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We’re safe. We’re safe. We’re safe.
The mantra echoes through Sean’s head as Daniel sleeps in the passenger seat, blissfully silent for someone who killed a dozen people only hours before. Mexico’s barren desert stretches on for miles, but it’s only keeping them company as the crackles of the cop radio behind them fade, and the metal cuff sears Sean’s skin like a brand.
He did the right thing.
He’s okay.
We’re safe.
He tells himself that all Dad wanted was for them to be together; their blood link more important than anything. Yet, as he drives along the empty road, counting the shrubs that pass by, all he can do is focus on the red-hot burn that stings his wrist. The longer the drive goes on, the more the dread seeps out of his mind and into his being. He’s suffocating, driving towards his doom rather than towards his freedom. His hands shake at the steering wheel, sharp breaths wrack through his bruised body, and the driver mirror shows him, one-eyed and irrefutably broken.
Seattle teen, wanted for the death of a police officer.
A criminal. A fugitive. A terrible brother and son.
Sean Diaz.
The world is collapsing around him as his vision tunnels. He swears he can see red and blue lights flashing behind him, and when he wakes up from this, it will all be some fucked up dream. They’ll be back with Dad, thousands of miles away, safe and sound. Home.
Because this isn’t how it should’ve happened.
Dad gave up everything for them.
From being able to watch Lord of the Rings on Christmas Eve, to being able to bitch and moan at a shitty desk with Lyla, it’s all because Dad got them there himself, and Sean ruined it all. A series of chain reactions, caused by his own fuck ups, and now they’re back to square one. Mexico: their happily-ever-after, when it’s really just the beginning again.
He just wants everything to end.
But Sean selfishly wants to see the beach. He wants to go home. He wants to hug his dad again, to feel the sand and sea water beneath his fingertips, at the home his dad spoke poems about almost eons ago. He so desperately wants, and wants, and wants, and even now, when he thinks that they’ve finally made it out, he still craves for more, in spite of it.
He knows that he’s done bad, reprehensible things. He ruined their family. They will never be whole again, because of him and his inability to back down. He doesn’t deserve to want anything, and yet he never stops. He never will, because-
“Sean?”
A groggy voice mumbles from the passenger seat, and Daniel rubs at his eyes with a stretch and a yawn. Almost immediately, Sean feels himself straighten up, nerves kicking back into that instinctual “protection” mode that he’s developed over the past year.
“Hey, enano,” he says, careful to keep his voice as cheery as he can muster, “how are you?”
His baby brother instantly smiles, all teeth and eyes crinkled at the edges. It’s enough to ease some of the lasting tension that’s followed Sean for hours.
“I’m really good,” Daniel says, “Super good! We’re home. We’re really home!”
The cracks of twisted bodies echo through Sean’s mind, harsh snaps of broken bones folding as if they were merely sheets of paper. His little brother stood there unflinchingly, taking on heaps of bullets while they tried to light him up. They fucking tried.
“We really are, aren’t we?”
He should feel terrible about it, sick with unimaginable guilt that his little brother killed this many people to get here. Disgusted that both of them have killed people at this point to get where they are, terrified that they’re capable of ending other people’s lives in an instant. All they should feel is shame after everything they’ve done. Yet, he looks at Daniel, with his torn shirt and their mother’s smile, and all he feels is an outpouring of relief.
The Angel Daniel.
Superwolf. Little man.
Your adorable little brother, who eats about ten bags of Chock-O-Crisps a week.
Enano.
He sees the bandages, a small stain of blood on his shoulder, and with startling clarity, Sean knows that he would die for him. That there’s nothing in the world that would make him love him less, because that’s Daniel — his spoiled, bratty little brother who he trekked about fifteen miles through a scorching hot desert for, who killed the cop that killed their dad, who effectively halved his view of the world forever. A kid that’s turned his life completely upside down, at least five separate times.
Sean will never stop wanting, because…
“They make it to the other side.”
…because Daniel needs to be happy. Sean so desperately, selfishly, needs to see his brother in front of him, breathing and whole, to know that he’s happy. That on the other side of everything that he’s done and what they’ve been through, he’ll be okay.
Both of them are together, free and still alive.
Daniel takes control of the steering wheel for him, then rips the last remnant of the border away. With one sharp twist of his hand, the burning metal around his wrist tears off with a neat throw outside the window, and Sean feels his whole body physically relax for the first time in what feels like ages. He reaches back for his sketchbook, about two-thirds full. This is his first time holding it in Mexico. His wonderful, sacred landline that kept him sane through everything.
There are no gunshots. There are no cop cars. There are no false promises.
Only the hum of the Hawt-Dawg Man theme song, stretches of sand, and the vast blue sky, clear of any clouds.
Happy Independence Day.
After about another hour of Daniel driving, it’s with pure luck that they come across a gas station.
“Sean! Sean, Sean! Look!”
A chill shudders through Sean’s spine, because the convenience of it seems too perfect. Right on their route, in the middle of nowhere. A plastic zip tie digs into his skin, and the sharp kick of a boot sends tingles throughout his face. He can feel the blood pouring down his nose, the burn spreading through his eyes.
“Can we please, pretty, pretty please, get a snack? Just a few?”
Daniel looks at him with the sleaziest, happiest puppy eyes Sean’s ever seen in his life, and that turns the looming anxiety into a standstill. This kid is going to be the death of him someday if he’s not careful.
“Okay, okay, fine,” Sean says, because he thinks he deserves to spoil his little brother, “just not too much, okay?”
“Yes, oh man! Do you think they have Chock-O-Crisps in there?” Daniel asks as he turns the van into the parking lot, barren save for one beaten down car that matches their own.
Sean rolls his eyes, but grins. “I’m sure they do, why wouldn’t they?”
Immediately, Sean makes Daniel put on the raccoon jacket that lays in the backseat, thankfully still intact after everything. Of course, the pouting and complaining doesn’t cease about how hot it is, or how cool his bandages look, so why can’t he show them off?
“They basically say, ‘don’t fuck with me!’ Right? Isn’t this awesome? No one will ever mess with us again!”
“Sure,” he mumbles, “just make sure you don’t show those off to the guy at the counter.”
Of course, they are not awesome. There’s something kinda fucked about watching his little brother flex with those bandages wrapped around him. Daniel doesn’t remember the shit that actually got him them in the first place, but Sean definitely does.
“I wasn’t going to,” Daniel pouts, pushing open the glass door to the gas station.
They’re greeted by an older man behind the counter, who gives them a half-assed wave before going back to reading his magazine. Thank fuck. Daniel’s eyes immediately flood with excitement as he eyes the candy section, picking up a Chock-O-Crisp bar that looks slightly different from the ones in the states.
“Ooh, Sean! Look what they have!”
Sean’s eyes widen as he grips Daniel’s good shoulder with some urgency, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“Hey, no English, remember?”
Daniel’s mouth shuts, but he doesn’t look too annoyed. Instead, he nods and carries on, the chocolate bar safe in his grimy little hands as he scours the aisles for his next target. Never in a million years did Sean think that he was going to have to shush Daniel for speaking English instead of Spanish, but here they are, in fate’s hands. Add that onto the list of things he has to worry about: teach Daniel how to speak an entire fucking language in a year. Hopefully he’ll be ready for school by then.
He’s lucky though. Daniel isn’t fluent, he can’t speak it, but he understands enough to know a simple passing conversation.
Typical phrases that Dad would say to them both, like “clean your room” or “I love you,” come to mind, but he definitely knows a substantial amount of curse words from the both of them. He’ll never live down the time Daniel figured out what his big brother was writing on his sticky notes when he packed his lunch, and subsequently told Dad. Maybe their dad had doubled over in laughter when he read it for the first time, but Sean still got grounded for a month just because he called Daniel a little culero for… three years in Post-It notes.
Now, he wanders around with his little brother, looking aimlessly at all the treats that are both vaguely familiar and foreign at the same time. It’s been awhile since they’ve actually been in a real store. Did Dad get him these once? He probably did.
His little brother seems hellbent on getting whatever he wants, but Sean’s done trying to steal shit from stores (for now). Firmly, he tells Daniel that he can only get four things at most, having to repeat himself when all he does is squint at him like he’d just grown two heads.
“I know you can understand me, dude,” he says in Spanish, because there’s no way Daniel hasn’t followed his and Dad’s conversations at home before. Enough to understand when it’s said aloud, but not enough to read, write or respond. Like clockwork, Daniel rolls his eyes and puts back the mountain of junk he’d hoarded just as Sean whacks him upside the head.
Of course, his baby brother has a flair for the dramatics, pointedly dragging his feet along as if they were back in Seattle and Sean just scolded him for not cleaning the living room. Regardless, he puts his small haul on the register counter, and Sean pays with no more than a nod. Only when they’re both outside does he get to properly exhale, feeling the tightness in his chest go away gradually. Fuck that stupid hillbilly.
For lack of better seating choices, they eat on the hood of Mom’s van. The morning sun graces them with its presence, and as they eat their new treats and leftovers from Away on paper plates, it comforts them with a warm embrace.
It’s peaceful. For fucking once. When they’re done with the lukewarm curry and the sweets they just bought, Daniel starts reading the back of the empty soda bottle he’d finished drinking. To Sean’s surprise, he’s actually trying to translate them properly, even if he can only catch a few words at a time. Then, they turn it into a game to see how much Spanish Daniel can pronounce on the nutrition label, which is… not great; Sean makes a note to buy books for Daniel to read from, which, of course, has his baby brother groaning and whining.
“Why didn’t Dad teach me Spanish instead of you?” Daniel pouts, crossing his arms once they’re back in the car. Sean laughs, looking over his shoulder to pull out of the parking lot. Unfortunately, it’s his turn to drive again.
“Dad didn’t teach me anything, dude,” he says, “he just spoke it all the time when I was a little kid. I kind of had to.”
He learned later from Dad that it was intentional. Karen spoke to him in English while Dad spoke to him in Spanish so that he’d know both, but also so that Dad would have something to pass down to him. A mix of being proud of his heritage, having Sean as an outlet to speak Spanish when it was hard to do so with anyone else, all a bunch of things that Sean understands now.
Still, Daniel doesn’t look pleased. “Dad spoke it all the time around me too, but he never told me to speak it or anything.”
“Yeah, he stopped speaking it less when you were born, though. Part of it was probably because he was scared.”
“Why would Dad be scared of me speaking Spanish?” Daniel asks with a pout, and Sean huffs out a laugh, instinctually brushing over the healed bruises from Nevada. He can still count each kick to his ribs, taste the desert on his tongue. Fuck, he can still feel his lungs ache from time to time if he fucking laughs too hard. His hands tighten over the steering wheel ever so slightly.
“It’s complicated,” he says truthfully, “like, listen to me. My accent when I speak is just a little different than yours, right?”
It’s something that he used to get so unbelievably angry about when he was younger — enough that he’d angrily told his dad through tears that he hated Spanish and never wanted to speak it again as a five year old. No matter how well he knew and spoke English, it was so obvious to the other kids that he was different, even when he’d tried to correct himself over and over again.
“Well, yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?”
Sean sucks in a breath, not really wanting to explain all of the weird, in-depth political shit while they’re already out of the country. Where do you even begin with that?
“Because sometimes, kids aren’t very nice to those who are different, enano.”
“Oh,” Daniel murmurs, looking down at his shoes. He looks contemplative, a little sad, maybe. “Does that mean… people will be mean to me, too?”
Sean immediately wants to shoot out with an ‘of course not,’ because who would ever want to be mean to Daniel? He thinks literally everyone loves Daniel. Of course, putting his big brother bias aside, it's not a guarantee. Kids can just be so fucking cruel in general, and he knows his baby brother had a hard time at school back in the states too.
He doesn’t want to stress Daniel out with something that he’ll only have to worry about in a year, but he knows how much he favors transparency over anything.
“I’m not gonna bullshit you and say it won’t happen,” Sean says, “but it would probably be easier to deal with than when it happened to me. I was, like, five years old and I didn’t know… I didn’t know why kids would make fun of me like that. And it’s not even a guarantee anyways.”
Seeing Daniel’s dejected face, he tacks on quickly, “Trust me, you’re awesome. Give it a year with me and it probably won’t take so long for you to fit in.”
“What if I’m not the cool American kid like you said, though? What if they pick on me like they did you?” Like hell they will.
“I didn’t have an older brother that could threaten to kick their asses, but you do. Just show them that I’m a pirate and they’ll immediately stop picking on you.”
“Sean!” Daniel laughs, playfully shoving Sean in the shoulder, “It’s not that scary.”
“It kinda is, dude. You think they’ll wanna fuck with a kid who has a scary big brother with one eye?”
“Well, I’ll just scare them off too!”
Sean smiles at his little brother’s confidence, especially with how long it took for him to gain it back after the shit in the church. That was something he’d missed the most when he was gone. He ruffles his hair proudly, even as Daniel whines a complaint.
“Of course you will. You can stand up for yourself too, just don’t make it too obvious. I don’t wanna have to move us away just because you showed off your power at school.”
“I’m careful!” Daniel protests, and Sean turns his head to stare. Immediately, his little brother shrinks under his gaze. “I’m careful-ish!”
“I’m serious, Daniel,” he says, “This is our home, and we wanna keep it that way. I don’t want to-”
I don’t want to leave Dad behind.
The thought creeps up on him so quickly that Sean startles himself out of his talk, surprised at the tears that have formed in his eye. He wipes them discreetly, hoping that Daniel didn’t notice, and clears his throat to continue.
“I don’t want to have to keep running, okay?”
Daniel sighs, sinking down into his seat, “Okay, okay. I’ll be careful. I promise.”
After about an hour, the scenery around them finally begins to shift from desert to an actual town, and from the scent of the ocean nearby, they’ve actually fucking made it.
“This is it?” Daniel says, bouncing up and down in his seat, “This is really, really it?”
Sean smiles, turning through the roads, “This is it.”
Like Dad said, Puerto Lobos does feel like a mini-paradise, even in the way the sunlight hits the buildings with a golden glow. The vibes feel completely different to what he knows in America. The roads are small, the town is quiet, and because the windows are down, Daniel sticks his face out of the car to cheer loudly as they drive down the streets. It’s getting them a lot of weird looks from the locals, but Sean can’t bring it in himself to care.
Now, he’s only read over the Puerto Lobos postcard on Dad’s bulletin board at a passing glance, but he surprisingly does remember the address since Dad always used it for passwords. Of course, Dad had no idea that he actually knew his passwords, and it’s not like Sean used it for anything dubious. He only ever used it to get added computer time onto the family laptop as a little kid. The content itself was something he’d read at one point when he was younger. He used to think that it was from some long lost lover that Dad left behind, but apparently it was just from some lady that took care of him for a bit after his parents died. Not juicy at all, but that doesn’t matter. All he really gives a shit about now is the street that was on the postcard anyways.
2563 Hidalgo Avenida. 2563 Hidalgo Avenida. 2563 Hidalgo Avenida.
The whole house finding thing takes a little longer than he expects it to, but finally, Sean turns onto a street with houses that sit alongside the beach. There’s a house with a huge garage that’s absolutely trashed, especially compared to the rest, and when Sean takes a closer look, the number matches exactly like the passwords.
He parks the van right next to it, trying to keep his excitement in check. For fucking once, their luck seems to be turning around. Ironic, considering everything. There’s a shit ton of trash bags scattered around, the paint is pretty rundown, but that means… that means that it could actually be fucking theirs.
Every part of Daniel’s body is infectious with joy, almost suffocating Sean. He’s fully shaking with either nerves or excitement, and Sean smiles when he almost falls out of the van to run towards the house.
“Oh my god,” Daniel says, “it’s gigantic! We’re gonna be so rich!”
Daniel immediately runs over to the back door to open it, but Sean rushes to pull him back by his good shoulder.
“Hey, hey, careful. You don’t know if anyone’s in there,” he says, although he highly doubts it. They peer through the window on the side instead, which makes the inside look just as trashed as the outside. Since they don’t really hear or see anything, Sean gives Daniel the go ahead, protectively holding onto his shoulder.
The dreariness of the place kind of just gets Sean more anxious for the long run. In every place they’ve stayed at, it wasn’t ever theirs to begin with. Every single place, he could never let himself get attached, knowing that it would only be a month until they’d have to leave again.
But this is something he has to fix, no matter what. It’s Dad’s place, after all. It’s home. He doesn’t have room to fuck this up again.
They walk through every room cautiously, and Sean doesn’t know what he’s expecting, really. Maybe some sort of letter. An explanation. A step-by-step guide for what the fuck he should do now because god knows he’s needed that for the better part of a year. All they find out is that it’s surprisingly clean for an abandoned house, with a sparse amount of furniture here and there.
“It’s kinda spooky,” Daniel says, turning the kitchen faucet absent-mindedly. No water, as expected. “I wonder if this happened to our home back in Seattle. Did they take everything?”
Sean doesn’t want to think about what happened to all of their stuff, or any of Dad’s. Fuck, the feds probably put it all into evidence or something, if he had to guess. He wonders if they left behind any of the things that they thought were meaningless, like his skateboard or his track trophies. The photos that decorated their walls, their whiteboard of chores, the recipes that Dad had stashed in the far left kitchen drawer — were their entire lives just fucking useless to them? Things to be sold off, things to document as “proof” that they were always going to be fucked up anyways. Just a group of criminals from the get go.
“I don’t know, Daniel,” Sean tells him, brushing a finger through the dust on the counter. The curve through the dust morphs into a smiley face. “We’ll just buy new stuff.”
Daniel pouts, despite the reassurance. “All my toys are gone, though. Plus my gift from Lyla, and all of the drawings that you made me. And all of Dad’s things-”
“We’ll get you new toys, and I’ll make you new drawings. I’m sure when Lyla visits, she’ll have something new for you anyways.”
Never mind that Sean has no idea if Lyla would visit or not. On one hand, that’s his fucking ride-or-die — he couldn’t imagine the thought of never seeing her again in person. He likes to think that she would come over in a heartbeat if he asked, but that’s the Lyla who wasn’t friends with a person that has blood on their hands.
“You think Lyla will actually come visit?” Daniel asks, visibly brightening up, “And Chris too? Can I call them?”
Sean can’t help but smile at how insistent Daniel has been about talking to Chris, especially since they were only able to hang out for a day at most. From the looks of the letter that still sits in Sean’s backpack, Chris still wants to talk too. It’s kind of adorable, how much Daniel still thinks about him.
“Once we’re settled in, then yeah. We definitely will. Promise.”
Together, they walk through the rest of the house, inspecting it for anything they might have missed. It’s smaller on the inside than Sean expected, considering that the entire bottom half is a garage and the top is the house, but it’s actually more comfortable than he’d thought. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, perfect for the both of them. Maybe they’d be able to turn the downstairs into part of the house? He doesn’t really know what they’d have to do with the extra space, but it’s better than letting the garage go to waste.
As Sean insists that they do one more look over, then just once more for good luck, Daniel gets progressively more and more antsy.
“Sean,” Daniel whines, looking up at the ceiling, “come on, we’ve looked three times already. Do we have to do this now? Like, right now? I wanna go check out the beach!”
Normally, Sean would have told Daniel to just suck it up one more time, and he’s about to do it until he takes a glance out the window. It’s only now that he’s been able to get a proper view of just how beautiful the beach that they’re going to live on is. There’s this idyllic shine to the water, glowing in a way that’s so surreal that Sean can’t help but want to paint it someday. He doesn’t remember feeling like this over the glittering snow of Beaver Creek, or even the canyons in Away.
So, he gives up and lets his baby brother drag him outside, back to the van so that they can get all their shit together first. They aren’t sleeping in the house tonight, not until they’ve properly cleaned it up. It’s stupid, to be so protective over the sacredness of a home when they’ve slept in way worse places, but Sean can’t help himself. He’s not sleeping in there until it feels right.
They wrestle most of their stuff out of the back of the van, including the tent that they’ll be sleeping in tonight. Sean lets Daniel check out the beach first while he sets everything up, and it gives him time to relax while Daniel strips off his shirt and shoes to run full-sprint into the water, all with his shorts on.
It doesn’t take him very long to set everything up. They don’t have much, but they’ve got enough food for one more dinner until tomorrow, where they’ll be looking around town anyways for the first time. Sean thinks about joining his little brother in the water, who screams and laughs with the most joy in his voice since they left Seattle. Some days, he didn’t think he’d ever get to hear him laugh like that ever again, knowing that he’d gotten more used to his cries than his giggles.
Instead, he does what he does best — he observes.
From how low the sun is, Sean guesses that they’ve only got a little bit of daylight left before it’s gone. He starts heating up the rest of their leftovers on the portable burner that Mom left them, and sits back in the sand with his hoodie and shoes off, finally able to really enjoy himself.
He digs his hands and feet under the sand, basking in the coarse, yet soft pile of it that smooths over his skin. The sea breeze hits him gently, spreading an instant wash of cool air over the blistering heat. Of everything he could have ever wished for, this is probably the closest he can get to perfect.
Time flies by quickly as nighttime approaches. Daniel alternates between the water and the sand, coming back to build a sand castle then jumping immediately back into the ocean. Watching him play is like watching a wet puppy that zooms around after a bath. He looks so genuinely happy that Sean can’t help but join him after they finish their dinner. They crash into the water together, Daniel pulling him along after he’s able to roll up his pant legs, and howl to the moon that’s finally come to greet them.
Sean can’t help but laugh, ignoring the soreness in his sides. He kicks some water at Daniel, who squawks, and it turns into a splashing match that gets both of them utterly soaked. When it’s all over, and Daniel’s almost keeled over from laughing too hard, Sean pulls him into the tightest hug that he can muster.
“Happy Independence Day, enano,” he tells him, smiling into his hair.
Daniel pulls back, but his face is a little dampened. “The first one without Dad.”
Sean doesn’t say anything, just pulls him back in for another hug, as if it can smother all the grief that’s been built up over the past year. I miss him too.
A distant memory clicks back into place from a couple years ago, the last time he got to watch the fireworks with Dad and Daniel. Sean usually hated the Seafair fireworks. He’d hated being surrounded, almost suffocated, by so many people that it felt too hard to breathe. That, along with how fucking loud the fireworks were themselves. All of it just pissed Sean off at the time.
But that year, Dad had found a good spot. The perfect spot. They’d found the time to actually look for a hill to lie down on instead of being surrounded by a shit load of people, all sitting in white, plastic chairs. Dad had brought his own little picnic for the three of them to eat before it started, overfilled with leftover barbeque and snacks, and they’d just relaxed as they waited for the fireworks show to start.
Sean’s favorite part of it all was the sparklers that Dad prepared them with, like a pre-show. Dad and Daniel had run around while Sean just rolled his eyes, smiling even if he didn’t join in on the fun. Once they’d lit their third set between the three of them, the fireworks show had begun, with booms of color and explosions filling up their entire view.
It was said so quietly that Sean almost didn’t catch it, but Dad’s whisper was heard over the gunshots in the sky, over Daniel’s gleeful shouts, over the sizzle of the sparklers. The remnants of fireworks, streaking reds, whites, and blues, were so wonderfully vibrant in his father’s eyes as he watched over the two of them, still smiling and alive.
“These are for you, my sons. My everything.”
Sean swallows down the lump in his throat, holding Daniel closer to his side as they look towards the night sky, smattered with twinkling stars. Seconds stretch into minutes as shallow waves crash into their calves. They don’t say anything for a while, just watching as the moon shines high above them.
“Can we get sparklers tomorrow?” Daniel mumbles into Sean’s shirt, and Sean holds him a little tighter.
“Yeah. I think Dad would really like that.”
When they go to bed that night, the memory loops like an echo in Sean’s head — and with every loop, he plays with the lid of the lighter that sits neatly in his pocket. He tries to hold onto it as long as he can, to make sure that it will be firmly engraved into his mind forever.
“You okay, mijo?”
Sean jolts awake to a familiar hand on his shoulder, the hand rough with calluses and stained black from engine oil. It takes him a few seconds to readjust himself. He’s been asleep for a while, he thinks, but it’s not rare for him to just doze off on the porch when it’s warm outside.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” he tells his dad, who takes the empty seat next to him. The afternoon sun shines high, and Dad opens the porch umbrella to sit in the shade. When Sean looks, he doesn’t have to tilt his head to the left anymore to see Daniel in his peripheral, quiet and reading the newest issue of Power Bear. It’s only now that he realizes that he doesn’t usually sit in this chair — he’s in Dad’s spot.
“You don’t seem okay,” his dad says earnestly, leaning back in the chair, “I want to know what’s going on with you.”
Dad has always been good at fishing things out of Sean, even when he doesn’t want to. It’s difficult, when his dad is finally within his grasp, and he can’t do anything to save him.
But only here, even in this foggy, water-blotted version of Seattle, can he talk about what he really thinks.
“I think I’ve fucked up… everything,” Sean tells him, not daring to look him in the eyes, “what am I supposed to do now? I’ve done everything I could and now I’m just supposed to fix it again.”
Sean has never been good at maintaining things, which terrifies him more than he could ever admit to Daniel. He knows how to run. Getting through that fucking wall was supposed to be the final step, but now that he’s done running, he has no idea what to do with himself.
His dad sighs, staring at him with hazy eyes that Sean tries to etch into his memory. Will I forget what you look like someday?
“You’re here now. You and your brother… you’re both home and alive. That’s all that matters to me. You got past the biggest obstacle, and you broke through.”
“You don’t care about everything I’ve done?” Sean blurts out, almost shocked by how angry he is. He half-expects to be chastised, but all he gets in return is a sad smile that just makes him feel even more sick.
“All the terrible, fucked up things that I put the both of us through? All the people we’ve killed? Do you care at all?!”
“Of course I care,” Dad says gently, resting a hand on Sean’s shoulder, “I care a great deal about all that you’ve done, but I only care because of how it affects you and Daniel, mijo. Despite all you’ve been through, you persevered through everything. You’re stubborn, just like your old man, and if anything, that means that you will get through this. You know I believe in you.”
Sean’s hands tremble, even with everything that Dad said, because he feels like no matter what, even if he’s told otherwise, he will have always made the wrong choice. “What if everything was for nothing in the end? What if we don’t make it?”
“You will make it, Sean,” Dad says with utter conviction, “I have no doubts in my mind that you will. You are smart. You are strong. You are so, so brave. ”
For a moment, they take a second to look at Daniel, who absentmindedly plays with a toy submarine as he flips through his comic book pages.
“You have each other, and nothing is more important than that. You did a great job of making sure of it, okay? I don’t want you to ever think that you didn’t.”
It hurts. It fucking hurts, that even in this fucked up dreamscape, Sean clings to his words more than anything else in the world. They’re all in his head, he has no idea if Dad would actually say this to him, but every word is spoken in this clear, unwavering voice of comfort that is his dad. He says them with so much love that Sean doesn’t even care if this isn’t real. Here, his dad is alive, and they are home again.
“I love you, Dad. I love you so, so much,” Sean tells him, unable to stop the crack in his voice. His dad is suddenly out of his chair, arms wrapped around him in a vice grip as he rubs his back like he’s a little boy again. If he thinks hard enough, he can force himself to smell the scent of oil on his dad’s shirt, like he’s just come back from the garage. He can lie to himself for just one more minute, savor this for just a little longer.
“I love you too, hijo. I’m so very proud of you, and I always will be.”
The soft, fleeting touch of a kiss to his head is the last thing Sean feels before he’s awake again, tears streaking down his cheeks.
He stumbles out of the tent to the cool, crisp morning air, letting out his stifled sob so that Daniel can’t hear it. The overwhelming smell of the sea and a savory breakfast from a neighboring home comforts him more than he could have ever imagined. Is it eggs for breakfast? Chorizo? He sits down on the coast, where the morning tide barely grazes his toes. This is his life now — to be greeted to the sun peeking over the horizon, the sand embracing his hands and feet, while Daniel sleeps peacefully with not a care in the world.
It almost feels like he’s in a dream.
He can’t stop thinking about it all, about the chance that this will all be ripped away from him soon. It’s something he’s known all his life, since he was nine, that beautiful things like this never stick around for long, especially for him.
But Sean runs his hands through his pockets, fishing out Dad’s lighter that carried him and Daniel throughout their journey. Some of the emblem is scratching off, but the wolf stands strong, clearly printed and not nearly as faded as everything else.
He hugs it to his chest and lies back down in the sand, whispering his thanks to the sky above him.
Thank you, Dad.
For everything.