3 Hours Earlier

Brad sat in his bedroom, looking through an old photo book. The binding bright blue and red pen scribbles from the 7-month-old Tuck- that old photo book was filled with countless memories. Brad remembered vividly how his grandfather had insisted on keeping his vintage digital camera. He remembered the way his dad used to groan "Dad, please! This isn't the 21st century!"

He stared at a family photo: one that featured him, his baby brother, his dad - even his mother.

Brad put the book down and thought quietly to himself. Something stirred inside him, a sense of numbness.
Loss.

It was strange and new to him. He thought he was handling his emotions fairly well. He had gone through something similar with his mom's departure and in the past week he hadn't cried a whole lot - in fact, he thought of his father's death as a sign that he was in a better place now. Always an optimist, Brad tried his best to look at the world through a positive lens, seeing only hope and reason for all that occurs. His father used to pat him on the back upon hearing his bright insight.

"'Atta boy! One day, kid, I'm telling ya- with an attitude like that, you're gonna do great things."

"Really? Do you think I could...save the world?" 5-year-old Brad Carbunkle piped, twirling in his Captain America cape.

"I think you can do anything you put your mind to," his father assured him, pinching his cheek and laughing. His father then proceeded to wheel towards Mrs. Carbunkle.

"How's the baby doing? I don't feel much kicking!" He asked gleefully, patting her stomach. She shook her head.

"The baby is fine, hon, he's just a bit tuckered out. I'm more worried about your condition," Mrs. Carbunkle replied with a sadder expression. 5-year-old Brad whirled around the room, shouting. Mr. Carbunkle laughed in delight, disregarding his wife's troubled expression.

"Do you see our Brad, dearie? Look at him go. He's going to great things, you know. I can just tell," Mr. Carbunkle answered. His wife sighed in exasperation.

"He's a joy, of course, but please don't try to pin it on him to fix everything. You know he can't," Mrs. Carbunkle's eyes widened. "Unfortunately, I can't do much either. This pregnancy is starting to make me weary."

Mr. Carbunkle grabbed his wife's hands.

"You're going to be alright. I'm going to be alright. We're going to make it work, I promise."

The Carbunkles smiled weakly at each other while a tiny Brad yelled in the background.

"Citizens of Planet Earth! Do not fear! Your good friend, loyal pal, and hero to the rescue, 'The Bradster' is here!"

His mother had later on passed shortly after giving birth to Tucker. Brad had been so confused as a mere 6-year-old. He hadn't quite seemed to connect the dots that her consistent exhaustion served to be more than just the effects of pregnancy. It had just been him, his brother, and his old man for so many years. Brad didn't even get the chance to know his mother that well and Tucker couldn't even meet her. But they made it through with the power of dad's positivity, despite his weaker bones and feeble muscles.

Brad sighed. He had known his father was sick for a long time, but would have never once guessed that his passing would happen so suddenly. It was as if he had forgotten that his father was human: his bright energy pure as a blooming flower, bright as a kindergartner's smile on Picture Day. It never fully occurred to Brad that he would pass - he had become a form of...immortal in his mind.

He turned around to look out the window. He remember how his mother used to point to the brightest star.

"You see that really bright one? It's illuminated with the most joyous spirits of those bodies who can no longer be with us."

Of course he knew now that it was really filled with hot gas, but something inside of him liked to believe that perhaps his father's spirit had found his mother's in space. Maybe they were talking again, reunited. It made Brad smile a bit, the thought that both of them really could be together, a team in both life and death.

Brad heard his door open behind him. Normally, he would've asked for a knock first, but nodded, recognizing that it was no longer necessary.

"I can't sleep. I can't stop thinking about it all," Tucker stated, climbing up on the window seat next to his brother. Brad held his brother in his arms, hugging him tightly.

"I just don't get it. How could it have happened so quickly?" Tuck asked, looking up at sibling whose gaze was directed at the sky.

"I don't know," Brad said quietly. He pointed to the stars.

"Tuck, in school they're going to tell you that those stars are made out of hot gas-"

"-Gas? Not like...the gas you get from tacos, right?"

The two exchanged a look and laughed, both relieved at the ability to laugh with each other again.

"No, Tuck. Gas as in a hydrogen and helium mix, but that's beyond the point. You see that big bright star up there?" Tuck nodded.

"That one is a bit special, and it's hard not to get lost in the beauty of it. I aim to be like that star: thinking on the bright side of whatever life throws at us. If it can shine through a polluted sky, I can be a strong hearted citizen in a time of trouble. Remember that one time we were certain the world was going to end due to a Cluster invasion? Well, it didn't! And it was because we had hope. It was because we believed and worked together! As upsetting as it is that a dear friend has left us behind, we can only get by knowing that it was for the better. Maybe dad's spirit found mom's. Maybe he's not so sick in the after world. And maybe, just maybe Tuck, he's up there in that shining star, telling us that better times are coming. That you'll be alright. I'll be alright. We'll be...alright."

Tuck went silent for a moment, as if considering what Brad had said into serious account. He then burst into laughter.

"I don't know what kind of mumbo jumbo just came out of your mouth. Maybe try that on someone who understands you better?"

Brad was about to interrupt when Tuck slapped his knee.

"Of course! Silly me! Who's gonna understand a weirdo like you? You can't even get a DATE!"
Brad would've normally rolled his eyes at the statement, but rather smiled instead, thankful to see his brother laughing, starting to become like his old self again. Tucker yawned.

"Well, I owe you a thank you. I must get to bed, it's been a long-"
Snoring soon followed and Brad looked down to find that Tuck had fallen asleep on his lap. He picked his baby brother up and carried him to his room.

"Maybe things will start to get better again. Be like the old days again." He thought to himself. He mentally set a reminder to wake his brother up early so they could walk over to the Wakemans' house-

He stopped in his tracks. Jenny.

"I haven't spoken to her all week... I hope she's not too worried about us," He muttered to himself. He reached into his pocket and dug out his phone to find a total of 5 unread voicemails since Monday.

"Oh no," he muttered to himself before calling the number back.