Never The Same
"Happy birthday," the girl said softly, her hands clasped around her prize in the dark. A faint orange lamp glimmered in the far corner, casting an oily pall across the normally cheerful room. A round rug in the center of the white carpet, a small round clock on the wall, and a chair against the corner was all that the small room held, but the rest of the empty space was occupied by happy memories.
"Thanks," the black-haired boy said, smiling as he accepted the gift into his hands. It wasn't much, but it meant a lot to the two of them. Maybe they shared dozens of inside jokes, and maybe they loved the way that each other laughed, but this one symbol had become the symbol of their lasting friendship. He smiled in the faint light at the slender girl.
A tiny firefly glowed inside of his cupped hands.
"Did Bruce plan a party for you?" She rearranged the blanket that was draped around her shoulders to rest more comfortably, pooling around her on the mat. She's so sweet, he thought. She had this perfect, tell-it-like-it-is personality, while still maintaining a healthy supply of friends. That was what first attracted him to her- her glowing personality, like the firefly that he held. It represented more than their different friendship- it represented the way that her soul seemed to light his and give it purpose. She'd always be with him, even in the darkest of times.
"I don't think so," he replied, peering once more at the tiny insect in his hands before releasing it into the dark air. "I don't want him to. I don't have any other friends here."
"He's leaving in a couple of days, isn't he?"
"Right." Bruce had to travel a lot, at the expense of his surrogate son.
"That won't be too bad, will it? I know how you feel." She fell silent, her fingers around her ankles. The boy took her hand and rubbed his thumb across the soft skin of her wrist, searching for her eyes in the dark. She smiled and tilted her head, her short hair curling around her face. Her long arms, covered in a light sweater, were graceful as he bent around her drawn-up knees.
"Amani," he began, his throat clogged.
"What, Matt*?"
"I have something I need to tell you… before I go." He could see the confused expression on her face, but he continued before she could ask. "I'm leaving for Jump City next year, to direct my own team. But before I leave, I need you to know something."
The girl's chocolate skin glowed in the orange lamplight. "What?"
His face filled with a slight blush as he leaned close and whispered in her ear. She gasped and drew back, gazing into Matt's shockingly blue eyes. "Are you… serious?"
"As a heart attack." The fifteen year old's eyes lips curled into a smile. "It's true."
Amani stood, separating his hand from hers, her bare legs apart. Her knee-length skirt swished around her. "Matt… that can't be true. Have you told Bruce?"
She wasn't taking this as well as he thought. "No… I haven't, but I promise, I'm not lying, Amani. I did see her- I could describe her to you, down to her shoes."
"Matt, if that's true, you'll never be the same." She looked worried and happy all at the same time. "If-"
That was as far as she got. The wall exploded, debris cascading into the dark room. Matt was floored, his head colliding with the carpet. His world went fuzzy as he felt the cool night air brushing past his face, his hair nuzzling his cheek. Stars buzzed around his vision as his eyes adjusted to the dark. "Amani," he called, his voice cracking as he pushed himself up on his elbows, his world sharpening as the cold woke his mind. The room was a mess- drywall flung all about, the sparse furniture piled at the far side of the room, and the carpet smeared with paint and other various items that he couldn't see very well. Turning his head, he saw through his new window that the building next door was in flames, people screaming within the room as a black figure beat down on them. A sadistic laugh, cool as the air around him, echoed in Matt's ears. He moaned.
"Matt!" Bruce… Matt felt his guardian's cool hands on his forehead and back. Lying on his stomach, Matt turned his head and gazed into the face of one of the world's most hated saviors. "Bruce… there's someone robbing the apartment next door…"
Amani's mother came racing into the room, shrieking. "My wall… my baby!" The portly woman raced toward the far wall where all the furniture lay resting and began moving things and debris. "Amani!"
Bruce seemed torn, but he raced back through the doorway and out of sight. Matt groaned and forced himself to his hands and knees, and crawled laboriously to where Amani's mother wept and dug. He could feel the warm liquid leaking from his hairline and chest, and the bruises on his arms and legs became purple and tender, but he kept moving until he reached the far side. A massive pile of debris overpopulated the broken chair and rug, but Matt dug with torn hands. The powder from the drywall stung his eyes and his wounds, but he continued digging. "Amani!" He called through the crackle and roar of the flames engulfing the next building.
His fingers touched something warm, and he moved debris frantically. Because she had been standing, the heaviest part of the wall had struck her in the side, and Amani was bleeding heavily from a gash that extended from her hip to her shoulder. It curled around her body like a possessive red snake, tearing her clothes and sucking her life. "Amani!" Matt shoved away the remainder of the rubble until her broken body was fully exposed.
"Matt," was all she manage to say in one breath before her eyes twitched and closed in pain.
"Baby!" Her mother wept and pressed her hands to her face, reaching for her daughter but only touching her arm. Matt gathered her gently into his arms, her face inches from his.
"Amani," he said, nearly in tears. His best friend was leaking away, her crimson blood staining the white wreckage, her dark skin purpled with bruises. "Amani, it's okay. I'm here; you'll be okay."
She smiled and tilted her head into Matt's shoulder, remaining silent. Matt pressed her hand, but she didn't reply. Her shoulders stopped rising and falling, and her eyes fluttered peacefully shut with a sigh.
He shook her. "Amani?"
"My baby!" Her mother shrieked, burying her face in Amani's short burnt hair.
Matt was incoherent. Tears leaked from his eyes and dropped to Amani's bloodstained face. His tongue wouldn't cooperate; he found himself wailing just like her mother, resting his forehead against the top of his friend's head, weeping. Their conjoined grief made no difference in the world around them as a massive black figure dealt justice to the arsonist/mugger next door, pounding him with the rage of a man who had lost a daughter. However, his deliverance of justice didn't bring the dead little girl back; it didn't stop the flow of tears in the destroyed room.
On the ceiling, the firefly blinked a mourning message across the orange-lit room, joining in the grief.
*I'm aware that his real name is Tim, Jason, or Richard, but none of those seem to suit his personality. (ooh, spoiler, if you hadn't guessed who he is)