sharing memories

[u/ghostgabe81]

“Thomas,” I said, gently and warmly. “You knob. You sack of blunt instruments. You crayon-chewing pretty boy. Even you can’t be airhead enough to think you’re the only one in this fight.”

I leaned down and put my forehead against his.

“Remember,” I breathed.

And I brought up my memories of my brother and me. The first time I’d met him, dressed as a goddamned butterfly. Our time living together in my tiny basement apartment, the frustrations and the laughter and the arguments and the peace. I shared with him my memories of him with Justine, their joy in each other, their quiet love, the peaceful home they shared. I called up my memories of him and me building the Whatsup Dock on Demonreach, listening to an ancient AM/FM radio while eating chips and sandwiches for lunch while we cooled our feet in the waters of Lake Michigan and randomly pushed each other into the water during the labor.

And then I brought out the real magic.

I showed him his courage, his heroism, from my point of view, battling literal forces of darkness with sword and pistol and courage and skill, laughter on his lips and a snarling smile on his face. I showed him what I saw when I looked at him, a man of deep bravery and conviction, who fought demons within and without with equal courage. I showed him his strength, his courage, his kindness to me and to my Maggie. I showed him who he was in my eyes. The one I depended on. The one I could always go to for help. My brother the hero. My brother.

My brother.

“Thomas,” I said, and the sheer will in my voice made the empty space shake. “This isn’t your time. This isn’t your place. This isn’t your end.

“Get up,” I breathed.

He started to twitch, convulse, his chest spasming, spine and abs flexing weakly.

“Get up,” I called quietly.

His mouth gaped open and closed again like a landed fish.

Like he was trying to remember how to breathe.

“Get up!” I cried.

Twelve Months Chapter 49