Yet
Garland did his best. He was afraid that if Brooklyn became bored… he'd disappear never to return. So Garland did his best to keep Brooklyn amused. This involved outings. Trips with three or four or five or six people keeping them company, to places Garland hoped Brooklyn had never been. But invariably, they'd arrive and Brooklyn would smile and Garland would have an inkling, an annoying feeling, that Brooklyn had seen it all before. Brooklyn was not impressed. Amused, maybe, for his sake… But not impressed.
Garland always felt a little let down by Brooklyn's humoring smiles. Brooklyn's childish need to humor Garland who he knew was doing his very best to keep him amused, keep him put. Brooklyn knew Garland wanted to keep him put. It felt nice to have so much power. The ability to make someone happy with staying or sad with leaving. It felt nice to know that when he left, he left Garland looking out the window, terrified of everything uncontrollable. It felt nice to know that when he stayed, Garland looked out the window, terrified of losing control.
Brooklyn tried not to disappear. Or at least—he always tried to return. Not bored yet.