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And he could hear the howl of a thousand petrified cries. Run away! Hurry! And he could smell the thick heat that stifled him and made him writhe. So pungent and consuming that it gnawed at him and held him down as he tried to run, like those voices growing farther and farther away. Blending together, melting into the inferno that scorched his back.
And in that darkness only one thing could be clearly seen. A handsome young man with eyes of honey who looked briefly at him before wordlessly running into the heart of the heat.
“Tadashi!”
Bam!
Hiro groaned, embarrassed that he'd gotten so excited over a mere dream that he'd fallen right out of bed. Funny, he could not remember what it had been about. He finally stood and glanced around. Half of ten; Tadashi was at school by now, and Aunt Cass' cafe was certainly overflowing with customers.
He massaged his temples, fighting the urge to crawl back into bed. Drearily, he made his way to the bathroom instead. There was something he needed to do. Something that nagged but never clicked. What could that be...?
“Microbots!” he yelled with a start, picking up the pace before making a dash for the garage.
How could he have forgotten something so important? Especially since the exhibition was shy a few months. A length sounding plentiful, yet gone in the blink of an eye.
A vision Hiro had, the angle that his brother helped him find. An innovation so advanced, one never before seen, and only as limited as the mind of the wielder.
He would neglect his nutrition, so invested he was in his project, until either Aunt Cass remembered he was at home and brought him a quick meal (or force him away from his work if she suspected he was overdoing it), or Tadashi came home in the wee hours of the morning, exhausted but always in possession of enough strength to haul his younger brother to bed. If he came home early enough, however, he would help Hiro tinker with the technology, brainstorm ideas back-and-forth, and go through the painful trials of testing the prototypes until Tadashi deemed it late enough to haul his little backside to bed.
~ OoO ~
Wisps of grey rose to the black skies (ghosts of the damned); black snow covering the ground upon which he trod (ashes to ashes, dust to dust), crumbling and crunching (bones of the dead). Upon his lips, a name so familiar. Before his eyes, the back of his brother. Never turning to look at him, sprinting and huffing, straight into the glaring flames that consumed him and erupted.
Hiro awoke with a start, drenched in a cold sweat. This dream was far vivider than the last. He could still taste his brother's name upon his lips as he begged and pleaded for him not to go...
How silly he was being! How childish! Dreams or nightmares, they held no power in the physical realm. Though, they were a very good wake-up call. It had truly been a long time since he had seen his brother still asleep. Even on Saturdays and Sundays he would be up and about, working on coursework or independent projects or helping Hiro with his own projects.
Maybe he should do the same this time. Be the one who jumps out of bed to begin working on his project!
… Five more minutes of rest couldn't hurt.
~ OoO ~
The nightmares were becoming more consuming than he could ever have dreamed. Of death and despair. Of screams and loss. Of his brother devoured whole by those demonic flames. Waking in the night, a silent scream hanging on his lips, or the trembling chant of his brother's name. It would pull him from his sheets at ungodly hours, beckon him to work at anything, to stay preoccupied so as not to sleep.
Only when Tadashi or Aunt Cass caught him, sometimes after as much as 36 hours without even a nap, he would finally rest, only to awaken shortly thereafter in the throes of yet another hellish nightmare.
It held no power over him, he would try so desperately to convince himself. Tadashi is alive. Always assisting him with his projects. Always encouraging him to do something with that 'big brain' of his. Always so very proud of him. Always there for him. A love so strong that it made Hiro feel so safe and simultaneously so stupid for thinking some silly dream could change the connection between them.
But, when they did hit...
“You're overworking yourself, Hiro. Relax,” Tadashi finally said one day, lifting Hiro by his hood and removing him from his workstation.
“You do know the exhibition is in a month, right?”
“You do know you're practically done, right?”
“There's still a lot of testing that's needed!”
“All in due time! Honestly, I took more breaks than you while working on Baymax, and he works like a charm.”
“But you're still working on him.”
“Even when you finished your Megabot, did you ever stop enhancing it?”
“...”
“Just have lunch with me. Just me and you. What do you say, little guy?”
“Shush, Tadashi!” Invitation accepted.
He treated the younger one to a delicious, homemade meal. Hiro honestly had no idea that Tadashi was a good cook (where did he even get the time?).
“Aunt Cass taught me. Still helps me out a lot,” he confessed, rubbing his nape sheepishly. “It's a pretty important skill, Hiro, so don't laugh.”
“I'm not. I'm... honestly impressed.”
Succulent grilled salmon bathed in a savory sauce all served over soft white rice, complete with a simple salad on the side. A meal that sated the hunger he had been denying for some time now.
At first, he assumed the end of their meal marked the end of their time together; how wrong he was.
Tadashi hollered, “We're going out for a while, Aunt Cass!”
“OK, be careful! Love you boys!”
“Love you too, Aunt Cass!”
Hiro knew the darkest secrets of this city. The districts of pleasure and sin where he used to indulge to his heart's content. For profit and the sick thrill of seeing his opponents utterly destroyed, beguiled by his mask of naïve innocence. It did leave a most satisfying feeling.
Then there was the other half of the coin. (The half of purity he inextricably linked with Tadashi.)
How different people of the day were from the nocturnal beings that Hiro had grown so accustomed to. From the hustle and bustle of workers to the carefree antics of children; from the familiarity of their home to the unexplored outskirts of the city, where the rush simmered into tranquility, and the concrete maze faded to more natural scenery.
Tadashi pulled over to the shoulder, alongside the railing, and simply stood and leaned on it before beckoning his baby brother to join him.
“Nice day, ain't it?”
“I suppose. Kind of hot,” Hiro muttered in complaint, earning a chuckle from Tadashi.
“You could stand to lose the undershirt, you know?” Hiro poked him in the side, and he flinched away slightly before mimicking his brother. Being the more sensitive of the two, Hiro jumped away, a giggle on his lips. Then he ambled back to his original position once he determined that Tadashi would not tickle him until he pissed himself (again).
“This place would look sweet at sunset.”
“Getting sentimental, huh? Gonna start writing poetry next?”
“Cork it, Mister Hamada.”
“That's Mister Hamada Sir, to you.”
It went on like that for a while. Small conversations that held no purpose other than to fill in the gaps of silence, varied with no real connection to the ones before. Just two brothers reveling in the bliss of each other's company.
Until Tadashi found the courage to speak what had been plaguing him, that was.
The whimpers at night. How Hiro would barely sleep, tossing and turning and always close to tears when at last he did. It scared him, because he did not know how to help his baby brother. Not unless Hiro told him what was wrong.
“I... I'm just a little stressed about the showcase, is all.” Well, it was not a lie.
“You're the last person I'd expect that from,” Tadashi snorted.
“What if I don't get in though? What if it's not good enough? What if -?” Tadashi hushed him by placing a finger upon his lips.
“Hiro, it's going to be OK. I believe in you. I know... I know you're gonna knock 'em dead.” Not the best choice of words given what Hiro's true fear was, but... Who was he to deny Tadashi's faith?
A gentle kiss upon his forehead, his brother's affection warming him, marked the end of their little field trip, and they returned to the garage. And Hiro set to work with renewed vigor, and the certainty that those nightmares would no longer be a problem.
~ OoO ~
This was not a dream! This nightmare... This was hell. The flames crackled and roared as their wrath dissolved the prestigious SFIT. Moans of fright and despair. Oh! Professor Callaghan was still in there!
And he could smell the smoke as clearly as he could see it, feel the raging heat of the angry flames, feel the soft fabric of his brother's sweatshirt he clutched so tightly to. He begged him, “Please don't go in there.”
In a voice so clear, Tadashi answered, “Someone has to help.”
And into the inferno he went, into his tomb, as it erupted into a thousand glaring suns and knocked Hiro back with a tremendous force. Such a powerful impact must have cracked his skull, yet the young boy did not care. The overbearing heat kept him at bay, though, and all he could do was scream, “Tadashi! Tadashi!”
“Tadashi!”
“Hiro! Hiro, wake up!” He shook the younger boy, even resorted to slapping him, anything to stop him from thrashing so wildly, from bellowing so agonizingly. Dark eyes finally snapped open, feral and fearful at first until they focused in on Tadashi's concerned features. “There we go. I've got you. It's OK. It's OK. Big brother's here.”
Hiro broke at those reassuring words, clinging to his brother and sobbing into his chest, like he used to when they were younger. When little Hiro was afraid of things that went bump in the night, when nightmares seemed to blend all too seamlessly with reality, just as it did now.
So, he cried and spoke every secret dream he kept. How scared he was of these reoccurring night terrors. “Please, please, please. Don't go anywhere, Tadashi. Please. I'm begging you. Without you, I... I... I...”
“Shh-shh-shh. It's OK, Hiro. I'm not going anywhere. I'm always going to be here for you.” Hiro still would not relinquish his hold, not that Tadashi minded. He would stay and comfort him until he fell asleep, and Tadashi kept him in his warm embrace for the rest of the night.
Hiro awakened, not at all ashamed of his behavior, but – for once – well-rested. He was only alarmed when he realized that he had made Tadashi late for class. He tried to usher his older brother out, stating that he would be alright, but Tadashi was having none of that. And neither was Aunt Cass, apparently, who was also jolted awake by Hiro's screams.
They spent most of the day in Hiro's bed. Tadashi reading a book; Hiro playing a video game; tickling Mochi if he came slinking around; chatting about various ideas for their future projects; Aunt Cass even joined them for 'dinner-in-bed'.
Then, when the time to sleep finally arrived, Tadashi slept in Hiro's bed.
“I-I'm not a kid anymore.”
“I know. But I worry.”
Hiro slept soundly that night as well. And the night after, and henceforth. Drifting off to the soothing sound of his brother's even breaths, feeling the chest that had become his pillow rise and fall beneath his head, the steady thump of his heartbeat lulling him.
The strong rhythm of life. The life he loved so dearly.
Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.
The End.