~~The idea of him crying was bewildering, which was why I almost didn’t approach him when I saw him in the empty hall halfway inside his locker.  I stopped mid step, lowering my foot to the ground.  Slowly backing up in the silent subtitle way I’ve learned to walk, a way to turn me invisible in plain sight.  As soon as I was around the corner I had just turned I exhale silently.  Glancing back around, it wasn’t the over dramatic type of crying you generally see from people, it was silent and I could see how hard he was trying to be invisible.  But he didn’t know how, he hadn’t had enough practice.  He had never had a reason to be invisible, it wasn’t completely abnormal for him to be in the spotlight because of the sports he did.  I take a deep breath and glance around the corner again.  The idea of him crying was horrifying, I was terrified.  He was the person I looked up to most, figuratively and literally.  He was two full years older than me, and I thought he was stronger than me.  Carder, logic ridden, smart, athletic, with that kind but sarcastic sense of humor.  But standing in the empty hall, trying to look average, normal, invisible I suddenly noticed that he was human too.  He was tainted; he was something I never thought I would realize he could be.  Damaged.  In my head I could feel myself walking back towards my classroom, convincing myself I was hydrated enough, but half way down the hall I realized I was walking towards him, towards something I was suddenly terrified to realize was real. 
 I reached out and touched his shoulder softly, still vaguely hoping he would dissolve under my touch and I would wake up tangled in my comforter at home.  But he doesn’t, instead he turns around.  Coughing, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.  I knew the feeling; I tilt my head up slightly and raise an eyebrow.  He grins, but it’s too late I’ve seen what’s real.  I shake my head slightly, his smile falls. 
 “I don’t know.”  He mutters. 
 “I thought only girls cried for no reason.”  I grin through a mask that was firmly in place for school and he laughs with slight offence in his eyes.  He clearly had never had to hide much of anything before. 
 “I wasn’t crying.” 
 “I know.”  And even he sees it when I say this.  But he knows it means I won’t say anything, so he forgives the lie.   The wound that developed when I saw him first widens when he looks at me with his hazel eyes that are full of dread, sadness, and confusion too I think.  I can feel myself frowning at him even though I know I’m trying to smile. 
 “You should get back to class,” and that’s when I sense he’s back.  I wondered briefly if he was going to lecture me, then realize even though I always expected him to; he never actually had.  Not once. 
 “Are you, better?”  My eyes widen slightly, I had to tilt my head slightly upward to look into his eyes because he was at least five inches taller than me and I was standing close enough that I couldn’t pretend the height gap wasn’t so big.  I looked into his eyes and knew, I just knew he wasn’t.  I could see it.  But I knew that he wasn’t going to tell me that.  I knew that he was an idiot just like everyone else and everyone else would tell me they were fine now.  The crippling thought was, but everyone else isn’t you friend.  The lucky thing about being me though, is that I can lie to myself to.  I can trick myself.  So when that crippling thought snuck its way into my head, I did what I always do.  I killed myself, and I said no.   He isn’t, he knows you need him and he didn’t want to push you away.  Eventually he’ll hurt you like everyone else.  So then he proved me right, and said exactly what I expected him to. 
 “Yeah.”  So I didn’t tell him that I could see he wasn’t, I didn’t tell him anyone could see it, I didn’t tell him that just because he choked back the tears didn’t mean I couldn’t see it.  I didn’t tell him I wasn’t blind, and I didn’t tell him that I hated it when people lied to me because he wouldn’t understand what I was talking about.  So I nod and smile, then turn to leave.  I hesitate and turn slightly again, he was already walking back.  I almost sigh but it catches in my throat, then I leave.  I walk back to class and sit back in my desk and it’s just the same as it is every day.  Just the same as if I hadn’t realized my worst fear, as if the boy I looked up to most hadn’t cried in front of me then lied.  Just the same as every other day, every other day when my mask doesn’t chip or break, because I’ve crafted it so carefully, so skillfully, it took me so long.  No one is clever enough to see through my mask, not even the one who I show it to.