#eo poem

[l3l-diving-service]

To My Dearest Sister | Poetry | Endless Ocean 2 | G | Player Character | AO3

[eos-dazzle]

TW// Gender dysphoria

just a poem I wrote the other day while bored at my grandma's house

Aurora

Everyday he walks in the shade

Broad shoulders, deep voice

Loved, praised, brown eyes

Whole existence is a falsehood

An impossible to defy falsehood

He wants not the blue shell

But he is happy wearing it

But he thinks he is happy wearing it

The Star of Dawn

Eos, my shining light

Everyday she walks alongside him

Her light darkened by his shell

His loved, accepted shell

Let his shell break

Let her be free

For they are one and the same

For when the shade of him fades

Aurora remains

[happenstanced]

Your two great eyes will slay me suddenly;

Their beauty shakes me who was once serene;

Straight through my heart the wound is quick and keen.

[corvianbard]

#6152

Eos, the first light of every morning, Herald of the sun that is always glimmering, Illuminate our way to a new beginning.

[ettieektos]

An excerpt from a draft; Eos and Astraeus

[the-critic-god-of-books]

You think yourself a lion amongst sheep

You think yourself king

You think yourself greater than they

But the lion

dies like the sheep

One day your claws shall dull

One day your flesh shall break from your bones

One day your mind will be

but a shadow of what it once was

Yet i will remain

For i am like the mountain

upon which the lion hunts

For i am like the field

upon which the sheep grazes

For i am immortal

For you wither

But I Change

-Eo

[unrequitedyearning]

i usually write poems and stanza on endless piles when i was enamored or infatuated with someone previous but the likes of you take all my verse from me

i have never felt this way wholly and truly you have me wanting for nothing and yet everything

your laugh your smile your hair your hands your rambling your tears your pain your absence

i'm making myself sick with love growing madder every day every hour every minute second i'm not with you or hear your loving air that is music to my ears

i will forever regret the four periods of time spent without you and i will spend my existence yearning for a restful night together just once more

all i can hope is that you forget me not

forget me not like the soft bluish purple with sunbeams shining through center of the dawn in which i reminisce us

forget me not when the bluish purple bruise creeps yellow with healing as my chest bursts with anguish over the agony caused by failure of two parties... partners

forget me not like the bluish purple hue i wish to keep behind my eyelids as the sun dews them apart while i try to burn the vision of our dream to memory

forget me not

forget me not

forget me not

forget me not

i cannot forget you

it's agony to try

i will be icarus no longer

i will never be able to forget you

[jonathanmoya1955]

Eo: Transfiguring the Suffering of Every Living Thing

Courtesy of Janus Films Plot via IMDB: The world is a mysterious place when seen through the eyes of an animal. EO, a grey donkey with melancholic eyes, meets good and bad people on his life’s path, experiences joy and pain, endures the wheel of fortune randomly turn his luck into disaster and his despair into unexpected bliss. But not even for a moment does he lose his innocence. Eo, a film…

[lionofchaeronea]

A scene from the Trojan War: Achilles and the Ethiopian king Memnon, son of Eos (Dawn), clash in single combat, flanked by chariots. This combat was recounted in the Aethiopis, a now-lost poem belonging to the Epic Cycle that continued the story of the Trojan War after the Iliad and Hector's death. As often, the relationship between literature and visual art is unclear: did the vase painter deliberately set out to illustrate the Aethiopis, or did poet and painter simply draw upon the same stock of traditional oral narrative?

Attic black-figure pyxis, in the manner of the C Painter; ca. 570 BCE. Now in the Staatliche Antikensammlungen, Munich, Germany.

[artifacts-archive]

Hand Mirror

Etruscan, 470-450 BCE

Found in women’s graves, bronze mirrors were luxurious personal possessions used in life and then buried with the dead for use in the afterlife. One side was highly polished; the other side was usually engraved with a mythic scene, such as this one, which shows the goddess Eos carrying the body of her son, Memnon, who was killed by the hero Achilles. The episode was taken from Homer’s The Iliad, the epic poem that narrates the Greek siege and eventual defeat of the city of Troy.

[psychedelic-charm]

These poems are great. I wish Kevin Perjurer would create a book of poems about the defunct attractions he's talked about on Defunctland. Wouldn't that be great?

Writing an achingly tender and tragic, incredibly sincere, heartstring-pulling album about my dead lost love that I never met but I know I've loved in a thousand lifetimes, not revealing that it's actually about the Skippy animatronic that they destroyed

[zal-cryptid]

My name is Aurora, and I'm proud to be me.  🏳️‍⚧️

This was a poem I wrote when I came out back in 2021. I named myself Aurora because it was my new beginning, like the mornings ushered in by rosy-fingered Eos. Because I'm from the Great White North, where the Northern Lights dance. Because I am a princess awoken from her slumber, like Briar Rose.

Names are important to me. They hold so much power and association and meaning. They are the oldest magic.

[idontknowreallywhy]

Father’s Day

A little something for today - I maintain the Tracys would follow the US/Europe date for it rather than AUS/NZ. That’s my excuse anyway…

💛💙❤️

It had gone well. The atmosphere had been joyful. Hugs had been plentiful and the little tears of happiness badly concealed. Every scrap of the mighty takeout feast Scott had fetched from their favourite Auckland steak house had been demolished. Balloons littered the villa. MAX, in collaboration with EOS, had created a playlist that reflected every family member’s favourites spanning a good seven decades.

There had been singing, both tuneful and otherwise.

Six cards graced the mantelpiece, each varied in decoration as befitted the personality of the giver, but all containing a version of the same message - we are so glad you are home. We missed you. We love you. All but one had some reference to pink flamingos. The sixth had a remarkably detailed diagram of Thunderbird Three’s circuit of the sun.

The Man of the Moment had finally been chivvied off to bed by his mother when his head started nodding where he sat on the couch amongst his family. In her words, nobody needed to hear his boar-like snorting, but the flicker of concern in her eyes betrayed the real need to ensure he didn’t overdo it.

The eldest son of the Man of the Moment leant on the balustrade, watching the stars come out and absently swirling the whisky in his glass. The air was still warm and he had to slowly adjust the movement of his wrist to maintain the rhythm of the rapidly shrinking ‘rocks’. He’d come to prefer it un-iced anyway, but when your long-lost father offers you a sample of his secret, secret stash… well. Scott would have taken it with gravel and he would have enjoyed it.

It was good, if a little chilly. And the day had been wonderful, if a little strange. Like stretching a muscle that had gone untested for eight years. Maybe longer.

They’d never really made a big deal of the day before that in any case - even when he was alive their father had often been absent.

But there were always cards (some somewhat delayed in receipt). And he hadn’t realised until today, until he helped Dad drag a large flat box out from underneath his bed, that every card had been kept - from the first one picked out by Mom and signed on behalf of a 2-month old Scott - right up to the year Jeff disappeared. There wasn’t even a gap whilst Scott himself had been missing, thanks to the ingrained military practice of buying and writing cards in advance of deployments. Toddler scribbles, homemade masterpieces, that 4ft monstrosity Gordon had dragged home aged 10… even the obviously-last-minute convenience store purchases hurriedly signed 3 minutes before the still-damp envelope seal was broken. All were bundled together by year, little elastic bands and post-it notes delineating the passage of time.

There had been a lot of laughter, a fair amount of cringing and a few sniffles as those were explored. Happy times.

What Scott didn’t mention, what he’d never mention, was that when Jeff went missing, the cards didn’t stop. Not completely.

Every year except the first, where everything was still so raw and chaotic the day passed with nobody even knowing what date it was, there had been three Fathers’ Day cards written by the Tracy family.

Two were quietly slipped together under Scott’s door - a rare moment of collaboration between the Tinies. They were never the traditional kind, didn’t ACTUALLY mention Fathers Day on the front, but a would be a ‘blank for your own message’ card with a funny or interesting picture. Often an aircraft or some kind of bird. The contents would often be daft nonsense - silly puns, banter about the grey hairs and denial of liability for them, once a comedy poem about an albatross and the Kraken which had kept him smiling for days. But next to the signature, there’d be a little “you’re not so bad after all” or “thanks for everything, big bro” or even once a “Just wanted you to know it doesn’t go unnoticed xxx”

Nothing was ever said, but he’d find them later in the day and squeeze their shoulders or drop a kiss on the top of each head. Maybe there would be less squabbling and teenage stroppiness that day… often there wouldn’t. But things would feel lighter between the three of them for a while.

The third card was more of a letter, more of an incoherent flood of news, worries… regrets… requests for forgiveness. But it was always folded like a card for… reasons. And then folded again. And again until it was halved 7 times and couldn’t physically be squished up any smaller. Then, late at night when everyone else was asleep it would be set aflame right here on the balcony. Scott would watch the sparks fly into the sky and nurture a moment’s foolish hope that the message would be received.

No need for that this year. Dad was right here. Scott could tell him anything he wished at any moment, seek his advice, share his concerns, ask for… approval? All of that. He was right here.

And yet…

He shook himself. And downed the remainder of the whisky, flinching a little at the cold on his teeth and eyed the glass, wondering whether he could risk another one… a less rocky one. There was time for all the talking later. When he was well. When it was safe to burden him with such things. Not yet.

His pondering was interrupted by scuffling and heated whispering from just inside the balcony door behind him. He braced himself to mediate the latest nonsense from the Tinies but all went quiet and there was just a quite clack-swish of something falling through the doorway and sliding a little across the ground. Then running feet as they departed.

He looked down to see a single blue envelope at his feet. Unaddressed but for a tiny cartoon of a child’s scooter…

He rolled his eyes. Suspecting a prank was pending but, too tired to resist the inevitable, he crouched to retrieve it and slid his finger under the flap of the envelope to peer inside. Then closed it again, hurriedly. A chunky font screamed “BESTEST DAD EVER!” from the midst of a multicoloured explosion. They’d got the envelopes mixed up, clearly. He went to call after the two idiots but they were long gone.

With a sigh, he stood back up and decided he’d better chase them down but was arrested by curiosity. Both had given Dad cards earlier… what was this for? He hoped it wasn’t a prank… he didn’t think Dad was ready for that yet… they were trying to keep surprises to a minimum until his heart started behaving more reliably.

They wouldn’t, would they?

Hmm.

He’d better check.

Leaning back on to the railings with a good portion of free space in front to fling anything unpleasant into… he pulled the card from the envelope and opened it… very carefully.

Nothing exploded. Or popped out at him. There was no glitter in his eyeballs nor squeaky earworm tunes blasted from tinny micro speakers.

And yet he gasped harshly as his heart raced and his eyes blurred with sudden tears.

The card was empty but for his name at the top, Alan and Gordon’s at the bottom and two words in the middle, underlined and emphasised with a heavy full stop:

Still True.

Part 2

Part 3

[mrs-monaghan]

Hi ☺️ you make me happy

Just read your post of Jungkook being the best boyfriend. Can you please make the same for Jimin,,,,?))

Absolutely. It would be my pleasure

Lost diamond is talking about this post.

We can start with a moment I've never seen until 2day....

But we already knew this yes? It's not the first time JK has said Jimin treats him the most. Even during one of the unfortunate moments when JK rated Jimin last, the latter was sure to remind him that he's the one who spends on him the most. So Jimin has always been generous with his baby since the very beginning. Which is why our next moment should come as no surprise.

-Jimin travelling across the world in 2019 for JK's birthday and then doing so again in 2023 for JK's solo debute. Anything for the love of his life it seems. #allthefeels 🥰🥰🥰😍😍😍

Next I just wanna bring this back real quick

(Thanks @chicknbunny13 )

It is not an underrated moment by any means whatsoever. In fact you will see this clip every few weeks on twitter on your timeline. Jikookers love this moment. But, we mostly talk about Jimin feeding JK which it's fine. Really. Its sweet and really nice to see. But all members feed eo it ain't a big deal. So what I like to talk about is what happens before Jimin feeds JK.

JK wants pizza. He stands, looks around, they've ran out so he sits back down. He glances at Jimin's one, but its whatever, pizza is finished. But here's the part I like; Jimin without even looking at JK, just knows what he wants and thats when he feeds him a bite from his own. So either a) He was watching JK on his periphery, or b) He is just that in tune with his boyfriend. I'm going with the latter coz it ain't the first time he's come through for JK even without him asking. That's what sets the moment apart from all the other times members have fed eo.

Next moment that proves how much Jimin loves JK applies to both since it also involves a whipped JK. Analysis time guys. 💃🏾💃🏾💃🏾

This is so fun guys I highly recommend watching it

I went there for this one moment coz I'm a big fan. BTS countdown Jikookery:

JK is the king

and other members are supposed to go appeal to him so he can choose one of them. Jimin of course is very eager

He was adorable saying that. He is calling himself hyung but he's totally baby in that moment 🤭🤭 Suga starts singing this one song and Jimin is the loudest shout-singing how crazy he is for JK

Wbk 💅🏾😏

He leaves all other members in the dust, in his rush to get to his JK. Eager much? 🤣🤣

While waiting JK closed his eyes and looked so blissful. I didn't fully understand why he was in this state

Or why editors put a heart there 😂 so I chose to read that as him praying and hoping his baby gets to him first 😌😌

Since Jimin took off before the others, of course he arrives first

So now JK has 3 options; suga, jimin or rm

Suga makes his case

Jimin wants to make his case with this one thing and JK is ready and waiting

But Jimin only gets to say one word:

Before Suga tramples all over his pitch

So in the end Jimin doesn't even make his case 🤭

RM then makes his case by way of poem

And now its time for the King to pick his partner

Remember Namgi both had chances to appeal to JK and why he should choose them. While Jimin essentially said nothing. So.... the king makes his choice.

But of course 😌😌😌

Editors with the hearts thou 🤭🤭

Jimin was really happy that JK chose him. 🥺🥺 However, anyone who really pays attention to JK during BTS games could have predicted who he would choose 🤭🤭 This is definitely a whipped JK moment seeing as Jimin won unfairly. Definitely some boyfriend privilege involved here. He he heee.

Members play the game and Jikook proceed to win

At some point JK raps and Jimin praises him immediately

If you've ever noticed Jimin praises JK ALOT. I would say he praises JK the most. He is always telling us how good JK is, how talented, how he's good he is at everything. Even though we already know. Jimin never hesitates to praise JK and I for one love to see it. Most recent being the flying yoga episode when first thing he said was how good JK was gonna be at it

Even though we all know he was the king of said flying yoga. Jimin seems to be extremely proud of JK's talents and prowess. Here we saw him drooling over JK bungee jumping so yeah... he definitely likes that JK is so good. Jimin has always been super proud to have JK as his boyfriend. Its a shame antis don't care to see it.

Another thing that shows how much Jimin loves JK, is always being there for him when he needs comfort

What i love about this moment is that Jimin thought JK was puking when he ran over. And yet the first thing he does is grab JK's face to check on him. Vomit be dammed 🥺🥺🥺

Jimin is always there for the members when they need comfort. Yes. But I love love love how soft he's always been with JK. Remember during summer package when JK wrote a letter for Army and then got emotional? I love how Jimin wrote a poem for him after

"My Jungkook" he said 😭😭😭😭😭

And we haven't even talked about how Jimin has always rubbed the back of JK's neck since time immemorial.

When JK is in distress, when he makes a mistake, when the rest laugh at him, when he's confused, when the others talk over him and introvert JK can't get a word in. Jimin is always there to rub the back of his head to make him feel better since satellite Jikook are always next to eo.

Emotionally supportive Jimin is a huge dynamic in their rlship

That last one brings us to our last point since I've ran out of image space; Protective Jimin that one time Suga did the thing. They were reacting to that last concert and JK who as we all know cries the most was being comforted by Jimin. Once again.

Jin is the one who pointed out that JK was crying.

immediately Suga was like;

Yeah... Jimin wasn't having it. He was like; bro you'd better shut tf up.

Pointed a finger at Suga, his hyung and everything. Suga picks on Jimin all the time. It's the most popular Yoonmin dynamic. And usually Jimin doesn't care. But he drew the line at Suga picking on his bae. 🤭🤭🤭 I love this moment sm!!! He seriously wasn't having it and that was so hot of him 🥵🥵

Look at his adorable worried face 🥺🥺 caught JK right on time too.

These moments are endless really, but i will stop here since there's no room for more imagery. But Jimin really is the best boyfriend and you can tell by JK's loyalty and how JK has always made Jimin his priority. He wouldn't do that, wouldn't be so head over heels if Jimin didn't treat him like a king.

Long live Jikook ✊🏽

[corvianbard]

#5937

Eos, oh daybreak, Rise again to betake The sun to awake.

[tracybirds]

Where Parallel Lines Meet (8/?)

If we could all ignore the fact that this took me 1.5 years to update, that would be great, thanks

It's.... been a time for me, but I'm so glad I've finally been able to have the brain space and the energy to finish this chapter <3 I hope you enjoy, and once again thank you heaps to @gumnut-logic for cheering me on!

Title is adapted from a line in Sarah Howes’ poem ‘Relativity’ (scroll to the bottom of the article)

A fight between John and Alan is followed by an interstellar storm with unexpected consequences.

[Part 1] | [Part 2] | [Part 3] | [Part 4] | [Part 5] | [Part 6] | [Part 7] | [Part 8]

---

“Hey, Alan, dinner time!”

Gordon’s voice echoed in his headphones, and Alan pulled them off with a grin as he paused his game.

It had been a week and he still felt the thrill of knowing his family would all be there, just like they were before global chaos had squeezed them out of their lives on the island.

Gordon was pulling a face at Kayo as she laughed, happily grounded along with the rest of them, as Alan sidled into his seat. Scott held his fork halfway to his mouth, busy scrawling notes on a tablet as Grandma fussed at him to put his work away.

Scott absently tried to wave her off, only for his food to fly off his fork and land squarely in Grandma Tracy’s lap.

She said nothing, only stared at Scott with raised eyebrows as he put the tablet away with burning cheeks.

Alan grabbed a plate from Virgil, who didn’t pause in his conversation with Brains, pointedly ignoring their elder brother as Gordon and Kayo piled in on him.

It was a family meal, almost exactly as he had longed for, right down to the empty seat next to him that John took on birthdays and holidays.

It wasn’t anyone’s birthday now, but the empty seat stung all the same.

“Still no John?” he asked quietly, the now-familiar guilt thrashing inside him again.

Brains’ smile dropped for a moment and he shook his head.

“I’ll take him something later,” he said.

“Be patient, dear,” said Grandma. “He just needs some space.”

Alan grimaced.

Space was all his brother ever wanted. Alan knew what it meant for John to need space, and it had never meant shutting him out before.

Not that Alan could blame him, he thought as he poked his potatoes glumly. He’d tried to imagine how it would feel to have everyone openly celebrating your departure. More than that, it had been his family, his own brothers.

The thought made Alan break out in a cold sweat. And while Scott, Virgil and Gordon might be forgiven, having spent so little time with John over the past few months, he himself was a different matter.

He’d whooped.

“Alan?” said Virgil, and Alan raised his head to find his brother watching him with a worried look in his eye. “It’s not your fault.”

His stomach dropped away and the smell of food caught in Alan’s throat as he held back a sudden gag.

He stood, his chair scraping on the floor.

“I have to go,” he mumbled, and he stumbled out of the suddenly silent room, knowing that he’d just ensured he’d be the starring feature in the conversation the second he was out of earshot.

It wasn’t right, this mockery of a dinner that was near identical to the meals he’d had a thousand times on the island. Not when John was here.

His communicator beeped and Alan pulled up the call automatically.

“You need to find John,” informed EOS. “He has revoked my access to his biometrics.”

Alan let out a hollow laugh. “So he doesn’t want to spend time with you either?”

“He is being irrational.”

“He’s upset.”

“He’s been upset for months.” Alan could almost hear the stamp in her voice. “I merely pointed out that it was inefficient to relearn everything when he could accept the cure and regain it in an instant.”

Alan winced.

“Yeah, EOS, that probably didn’t help.”

“Why not?” she demanded. “He keeps talking about how he wants to do more, and how he has to get the simulators right to prove he’s just as good, but he could if only he’d listen to me! He said we were partners – why won’t he let me help him?”

She paused and her lights dimmed. “Does he just not trust me anymore? Most people don’t, you know.”

“It’s nothing to do with you,” he said. “He just needs to prove it to himself, I think.”

“He has nothing to prove.” Her ring of lights flashed orange, fierce and protective as ever. “He’s already done it. It would be easy; he could be himself again instead of this… child. Why can’t he see that?”

“He is that kid, EOS. Besides, when has John ever taken the easy way out? What if he’d done that with you?”

EOS froze, her lights falling until there was only one remaining, blinking soft and red beneath her camera. Alan found himself once again wishing he could take back what he’d said. They rarely spoke of EOS’s beginnings with the family.

“I am aware of what he did for me,” she said in a small voice.

Alan swallowed tightly. “I know. It’s just that, what he did for you he now has to do for himself. And it’s really, really hard.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Yeah, it does,” said Alan. “But you and me can help him with it, right?”

“Not if he keeps hiding.”

“Well, then we’ll find him. Biometrics aren’t the only way to hunt someone down.”

***

It took the two of them nearly an hour to make any headway. John was smart, he knew how to cover his tracks, knew how not to be found.

EOS even swore when she realised the infrared tracking system had been rerouted to obscure any heat signatures, and Alan stifled a laugh thinking of John swearing in the exact same way on Thunderbird Five.

When they finally unravelled the mess of code John had created to hide himself away, Alan sat back in relief at knowing his brother was still here.

John was in the simulators.

Of course he was, thought Alan with a sigh. Two days locked in a room that wasn’t his, ignoring all attempts at conversation before making his escape. He’d hardly left the training facility since.

Alan had overheard Scott and Virgil arguing over the best way to handle the situation, usually after Scott had tried to ambush John for the umpteenth time. He’d been dragged away time and time again, having attempted everything from a ‘reasonable discussion’ to a full blown attempt to batter down a door.

Virgil defaulted to their grandma’s advice, as he so often did, insisting on giving John his space.

“Remember how he was after Dad – after Mom?”

Alan didn’t, but Virgil’s words had chilled him to the core, especially when he saw how Scott wilted in turn.

His brothers, his grandma, Kayo and Brains, they all wanted to sit back and wait for their John to come back to them.

But Alan knew his brother, this brother.

And he was done with waiting.

“Coming, EOS?”

She shook her array. “It’s enough to know where he is,” she said softly. “Now I can watch him, until he is ready to speak with me again.”

Alan nodded, then reached out and tugged open the door, stepping inside without another word.

He could tell when John sensed his presence by the way the ground fell beneath his feet, the momentary distraction enough to turn the flight into a death spiral.

John swore, with a ghost of EOS in his voice, glancing at him irritably before remembering he was meant to be ignoring Alan.

Alan sat down and picked up a headset as he felt for the familiar curve of the joystick in his hand.

“I don’t need your help.”

“It’s not help. It’s teamwork.”

“And I don’t want to talk to you.”

Alan shrugged.

“Fine. You going to fly or what?.”

It was his turn to ignore his brother as John glowered at him.

The sequence began. John’s hands moved instinctively to each position, his eyes narrowed slightly as he read the signs of instability ahead. Alan mimicked him as he made each minute adjustment, holding back a smile as John flipped the craft into a daredevil spin.

He never could resist showing off for his youngest brother.

“John, watch your intakes,” Alan murmured, his eyes flitting down to the dials.

He made no response.

Alan risked a glance at him, startled by the blind focus evident in John’s steely gaze.

“John, the intakes,” he said sharply, reaching across the sim to pull the nose up and allow more airflow.

A millisecond too late, as John’s own hand came crashing down on his own and fumbled.

It was all it took.

The sea water beneath them rushed upwards as the aircraft dropped, the swoop in Alan’s stomach as real as in any emergency, before the screens went dark and the holos surrounding them faded away.

John glared at him.

“Thanks a lot,” he spat. “I thought you were here to fly, not cause a crash.”

Alan rolled his eyes. “If one sentence is all it takes to trash your concentration, you’re not much of a pilot,” he retorted. “I told you, this takes teamwork. You’re wasting your time practising like this if you’re going to refuse to work with us at the other end.”

“They don’t want me to work with them anyway,” spat John. “Neither did you, last I checked.”

“I’m sorry it happened like that,” said Alan. “I won’t make excuses, there’s nothing to say. Just… John, I am sorry. And I miss hanging out with you.”

John didn’t look at him. Alan waited, biting his tongue in order to refrain from filling the uncomfortable silence. He held his breath, counting in threes, then sixes, then eights to fill in the passing seconds.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” John mumbled. “I woke up in this nightmare, home’s gone, Dad’s dead, and my own family doesn’t want me. They want some other guy, who looks like me and acts like me, but he’s not me.”

John shook his head. “He’s so far beyond anything I can ever do.”

He looked up at Alan, the hurt swimming in his eyes. “I just want to go home.”

Alan swallowed, a tight lump leaving his mouth dry.

“I can’t get you home,” he whispered. “But John, I want you. I love you. You’re my big brother, you can do anything.”

John blinked rapidly, lips trembling.

“I’m not your big brother anymore, Alan.”

He collapsed forward, and Alan instinctively reached out, refusing in this moment to pull away, no matter what his brothers might do in his place.

“We’re on the same team,” said Alan, his arms tight around John. “Don’t forget that. We are on your side. No matter what happens.”