Be a Simple Kind of Man

[NotAFlyingToy]

((Jordan Baxter. Begin.))

There were once colours in Jordan's life.

He'd loved primaries and tertiaries, favouring yellow as a bold colour that took up many of his outfits. He'd match them with an intriguing pair of shoes he'd snagged on sale, take his time choosing from a selection of necklaces, ponder over sunglasses before stepping outside. He'd often get comments from his family about the brightness of his wardrobe and the eccentricities of his footwear, jibes and jabs about how he had more shoes than sense. His sharp tongue would often snipe back with a stab about having at least dressed himself, or being able to afford nice clothes.

Brandon never had any shortage of things to say. When Jordan had left to go on a date with a "girl", sporting yellow Gucci and cute, bright blue Jordans, his little brother had stopped, shielded his eyes as if the sun was in the room with them, and let out a choked chuckle.

"Scale of one to ten, Jord," he had said, "how many bees try to rape you on a daily basis?"

The memory was entwined with another one; sitting half drunk on Brandon's bed while his little brother stood over him, Jordan's face pressed into the cotton of the bigger boy's T-shirt, sobbing about his revelation, the shirt becoming wetter and wetter with each explanation, each choked-out admission.

"I'm in love, Brandon. With another man," he'd whispered, ashamed, hurt, torn.

"So what?" had come the harsh reply.

It was strange to think that out of everyone in his household, Brandon Baxter - the jock with rage issues who hit on every female pair of legs within a ten mile radius - would be the most accepting of Jordan's coming out. After that quiet night and choked out confession, Brandon had taken care to check in with Jordan in college, talked to him about his romantic life, offered advice. He'd been uncharacteristically mature, understanding. It was one of the few times in each of their lives that Jordan had felt they had connected.

And now Brandon was all but dead.

Nowadays, Jordan still favoured brand names, but had washed away their colour. He sat in a coffee shop - some little tucked away place he and Erica had found freshman year - holding an iced concoction with an obnoxious pink straw in one hand and a steaming mug of tea in the other, curled into an armchair that was bright red. He had grey sweatpants and a black hooded sweater that had the hood pulled over his head, shivering slightly in the slight chill of the shop as he sipped at the tea. The iced beverage added to the coldness that threatened to seep into his bones, but Jordan knew that it didn't much matter if he held it or not. He hadn't been warm in weeks.

He flipped open his phone to check for messages from Erica, curling his feet underneath his skinny frame. Nothing new, so he tapped out a quick message - hey, where you attttt? Coffee's getting warm - and slid the phone back into his sweater pocket.

With nothing but the tea to warm his hand and the icy beverage to cool it, he closed his eyes, and lost himself in memories of his little brother.

[dmboogie]

((Erica Whitten: Begin))

Hey, guys. Sorry that I've gone MIA. There's been a death in the family and I just haven't been able to muster the energy to draw this silly little comic. It's been a rough couple weeks, but I need some way to get my mind off of all this and I feel bad about leaving you all hanging. Thanks for all those who sent messages asking if I was okay, and I'm sorry if I never replied. I love each and every one of you.

Regular updates will assume in a couple days.

Posted by Erica, July 2nd

Erica sighed, staring at the latest update to her website. Art had always been her favorite way of coping with stress. When she drew, crafting fictional worlds and fantastic scenarios, the world seemed less harsh, her problems more manageable. These days, though, even that had failed her. After a few more moments, she dejectedly slid her phone back into her pocket and continued on her way.

It had been hard enough, burying her brother once.

Dani, you are one lucky guy, you know that? Lots of kids don't get a senior trip as kickass as yours! He had frowned like he always did when she called him by a nickname. Anything other than 'Daniel' wasn't proper enough for him, corruptions of his name sending a bullet packed with annoyance straight at him.

Erica'd always been the one person who could really get on Daniel's nerves, a fact which she shamelessly exploited. It was her sacred duty as an older sis to harass her little bro, after all, at least according to her.

Stay safe, kay? Don't let Michael convince you to do anything stupid. Erica playfully poked Daniel on the forehead, then hugged him. Love you, brother. Have fun. Daniel had smiled, said goodbye, and headed out the door. It was the last time Erica ever saw him.

The time after she received the news that Daniel's plane had crashed was mostly a blur in Erica's mind. She remembered grief, denial, despair. Over time, she came to accept it. It had never stopped hurting, and she missed him still every day, but life carried on, as it tended to do. They held a funeral, they all wept. They remembered their lost brother, their lost son, but they picked up what remained of their lives.

The wounds were ripped open again, as deep as the day that Daniel had first died, when the revival of Survival of the Fittest was announced. It was surreal, really. Everyone remembered SOTF, everyone was still shocked that such a thing had ever happened, but it had died along with Danya, and the world as a whole had moved on. It was too much to even consider, fragments of the past kidnapping her poor, gentle brother and forcing him into a sadistic game of life and death.

Erica rarely smiled a genuine smile anymore. Sure, she grinned and laughed and joked while she was with friends, but she forced herself to do this. Forced herself to cling to a semblance of normalcy. Her brother had died, and she had accepted that, as much as it pained her. To be confronted with his ghost, now, was almost too much for Erica to bear.

"Oh no! I'll be there in a sec, Jordy, just hang on!" She texted her friend as she drew closer to the coffee shop. A few more minutes passed as she walked, finally reaching the entrance. Opening the door, she glanced around, locating then waving at Jordan. Smiling, she took the seat next to him. She signed "It's good to see you."

[NotAFlyingToy]

Jordan's face brightened considerably when Erica walked in, a characteristic Baxter grin that he and his brother shared in most every family picture. The two of them looked very little alike; Brandon's hair had been thinning where Jordan's was as thick and dark as ever. Brandon was built like a true jock, being tall and fit and menacing, while Jordan could practically turn sideways and disappear, he was so underweight. His five-ten frame didn't lend much to the intimidation factor, either.

But in that flash of gums and whites, the two were undeniably brothers. Same crinkled eyes, same cocked head, same open expression.

Jordan's smile faded slightly as he juggled the two drinks to the table, freeing his hands for a reply.

"Don't you worry about it," Jordan said, smiling. With a forced attempt at casualness, he tapped Erica's drink towards her on the table, the movement of the thin plastic drink leaving a trail of moisture on deep oak. "I know how busy your life is."

It killed him to make this idle small talk and chit chatter, when there was such an elephant between them. Both of them had younger siblings, in the same grade - the same classes - who were fighting for their lives. Who could die. Who maybe already had died. The urge to clasp Erica's hands and vent was almost undeniable.

But you're not the only one who's hurting

Jordan's expression melded into a frown as he lifted his own coffee cup, moved to take a sip, then set it down again, the flighty movements quick and unsteady, not unlike a bird pecking at a nest.

"I'm sorry. I have to ask. Do you..." His hands stilled, holding on the 'you', unsure if he wanted to proceed.

"Do you watch Daniel's game?"