Chapter 4 – Tonight the World Dies

AN: Warning! This chapter contains a bit of colorful language. If you're offended by this, sorry - but let's be real, in a situation like this... well, I'm just trying to remain as realistic as possible. Anyway it does contain some language and terms.

Also this story is now going to be straying from a romance-based story. Keep in mind the Angst/Drama genre I've given it (even though I'm horrible at categorizing my stories!) But just know, if you came here for a fluffy, cute little romance story... sorry.

This is not a request, it is a demand: Go read lividredemption's 'Suite Horizons' series. There's four of them right now and they are four very, very good stories. He is an amazing writer and plot designer. The last two have blown me away especially. They're sci-fi themed and action-packed which is awesome because there aren't many of those here. So go read them!


Naturally neither Eric, nor Zack, knew about his plan. He'd kept it to himself because he didn't need any help – or at least he didn't want any help. It was after school, after a rough day of sailing and coasting through the misery of being looked down upon and harassed. Cody could do nothing but smile.

It was after school that he finally launched into action. As had become customary, he suffered either a locker-slam or an assault of hot slurs at the end of every school day. Now, he wasn't planning on sitting there and taking it. He knew nothing would come of it. There was no good to be had, no justice served, by doing nothing. Instead when the three boys, all also seventeen, walked up to him unsheathing their words he stood, looked them in the eye and smiled.

"What'ya smilin' at you fucking fag? Daydreaming about sucking my cock?"

The other two basketball and football standouts laughed and laughed like they had just heard the funniest thing in the world. It was just to piss him off.

Cody was halfway through a sarcastic nod when the words came to him, "I wouldn't even look at your shrimp dick."

The boy, Thomas O'Brien – tall, leanly built, short brown hair, maybe he did have a shrimp dick, who would know? It's not like he had ever been with a girl before – grabbed him by the shoulders and pounded him, back first, into the locker. "Watch your fucking mouth!" His eyes could have spewed venom or acid from the pupils.

Cody mustered up his strength, the pain from all the abuse and the hurt from all the words, gathered it into pure strength and pushed him back. He swung a fist, surprised how much his hand hurt when it struck its target. Then another fist, and another. He totaled three on-target punches before O'Brien's posse restrained him. Cody could have kept going, and kept fighting, but he knew he wasn't stronger than these two boys.

By now a crowd was forming, lonely waves washing onto a forgotten shore and watching with awe as it wept for all of humanity. They gathered in a horrifying circle around the four boys, some cheered, others whispered. Some stood deathly still.

Cody felt his head jerk around before he felt the pain explode like a hot coil in his right cheek. When his hearing returned a few seconds later he heard the last of the dying cheer. The crowd wanted more.

"I'm going to fucking beat you to shit, you fucking fag!" O'Brien formed another fist and swung it hard, connecting with Cody's thin stomach. Then another connected with his other cheek, then again.

Cody gave a sarcastic laugh before he felt the punch to his jaw. He felt his lip spit apart, his tooth piercing it like a dagger. That was when time melted away and punches became blurs. He'd see a flash of skin and feel a tingle of pain and it would get blurrier and blurrier. Deemed not a threat to anybody's well being, he was released and he collapsed to the ground. He scanned the crowd for a familiar face, eyes widening when he saw his brother's.

Voice shaking and gurgling like a dead man's, "Zack. Help me, please." Cody reached out for his brother, knowing at any second the pain would be over and he'd be safe and in Zack's arms. His plan hadn't worked, not like he thought it would.

In fact, he knew, in the long run it had probably done more bad than good.

Zack stood there crying what felt like ice. The shameless tears fell from their sockets, homeless and wandered down his cheeks killing his skin, melting his face off because they were so cold. He choked on a sob and began gnashing his teeth together furiously, in thought. He shook his head, throwing more tears to the left and the right, back to the left. And then he did nothing. He stood. And he waited. And he watched.

Cody retched as he felt a foot connect with his gut, but nothing came up except pride and happiness and a feeling of belonging. He rolled halfway over, onto his back, and looked for his brother once more. The last thing Cody saw was Zack standing, face like stone and tears dried – looming like some black monolith, an omen of death.

Then everything went black. He didn't know, couldn't have, that they kept on beating him. Kept pushing him closer and closer to death.

Cody dreamed of rainbows and he dreamed of the loudest and clearest bell ringing and ringing. He dreamed of that he was flying. He dreamed that everything was going to be okay. He dreamed that he was able to look at himself and laugh and laugh because it was funny. He dreamed he was anybody but himself and he dreamed that people would accept him and he dreamed that he was riding a horse and he dreamed that the drums boomed boomed boomed a path to his future. He dreamed that when he reached out his hand somebody held it.

When Cody woke up he didn't remember any of his dreams, just the residue, the feeling, they left behind – that bitterness of alone. He tried to move but he couldn't. There was only a dull ache, the pain reduced by massive amounts of painkillers. But he could hardly move. Only the little bit he could move his head and his arms and his toes reassured him that he wasn't paralyzed. Tubes emerged and burrowed into his skin from every available or exposed part. There were machines that injected water and beautiful sedatives into his bloodstream, and there were machines that monitored his pulse and blood pressure. But there was nobody in the room.

Or so he thought. Really, his mother was in the connected bathroom dropping Visine into her eyes and his brother was shrunken into a chair in the corner of the room, eyes glued on the swollen and cut up and bandaged face of his brother. His insides were spinning out of control with emotion.

Cody you're so dumb! Why do you have to go around picking fights? Huh? What made you think that was a good idea? Maybe if you knew how to fight. Maybe… maybe if you weren't gay.

He felt horrible thinking that, but horrible was an improvement from helpless and wallowing in his misery and regret. He knew what he had done, his crime, his sin; his conscience would never let him forget. He had done nothing, and he knew that was worse than anything he could have done. He could have made fun of Cody and pushed him around as much as O'Brien and his friends had. He could have been an aggressor – at least he'd have displayed passion in one form or another. Conversely, he could have showed support and love and held Cody's hand, washed his wounds and whispered in his ear. He could have been there for him. But instead, he chose to do nothing. He had watched, shamelessly, as his brother had been beat to almost-death.

All at once, Zack cracked his knuckles, giving away his presence, and Cody groaned in drowsy, dull pain, and Carey emerged from the bathroom, eyes full of love and regret and Visine, covering up all the negatives.

She ran to his side and kissed his forehead, not minding the blood that was still there. It was her son, after all. Zack stood from the chair and took a few cautious steps towards him, forgetting for a moment that he, himself, was the devil.

Cody smiled and melted into the one person that ever pushed him along his path, before it all vanished from his face as his eyes met his brother's identical orbs.

Carey choked back her tears, "Baby, what happened."

Zack's heart began racing. Here it was, the moment of reckoning. He'd never be the same, for as long as he lived. He'd forever be looked at differently because he hadn't lifted a finger, or an eyelash, to help his brother. In a flash, a fraction of an instant, he considered running away or jumping out of the three-story window and how he'd never have to live with that shame.

Cody coughed once; a little blood stained his lips. "I don't remember."

Zack felt a flash of hope then his mother spoke again, to him.

"Zack, where were you when all this happened? Cody, oh I'm so glad you're okay now. Why didn't anybody help you?"

Cody shrugged painfully, feeling gone, "Zack had already left. I saw him go. I don't know they all just stood there and watched." While he had bailed Zack out – again – he had made sure to make sarcastic eye contact with him as he spoke the sentence.

Zack felt his own painkillers, adrenaline and hope.

Carey just closed her eyes and held Cody's hand.

Then, disturbing the troubled peace – maybe it was a blessing – a man in a white, three-quarter jacket entered the room. "Ms. Martin, I need to talk to you outside for a couple of minutes."

Carey nodded, exchanged a look with each of her boys, and left the room behind him.

Zack took his opportunity to begin his redemption. He took steps toward his breathing brother and sat down at the foot of the bed, "Thank you Cody. Thank you for lying, you didn't have to."

Cody didn't say anything.

"Come on, Cody. Say something."

Nothing, just pained and painful eye contact.

"Cody. Please. Say something! Say you hate me, but just say something!" Zack couldn't stand the silence. He didn't realize that it was almost the same as what he had done to Cody, only without the life-threatening pain.

Before looking away, "Get the fuck off my bed."

So Zack did, but it broke his heart.


It only took a couple weeks for Cody to make a full recovery. That's all it took. A couple weeks.

But for Zack it was the longest couple weeks of his life. He cried and he stayed silent, he hoped and wished. He prayed. He felt stupid, thinking back on the first night he had prayed. It seemed so juvenile, to pray. So desperate. That's what praying was, desperate. But looking back, Zack knew that it wasn't juvenile or stupid. The results proved that theory wrong.

Zack knelt down before his bed, elbows rested on his blanket and chin resting on the rising points of his middle fingers, hands glued together in the customary – origins uncertain – prayer fashion. He didn't know how to do it; he didn't know what to say. But he knew he had to give it a go. So a go, he gave:

"Um… I don't really know what I'm doing here. I feel so stupid, but I need help. I guess you already know me. And everything I've done, you know that too. But just in case, I'm Zack. Zack Martin. And I've made a huge mistake. I just stood there and I didn't do anything. I don't… I can't talk about it; I don't know what to say. But Cody needs help. He's not okay. They're all telling me he's okay, but he coughs up blood all the time. He's not okay. I need help. He needs help. I'm so sorry. I'll do anything, everything, to make up for it. I just… I love him so much. He's my brother for Christssake. Oops… I probably shouldn't say that huh? Sorry. Force of habit. But I love him. I know I didn't tell him and I know I didn't show my support. I was angry, you know? So angry. How could I not be? I mean, Eric was my best friend. Maybe he still is. I've got nobody now. I don't know. But he was my friend and Cody was my brother. It just happened and I was there and I don't know. Eric was touching him. If it had been anybody else I'd have beat the shit out of them so bad they'd be in that hospital bed. But it was Eric. And Cody looked like he liked it." Zack expelled a long chain of compressed breath from his lungs, "Shit. I don't know. I just need help, for Cody, I mean. I'm not too good at this, but I really need help. You probably get a lot of these don't you? But, this one's serious. I'd do anything. Everything. Please. I just want my brother back. I just want to be able to tell him I love him and I want to be able to see him brush his teeth and smile. Sounds kind of dumb doesn't it. I bet you know I was about to say gay. See? I'm trying! Just please."

Zack stood up and looked up at his ceiling and could have sworn he saw the face of a smiling and listening man there, but it was so fast and so dark that he couldn't really tell.

A couple weeks, that was it. Just a couple weeks later, Cody was better. He was back at home. Brushing his teeth and smiling, just like Zack asked. All it took was a few weeks of praying and a miraculous recovery and Zack was a Christian. Fickle? Maybe. But still, undeniably Christian.

But he did more with his time than just praying. As days went on, sun slowly moving across the sky and sinking behind the buildings; he realized how wrong he was. Zack reflected. He regretted. Truly, he felt bad for doing nothing. It had just been a spontaneous reaction; looking back it was somewhat of an out-of-body experience. It didn't feel right, but it looked so right. He fit in with everybody else; it was all he ever wanted to do.

Zack knew it was dumb, he knew he was dumb for just wanting to fit in. But to him, that's all that mattered. School wasn't about learning. To him, school was about flirting, gossiping. There is such thing as school politics. That's what mattered. Play sports, get girls, flaunt your popularity in front of everyone who idols you just to get by. That's what it was about. Zack knew that if, for some reason, he was stripped of his position as hot-stuff on campus, he'd be devastated. Unlike Cody who had thrown his soul into learning and building his future, Zack had thrown his energies into being "cool" and building his reputation. The war had started – his brother was gay and he'd be made fun of for it. His world was already crashing down, but he didn't want to go down without a fight.

In a matter of days Zack's mindset had completely changed. For better or worse – he couldn't tell. All that mattered was that he was different. He was thinking differently, acting differently. He had gone from being overcome by anger and disappointment at his brother for being gay to being possessed by a feeling – a desire – for revenge. If it really was a war that was started, he was a soldier. He'd fight. But he was fighting for a different side now. Maybe he had initiated the conflict. It was undoubtedly his fault. But it had made him realize what was right and what was wrong. The bottom line was that Cody was his brother and he'd do anything to protect him.

There was no throwing away a lifetime of relationships, and that was what Zack knew he and his brother had. They had been best friends and close brothers for their entire lives. With one final reassurance of his last and final resolve, Zack knew his relationship with Cody meant more to him than Cody's sexuality.

Then he came to another conclusion, one more troubling, but still he needed redemption. He got Cody into trouble by not doing anything; maybe he could fix everything by doing something. He'd let O'Brien and his two friends, Jared McKinley and Brandon Peterson, know that making fun of his brother was not okay. He'd make them regret it for a long time.

A day late, a dollar short? Yeah. Hypocrisy at its finest? Probably. Ridiculous? Clearly. But all's fair in love and war – and this was a war about love at its deepest roots.


AN: Originally this was supposed to be two chapters. I'm sure it's pretty obvious too. I didn't like how short they'd be and they both followed very similar topics so I decided to merge them. Yes this chapter was a bit... succinct... but trust me - it's better that way. Originally I was going to go into detail about Cody's recovery but it was synonymous to a wandering nomad with no sense of purpose or flow (I'm playing the miracle card just like how I played the love at first sight card). I don't want to bore you and myself with writing about all that... there's only so much you can say about regret and pain.

Make sure you look out for the next chapter. Which is written... again... I was bored at school today. I just need to do some editing. How have you guys liked the chapter titles so far? Just curious. I like them better than trying to briefly explain what happens. Normally this would be called "Of Inaction and Recovery" or something like that, but I like this better. I claim no ownership of the song, by the way.

Comments? Questions? Concerns? Hit that button below!