The last of them

Devan Calloway met Cole Bennett on a cold afternoon in Crestwood when they were both thirteen years old.

It wasn't the kind of meeting that people wrote stories about, no grand moment, no dramatic event. just two lonely kids crossing paths at the right time.

Dev had been at Raven-wood Park, sitting on a rusted swing, kicking at the dirt. It was the only place he could go to clear his mind, a place that felt his, even if it belonged to no one. He hadn't expected anyone else to be there that day.

But then he heard footsteps.

A boy, skinny with messy hair, stood a few feet away, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his oversized hoodie. Dev didn't know his name yet, but he recognized him from school, Cole Bennett, the kid who always had bruises he never explained.

Cole hesitated before speaking. "Can I sit?"

Dev nodded. "Yeah."

Cole lowered himself onto the swing beside him, gripping the chains loosely. They rocked in silence, the metal creaking slightly under their weight.

"Why are you here?" Cole finally asked, pushing the ground gently with his foot.

Dev kept his gaze on the dirt. "It's quiet."

Cole gave a small nod. "You come here often."

That made Dev pause. He turned his head slightly, raising a brow. "How do you know that?"

Cole shrugged. "I see you here. I just never talked to you till now. You go to my school."

Dev felt a flicker of suspicion almost like he was being watched but there was no malice in Cole's voice. Just curiosity.

"Yeah, I know you go there too," Dev admitted. "I'm Devan."

"Cole."

There was an awkward silence. Neither of them knew what to say next.

Then Dev's eyes flickered toward the dark bruise on Cole's cheek.

"What happened to your face?" he asked, his voice lower.

Cole stiffened. His fingers brushed against the bruise as if he had forgotten it was there. "It's nothing."He quickly stood up from the swing, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket.

"I should go," he muttered. "I don't want my dad looking for me."

Dev didn't say anything, just watched as Cole walked away, his small frame disappearing past the trees.

He wasn't sure why, but he had a feeling this wasn't the last time they'd see each other here.

And he was right.

Meeting Again, Again, and Again

It happened over and over.

Every time something went wrong at home, they found themselves back at the park.

Some days, they'd sit in silence. Other times, they'd talk about nothing, about everything.

Cole never explained his bruises, and Dev never pushed. He didn't need to. He saw the exhaustion in Cole's eyes, the way his shoulders curled inward like he was always bracing for something.

Dev understood that feeling all too well.

One day, when Cole showed up at the park with a fresh cut on his lip, Dev made a decision.

"Come over to my place," he said. "I have some games you'd like."

Cole hesitated but then nodded.

And that's how it started.

Friendship Built in Pixels and Paper

After that first visit, Cole started showing up at Dev's house uninvited.

The first time, he knocked hesitantly, shifting on his feet. Dev's father barely acknowledged him, too busy in his own world.

Dev led him to his room, where stacks of video games and comics were scattered across the floor.

"Holy shit," Cole muttered.

"You own all this??" Cole said, he was amazed. He slowly dropped his backpack on the floor.

"You live in a damn arcade."

Dev smirked. "Welcome to my world."

That night, they stayed up playing video games until their eyes burned.

So, Cole became a regular. They spent their days button-mashing through video games and arguing over who was better at them. When they weren't gaming, they would walk down to Crestwood Comics, a small, dimly lit store that smelled like dust and old paper.

Cole never had money, but Dev would sometimes buy a comic for both of them to read. They'd sit at the shop's corner, flipping through the pages together.

Cole loved the heroes. Dev liked the anti-heroes better.

"Why do you always like the ones who lose more than they win?" Cole had asked once.

"Because they feel real," Dev had answered.

When Cole's father was in one of his drunken rages, he started staying over. Dev never asked about it. Just tossed him a blanket and a pillow and let him crash on the floor.

By the time they turned 15, their friendship had become an unspoken understanding.

They became so close they referred to theirselves as brothers. They were happy as long as they had each other.

Cole never talked about his home life, but Dev wasn't blind. The bruises. The exhaustion. The way he flinched at sudden noises. Dev had pieced it together, the drinking father, his dead mother, the house that didn't feel like a home. Cole mother had died when he was a bit younger. He didn't have vivid memories of his mother, just his abusive who always there.

Dev wasn't much better. His father wasn't abusive, but he was distant. Cold. A man who believed affection was a weakness and that a son who didn't meet his standards wasn't worth his time.

They were different, but they understood each other in ways no one else could.

And so, Crestwood became something they endured together.

Raven-wood Park remained their safe place, their sanctuary.

No matter what was happening at home, they could always go there. Always sit on the same swings. Always remind themselves they weren't alone.

Now, They Were 17.

The town of Crestwood was small enough that everyone knew your business but large enough that no one cared to help. At least, that's how it felt to Devan Calloway.

At 17, Dev had already mastered the art of being invisible. He knew which streets to avoid, how to walk without making eye contact, and how to blend into the background. But none of that mattered when he was home. The walls of his father's house had a way of making him feel like he didn't exist not in the way that offered freedom, but in the way that suffocated.

That night, he sat on his bed, staring at the faded ceiling, the sound as the ceiling fan moved filled the gaps of noise in the silent room.

A sharp clink outside broke his trance. Dev sat up, his muscles tensing. A moment later, another small rock hit the glass. He sighed. Cole.

Sliding the window open, he peered down into the darkness. The glow of a streetlamp barely illuminated Cole's face, but Dev knew his best friend well enough to read his mood. His hood was pulled up, but not because of the cold.

"Come down" Cole called up, voice barely above a whisper.

Dev didn't ask questions. He grabbed his jacket, and made his way out of the house quietly not wanting to wake his father up..

By the time Dev came down, Cole was already walking. Dev fell into step beside him, noting the fresh bruise on his cheek.

"Your dad again?"

Cole didn't answer. He didn't have to.

The two of them walked in silence, their destination unspoken but understood. The old park at the edge of town had become their sanctuary, a place where broken boys could sit beneath the stars and pretend they were something more.

As they reached the abandoned swings, Cole finally exhaled. "I had to get out," he muttered. "He was drinking. You know how that goes."

Dev knew. He also knew that whatever Cole wasn't saying was probably worse.

They sat, letting the night wrap around them.

"Sometimes I think we should just leave," Cole murmured. "Just pack up and go. No one would even notice."

Dev let the thought settle. The idea of leaving Crestwood had always been a fantasy, but never one he allowed himself to believe in. "And go where?"

"Anywhere." Cole leaned back, staring up at the sky. "Somewhere people don't look at us like we're already dead."

Dev let out a low sigh, watching the stars. "Sounds nice."

They let the silence stretch between them. The unspoken agreement was there. One day, they would leave. But for now, they had each other, and that would have to be enough.

Not knowing the world was about to turn on them.