Chapter 1 - To Honor

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**Welcome! Sorry to keep you all waiting. As I began writing this story, I realized that it's pretty difficult to try to explain the thoughts and emotions of someone we all love and respect so much— even if I've made him into a fictional character. I think I'm going to take my time with this story— maybe update every 2-3 days, because I want to get it right. The story of how they met and became friends is very special to all of you guys, so I want to make sure I honor it as best as I can. Thank you so much to a friend who helped me find the inspiration to tell his story. Enjoy and let me know what you think xx**

"There are plenty of things in this world that are more difficult than being an honorable man," my dad used to say, "so there is simply no excuse for you not to be one."

I don't know what world he was talking about, because it sure isn't mine. I never once thought to ask him, and the dangling conversation still haunts me everyday.

I comb through my tangled brown curls with my fingers, walking up to the bathroom mirror where I am met by a pair of blue eyes— big blue eyes, just like his. Except mine are too big, swallowing my face into a blinding sea of electric blue— not at all the soft blue that used to float through his gaze like lazy summer skies.

What does it even mean to be honorable? I blink at my reflection, searching for an answer. Is it pride or is it sacrifice? Who am I sacrificing for?

As if on cue, my phone lights up on the sink beside me to display a message. I feel a smile sweep across my lips as I imagine her— her deep blue eyes and her long, dark hair that tumbles effortlessly down her shoulders. Irina. She is lovely. Kind, intelligent, and passionately driven in her work— she is undeniably beautiful.

But do I love her? It's the question that sends fear jolting up my spine— the question that stops me every time from asking her to marry me. Because how the hell am I supposed to know? How the hell is anyone supposed to know?

I believe that the greatest lie we've ever been told is that love is unmistakable when it is finally found— and that until then we are meant to stumble aimlessly through life without ever knowing what it really is. I'm not even sure that the love we so badly desire as humans— the kind of love that spills across the pages of romance novels and seeps through every movie screen— is real. It's an ideal at its essence, crafted through the details written in every script and engineered as a profound emotion as soon as the cameras start rolling. Love is my job, and it is my job as an actor to fool you. Maybe it's just that I haven't found it yet— but after the thousands of faces and names that have passed through my 44 years of existence, love seems more and more like a hoax every day.

I sigh, shrugging on my jacket and fastening the clasp of my dad's gold watch around my wrist. My mom is most certainly already waiting for me downstairs, always insistent on arriving at least fifteen minutes early to anything. With one last glance in the mirror in attempt to tame my unruly hair, I turn off the lights and head downstairs.

"Hi mom," I breathe, bending down to give her a hug. I push my nose into her hair, inhaling the scent of home—  a familiar combination of spring afternoons in Philly and warm mugs of hazelnut coffee. She pulls back slowly, her expression falling slightly as she purses her lips into a frown.

"Bradley Charles, when will you learn to properly wear a bowtie?" A sigh of exasperation escapes her little body as she reaches up to straighten the crooked mess around my neck. I smile sheepishly into her scolding blue eyes, leaning down to kiss her cheek in playful apology.

"Ready?" I ask her. She slaps my shoulder jokingly, grabbing my hand and tugging me towards the front door.

"Let's go— we're going to be late." Her little footsteps click eagerly against the floor. I look down at my watch, laughing as I jog to keep up.

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