The smallest things mean the world to little children. Short BROTHERLY one-shot. Read, review, rate and feel my love! :P
“Shush, it’s alright. He’s, err, in a better place now.” I hush down to my five-year-old brother who is currently bawling in my arms, podgy fingers digging into my back as though he thinks that I could ever let go of him.
I promised him I wouldn’t and I don’t break promises because I’m a big boy, Daddy said so. But Mikey’s only little, which means that I’ve got to look after him and make him smile when he’s sad. I’d do that even if he wasn’t little though, because he’s my bestest friend and brother; it makes me ache inside whenever he cries. Mommy says that’s because I love him and that I love him because I’m a good big brother.
That ache is swelling up in me right now, like those big storms that make Mikey come hide in my bed at night, and I don’t like it. Not one little Mikey-sized bit. Because that ache means that my baby brother, the Robin to my Batman, is upset. Devastated even. Whatever that means. I heard it on the news this morning when a lady was talking about some hurricane in the South that made lots of people very sad, so I think it means what Mikey’s feeling right now.
What I won’t let him be feeling for much longer.
Mikey looks at me, brown eyes huge and full of tears. Just like the last time Frankie from two doors over told him that unicorns aren’t real. I fixed it though, as I have done the past million times someone made the mistake of breaking the news to my bro that unicorns are about as real as that phony ‘no tears’ promise on the shampoo that Mommy buys us.
“B-but he’s on the bottom of my shoe!”
He bursts into tears again before hiding them in my Batman dress-up cape. I would give anything to be the real Batman right now; the real Batman would be able to cheer up Mikey. I can too, though. I have to, it’s my job. Like Batman has to save people from the nasty old Joker, I have to save my little brother from being sad.
So I snuggle my forehead against his sandy hair and let out a soft hum of thought. I’ve seen Mommy do it whenever Mikes cuts his knee on the uneven sidewalk outside and it’s always helped him calm down at least a little, so it’s a place to start from, right?
“I mean Heaven, Mikes.” I whisper, pressing a kiss to his cheek like our parents do to me whenever I have nightmare. I don’t though, not anymore; I’m a big boy now. For Mikey, I’m a big boy. “It’s in Heaven.”
“He’s not an ‘it’. His name is Siddy.” He glares up at me in an attempt to look powerful, but it only makes him look even cuter than his too-big glasses already do. Which in turn makes me smile at him softly. “His name is Siddy Spider and now he’s gone!”
As his howls reach my ears I can’t help but hate ‘Siddy Spider’ for doing this to Mikey, for letting himself get squished by my brother’s hand-me-down sneakers that are two sizes too huge for him because he insists on wearing everything of mine the second it’s too small for me. Says he wants to be just like me when he’s growed-up.
He’d been so happy when he showed me Siddy this morning, holding the tiny spider in his open palm for me to see and beaming at me as though he was holding one of those fancy light-sabres that next-door’s snobby kids have. I didn’t see what the big fuss was, but I could see the teensy little animal meant a lot to Mikes so I played along. He told me it was his new pet, a second choice after Mom told us puppy’s cost too much money.
But then Mikey put his new pet down, it started to scurry away and so he ran after it. Or rather, ran over it. Squished Siddy dead on the porch. And that’s where we’ve been sat since, on the porch with Mikey buried into my side, sobbing his eyes out and me letting him wipe his snotty nose on my beloved cape.
For the past bazillion hours. Enough now though. Because I don’t like it when Mikey’s sad. Or when he gets snot on my Batman cape that Grandma got me for my birthday.
“Siddy Spider’s in Heaven now, Mikes.” I continue, feeling that horrid ache once more when his teary face looks up at me with an expression that’s begging me to make it all better. Just like I know I will. “Just like my old goldfish, Percy. They’re both together in Heaven.”
“W-why can’t he be here with me instead, Gee?”
I sigh at his question, one that I’d asked myself when Percy died but had never gotten a good answer to, and ruffle his hair fondly.
“Because he was a good spider and deserves to be happy in Heaven.” I smile a little at the goodness behind my words, happy that I’ve given the best answer I can think of with my eight years of intelligence. “Like I said, he’s in a better place.”
He blinks a little, the last few tears running down his misery-reddened face, and mutters my words under his breath as though trying to understand why the things we love have to die on us. I don’t even understand it myself and whenever I try to, which I do quite a lot, I only manage to get frightened. Because this whole ‘dying’ thing means that one day, if only for a little bit, I’ll have to be without my mommy and daddy and Frankie.
And Mikey. I can’t ever be without Mikey.
“I wanna go there too, Gee. If it’s so great why can’t I go there too? I wanna go to Heaven, Gee. Why can’t I go to Heaven?”
And to that question, one that makes me gasp and panic and hold my baby brother too tight for the angels to be able to pull him away from me ever, there’s only one answer I can give.
“Because I need you here with me. After all, what’s a Batman without his Robin?”
A/N: Just a stupid bit of brotherly fluff for you that I came up with after getting the prompt word ‘pet’ from my table. I tried my best to make Gerard sound like he’s an eight-year-old, but I fear I failed miserably with that. Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope you liked it. Please let me know what you think! :D