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So many days, years, had passed since he had stopped being his little brother's sidekick. He didn’t feel remorse for it, or guilt, he hated being a sidekick and he doesn’t feel guilt for leaving that life behind. He does, however, still feel a tinge of loss. Loss of the boy he raised, the boy he taught to ride a bike, the boy he helped with math, the boy he held after nightmares left him sobbing and wide awake.
Morgan mourned a loss he couldn’t stop. The passage of time is a cruel one, continually progressing forward no matter how hard one begs for it to just slow down, or stop, so they could savor a moment for longer. One that does not go backwards without having never ending powers, or without destroying the present time. He mourned the days when things were simpler. When he would play with his two siblings, when he would show them tips and tricks of hand-to-hand combat that were child appropriate. When he would help Diego ride a skateboard and give Chad the confidence he needed to ride his bike without training wheels.
Chad was so much older than his peers before he began riding a bike without training wheels. Chad was so afraid as a child, afraid of being hurt. Morgan always took that fear and spun it around for his little brother, giving him more confidence than fear. He would do the task first and then help his brother through the task until he could do it alone. Maybe that’s what Morgan mourns so much. That his little brother has grown up. The child he held so close trying to make sure he knew how loved he was, along with their sister, had been warped by their parents. Mind so twisted around their own ideals.
Sometimes, when the pain of the memories became unbearable Morgan would throw himself into something so dangerous that Alex has to step in for if he didn’t, Morgan would be dead. Alex would give him an earful and Morgan wouldn’t hear much of what Alex would say, ears full of cotton. Metaphorically, of course. Morgan wonders if that could count as a suicide attempt. He hasn’t ever told his therapist about it, none of it. He’s afraid that if he begins speaking, the words will never stop. Fear that the pain would surface so violently that he’d spit blood. Fear that the tears will fall and never ever stop.
There’re many things life has taught Morgan, and one of the most painful ones is that it’s possible to grieve someone who is still living. And that grief will feel just as strong, if not stronger, as it would if that person were dead.
Morgan has always been resourceful, always knowing what he wanted and would get it no matter how hard of a reach it was. Whenever an obstacle came his way, he was always able to nimbly maneuver around it. Always able to find the light at the tunnel. Yet, when the memories that feel like lifetimes ago surface, Morgan feels like he’s drowning. He will always love his little brother. He will always cry for his little brother.
Will always mourn his little brother.
So many days Morgan does fear he will have to mourn a version of Chad that no longer breathes. That Diego will call him one day and say ‘Morgan… it’s Chad…’ and he knows if and when that day comes, heartache will consume his mind and body so violently that he’d just collapse wherever he was stood. Morgan wishes, wishes so deeply, he could convey to him just how loved he is. Morgan knows their parents don’t show him a shred of real love. Morgan knows how receptive Chad is to pretty and fake words, so he knows Chad doesn’t feel that love.
Morgan knows, because Morgan raised him.
Inside of Morgan’s heart lives a younger version of himself, who lives down the hall, in a gaudy mansion, from his siblings. Despite the memories tied to that house, that version of himself yearns to live down the hall from both of his siblings again. Yearns to rush to Chads side during a night terror. Yearns to cuddle with Diego and Chad, holding them close and reading dumb bedtime stories. Morgan was six years older than them, and that difference truly made his role as a caretaker- no, a parent- to his siblings much stronger than it would have been. They were four and he was ten. They were six and he was twelve. They were ten and he was sixteen… he watched them grow up, he raised them, only for their parents to destroy at least one of his children. Diego grew to take up Morgan’s sense of self purpose and independence. Chad, however, didn’t.
Morgan knew, the second Chads’ powers came that their parents would take advantage of the timid, anxious child Chad was. Fill his mind with lies about how great being a hero is, how they do so much good. They did exactly that, no matter how hard Morgan tried to fight against their lies. More and more did his parents keep Chad from him. Morgan now knows that they saw Chad slowly pulling from their narrative and back to Morgan’s.
Everything just began getting worse when he became Chads sidekick. Chad had turned into everything Morgan tried so hard not to let him turn into. Egotistical, selfish, arrogant… a typical strong hero. He couldn’t see the damage he caused to civilians. Couldn’t see the danger his own brother was in. Or maybe he did and paid it no mind. That wouldn’t shock Morgan. At that time, bitterness had been overflowing in himself, but deep under that bitterness was heartache. He watched in real time, unable to stop it, as their parents mutilated the child who once cried when he stepped on an ant. Who sobbed in his arms when he saw a flower wilt and die. Who begged Morgan for help as he carried an injured bird with such gentleness, not once moving too much to harm the animal anymore. Who had looked at Morgan countless times saying, ‘I’m scared.’ Until one day Morgan said, ‘I am too. Let’s do it scared, together.’ And that was the last time Chad ever told him he was scared, because from then on, he’d ask Morgan to do it with him instead. Morgan always would.
Morgan remembers taking a late-night walk with Chad, just after his powers came in. He was scared, per usual when it came to new things he wasn’t used to. Scared he’d lose himself in someway, scared people would look at him differently and he’d forget himself trying to please them. He was always a people pleaser. Morgan remembers the conversation they had that night in vivid detail.
‘I know you are. We’d all be afraid.’
‘But you’re not.’
‘I am, of course I am.’
‘Then how do you stop being scared? You never look scared…’ Morgan knew he couldn’t have ever told Chad the truth, that their parents beat his expression of emotions out of him until he learned to put up a mask and hide everything he felt behind it.
‘Well… I start by looking up, like right now. Majority of these stars are the same that people five thousand years ago saw. I know that some of them had to be afraid at one time or another, and maybe they looked up there to regain themselves. If they could survive the fear they felt, then I know I can too.’
‘… what if that’s not enough?’
‘Well, if it’s not, then I come find you or Diego!’
‘Why us?’
‘Because you both, one or the other, make me feel like everything is going to be okay.’
Morgan wonders a lot if Chad remembers that conversation. He doesn’t think he does, but it’s something Morgan can pretend he does. Morgan knows he will never hold Chad again, never hear his voice again, the voice that isn’t always spoken with the hero inflection. It hurts, so much. On those days, Morgan sits there with his grief. He mothers it, holding its small hand in his own and waits for it to stop having such strong feelings; just as he used to do with Chad. Then he stands, and does the dishes, or waters Alex’s plants. Maybe he goes for a walk or just finds Alex and sits next to him, curling up and laying his head on Alex’s shoulder.
Alex knows of these dips in his emotions by now. After so many years, Alex knows. He learned early on not to push Morgan to speak on it, after pushing and prodding until Morgan broke down in tears begging Alex to just stop. Alex never did it again, never pushed Morgan to tell him why, only letting him know that if he’d like to talk, he’s there. These dips always had Morgan talking less, sleeping more, and disappearing on night walks for hours, coming back with tear tracts on his cheeks, and red puffy eyes. Or sometimes Morgan would get themselves into such danger that when he finally calls for Alex, Alex’s heart nearly drops out of his ass.
He does lecture Morgan for a couple minutes after bringing him home, but he stops because regardless of how much he has left to say because he can tell that Morgan’s not processing anything he says, Morgan’s not looking at him inquisitively or annoyed. Morgan is looking through him, as if there is nothing in his mind. Alex always just picks Morgan up, carrying him to his room and tucking him in, booping him asleep with a kiss on the forehead.
Morgan tended to seek Alex out, and during these times as well. Finding him, curling up next to him and leaning against him, head on his shoulder. Alex ignores invitations of fights; he ignores the entire outside world solely focused on being close by for Morgan to find and curl up next to. He stays for hours at a time, under a blanket of comforting silence. Sometimes Morgan holds his hand, looking at his fingers, gently playing with them. Other times he picks at the hems of his shirt. Buttons and unbuttons them if he’s wearing a button down. Morgan always fidgets, Alex doesn’t mind if he accidentally fidgets a button off his shirt from the repetitive motions.
☹☹☹ ☽⛤☾♱ ⁺ . ⋆ ˙ ✧ ⋆ ꒷꒦꒷ ⋆ ✧ ˙ ⋆⊹ . ♱☽⛤☾ ☹☹☹
Morgan doesn’t know why he gets so mean when Chad calls or comes by. Maybe Chad accidentally conditioned him by coming around, trying to make him his sidekick again, always accusing Alex of him putting Morgan under mind control. He doesn’t understand why Chad would think that; he doesn’t think he ever will. What he does think is that he just wishes Chad was coming or calling to say hi. To ask him how things have been and what’s new. To ask for advice or just tell him about pebbles. When the annoyance and anger die off, all that’s left is an empty void in his heart.
Every piece of Chad is ingrained along his skin, etched so deeply into his souls he has no hopes of scraping him out, not that Morgan would ever want to. His childhood, and his siblings' childhoods, drag behind him like corpses, tied tightly around his heart that the last vessel still attaching it to his body is nearly ripped apart.
When Chad called that day, he knew it would be the same.
Morgan! It’s me, Chad! Your brother! No, no this isn’t my brother, not anymore.
Screw off Chad, I’m not in the mood. He hung up. Why did he do that? What if this time Chad had seen it all for what it was? Understood finally. What if this time, Chad was calling to just talk but it was instinct to use that hero inflection… No, that’s ridiculous. That’s the hope and grief talking…
☹☹☹ ☽⛤☾♱ ⁺ . ⋆ ˙ ✧ ⋆ ꒷꒦꒷ ⋆ ✧ ˙ ⋆⊹ . ♱☽⛤☾ ☹☹☹
The number you’ve called is currently unavailable, please leave your message after the tone: *beep*
Hey Chad, it’s me Morgan…
Diego just called…
Why were you so distracted?
I’ve told you to pay attention.
Please tell me it’s a joke, please call me and say anything. Please.
It hurts so much; I just want to see you again. I miss you so much I’m so sorry.
I’m the worst older brother. I was supposed to keep you safe, I let everything blind me.
My emotions, my thoughts, my whims… I should’ve tried harder to get through to you.
Chad, I’m so sorry I failed you.
Please forgive me.
I love you.
☹☹☹ ☽⛤☾♱ ⁺ . ⋆ ˙ ✧ ⋆ ꒷꒦꒷ ⋆ ✧ ˙ ⋆⊹ . ♱☽⛤☾ ☹☹☹
Chad will never know the tears his former brother- no, father, shed for him when told.
Chad will never hear his father plead for him to say this is a joke, just one sick joke.
Chad will never know how much Morgan will beg Alex to bring him back.
Chad will never know how long he stays at his grave.
Chad will never know.