regular classes.
Philip had no idea why, but it felt right for Nicholas.
He chuckled. Once again, he couldn't imagine himself in Nicholas's shoes.
Nicholas, who always put others first.
Philip, on the other hand, had no such drive. He would never risk his life for a stranger.
Philip was a coward, Nicholas was not.
Philip valued his life, while Nicholas clearly didn't.
Philip Philips was a realist who acted on his own desires.
Nicholas Darklight was an honest person who acted on the desires of others.
The two of them were opposites.
At least, that was how Philip viewed it.
So how did they end up becoming friends?
Nicholas turned to him, unreadable as ever.
"… I'll tell you someday."
Philip blinked.
"But not today."
And with that, Nicholas walked away. The barrier between them had never felt thicker.
Philip could only stare in disbelief at his friend.
***
Even after so many months, Nicholas still hadn't told Philip a thing.
That's why when he saw Nicholas walk away after saying those words. With those ripped clothes and bloody stains.
Philip knew. He would not get an answer.
Not today, possibly not ever.
And he disliked it.
And yet… he did not want to lose his best friend.
So he let it go, despite how much he detested it.
The image of the person he put on a pedestal, as the most honest person Philip had ever known, had shattered.
Once again, Philip Philips could not understand Nicholas Darklight.