Amanda and I sit outside after Naval Brigade meetings, and this one is at her house, so we can hang around forever if we want to--well, at least until curfew, which I never figured I'd need, but then again, I've never had friends to violate it with. I'm also certain my mom thinks Amanda and I are a couple, which provides an endless source of bad jokes for the Naval Brigade and probably singlehandedly eased my newly-founded curfew thirty minutes earlier.

On the other hand, my mom has failed to notice, possibly for the best, that my brother spends most of his time hanging out with a singular boy, about half his height and twice his angry, which makes him four times as anger-dense as Adam is, per cubic inch. Adam has his fake broadsword in one hand, Evan in his other, and they sit further down Amanda's lawn, pointing at stars and trying to make constellations using the nine available pinpricks of light. This is interspersed with other, more raunchy teenage-guy humor, but even if he and his boyfriend were an absolute nuisance, I'm happy to have Adam at a meeting. I'm even happier that he only attempted to murder down two people with a cardboard claymore this time around. Last week, when he first got it, there were almost casualties.

"Beautiful night," I say.

"We're in suburbia. There are only eight stars and it's partly cloudy out." Amanda responds. "Maybe nine."

"And the moon," I flick both my pointer fingers towards yours truly.

"Son of a bitch," Amanda hits me on the shoulder.

"I think you mean sun of a bitch." I wink.

Amanda's gaze follows mine out to the squatters on the lawn. "Right."

I lean out over the steps so that I cross her new field of vision. "What's up?"

"I don't want to forgive him," Amanda admits.

"Which one?" I ask, under my breath.

"Both of them. I saw the three of them together a lot. I used to be jealous- I mean, how could she be so happy without me? Was there something I did wrong? Something I couldn't be? Now, I know that was the Diosite... but I still think they would've been good for each other. Were good for each other. Like something out of some niche webcomic. You know, you meet someone and suddenly they're your whole world! Everything is some off the rails adventure! That was... that was how it was for me." She shakes her head. "We did a niche webcomic. It turns out that it's a little more depressing than I'd given it credit for."

"The Diosite kind of ruins it for you." I shrug.

"No," Amanda shakes her head, resolutely. "No, actually, I don't think so. I think that this is why we need stories. Because it's good to know that someone got their happy ending. Because they're good reasons to keep fighting. Because the action of creation is cathartic, Will. Denying ourselves the joy stories can give us because 'that's not how it really goes down' is the last thing we want to do. It's giving up the battle before we even begin." She adds, "I'm going to need a colorist on that webcomic, you know."

"I'll tell you if I talk to any good, available ones."

She elbows me so hard I almost fall off the stairs.

"I have been coloring a lot of pieces in lately. Trying out a new style. I've been studying a lot from... the blog..." I pause.

Amanda's looking off to the side, tapping her foot. I think what distressed me most about the night was the lack of blood. The wound cauterized due to the heat, but it was way too clean. No gore. Just him, collapsed. Over. Beneath her breath, she whispers, "Your brother scares me."

"He scares himself," I say. "But things should work out now. Correction. I have a vested interest in things working out, us possibly sticking together for the rest of our lives, and a special interest in my brother being okay, because that's what siblings are supposed to do. Take care of each other."

"I wouldn't know," Amanda says. "but you're kind of like the brother I never had, if not one of the best friends to boot, and I'm always going to have your back. That counts for something, right?"

"Hell yeah it does." I hug her, and she squeezes me until my ribcage feels like it's going to crack open. When I pull back, I fall into the fence for real, my head slamming against the metal and causing both to resonate at a low hum. I shake the pain off, getting to my feet, and hoist her up as well. "I should go."

She grabs the ice cream tins. "While you're at it, get Evan off my lawn."

"Think he's getting off your lawn for you," I say. Evan is indeed leaving the lawn, trekking on foot to the nearest bus stop. He flashes a finger gun at Adam before putting back in his earphones.

My brother puts a hand on my shoulder as I saunter up to him, standing up a little straighter so I can take advantage of his bad posture to pull even with him. "Our birthdays are coming up. I know you have something in mind, but forget that. I want a real sword. I don't care what loops you have to go through. I would die for one. I'm dying without one."

"Same for the shield. Our parents are going to be so confused." I smile.

Adam doesn't respond. I raise a hand to his face, and his unblinking stare casts in Evan's direction, far out into the distance of suburbia. "Adam?"

"Yeah. I'm here." Adam says, like he's only just worked out that it's his name. "Are you... doing alright?"

I tug the old bond, knowing not to expect a reaction. No one's there anymore. "Yeah. You?"

"Getting there." He blinks back double vision. "And I was thinking. As long as we're walking home, to pass the time... tell me everything."

I smile. "You're seriously asking me to talk about myself?"

"It's polite to ask other people about themselves, and I clearly don't know you well enough." He corrects himself. "We can take turns from the top. Sound good?"

"Where do I start?"

"Where does it start?"

First day of school, of course. "Alright." I pause. "Okay. You can't laugh."

"Won't. Promise."
"I don't trust you."

"You shouldn't, but you're going to have to."

"Fine." I take a deep breath in, turning from the stars overhead back to the road, and begin to walk. Between the two of us and home is a long story, but I'm beginning to believe it makes a lot more lot sense when we both say something about it.