Playing the hero… I thought bitterly to myself clutching the taught muscles of my upper arms with fevered hands.
That was all it seemed I was good for. And admittedly I was good at it. Possibly too good.
I knew others depended on me. How could I not? And I supposed it was my own fault in some strange way.
I smiled, though my heart felt cold, as I remembered how I had tried so hard to be the hero for my little brother. Even since the time he was an infant, I had tried to be there for him and protect him from every danger. That was what a good big brother should do, right? Now, looking back, it seems as though that is where this started.
Next, I played the dutiful son. Perhaps not in the obedient, servile way that initially comes to mind, but in the fact that I tried so hard to keep my parents together. I tried to save them, to save our family and... Well, that was my first failure and I never wanted to fail at anything again.
Heh. It was probably a quality needed for me to play the hero in the future…that sense that I could never give up, could never back down until those I swore to protect were safe. Already, I was forming the habits that make this regret within myself so real.
Our time in the digital world was probably a good thing over all, even for me. I got that chance I always wanted to make up for things and protect my little brother. And through Gabumon, I could do that now. The whole group became a part of my "pack," a part of the growing list of those I would protect with my life.
It started. I began to give up my life, my feelings, my weaknesses for others. At first, there was no bitterness; it was just part of the way to reach my goal of saving everyone.
But then, things were suddenly turned around. It was cruel how much I had sacrificed for a cause that didn't even need to happen. At least, that is how I saw it when TK told me and showed me that he did not need me anymore. It was like a slap in the face. Everything I had worked so hard for was a lie. And what did that make me?
I turned against all I knew. The first sign of this bitterness inside me, but unfortunately, not the last. I let out many of those feelings I had hid for so long in order to be strong and wise. For a while I became the other part of myself. The part I try so hard to hide.
But even then, I was convinced that that way was wrong. I was slowly forced back into my heroic mold. I went back to the way things had been and for a time I helped everyone out from the sidelines. Even as I was in enough pain to break, I couldn't help myself. It was as though I was compelled to give my all, even if it meant nothing was left for myself.
They needed me, so I was there. It was that simple.
So then, why is there this pain still locked inside? Why is it, I still feel as though every once in a while I should be allowed to break down, to cry? If this is the right path, how is it that no one is there to help me with my pain? Must I always smile as I make everyone around me a better person?
My eyes look up at the stars and I feel as if my eyes reflect the light instead of absorbing it. It seems there comes a point when heroes feel that they do not even deserve to have light. And I had reached that point.
It was my duty to give light. If I stopped doing that, I might become evil again, so I had to do it.
The door to my apartment's porch opened up and I tried to make it look as though I simply was looking at the stars, thoroughly enjoying the cool autumn air from where I sat, leaning against the rungs.
"Hey Matt?" TK's voice whispered hesitantly from the doorway.
I did not turn to look, not just yet. Time was needed to compose my face into what he needed instead of what I felt. "Yeah, TK?"
My brother came outside after carefully sliding the door shut and settled himself beside me, small stocking feet sticking straight out over the edge.
I put on a smile and glanced over into my little brother's blue eyes, trying for a cheery tone as I asked, "So, what's up?"
TK leaned back and looked up at the stars. The wind ruffled the wild blonde hairs that stuck out from under his green hat. "Tonight's my last night visiting you and Dad for a while," he said.
I nodded. I knew that very well. Mom had only let TK spend three days over here and that was only because she had such a hard time saying no to TK's innocent wishes.
My brother flexed his toes and said, "I was wondering…" his voice died off.
I sighed, listening to the wind through the city and finally asked kindly, "What do you need, TK?" Even as I did so, I winced. It was an ingrained reflex now. What I needed was some alone time, some time to sort out my own feelings before I exploded. But that did not matter. If I could ignore my needs than so could everyone else.
TK looked down at his white socks, speaking to them as he asked, "Could you play the harmonica for me, Matt? I really want to hear you one more time before I have to go home."
It hurt. I did not want to play. I did not want to touch that inner part of myself for him. I did not want to have to increase my own suffering for another person. But even as I thought these things, my hand reached into my jeans pocket and pulled out my harmonica of its own accord.
Inwardly I screamed as I played. It felt wrong for things to be this way. But what could I do? I couldn't stop myself. It felt like one of those movies in which the hand is possessed to strangle its owner… You can't stop it, even as you know that you are killing yourself…
TK felt better after the first few minutes. I was in so much pain, I don't even remember him going back inside.
He was healed. That was good. I was able to be his hero once again.
Wrapping myself in a cloak of happiness and wisdom, I went inside.
It was time to listen to my father. I knew he needed it.
And until I could find out how to break this cycle, I would continue to play the hero.
Even if it kills me…