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The first thing Hero felt as he slowly woke was a crick in his neck, a pulsing point that started on the left and flashed in aching pain all the way down to his shoulder. He let out a quiet groan, rolling his head all the way around, keeping his eyes blissfully shut. Then, something cracked back into place with an audible noise, and the teen sighed indulgently. His mother was constantly nagging him for this one bad habit, but the relief he got from setting his body back to rights was too good to pass up.
Hero took another deep breath, opening his eyes to a too bright room. His parents must have let him sleep in and miss the bus again. Since Mari had died, they hadn’t made him get up on time at all. Part of Hero was grateful for their belief in his independence, part of him was frustrated at their lack of parenting.
Still, something was wrong. He wasn’t looking out to his pristine desk, but to a desk that was covered in haphazard papers, loose marbles, and a multicolored pet rock. The headboard he sat up against was not his own. Hero couldn’t place it. Why wasn’t he in his bed? Whose bed had he slept in, in such an uncomfortable position no less?
Oh...Oh.
The memories crashed over him like a wave, threatening to sink him back down under the waves of grief that he had been under for so long. He pushed against them, ignoring the allure of the numbness. Hero knew why he wasn’t in his own bed. He looked down, finally able to place the dead weight pressing against his chest.
Kel was still asleep, nestled up against him with his face buried in his older brother’s chest. His shoulders rose and fell in slow even motions, loose and limp. He was a picture of calm, a rarity for his normally exuberant little brother. But Kel hadn’t been as energetic as of late. He had been quiet, more withdrawn. Even Hero had noticed, although he had barely noticed anything since losing Mari. In the last few weeks, Kel had fallen further and further into himself, no longer pushing Hero to wake in the mornings or calling out a goodnight to him as he fell asleep. His brother had been cracking all along, and he had finally broken in their fight last night.
Last night, well, last night was hell. His own words echoed in his ears, making him curl his arms a little tighter around Kel. Hero couldn’t believe his own rage, so misplaced against the one person who was genuinely trying to help him. He had screamed at Kel, shoved him away, even said that he wished Kel had died instead of Mari. Hero would never have believed he could have said that, but the impression of Kel’s tear-streaked face was forever etched into his mind.
There were things a person could never take back, words that should never be spoken. Yet here it was, painful and bloody for all the world to see. Hero had finally become a complete failure. He wasn’t enough to save Mari, wasn’t enough to help Sunny, and now he had even broken Kel.
Bile rose hot and acrid in his throat, and Hero pushed it all away, letting his head rest on the top of Kel’s, burying his nose in his brother’s soft curls. Even nearing thirteen, Kel’s hair was still baby soft, wild, and impossible to tame. Hero tried to focus on the little details, not letting his guilt topple him. It wouldn’t help Kel, and that had to be Hero’s mission. His sole purpose had to be Kel now. Losing himself in his grief had only hurt the people he loved.
Kel began to wake, unconsciously snuggling closer to Hero. Would he even want to be close if he knew who he was sleeping against? Hero couldn’t be sure. All the same, he hugged his brother close. If this was the last time Kel wanted Hero near him, he wanted it to count. The boy continued to drift towards wakefulness, stretching out like a cat. Kel flexed his shoulders, cracking his neck from side to side, unknowingly copying his brother’s movements from only a few minutes before.
Hero could pinpoint the exact moment that Kel figured out who was in bed with him. There was a shift, a nearly not there stiffening as Kel looked up at Hero.
He would never be able to forget that look. The worry set in his baby brother’s features, the fear in his eyes. Kel was afraid of him. Kel who easily scared away spiders and loved scary movies. Kel, who took dares for fun, had never needed a night light or anyone to save him from monsters. Kel, who was supposed to be fearless, was afraid of the one person meant to protect and take care of him. Hero bit his tongue to contain the quiet noise of pain that threatened to escape him.
Kel shifted out of his brother’s arms, rolling into an upright position and looking away to the other side of the room. He brought his arms up around his middle, legs closing in to curl the younger boy into a ball.
“Morning,” Kel’s voice was not even a whisper, barely audible even with how close Hero was to him. Hero didn’t answer, too shocked to try and formulate a normal response. Even in his lost days, the time where losing Mari had made time meaningless, he had felt connected to Kel. Their bond had been the only thing keeping him together, stopping him from following Mari to wherever she had left him for.
Now, where there once was a bridge, a ravine dragged both brothers down into the dark. Hero tried to search for the right words, the right thing to say to begin to mend the two of them. Last night he had only gathered his brother up in his arms and sobbed. Hero had apologized endlessly, and Kel had said nothing, only clinging to him and weeping miserably. They had fallen asleep like that, and now here they were. This was the moment of resolution, the moment where Hero would finally start to say the right thing again.
“I- I’ll make breakfast...then we can go to school, okay?” Kel looked up at him and nodded, sliding off the bed and walking towards their shared dresser. Failure sat bitter on Hero’s tongue, and he walked out of their room. The door clicking shut behind him felt too final, made worse by his piss poor attempt at going back to who he used to be.
Hero could never go back. He would forever be marred in Kel’s eyes. He needed to accept that and do better as a facsimile of who he used to be.
Breakfast was a quick and quiet affair. Hero made eggs and bacon that Kel barely touched, pushing the food around his plate with his fork. A few times Hero opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it again with sigh after sigh. Every thought he had, every planned out speech, felt corny and disingenuous. None of it would even begin to help the situation he had created.
After a suitable time of watching Kel not eat the food he had made, Hero took his brother’s dish and scraped all the leftovers into a tupperware. Hero hadn’t bothered to make himself a dish; his own stomach was tied too tightly to even think about eating. He left the dishes in the sink for his mother to worry about. Hero had enough problems of his own to think about.
They got their school things together in painful silence. Hero’s backpack felt awkward in his hands. The months and months of leaving it to sit alone on the wall next to the door made the weight feel off-balance under his fingers. There was a small mountain of makeup work on the small table next to their shoe rack, and Hero pushed it thoughtlessly into his bag. He would worry about school at a later date. Kel still hadn’t spoken beyond his tiny greeting, and a barely there thank you for breakfast. His brother, who at times could be quite the motormouth, had said less than five words all morning.
He knew why Kel wasn’t speaking. The last time Kel had spoken to him, Hero had screamed those awful, awful things at him. No wonder Kel wasn’t speaking. Hero needed to hear his brother’s voice. He needed to know that he hadn’t permanently damaged them. Kel pulled on the straps of his backpack to get them tight against his shoulders, and Hero looked him up and down. Dressed and ready, no excuse to keep procrastinating.
Except.
“Your shoe’s untied,” Hero blurted out. Kel turned around, starting to stoop down to fix it. Hero lowered down to his own knees instead, patting one with the flat palm of his hand, “Here,”
Kel stopped and stared at him, looking between Hero’s face and his open knee. He shuffled closer, watching like a deer in a thicket, looking for some threat that wouldn’t come. Hero forced himself to maintain a still and silent image. He didn’t want to scare Kel off, not now. With hesitation, Kel placed his sneaker on the edge of Hero’s knee, waiting.
Hero couldn’t remember the last time they had been in this position, with Kel’s foot awkwardly balanced outstretched for Hero to tie his laces. He used to do this constantly for Kel, his brother too excited to notice when his laces came undone. It was second nature for Hero to bend down and pat a knee. Now it was strange, unexpected. Hero had never felt more wrong. But in that wrongness, there was still hope. Kel had still reached back out to him. Hero bit at his lip and tried to hide his expression from his little brother. Showing this much emotion would only startle Kel.
So Hero kept his head lowered, avoiding his younger brother’s searching gaze and grabbing the laces in both of his hands. Deft fingers moved with quick sure steps. Make a loop, wrap around, pull through. It was simple; it had an end goal. Tie a bow and make it tight. Make sure your brother doesn’t trip and fall. You’re the big brother. You have to watch out for him, Hero. If he falls and gets hurt, that’s on you for not watching.
Kel had slipped and fell. Hero had lost sight of everything, but it hadn’t been him that got hurt. It was his brother. His sweet sunshine of a baby brother who smiled too wide, even when he was hurt. Who had done nothing to deserve what had happened between them last night. The things he said played on an endless loop in his mind, reminding him over and over of his failure. But that was good. That reminder would keep Hero in this moment, in his new promise of taking care of his brother.
Mending things with Kel wouldn’t be as simple as tying a shoelace, but Hero was determined to try. Kel was all he had left, his last person. His last bit of light, now that the sun had set for him and Mari. Hero double knotted the finished bow and tapped his fingers against Kel’s faded dusty sneaker. An imprint of the bottom of his sole stayed fresh on Hero’s jeans. Kel looked down at it and winced.
“Thanks. Um, sorry I got you dirty,” Kel mumbled, squirming in place where he stood. Hero bit his tongue to stop his immediate response. He took a moment to think and then spoke, his voice stilted and awkward in its phrasing.
“Don’t worry about it. I like doing that,” I like taking care of you. Let me still. Let me try to fix what I broke. Hero said none of that, but he put a hand on Kel’s head, ruffling downy curls out of place. His brother turned into the affection and soaked it in like a sponge, closing his big brown eyes and sighing. Hero was both thrilled and dismayed, happy to get a chance to right his wrongs but fearful that Kel was forgiving him so easily. Too easily for what he had done.
They stayed like that a couple of seconds too long, the unspoken need to be comforted sitting heavily between the two brothers. Eventually, Kel pulled away, adjusting the straps of his backpack. Hero hovered close to him, tempted to pull Kel back into his arms and never let him go.
Instead, he stepped forward, pulling open the door and letting the light spill into the house, pushing away the shadows.
“We should get going. Don’t want to be any later than we already are,” They stepped into the light together, the ravine between them glowing golden in the late morning sun.