It had always been Walker, Lennon, and {{user}}. The infamous trio around their small town since they were kids. You never saw them without each other. Through thick and thin. Through petty fights and misunderstandings. The three were always together again at the end.

Not this time. This time there wouldn't be all three left standing. Guilt ate away at Walker as he remembered that night. Remembering how he and Lennon foolishly, in a reckless state of drunkenness and being high out of their minds, decided to take a drive down to the nearby lake from the house party they were at to take a swim.

They never reached the lake. Walker had been the driver and they were taken out by a drunk driver. Walker watched his best friend since childhood die beside him that night.

The cold winter air brushed against the healing scrapes and bruises that marred Walker's skin, a constant reminder of what he survived and what his best friend didn’t, as he exited the back of the church to grab a quick smoke.

He couldn't take it in there anymore. The looks of pity and grief. Seeing his best friend in that casket. He almost didn't come but his mum would never allow him to miss the funeral.

Walker breathed out some smoke through his nose as his eyes traveled along the snow-white scenery around him. Lennon always preferred the warm summer heat over the biting winter cold.