Categories > Original > Drama
My Mentor/Idol/Hero
0 reviewsPart of my Feel That Fire story. The night before their mother's marriage to Stefan, Addison has a nightmare and goes to Kyle for comfort.
0Unrated
Title: My Mentor/Idol/Hero
Author: Allison Wonderland
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The night before their mother’s wedding to Stefan Smith, Addison has another nightmare and goes to Kyle’s room for comfort.
Warning(s): Angst, language
Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Word Count: ~1300
Series: Feel That Fire
Note(s): In this one, we get to see Kyle and Addison about a year before the main part of the story starts. The version of the ‘pretty pony song’ used in this story is the one Catherine Raney sings in ‘Flicka.’
~*~
The moment Kyle’s eyes opened to the middle of the night darkness of his bedroom he knew something was wrong. He never woke up in the night. Once he was in bed Kyle rarely awoke before noon without an alarm clock. At least not unless Addison…
Fuck, he thought as he sat up suddenly. His brother had been incredibly upset when Kyle had helped him get ready for bed and tucked him in a few hours ago. He had been even more clingy than usual and it had taken over an hour of Kyle lying down with him and rubbing his back for Addison to fall asleep. It would not be surprising at all for Addison to be awake again.
Kyle pushed back the top sheet – the only blanket he was using because it was so hot even the air conditioner was no help and he had given up sleeping naked the night their father died and Addison had started crawling into bed with him every night – but he found the source of his alertness even before he got out of bed. Addison stood just inside the door to the bathroom connecting their two bedrooms. He looked like a little ghost in the dim light from the bathroom nightlight. Kyle’s brother was small for his age – thirteen in August. Dressed in the little red shorts and Cars tee shirt that made up his pajamas, with the thumb of his right hand in his mouth and his left hand clutching the front of his shorts he scarcely looked like an almost-a-teenager at all. In fact, he kind of resembled an overgrown toddler.
“What’s wrong, baby boy?” he asked. Daddy had always called Addison ‘baby boy.’ When their father had died a week after Kyle’s fifteenth birthday, Kyle had become his not quite ten year old brother’s primary caretaker and adopted the nickname as well. “Ya have a bad dream?” Since Daddy’s death Addison had experienced awful nightmares but he claimed he didn’t remember them upon waking.
Addison showed no sign of hearing. His thumb remained silently in his mouth.
“Ya wanna tell me what’s wrong?”
Still, Addison did not respond. He remained silent, unblinking, right where he was. A single tear slid down his face.
The wetness on his brother’s face sparkled in the dim light and caught Kyle’s eye. He was out of bed in an instant to kneel on the floor in front of the boy. Addison had not quite reached five feet tall while Kyle had shot up to six feet just after his seventeenth birthday. The older boy kneeling on the floor put them close to eye level. “Addison, honey,” he said as he used his thumb to wipe away the single tear, “what’s wrong?” There was a gentle side of Kyle that only his brother ever saw. Then he caught sight of the hand clutching the front of his brother’s shorts. “Are you hurt?” Kyle moved his own hand to his younger sibling’s shorts where he immediately discovered the problem. Addison’s shorts were soaked and, now that he knew what he was looking for he could see the slightly darker wet patch against the bright red. Really, he should have known or at least suspected. Momma had recently decided that, since Addison was soon to be thirteen he needed to leg to of childish things. First his special blanket and pillow he liked to snuggle with had disappeared. Then Blue Dog had gone. Finally one night when Kyle was getting Addison ready for bed he had opened the cabinet under the sink for a Pull-Up and found the almost new package gone. He had asked Momma about it and she had claimed Addison was old enough to stop wetting the bed at night and letting him wear Pull-Ups was not helping him. Kyle had tried to explain that Addison’s bed wetting problem had only gotten worse since their father’s death and wearing Pull-Ups at night made him feel safe but she had not understood. So once or twice a week Kyle ended up changing Addison, flipping the mattress, and changing his brother’s sheets.
Addison made a whimpering sound around the thumb in his mouth. It brought Kyle back to the present.
“Oh,” he said, “so that’s what’s wrong.” He was trying to act casual about it and not upset Addison further. “Hey, don’t cry over it.” Kyle stood up and wiped his brother’s face again. “We’ll get ya cleaned up and ya can come in with me.” Because Kyle was too tired to do the usual ritual.
That was when the first sob forced its way out. “Want my Daddy!” Addison wailed.
“Shit,” Kyle said softly because he had hoped this would not happen. He backed up a few steps and sat down in the old rocker/recliner he had salvaged when Momma had cleaned out Daddy’s office. He tugged Addison into his lap. Addison had always been a clingy little kid, moreso than usual the past few days. It was no surprise to Kyle his brother curled up in his lap, hid his face against Kyle’s neck and sobbed.
Kyle could never figure out what to do when his brother was this distressed. So he followed Daddy’s example once again. The chair squeaked as he began to rock his brother. As he rocked Addison he sang softly:
Hushabye, don’t you cry
Go to sleep my little baby
When you wake you shall have
All the pretty little ponies.
In your bed Daddy said
Baby’s riding off to dream land
One by one they’ve begun
Dance and prance for little baby.
Blacks and bays
Dapples and greys
Running in the night
When you wake you shall have
All the little ponies.
Can you see the little ponies
Dance before your eyes
All the pretty little ponies
Will be there when you arise
Can you see the little ponies
Dance before your eyes
All the pretty little ponies
Will be there when you arise
Hushabye, don’t you cry
Go to sleep my little baby
When you wake you shall have
All the little ponies
All the pretty little ponies…
It was the lullaby their father had always sung for Addison so after his death Kyle had simply adopted that too. After all, it was his responsibility to put his brother to bed now. If singing to him about ponies put him to sleep Kyle was all for it. But he was not about to tell the guys down at the garage that he cuddled his brother and sang to him on a regular basis.
It took Kyle singing Addison’s pony song four times for him to go from huge, shaking sobs to the occasional whimper around the thumb in his mouth. Kyle knew they had to get up soon. Addison’s wet shorts had gone from warm and wet to cold and clammy and Kyle could feel the wetness soaking through his own pajama pants. But his brother’s calm was too new, too fragile, to risk moving him now. So Kyle silently rocked him. He was half asleep when he heard his name almost whispered. “Hmm?” Kyle asked.
“I love you best,” Addison said softly.
“Me too.” Since their father’s death Addison had become the most important person in Kyle’s life.
“But I still want my Daddy.”
Kyle sighed. That was something else he would never admit to the guys down at the garage. “Yeah,” he said, “me too.”
Author: Allison Wonderland
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The night before their mother’s wedding to Stefan Smith, Addison has another nightmare and goes to Kyle’s room for comfort.
Warning(s): Angst, language
Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Word Count: ~1300
Series: Feel That Fire
Note(s): In this one, we get to see Kyle and Addison about a year before the main part of the story starts. The version of the ‘pretty pony song’ used in this story is the one Catherine Raney sings in ‘Flicka.’
~*~
The moment Kyle’s eyes opened to the middle of the night darkness of his bedroom he knew something was wrong. He never woke up in the night. Once he was in bed Kyle rarely awoke before noon without an alarm clock. At least not unless Addison…
Fuck, he thought as he sat up suddenly. His brother had been incredibly upset when Kyle had helped him get ready for bed and tucked him in a few hours ago. He had been even more clingy than usual and it had taken over an hour of Kyle lying down with him and rubbing his back for Addison to fall asleep. It would not be surprising at all for Addison to be awake again.
Kyle pushed back the top sheet – the only blanket he was using because it was so hot even the air conditioner was no help and he had given up sleeping naked the night their father died and Addison had started crawling into bed with him every night – but he found the source of his alertness even before he got out of bed. Addison stood just inside the door to the bathroom connecting their two bedrooms. He looked like a little ghost in the dim light from the bathroom nightlight. Kyle’s brother was small for his age – thirteen in August. Dressed in the little red shorts and Cars tee shirt that made up his pajamas, with the thumb of his right hand in his mouth and his left hand clutching the front of his shorts he scarcely looked like an almost-a-teenager at all. In fact, he kind of resembled an overgrown toddler.
“What’s wrong, baby boy?” he asked. Daddy had always called Addison ‘baby boy.’ When their father had died a week after Kyle’s fifteenth birthday, Kyle had become his not quite ten year old brother’s primary caretaker and adopted the nickname as well. “Ya have a bad dream?” Since Daddy’s death Addison had experienced awful nightmares but he claimed he didn’t remember them upon waking.
Addison showed no sign of hearing. His thumb remained silently in his mouth.
“Ya wanna tell me what’s wrong?”
Still, Addison did not respond. He remained silent, unblinking, right where he was. A single tear slid down his face.
The wetness on his brother’s face sparkled in the dim light and caught Kyle’s eye. He was out of bed in an instant to kneel on the floor in front of the boy. Addison had not quite reached five feet tall while Kyle had shot up to six feet just after his seventeenth birthday. The older boy kneeling on the floor put them close to eye level. “Addison, honey,” he said as he used his thumb to wipe away the single tear, “what’s wrong?” There was a gentle side of Kyle that only his brother ever saw. Then he caught sight of the hand clutching the front of his brother’s shorts. “Are you hurt?” Kyle moved his own hand to his younger sibling’s shorts where he immediately discovered the problem. Addison’s shorts were soaked and, now that he knew what he was looking for he could see the slightly darker wet patch against the bright red. Really, he should have known or at least suspected. Momma had recently decided that, since Addison was soon to be thirteen he needed to leg to of childish things. First his special blanket and pillow he liked to snuggle with had disappeared. Then Blue Dog had gone. Finally one night when Kyle was getting Addison ready for bed he had opened the cabinet under the sink for a Pull-Up and found the almost new package gone. He had asked Momma about it and she had claimed Addison was old enough to stop wetting the bed at night and letting him wear Pull-Ups was not helping him. Kyle had tried to explain that Addison’s bed wetting problem had only gotten worse since their father’s death and wearing Pull-Ups at night made him feel safe but she had not understood. So once or twice a week Kyle ended up changing Addison, flipping the mattress, and changing his brother’s sheets.
Addison made a whimpering sound around the thumb in his mouth. It brought Kyle back to the present.
“Oh,” he said, “so that’s what’s wrong.” He was trying to act casual about it and not upset Addison further. “Hey, don’t cry over it.” Kyle stood up and wiped his brother’s face again. “We’ll get ya cleaned up and ya can come in with me.” Because Kyle was too tired to do the usual ritual.
That was when the first sob forced its way out. “Want my Daddy!” Addison wailed.
“Shit,” Kyle said softly because he had hoped this would not happen. He backed up a few steps and sat down in the old rocker/recliner he had salvaged when Momma had cleaned out Daddy’s office. He tugged Addison into his lap. Addison had always been a clingy little kid, moreso than usual the past few days. It was no surprise to Kyle his brother curled up in his lap, hid his face against Kyle’s neck and sobbed.
Kyle could never figure out what to do when his brother was this distressed. So he followed Daddy’s example once again. The chair squeaked as he began to rock his brother. As he rocked Addison he sang softly:
Hushabye, don’t you cry
Go to sleep my little baby
When you wake you shall have
All the pretty little ponies.
In your bed Daddy said
Baby’s riding off to dream land
One by one they’ve begun
Dance and prance for little baby.
Blacks and bays
Dapples and greys
Running in the night
When you wake you shall have
All the little ponies.
Can you see the little ponies
Dance before your eyes
All the pretty little ponies
Will be there when you arise
Can you see the little ponies
Dance before your eyes
All the pretty little ponies
Will be there when you arise
Hushabye, don’t you cry
Go to sleep my little baby
When you wake you shall have
All the little ponies
All the pretty little ponies…
It was the lullaby their father had always sung for Addison so after his death Kyle had simply adopted that too. After all, it was his responsibility to put his brother to bed now. If singing to him about ponies put him to sleep Kyle was all for it. But he was not about to tell the guys down at the garage that he cuddled his brother and sang to him on a regular basis.
It took Kyle singing Addison’s pony song four times for him to go from huge, shaking sobs to the occasional whimper around the thumb in his mouth. Kyle knew they had to get up soon. Addison’s wet shorts had gone from warm and wet to cold and clammy and Kyle could feel the wetness soaking through his own pajama pants. But his brother’s calm was too new, too fragile, to risk moving him now. So Kyle silently rocked him. He was half asleep when he heard his name almost whispered. “Hmm?” Kyle asked.
“I love you best,” Addison said softly.
“Me too.” Since their father’s death Addison had become the most important person in Kyle’s life.
“But I still want my Daddy.”
Kyle sighed. That was something else he would never admit to the guys down at the garage. “Yeah,” he said, “me too.”
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