Underneath those same stars, the ones that never changed from last week to last year, from childhood to a century ago, Tim Travis and Kyle Dwyer, two brother with different names and different lives laid on the picnic table, just talking to each other. This seemed right. It seemed like the kind of thing that brothers did together.
They didn't punch each other. They didn't let the other kill themselves. They talked and discussed and laughed like they belonged together. Like they were a family, a real one.
Tim had finally found someplace to belong and someone to belong to. Although they'd only known about their connection to each other for little over a week now, Kyle seemed as familiar to him as his other brother, the older one who was too wrapped up in swimming and perfection to care about him. They seemed to fit together, like Tim had finally found the missing piece of the puzzle, the thing that made everything click together.
"What do you think you're going to major in when you go away to college?" Kyle started the conversation back up again after taking a hit from his joint, seemingly interested in what Tim had to say.
"I don't know," Tim shrugged. This would have never come up in conversation between Tim and Matt, they'd never cared about each other's lives like that, never even cared whether the other one was living or not. Kyle offered him another hit from the marijuana, and Tim continued, "There's really nothing I'm that good at.. well, maybe music, I guess."
"I heard you play during the graduation." Kyle replied, "You're better than good. Better than your brother ever was in swimming-- sorry, I shouldn't have gone there." He paused, but then seemed to find the gall to say what was really on his mind and began again, "But, you know, you're always making comparisons between yourself and him and you kick ass so much harder than he ever did."
Tim let that sink in a moment. He was actually good at something. Someone else thought he was worth a damn. Maybe it was the marijuana but everything felt better hearing those words, like he was floating and nothing could touch him. "You know, you're a much better brother than he ever was. You--" He let out a giggle, the high finally starting to effect him. He swung the joint through the air as the stars began to sway softly in the summer breeze, "You always have the good shit with you."
Kyle sat up, studying the night sky with intent, appearing as if he was looking for meaning somewhere out there. It was unlike him. Usually he'd laugh off any 'meaning of life' crap and say that their lives were too insignificant in the big picture to mean much of anything. He shook his head, "I still can't believe it. Your mom.. and my dad.."
Tim sat up beside him, "It's wacky, isn't it?" He pulled out a piece of folded up paper with an essay printed out on it. The street lamp from the other side of the playground spread light and shadows across the page, making it hard to read so Tim gave him a summary, "The guidance counselor made me write out this stupid essay about who my hero was.. it's supposed to help me get into college or something. I wrote it about you."
"I'm your heawro?" Kyle asked in a mocking childish voice. He continued to tease, but there was still something gentle to his tone of voice. "Aww.. Timmy, that's so sweet. Do I get to wear a cape?"
"Fuck you, man," Tim shoved Kyle in the arm with a laugh. "I'm trying to say something here, okay? Anyway, I heard what you did to that kid that gave me a bloody nose. The whole threatening-him-with-a-broken-bottle thing. No one's ever stood up for me that way before.. well, besides my mom. It meant something to me, you know?"
"Anytime you ever want me to kill anyone for you," Kyle shrugged. "I heard about the bruises he was giving you and I guess I just got fed up with him constantly beating you up. Someone had to stand up to him."
"It wasn't him," After quietly muttering out the truth, Tim left to go sit on one of the swings. When Kyle came and sat next to him on the swing beside him, Tim sighed and told him the whole story, everything about Matt and how he used to beat on him and how Tim let him kill himself and how he hated it but sometimes he was really glad that Matt finally took his own life.
He hadn't told anyone what happened, ever. Not the counselors at school, not his parents, no one. He half expected Kyle to freak out on him, to yell at him or disown him or do something other than grab his hand and offer much needed comfort. "You weren't kidding when you said I was a better brother than he was, huh?"
Tim laughed back tears, trying to find levity in the situation, "Except for the whole sleeping together thing." The humor was lost on the both of them as they dropped each other's hands, but then two twin smiles crept back into their faces as Tim added, "Which I promise never to speak of again."
"Probably a good idea," Kyle nodded and chuckled to himself. They swung on the swings for a while, feeling the rise and fall of the drugs coursing through their systems. Tim had never felt like he had belong anywhere, like nothing had ever been so right, until right then and right there.
They say that when you meet your heroes, one of two things happen. Either they turn out to be assholes or they're just like you. Some say that when those are your only two options, that's why you'll always lose. Though, sometimes when you meet your heroes and they're just like you, they make you feel not so alone anymore.
-End-
