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justtrash202 · 1 month ago

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My Hero [Updated]

Fandom: Codename: Kids Next Door

Rating: K

Characters: Joey Beetles, Wallabee "Wally" Beetles

Summary: Joey Beetles is tasked with presenting a "My Hero" poem in class, but his words are more than just an assignment—they're a heartfelt tribute to his older brother, Wally. Through Joey's eyes, Wally isn't just a sibling but a true hero, brave and kind, yet human in his struggles. From comforting Joey during storms and protecting him from bullies to quietly battling his own pain, Wally’s actions leave an indelible mark on his younger brother. As Joey recounts these moments, he reflects on the bittersweet truth: even heroes need someone to lean on. A tender story of brotherly love, resilience, and finding strength in each other.

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Joey Beetles sat at his desk, nervously clutching a crumpled sheet of paper in his sweaty hands. Around him, the classroom buzzed with murmurs and muffled giggles, the air thick with anticipation. The "My Hero" poetry assignment had been announced weeks ago, but Joey had agonized over his for days, rewriting and scribbling until the lines felt just right. Even now, as the words stared back at him from the page, he wasn’t sure if he could get through it.

At the front of the room, Mrs. Clemmons smiled warmly, her kind eyes landing on Joey. “Joey,” she called, her voice gentle yet firm. “It’s your turn.” His heart leapt into his throat. For a moment, he thought about pretending to be sick or melting into his seat. But then he glanced down at the crumpled paper, remembering why he’d written it in the first place. Slowly, he pushed back his chair, the legs scraping loudly against the floor, and stood.

His legs felt like jelly as he shuffled toward the front of the classroom, clutching his poem as though it might slip from his grasp at any moment. His classmates whispered behind him, the soft buzz of their voices making his cheeks burn. Joey reached the front and turned to face the room. The rows of desks stretched out like an ocean, filled with curious eyes that seemed to pierce right through him. He glanced at Mrs. Clemmons, who gave him an encouraging nod, and then down at the paper in his hands.

The classroom grew quiet, the whispers fading into expectant silence. Joey’s fingers trembled as he carefully unfolded the paper, smoothing it out despite the wrinkles. The words he’d written stared back at him, their meaning heavy in his chest. This wasn’t just a poem to him—it was his heart, laid bare in shaky handwriting. He took a deep breath, willing the lump in his throat to go away. His voice wavered as he began, but as the first words left his lips, the room stilled completely, every eye fixed on him.

My hero isn't someone you'd read about in books,

Or someone wearing a cape who fights villains with looks.

My hero’s someone who stands just a little above my height,

With messy blond hair and a smile that’s bright.

A storm raged outside their small house, the wind howling like a wild animal, and rain pelted against the windows with relentless force. Thunder cracked loudly, rattling the fragile glass panes and making the whole house feel as if it might shake apart. Baby Joey wailed from his crib, his tiny fists clenched and flailing as he screamed for someone—anyone—to make the terrifying sounds go away. Lightning flashed, momentarily illuminating the nursery in a harsh, stark white, casting jagged shadows that only made Joey cry harder. The door to the nursery burst open, and a small figure rushed in. Wallabee Beetles, no older than ten, stumbled over a stuffed animal in his haste, his pajama pants twisted awkwardly around his legs. His blond hair stuck up in all directions, damp with sweat from his own unease. But his face was set with determination, even as his lip trembled.

Without hesitation, Wally climbed into the crib, his bare feet scraping against the wooden rails. He landed awkwardly beside Joey, who was still sobbing, his little chest heaving with fear. Wally didn’t say a word at first—he just scooped Joey up into his arms, holding him tightly against his small frame “Don’t worry, mate,” Wally whispered after a moment, his voice barely audible over the storm’s fury. It shook slightly, betraying his own nerves, but there was a fierce protectiveness in his tone that even a toddler could understand. “I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to ya.”

The thunder roared again, but this time Joey didn’t cry. His wails turned into soft whimpers as he buried his face against Wally’s chest. His brother’s arms, though small and unpracticed, felt like an unbreakable shield against the world. Wally began to hum—a broken, off-key tune that was more comforting than any lullaby because it came from him. Joey’s tiny fingers curled into Wally’s pajama shirt, clutching it as if it were a lifeline. The storm continued its rampage outside, but the nursery felt calmer, warmer. Wally’s heartbeat thudded steadily under Joey’s cheek, a rhythmic reassurance that drowned out the chaos beyond the walls.

The baby’s eyes fluttered closed, his breaths evening out into soft sighs as sleep claimed him. Wally stayed awake, his arms never loosening, even as his own eyelids grew heavy. The storm might have been scary, but he wasn’t going to let his little brother face it alone.

My hero is brave, no matter the fight,

He stands up for what's right, with all of his might

Joey, no older than six, sat on the edge of the playground, his small frame trembling as tears spilled down his cheeks. His tiny hand clutched his face, where the sting of a bully’s punch throbbed painfully. A small, pearly tooth lay discarded in the dirt beside him, glinting faintly in the afternoon sun, speckled with blood. Crimson droplets trickled from his chin, staining his shirt and the dusty ground below. The laughter of the older kids rang in Joey’s ears, mocking and cruel, as they jeered from a distance. Joey tried to muffle his sobs, but the pain and humiliation were too much for him to handle alone.Before he could even fully grasp what had happened, a familiar voice called out, low and sharp with anger.

“Oi! What d’ya think you’re doin’ to my brother?” Joey looked up to see Wally barreling across the playground, his fifteen-year-old frame moving with purpose. His jaw was clenched tight, and his fiery glare was fixed on the bully. Wally might not have been the tallest or the strongest, but the sheer determination in his stride was enough to make anyone hesitate.

The bully turned, rolling his eyes as he tried to laugh it off. “What’re you gonna do about it?” Wally didn’t waste time with a reply. “This,” he spat, before closing the gap and shoving the larger boy backward. His fists were up in an instant, his movements sharp and practiced, a testament to the scrappy fights he’d picked up defending himself over the years.

Joey sat frozen, his tear-streaked face watching in wide-eyed awe as Wally moved like a whirlwind. The bully, much bigger and bulkier, swung clumsily, but Wally ducked with ease, landing a quick punch to the boy’s gut. "Pick on someone your own size!" Wally growled, his voice cutting through the playground chaos like a blade.

It didn’t take long for a teacher to intervene, pulling Wally off the bully and dragging both boys aside to lecture them. Wally stood defiant, his lip curling as he shrugged off the scolding with his usual nonchalance. The bully, on the other hand, slunk away, muttering excuses, his bravado thoroughly shattered. Once the teacher had walked away, Wally turned his attention back to Joey. He crouched in front of him, his gaze softening as he took in his little brother’s trembling frame. Despite the forming bruise on his cheek and the scrape on his knuckles, Wally’s voice was steady and calm.

“Hey, Joey,” he said, gently brushing the dirt from Joey’s face with a calloused hand. “Don’t cry, mate. It’s just a tooth. Now you’ve got somethin’ to show off, yeah? Makes ya look tough.” Wally’s crooked grin appeared, the same one Joey always found comforting, even in moments like this. Wally bent down, scooping up the lost tooth from the dirt and holding it out like a prize.

"See? A souvenir,” Wally said with a wink. “Stick it under your pillow tonight—might even get some cash outta this mess.”nJoey sniffled, a small laugh bubbling up despite himself. Wally let out a relieved chuckle, ruffling Joey’s hair affectionately. “C’mon, tough guy,” Wally said, wrapping an arm around Joey’s small shoulders and helping him to his feet. “Let’s get ya cleaned up before Mum freaks out.”

As they walked away, Joey glanced up at his brother, who was still dusting off his own knuckles. Wally didn’t look like a typical hero—his hoodie was torn, his hair messy, and his lip split—but to Joey, he was nothing short of invincible.

My hero is kind, though he hides it sometimes,

Like when he cared for me when I couldn't climb.

Through sickness and fever, through worry and care,

My hero was always right there.

Joey had been feverish and weak, his small body trembling under the layers of blankets piled atop him. His flushed cheeks glistened with sweat, and his breathing came in uneven rasps. Every so often, he’d let out a small whimper, clutching at his pillow as though it might help ease the fever burning through him. Wally had been there the entire night, never leaving his little brother’s side. The bedside lamp cast a dim glow over the room, highlighting the worry etched into Wally’s face. He’d pulled a chair up beside the bed but rarely stayed seated, constantly darting to the kitchen for fresh water or damp cloths to cool Joey’s overheated skin.

“Alright, let’s try this again,” Wally murmured as he pressed a cold compress to Joey’s forehead. His voice was calm, but his hands trembled slightly, betraying his nerves. “You’re tougher than this bug, yeah? Show it who’s boss.” Joey cracked his tired eyes open, managing a weak smile. “I’m... tired, Wally,” he croaked, his voice barely audible.

“Oi, you’re not allowed to die on me, Joey,” Wally said, his tone light and teasing, though his furrowed brow betrayed the genuine fear lingering just beneath the surface. He sat back in his chair, crossing his arms with mock seriousness. “I need someone to clean up my messes, and you’re the only one who’s decent at it.” Joey let out a faint, raspy laugh, the sound catching in his throat. Even in his feverish haze, he could see the worry in his brother’s eyes, the way Wally’s jaw tightened every time Joey’s breathing hitched or he shivered too hard.

Between bouts of running to fetch supplies, Wally stayed close, occasionally brushing Joey’s damp hair out of his face or adjusting the blankets to make him more comfortable. He told stories to distract him, recounting wild, exaggerated tales of playground fights, daring tree climbs, and the “epic” pranks he’d pulled on their neighbors. “And then—get this—the sprinkler went off, right? Old Mr. Hargrove didn’t know what hit him! Soaked head to toe!” Wally chuckled, leaning forward as he acted out the scene with animated gestures. His voice was loud and lively, but Joey could hear the slight strain behind it, the way Wally was trying just a little too hard to keep things light.

Despite his discomfort, Joey couldn’t help but feel a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the fever. Wally’s presence, his determination to stay even when he was clearly exhausted, made Joey feel safer than he ever thought possible. “Thanks... Wally,” Joey mumbled sleepily, his eyes fluttering shut as the cool compress and his brother’s soothing voice lulled him into a restless but peaceful sleep. Wally sat back with a sigh, running a hand through his messy hair. He stayed awake, keeping watch as the hours dragged on, ready to jump up the moment Joey needed him. Even in the dead of night, Wally remained steadfast, proving yet again that no matter what, he’d always be there.

My hero has struggles, though he hides them from view,

But I’ve seen him break, and it’s hard to see, too.

When tears fall, and shadows take over his light,

I wish I could fight his battles at night.

The house was quiet, the kind of quiet that pressed heavy on Joey’s little chest. He’d been wandering the hallway after a bad dream when he heard it—a sound so soft he almost missed it. Muffled sobs came from Wally’s room, the door left slightly ajar. Joey crept closer, his tiny fingers gripping the edge of the doorframe as he peeked inside.

Wally sat on the edge of his bed, his face buried in his hands, his shoulders shaking with each ragged breath. The moonlight streaming through the window caught the tear tracks glistening on his cheeks. He was trying to be quiet, his cries subdued, but Joey could still hear the raw pain in each stifled sob. Joey didn’t fully understand what had happened—why their mother wasn’t coming back or why Wally was always so sad lately. He was too young to grasp the depth of their loss, but he understood enough to know his brother was hurting.

He hesitated, unsure if he should go in. Wally always seemed so strong, the one who never flinched, never backed down. Seeing him like this, so broken, made Joey’s chest ache in a way he didn’t have the words to explain. Finally, Joey pushed the door open just enough to slip inside. Wally didn’t notice at first, too lost in his grief. Joey padded over to him, his small feet barely making a sound on the floor. Without saying a word, he climbed up onto Wally’s lap and wrapped his tiny arms around him, holding on as tightly as he could.

Wally froze for a moment, startled by the sudden contact, but then he melted into the hug, his arms coming up to encircle Joey. His sobs grew louder, unrestrained now, as he buried his face in Joey’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Wally,” Joey whispered, even though he didn’t really know if it was. “I’m here.”

From that night on, Joey noticed other times when Wally struggled—when the shadows seemed to close in around him. The worst were the nights when Wally woke up screaming, his cries echoing through the walls. Joey would creep to his brother’s room, peering in to find Wally sitting bolt upright, his body drenched in sweat, his eyes wide and unfocused, haunted by something Joey couldn’t see. Joey didn’t understand what plagued Wally’s dreams or why his brother always looked so tired and sad in the mornings. But he knew one thing for sure: Wally carried those shadows alone, and Joey would do whatever he could to be there, just like Wally had always been there for him.

Even heroes have hard times, though they keep pushing through.

But still... he’s always going to be my hero.

Even heroes need someone, too.

Joey carefully folded the paper, his hands trembling as he looked up. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the weight of his emotions still heavy in his chest. The classroom was utterly silent, the usual giggles and whispers replaced by an awed hush. Mrs. Clemmons dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, her smile filled with pride and tenderness. Joey’s classmates exchanged quiet glances, their expressions a mixture of surprise and respect.

With his heart pounding, Joey made his way back to his seat, his legs feeling like they might give out at any moment. He sat down, the paper still clutched in his hand, his cheeks flushed with a mix of relief and lingering nervousness. Later that evening, Joey found Wally sitting on the couch, staring blankly out the window. The glow of the setting sun cast long shadows across the room, illuminating the tension in Wally’s stiff posture. His breathing was uneven, shallow, and his hands rested limply on his knees. He didn’t even glance over when Joey walked in.

Joey hesitated for a moment, watching his brother. He didn’t need to ask to know something was weighing heavily on Wally’s mind. Instead of speaking, Joey padded to the hallway, grabbing the old, soft blanket Wally always threw over the couch. Quietly, he returned and gently draped it over Wally’s shoulders. Wally blinked, startled from his thoughts. He looked down as Joey climbed up beside him, the small boy curling against his arm without a word. For a moment, Wally just stared, his expression shifting from confusion to something softer, almost vulnerable.

“What’s this about, squirt?” Wally asked, his voice rough but laced with a gentleness Joey had always loved. Joey didn’t answer. He just nestled closer, closing his eyes as he rested his head against Wally’s arm. The warmth of his brother’s steady presence made him feel safe, like the world couldn’t touch them.

Wally’s lips twitched into a small, genuine smile, the kind Joey didn’t see often anymore. He reached up and ruffled Joey’s hair, letting out a soft chuckle that carried a hint of relief. “Thanks,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Joey didn’t need to reply. His actions said everything he couldn’t put into words. Wally might not wear a cape or battle supervillains, but to Joey, he was the greatest hero in the world—the one who had always been there, no matter how heavy the world became.

#codename kids next door #fanfic #knd #wallabee beatles #numbuh 4 #joey beetles

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