♡ ꜰᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ ɪꜱɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ ♡

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UPON WAKING UP, I realized I wasn't the only one.

Darry's slumped figure sat on the couch. He looked asleep, but his eyes were open, dark circles around them. He must've been up all night — either that or a brutal hangover. Neither sat well with me.

When he saw me, he sat up, though his reaction time was a little delayed. I stood silently by my bedroom door for several awkward moments, clenching and unclenching my fists. Neither of us said anything until he murmured, "I'm sorry, Cary."

"I know," was all I could think to say. I walked to the kitchen before he could say anything else, seeing the stack of pancakes on the kitchen counter and tears instantly dripping from my eyes. Everyone else was still asleep. Darry had to have made them, half-drunk and in a depressed slurry upon realizing what he'd done.

I suddenly thought of my brother, the man I once looked up to and saw as a hulking wall of protection, broken down and crumbling before my eyes. If this went on any longer, I feared he would turn into sand and slip right through my fingers.

I thought of the utter guilt in his eyes last night, the defeat I saw in them this morning, the pain I saw in his face. He was hurting. I knew he didn't mean to, but then again, Jonathan always said he didn't mean to, either.

No. How dare I compare Darry to Jonathan. Yet, the fire in Darry's eyes as he pushed me, the drunken slur of his voice as he screamed at me, the clenched fists threatening to swing...

Suddenly I thought back to Jonathan's trial just a few months ago. I remembered Darry's testimony on the stand... I will never, ever lay a finger on my sister. You hear me, sir? Never.

Yet here we were.

I didn't realize I was crying until I heard myself sob. I tried to silence my hiccups, but Darry had already heard. He was by my side in a second.

Without a second thought, I wrapped my arms around him and sobbed into his chest. He wrapped me in a similar bear hug, tighter than he'd ever before. I heard him start to cry, too, and it was too much for me to handle. My big brother, one I consider my guardian and protector yet also a kicked puppy I needed to treat.

I wanted to say something, but the sobs just made them come out in random, incoherent spouts. Darry understood just fine though, and just held me close.

Eventually, we separated, and he reached up and wiped the tears from my eyes gently. Six-foot-two and muscular, yet he could be as gentle as our mother. A gentle giant he truly was — or, now, could be. Still, it felt slightly weird hugging him. But I enjoyed it, in a weird way. Craved it, even.

"I'll never drink again, Cary. I swear on my life." He paused, his eyes growing sad as if thinking of something other than me. "If I do, slap it out of my hands. Slap me, for that matter." He paused again, swallowing. "It's what Mom and Dad would want."

I felt more tears drip from my eyes, but cracked a smile. I chuckled from relief and nodded as I pulled him in for another hug. He reciprocated, but this time we stood there in silence. It wasn't until we heard footsteps at the foot of the stairs that we pulled apart. The awkward silence that ensued was uncomfortable, like Darry was now someone I was just meeting for the first time.

I knew Darry and I's relationship would never be the same, and completely forgiving him would take some time, but I knew he didn't mean it. And I didn't say that to dismiss it, like I did with Jonathan — it's true. If I know anyone, it's my own brother, and Darry never hurts anybody. Intentionally, anyway.

That didn't take the pain away.

As the boys came down for breakfast, we all attempted at a normal morning. After last night's events, it was hard, but a few lighthearted jokes by Soda got us all laughing, even if just for a few seconds.