hey gang! back as always. :)

enjoy friends!

-endless

spaces

I've always been told to look on the bright side.

"Your glass should be half full," Dad used to say when I'd come to him, sobbing, because I'd just failed another math test. "Never half empty."

"You're going to do amazing things," Momma would ease my worries about Dad being mad. "It's gonna be okay."

And I'd sit there and drown in her love, her affection, her praise. Dad only offered that message to me. When it was Darry, or Pony, or even Momma, Dad would be more gentle. He would be more loving, more endearing, more comforting.

I don't why I got all of the shit. I don't know why I found myself fighting the darkness I would come to love. I don't understand anything at all, and maybe I never will, but I will always strive for Dad's approval.

"Look on the bright side."

Where is it?

I'm standing in the corner of the room, trying to be as quiet as possible. Everyone else went to get food, but I gave it up in order to watch over Soda. I figure that he wants someone here when he wakes up, and hopefully, he won't convince himself that I'm a stranger. You would think that waking up from a coma, you'd be fine. Nothing can make you shiver, scream, cry. Nothing can touch you.

But everything is touching him right now. Even the things he wants to forget.

What he wants to forget, I'll never know. I don't think any of us will know. But I can only imagine that it's brutal, haunting, shattering. I bet it's nightmares he never wants to see again. I bet it's a furious war between what he knows to be right and what he knows to be wrong.

There's so much that we don't know. He came home a different person, but that's expected when you go to war. You don't come back with the same mind, the same heart, the same emotions. Everything is in overdrive, and I wish Soda would let us in. That moment when he stared into my eyes on that bridge, I saw a moment of doubt. I saw a moment of Why? cross his gaze, loosen his body. I saw him for who he was before 'Nam - a pure, kind, happy-go-lucky guy. I think we all saw him in that part of himself, and in some ways, I want to believe he saw himself for who he was before.

When he jumped, it was like the world stopped. My breath caught in my throat, my hands outstretched in midair, my heart pounding in my chest. We all stood there, completely dazed, completely confused, and then it clicked. He'd just jumped off a bridge in an attempt to die. And God, I know we all felt responsible. Seeing him screaming in the murky water, fighting me as I came to the surface and dragged him along rocks. The panic I felt as I kept pushing on his chest, trying to get him to breathe, I realized that he might not come out of this. When Steve and I rolled him on his side and Steve kept throwing his elbow into Soda's back, I realized this might be it --

"You're still here?"

His voice brings me back to the present. I steal him a glance, and I look away when he catches me. "Thought you'd like a familiar face when you woke up."

That pained smile grows again as I begin walking towards him. "You're my brother. Couldn't ever forget it."

I settle in the chair beside him, afraid to touch him. He's clearly in pain, and I don't want to make it worse. It's one of those situations where you feel like any touch, any movement of a blanket, will cause him to scream. And then I'm about to reach out, about to grab his hand, when the fucking doctors storm in here again. I hate these motherfuckers. Every six hours or so, they bolt in here like a pack of dogs and throw us out to do whatever the hell it is they do.

"Would you -"

I'm already getting to my feet, but Soda tries to grab my wrist as fast as he can. He misses it and grabs onto my pant leg instead. "Can he stay for this one?" His voice is strained, clearly trying to conceal the amount of pain he's in. But his eyes are pleading, and the way he holds me still, I know he's been wanting someone with him all along.

The doctor doesn't break from Soda's gaze. "I'm afraid it will be too much for him to handle."

Soda snorts. "He's seen worse." The doctor looks me dead in eye, clearly asking me have you seen worse? Truth be told, I haven't, but if it'll keep me by his side, I'll say whatever I have to. She holds my gaze for a moment longer and nods in agreement. Soda's grip tightens in satisfaction.

I'm slowly pushed to the wall nearest Soda's bed. I've never had claustrophobia, but it's flowing through my body, and it only pushes farther into my veins at the small cries that are coming from Soda. I'm right next to him, my hand brushing through the soft mop of dark brown hair on his head. Even though I'm here, shushing him in the gentlest of ways, I know I probably feel a thousand miles away. His jaw is locked, his body is shaking, and for a split second I think he's going into some kind of shock. I open my mouth to say something --

But then I see it. I see everything.

I see the black pit that has become his chest, completely encased with scars and a rib cage that might as well not exist. I see the long scar that runs from one part of his body to the next, and the fact that it's oozing blood makes me want to vomit. I feel my stomach fall into the floor at the way he curls in on himself when they move him onto his side, and I tell myself not to puke as they push needles into his spine. The yelps that hit the wall I'm standing against nearly throw me into another part of this fucking hospital.

I'm overcome with rage at the way they handle him. There isn't any careful movements, no apologies at the way he sobs, no preparation as they do whatever they want with him. It's cruelty, it's madness, and some part of me feels like this isn't even legal. I can't tell them not to. I don't want to imagine Soda in this place any longer than he needs to be just because I picked a fight with his doctors and nurses.

It's felt like years, but my heart relaxes when they finally stop the suffering and sweep out of the room before I can get one word in. I look down at my baby brother, taking in how he's still sobbing, still shaking, still warped in his own head. He's still laying on his side and he flinches at the sound of me sitting back down.

I lean forward and place a hand on the side of his face. I run it down gently, wiping tears and sweat as they fall onto his skin. I press my forehead into his hair and close my eyes, waiting for the shaking to stop. I can't hear myself speak, but I know my mouth is moving. "You're okay. They're gone now..."

Soda's warm and shallow breathing falls against my arm. "This always happens...every -" he hisses as another wave hits him -"fucking time." His grip on my arm loosens. I feel his body relax, but it's still shaking like the room has gone cold.

My eyes water and I nuzzle the top of his head. "They won't ever get the chance to kick me out again. I'm so sorry, honey... I'm so sorry I wasn't here..."

I know I'm speaking to silence, but I hope the words have reached him.