To anyone else, Colby Brock would have looked perfectly fine - albeit a little windswept, but fine nonetheless.

However, when Sam Golbach opened his apartment door at 10pm on a Friday night, and his eyes met the dark familiar maze that was Colby's distracted gaze, his heart stuttered in his chest, for more reasons than one.

The younger boy was pale, the veins in his neck visible like blue water under a sheet of white ice. His hair - which usually lay perfectly over his forehead in a dark brown curtain was pushed back, revealing a forehead which gleamed with sweat. And despite the fact that Sam noticed this within the first moment that he saw his friend, the small and desperate smile on the other boy's face told him to drop it, immediately. Whatever was bothering Colby, Sam knew if he pushed it, it wouldn't end well. He just knew, because that was how Colby was, and that was okay.

"Come in," Sam found his voice, smiling back as he turned and walked into his living room, Colby just behind him. "I wasn't expecting you today, I thought you had loads of work to catch up on?"

"Oh, yeah I - Well, I did. But I finished it," Colby's reply was a stuttering mess, and alarm bells went off in Sam's head once more. They both missed a beat, the only sound the blaring voices of the television in the background.

Sam studied him for a few quiet seconds, and then repressed a sigh, fighting the urge to turn into a therapist and ask Colby what was going on in his head.

"Oh, right, well sit down, we can order food and catch up on Stranger Things if you want," Sam suggested lightly, keeping his voice casual and soft. Colby smiled again with a nod, and it was almost unsettling how uncomfortable and forced it looked on his face.

By the time the pizza arrived, Colby was gnawing at his knuckles and rapidly bouncing his knee up and down, up and down, up and down. He was totally relentless - but Sam bit his tongue. It was fine, Colby would be alright. He was probably just stressed with his family drama and all the people who want something from him.

They were two episodes into the latest season of Stranger Things, but Sam got the feeling that Colby hadn't really been paying attention to it. He didn't mind much, but it was unnerving to say the least, since they'd both agreed it was an awesome show.

"You going to eat some or what?" He asked when he was on his second slice of food and Colby hadn't even had a bite, even though it was his all time favorite, besides chicken nuggets of course. The other boy didn't reply, his eyes focused on something that Sam obviously couldn't see, his brow furrowed deeply in distress. He looked like he had the weight of the whole universe resting on his shoulders, and Sam felt his heart clench at the sight of it.

"Colby?" He prompted, an eyebrow raised quizzically.

"What?" He was quiet, and as if he'd been pulled out of a trance, his eyes snapped towards Sam's in one rather swift movement. Though their eyes were locked for a conflicting second, deep ocean blue meeting bright sky blue, Sam felt as if Colby was simply looking throughhim rather than at him.

"I said are you going to eat some or what?" Sam was slightly put out by the way Colby was acting - it wasn't like he was just in a bad mood or something, it was like he was a totally different person. It was like he wasn't even present and to be honest, it was quite disconcerting.

"Oh, right, sorry - um," Again with the stuttering, Sam noted as he watched Colby reach out for a slice of the pizza, which was probably a bit cold at that point. As another episode of the show began, Colby stared limply at the food in his hands, his teeth chewing at the skin on his lower lip. He took a minuscule bite, and then set it down as if he was full.

"Thanks for getting the food, Sam, you really didn't have to," His voice was scratchy and raw, and before Sam had the chance to reply he continued, "It's my favorite, as well, I hope it didn't cost too much. You know, I'll pay you back when I've got the money. I feel like you're always the one that gets the food, it should be my turn by now," Colby paused his manic ramble, a high pitched and obviously fake ha ha ha laugh escaping his mouth, which he then clamped shut tightly.

"You know I'll pay you back," He repeated again dejectedly after a short silence, his eyes trained onto his knees, his hands folded in his lap - they were shaking.

"Colby- what's -" Sam didn't get the chance to finish his question, because the younger boy stood up quickly, his movements stiff and wooden.

"Can I use your bathroom?" It came out like a question even though Colby knew Sam wouldn't object, and he didn't. He just nodded slightly and the other boy left the room like he was in a hurry, shaking his head and stumbling slightly in his haste.

And it was when Colby hadn't returned after twenty minutes that Sam started to regret ignoring his friends distressed state. As he glanced around the room, at the left over pizza slices and paused TV, Sam started to feel the sensation of worry blossom in his chest and nestle deep in his stomach. Something was obviously the matter - but with Colby it was usually best to not ask him about personal things unless he himself brought it up. However, he usually trusted Sam with all of his worries and woes and problems, never once had he been so upset and not revealed the reason behind it. The thought of it made the hairs on Sam's neck stand up, his jaw clench and his mind buzz with anxiety.

He jumped off the couch and approached the bathroom door, hesitating for only a moment before knocking twice. The floor creaked behind the wall, and Sam felt a slight jolt of relief - at least Colby was okay in there. He didn't want to consider the alternative but the thought had been niggling and itching the back of his mind.

"Colby?" Sam's voice was just louder than a whisper.

"Yeah?" Colby's voice cracked painfully during the second part of the word.

"What's - Are you okay?" Sam muttered, trying not to scare the younger boy into silence. He didn't really know what to say, he didn't even know what the problem was - but he wished more than anything that he did so he could fix it for his friend.

"It's fine, everything's okay," Colby dodged the question, and Sam had to strain to hear him from the corridor.

"I didn't ask if everything was okay, Colby, I asked if you were okay. Look, can you open the door, please?" He didn't want to resort to begging but he would if he had to. When nothing happened, the older boy sighed and tried to ignore the pang of hurt in his chest as he glared at the blank, black bathroom door in frustration.

"Please, Colby? It's just me, it's just Sam," And with that small, hushed sentence, the bathroom door unlocked seconds later with a dull click and Sam saw Colby sitting on the cold tiled flooring, his eyes subdued and almost childlike in their innocence. The older boy simply walked in, unquestioningly, and sat down by his companion without a second thought.

After a long, deafeningly mute silence, Colby turned his head to face Sam and the expression on his young face was so distraught that it sent a chill over the other boys entire body. In the fluorescent light of the bathroom, Colby was all sharp cheekbones and dangerously pale skin and tired eyes, and Sam felt his heart crack at the sight.

"It's happening again," was all he said at first, and his tone was so desperate, and Sam realized how badly the teenager wanted to be understood. The words were vague and Sam was worried that if he asked Colby to elaborate he might be shut out again, but he didn't know what else to do. He just wanted his best friend to be okay - or better than that; happy.

"What is?" Sam rested his hand on his shoulder gently, shocked at how Colby ceased up at his touch.

"It's him - and it's my mum, and my fucking brother, Sam, my brother's only fourteen," Colby eyes glistened over, glassy and so inky you could barely tell where the iris ended and the pupil began. And then, the younger boy took a deep breath and shook his head softly, letting the tears spill down his cheeks.

"I don't know what to do; it's the screaming I hate the most. When he's had a few beers and she's stressed from work, and they shout the worst things at each other. They shout about me, about my brother, about money, about anything and it's so loud I can't even hear myself think. For hours and hours, I can't do anything but listen to it. And everybody thinks we're so perfect, and such a close, happy family and we're - well, we're not," He sniffed, leaning back slightly against the bathroom wall.

"Oh, god, Colbs - " Sam felt his lungs constrict, he could barely breathe with the revelation, "and they know that you're home, but they just scream at each other anyways?"

"Almost every night. And I try to stop them, you have to believe me, but - " and then Colby wouldn't talk again, drawing his knees to his chest and staring blankly at nothing. It was as if a switch had gone off behind his eyes, he just closed in on himself as if he feared he'd said too much.

"But what, Colbs? You can tell me, I only want to help," Sam paused, "I'm your best friend. Aren't I?"

"Yeah," Colby blinked harshly, "but you can't help me with this. It's just something that happens, alright?"

"Just something that happens? Colby, it's not fair on you, your brother - they're grown adults and they shouldn't be involving you in this! I can't believe they -" But Colby cut his friend off, shaking his head hopelessly.

"I can't stop it, I just, I really can't," The younger boy sounded weak, almost fragile as he spoke.

"You said you tried to stop them, before - it didn't work or something?" Sam asked, both curious and scared of what the answer would be. But Colby just looked at him, his eyes blank yet intense, his cheeks flushed with a sharp pink hue.

"No. No, it didn't work." His tone was clipped, as he turned his head away and glanced back down at the flooring.

"They just kept arguing with you right there?" Sam finally pushed for answers, because he needed to do something other than disregard the situation completely. Colby pressed his lips together, lifting his hand to wipe some hair out of his face, and that's when Sam froze in disturbance as his eyes focused on Colby's arm, and everything began to make a fucked up kind of sense.

A deep purple bruise imprinted near his best friend's wrist, as if someone had grabbed him and refused to let go.

"What the fuck is that?" He tried to keep his voice leveled, but the fact that he swore grabbed Colby's attention instantly. He followed his friend's gaze and when he realized what had happened, he yanked down his sleeve as if he was ashamed and embarrassed, shaking his head as if he knew something Sam didn't.

"Nothing. No, listen to me, Sam -" Colby looked the other boy right in his eyes, "it's nothing. I just - I got in the way, alright? I shouldn't have. It was, just, it was my fault, okay?"

"Are you actually hearing yourself right now, Colby ? It was him, wasn't it? I've never liked that fucking stepdad of yours, I knew he was a dick, but god I didn't think he'd do this," Sam was trying extremely hard to refrain from yelling, but his insides were boiling with an inexplicable anger, a burning poisonous hatred.

"But it was my fault, Sam, you have to believe me! He was drunk, I know better than to get in his way when he's drunk. I was just trying to stop him because - he was saying all this stuff about me, you know, because of the way I am, and -" Colby was despairing, almost frantic as he tried to make sense of things.

"Because of the way you are? What does that mean?"

"You know, because I'm clumsy and I'm bad at school and I always leave my room in a mess, and I'm - I'm," he was crying again, his chest heaving with great sobs, "I'm a faggot, and I'm not good enough, and shit, I can't breathe," Colby was gasping, his eyes met Sam's in sudden panic.

The older boy felt the anger drain out of him as he got on his knees in front of his friend, his voice softer than before, tender and loving.

"Hey, hey you're okay, Colby. You're fine, it's just me, Sam, and you're okay. Breathe for me, right now. Just take some nice, deep breaths. It's just us, nobody else is here, and you're safe. You're safe with me,"

He was gentle as he cupped Colby's face, counting breaths and whispering motivational quips until Colby wasn't almost hyperventilating anymore, which took a while.

They looked at each other, and Colby opened his mouth, but before he had a chance to try and apologize like Sam knew he would, the older boy pulled him into a bone crushing hug, as if he was actually afraid to let him go, as if needed him as much as he needed to breathe.

"I don't want to hear you say anything like that about yourself again, alright?" Sam insisted, his arms wrapped around Colby's waist.

"Okay," The younger boy agreed quietly.

"You're staying here tonight, Colby," Sam whispered, before kissing his best friend on his cheekbone softly, before the other boy melted into his arms, savoring the safety which Sam provided him with.

And, in that moment, they both felt like things were going to be okay.