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╔═════ ∘◦ ✾ ◦∘ ══════╗ love and courage comes hand in hand ! ╚═════ ∘◦ ❈ ◦∘ ══════╝
BRIAN REYNOLDS wasn't brave.
He wasn't brave enough to stand up to the elementary school bullies that shoved him inside his own locker. Gregory had found him when the sun had already sunk low beneath the skyscrapers, his mouth curled into a pitiful scowl.
He wasn't brave enough to accept the fact that his mother is living in the little grey area between life and death, and that her last day could be a month or a day away.
He wasn't brave enough to tell Shuri Udaku that he likes the way she smiles under the sun and the way she laughs at the face of danger.
He wasn't brave,but love and courage comes hand in hand.
He was brave enough to announce his title as president in front of his little book club, Gregory smiling at him from one of the chairs perched against the cream-colored walls of the music room, the Jewish boy's eyes glinting with pride as he watched his childhood friend tremble against the miniature makeshift podium.
He finally had the courage to visit his mother on the weekends, learning to count the memories instead of the days. He could remember the way she would kiss his forehead, her soft lips reminding him that he was loved as he strings a tune in his cello.
He wasn't afraid to look at Shuri in the eye and tell her that she was going to be alright, despite the pieces of debris falling on them and the fire engulfing the room they were trapped in.
Brian Reynolds wasn't brave, but the overwhelming urge to protect those he cared about would always overcome his fears, and at that split second of adrenaline and worry, Brian was the bravest person in the room.
Which was why, when he awoke to the faint rustling of the wind against the curtains and the sun caressing his cheeks, he wasn't surprised to find himself in the middle of a hospital bed. The constant beeping by his bedside constantly pulling him awake, tearing sleep away from his eyes.
A cluster of voices made its way to his eras, until they blurred into one sentence, the voice unmistakably his mother's.
" He's awake."
The frail quiver of her voice sent him awake almost immediately, the only thing stopping him was the black spots swarming his vision.
It reminded him of the tadpoles he would try to catch when he was younger, they would cluster above the pond's surface and deprive the algae below of any light. He can't help but think of how it perfectly describes the state of his mind, his thoughts were foggy, as if he was the pristine surface being attacked by a school of young frogs.
He hummed at the fond memory of his childhood, while his mother's hands snaked itself against his own numb fingers, anchoring him to the present.
" Brian," His mother cooed," It's time to wake up."
