Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Note: I'm not sure where this story came from and I'm not even sure if I like it. I tried to write something absolutely sad, but I'm not sure if it came that way. Well, I guess it's up to you guys here. Let me know if you like this story. Enjoy!
It was still strange to him how many weeks they had gone without talking. For brothers who talked every day and shared the events of those days, hating one another never seemed to be in anyone's mind. Until it happened. Three months previous, a fight had shaken the small town of Cameron, North Carolina… one that drastically changed the lives of Matt and Jeff Hardy for seemingly forever.
While they both had careers that made free time nearly impossible and families even less possible, they made their sibling-life work. Each week, they went out to dinner and discussed whatever.
He missed those nights the most. He missed sitting on the back porch in the summer, listening to the North Carolina nature, his brother mumbling to himself, maybe lyrics of a future song. They didn't need to always talk when together, they happened to understand one another perfectly.
It was amazing how words could change everything so easily. And to this day, Matt couldn't understand why he was so angry. Maybe it was the betrayal he thought he felt, or maybe it was more jealousy that he felt toward Jeff's constant support and career.
Now, he sat on a porch that was no longer in North Carolina, but in Florida. The air, the temperature, the feeling was different. Everything was different. He looked up at the sky, wondering if his brother saw the same stars he saw, if he was wondering about him the way Matt always thought about him. The same time, every night. He was angry still, but that feeling was fading into remorse and sadness more and more each day.
Matt sucked in a breath, the salt of the near by ocean melting on his taste buds. His hands ran though the sand near his feet, feeling the structure, soft to his rough hands. And then, as if seconds made a difference, his phone exploded with noise, ending his tortured moment.
Those thick, dark brown eyebrows came together as he pulled the phone from his pocket, and his heart nearly stopped at what was on his screen. Messages from fans all over and friends as well were telling him something he should have known hours before. His fingers touched the keys, trying to keep just a little bit of sanity.
What was going on? Why hadn't someone called?
He stood on shaky feet, trying to maneuver them forward. Instead, he grabbed the railing of the porch, held it tightly, and threw up in the bushes. His breathing was forced as he looked up at that night sky, and wondered why his brother wasn't there looking up at them too.
He was supposed to be looking at them too.
And for the first time in a long time, he let his knees fall to the ground, dropping his phone in the process, and prayed.
Many said Matt Hardy drove as if he was always in a rush, even when he wasn't. But the way he drove late that night, he wasn't sure what they would have called it. There were many words that came to a person's mind, but he didn't care to think of them. All that was on his mind was remorse. Guilt. Pain. Why couldn't he turn back time and make things different? Bite his tongue for once in his life… not be so "Matt Hardy"? … Stubborn?
That number had been dialed so many times. No one ever answered. Not that it wasn't expected. She hated him too.
It was heartbreaking to hear it from the internet. When it comes down to that, you know you are far from someone's life at that time in the wrestling world. Never did you want to hear something from the internet.
He stopped himself from posting his own message. He needed to get there, make it there in time. Who knew it would finally matter that he was late? Being Matt Hardy would not stop the event from happening… nothing could stop whatever was holding him there.
The bright lights blinded him as he parked strangely a few hours later. People looked at him with familiar expressions, others thought of him as crazy. He didn't stop to see if he recognized anyone, he pulled his terrified body forward and lunged through the automatic doors. Those eyes searched for any sign of help… someone to tell him what was going on. His fingers desperately hoped the internet had an answer this time around.
Matt pushed past those trying to stop him, digging through the hallways, looking for three letters. It took minutes, but it could have been hours when he found it. The doors were forced open as he searched for the one person one his mind, hoping he wasn't too late. Tears were falling freely, an apology deeply being rehearsed in his brain. Would he be too late? What did God have in mind for him today?
It was then his eyes connected with the one thing he wanted to see. As if on instinct, he ran to the glass, blinking at what was inside. More tears seemed to fall from his eyes, making a small river on the floor. A man who prided himself on not showing emotion was sobbing at a less than perfect picture painted on the wall.
Someone pulled him away and into a hug.
There was no way that painting was real. There was no way that the subject was blood. There was no way God had done that to him. Where did the joke end?
"Hey, relax."
He pushed the person away and clung to the wall. "Jeffrey…"
Matt finally came into reality, looking at the person he knew as his sister, if not blood related. "What… what happened?"
She blinked back tears. "I don't know…"
He looked once more at the broken picture. "Can… can he … will he… what will… dear God, help me…"
Beth only could stand there, no answers to give. "He's bad."
Matt tried to contain himself and felt his heart and stomach constricting everything inside of him. His lungs refused to function, tightening, squeezing all of the air from inside of him; he couldn't get air. Didn't God understand that was his baby brother, the one he always swore to protect as a child? Why did it have to happen the one time he broke that promise? Didn't God know that he needed a second chance, a moment to make everything right?
"Go in."
He stared at her. "Can I?"
She pushed him forward. He stumbled into the room, the horrible smell of hospital and the hissing of the ventilator meeting him. It was as if everything froze around him and all he could see was the broken body, the broken art piece of his baby brother.
Matt felt more tears fall from his eyes as he took a seat on the old, worn with grief chair. It held memories of more families in similar situations, all wondering the same thing. Why them?
"Jeffrey…"
It didn't look like him. It couldn't be him. Jeffrey Hardy was not a broken body. He was a full of life, beautiful human being that deserved to be on the top of the world while Matt sat in his position. Meanwhile, the horrible, undeserving of happiness brother sat in the chair, the better of the two broken beneath white cotton.
Matt looked at the ceiling, trying to see beyond it to ask a question. Could he take back the time and make it right? Would it be any different if he knew he still cared? He loved him… that was his blood lying there, struggling for just an ounce of life without the help of technology.
Over the next hour, he was informed of the details, and found himself unable to believe this was happening. There were several times he thought he'd wake up and it'd all be a nightmare.
Matt prayed for a nightmare, the worst nightmare there was. But he also prayed to wake up and let the nightmare become the past. Bring back his brother… bring back his brother.
Days passed and nothing changed.
He didn't leave the room, much less the hospital. He spent more time there than Beth did. He clung to the side of his baby brother, making up for the past few months, talking and explaining, showing and learning all together.
Life was beautiful. He wished his brother still had that.
They said chances were, he'd never be the same. Chances were, he wouldn't make it at all. Injuries like that didn't heal over night, and sometimes, the body wasn't strong enough to pull through.
Matt had to believe his brother was stronger than most. He was the beautiful warrior, the one who entertained no matter how much pain he was in. He was the one each fan cheered until their voice would raw, making sure he knew how much he was loved. Couldn't he hear the cheers now? Couldn't he see the fans rooting for a return of the only one they knew as well as their own?
It was strange, but Matt learned the most about his brother in a four day period. He learned that his brother was stronger than he'd ever be. He learned that his brother had the love he'd never have. And he learned his brother was a better person then he could ever be. He learned too about the world. He read things he never thought he would. He hoped God still believed in him, despite the lack of communication as of late.
Each breath he took, he hoped would be one toward recovery. Toward hope. Toward a miracle. His fingers tapped a beat toward recovery. Toward hope. Toward a miracle. Music played upbeat sounds toward recovery. Toward hope. Toward a miracle.
The day his eyes open, Matt felt as if life had blossomed all over again. Tears were like tiny miracles from his eyes, giving him strength to know recovery was happening. Hope was happening. A miracle was happening.
They continued to say Jeff would never be himself again.
But only three hours later, his fingers made a symbol of who he was and everything he stood for.
Matt felt as if he could supply an endless lake of water with what he cried.
The day he resigned from the company, he felt relief. He couldn't let anything hold him back from making sure his brother had everything and anything. The hours he didn't spend sleeping were spent by his brother's side, reading and talking about the future. About how they were going to make the world change second by second. He talked about dreams and how Jeff was going to make the face of his company better by day and months.
They said he would have to learn to talk again.
They said he would have to learn to read and write again.
They said he would have to learn to walk again.
It was a miracle.
He saw him talk his first word a week later.
He saw him read and write two words a month later: thank you.
And finally, six months later, he saw him walk.
Even a year later, when his brother was slowly making his way back home, he couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe how one night had drastically changed the way he lived. He forgot about the jealousy and the stupidity he had once felt. His life had changed from being about him, to about being about a person. The only person other than his parents who knew him like no one else would.
He didn't believe in miracles before that night. He thought he'd never see one with his own eyes. But one year later, under the North Carolina sky, on the old back porch, he knew he was sitting next to one and witnessed one every day of his life.