arx is a ho {ho ho}
Dec 21, 2016 16:57:10 GMT -5
Post by dars on Dec 21, 2016 16:57:10 GMT -5
wow boy oh boy hi sorry it is me please don't cry it'll get better some day.
okay so
have some rich white fuckboyz. i'll be posting a new part each day woohoo.
JUSTICE & KELLAN
THE HEART AND THE BRAIN
He and I were born different-- expected to be the same.
His birth is my very earliest memory. (Fuck, have I ever told that to anyone?) I was only two, maybe three-- sounds about right-- when he was born. I just remember Mom dropping a jug of orange juice on the floor, a trip to the hospital, and a lot of screaming. And then Justice was here: a tiny ball of warmth who did not cry when I got to hold him, but did cry when my Dad did.
I remember telling him I would be his friend.
(That went over well, didn't it?)
He cared too much. That was his biggest weakness, the thing he had to work hardest to overcome. He loved, and he cared, and he found passion and excitement in fucking everything, and careers cannot work like that.
Me? I cared too little. Indifference made its home in my chest, and I let my brain do the walking and the talking, while Justice faked it until his heart finally gave up. I think that is what happened: he just gave up. I don't think anyone broke his heart. I think he just finally found a way to stop caring, and that was supposed to be a good thing.
He was on and on about animals and his training one day, and the next, he was... well, he was me, at least the then-version of me, and maybe that is one of the most awful things I have ever done to a person: make them be like me. I look at him now and wonder if everything would be different if I had been different then.
Probably not. I am far from the only influence in Justice Fray's life.
Dad was so proud the day Justice got his first perfect score in training, but he hadn't ever cared all that much when the boy talked about his love for piano lessons. Our mother cried the day he was reaped: not because she was in mourning, but because it was all she had ever wanted.
No one had ever treated the person Justice like he mattered. Only the machine. And I was no different. I could recall several times when I praised my brother for a job well done in the training center, but never on getting a good grade in his English class, or on snagging a date to a dance. I had been too much of a trainer and too little of a brother. Not just to Justice, but to all of my siblings.
We were born different: he with a heart and no brain, I with a brain and no heart. He cared and he loved, and he let that overpower his need for victory. I killed and I conquered, and I acted as if my heart was a nuisance of unwanted flesh and emotion buried deep in my chest.
Yet over time, our roles in the Fray household have changed, haven't they? I have found my pulse inside Pyrite Shore, and he has fought for the crown on his head, a title rightfully earned. A title that took bloodshed and nightmares he swears he doesn't still have.
In the end, neither of us turned out to be who we were supposed to be.
And in the end, I wish I could go back and tell him he should have been who he wanted to be, not who everyone him expected to be.
"You deserve better." I mumble, watching as he leaves the front door of our parents' house, the very last of his things in tow. Off to the Victor's Village, a Kingdom of crowned jewels. Part of me wants to applaud him, while the other part wants to apologize. He is broken and bent, but still there. That is what matters. So I do neither.
I just stand by and watch as my little brother takes his first step into a world without us just around the corner.
"So much better."
PART I
