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Flippy woke up in a cold sweat. The room was quiet, but his mind was still loud—screams, gunfire, the stench of blood. He sat up slowly, running a hand through his damp hair. It took him a moment to realize where he was. Home. Or at least, the closest thing he had now.
Flaky knocked gently on the doorframe before peeking in. "You alright?" she asked, voice soft.
"Yeah," Flippy murmured, eyes downcast. "Just... another one."
She gave a small nod and handed him a cup of tea. “There’s a story in the paper about this kid that's been helping out the town. Thought you might want to see it.”
He took the paper with shaky fingers. The front page showed a blurry photo of a young man with a bright smile and a red hoodie, holding a terrified little girl in his arms while flames rose behind them. "Local hero thwarts attempted robbery, saves three." The culprits, apparently, had escaped.
Flaky sat near the edge of his bed. “His name's Splendid. He’s been making a name for himself. Helping out where he can. Stopping Shifty and Lifty more than once. People love him. Kind of a dork, but... happy.”
Flippy stared at the photo. Happy. Free. Unburdened. Once, the military gave him that title too—hero. But after everything he'd done, everything he’d seen, what did that word even mean?
Flaky noticed the change in his expression. Her gaze flicked to him but she didn’t ask. He appreciated that more than he could say.
“Yeah,” he muttered, setting the paper aside. “I’m trying to focus on the present.”
Later that week, Flippy took a quieter route home.
Walking a shortcut through a quiet alley, Flippy moved on instinct when he heard someone behind him. He spun, fast, pinning the figure to the brick wall with one forearm.
It was that blue-haired guy—Splendid.
“Whoa! Hey—!” Splendid gasped, arms up. “Easy, man! What the hell?!”
“Why are you following me?” Flippy snarled. “You playing hero again? Looking for another headline?”
Splendid blinked. “Dude, I—I didn’t even see you. I just take this alley too. You okay?”
Flippy’s breath came fast. His vision blurred with images of the past. Friends dead. Blood. Too much blood.
Then it cleared. Just a boy. A confused, concerned boy. Flippy stepped back, horror dawning. “Shit. I’m sorry. I thought—I wasn’t thinking.”
Splendid rubbed his neck but smiled anyway. “It’s okay. I just moved a while back, I haven't seen you around before right?”
They talked, awkward at first. But Splendid didn’t press. He was just curious. He hadn’t seen Flippy around before and wanted to learn about him. It was the first honest conversation Flippy had had in a while.
The next time they met, it wasn't a coincidence. Flippy had noticed some movement, heard rumors that the robbers Splendid had crossed were looking for revenge. And sure enough, there was Splendid, cornered in an alley again—but this time by more than just one stranger.
Flippy intervened without thinking. Fast, efficient. Not just instinct—training. The robbers fled when they realized they were outmatched. Splendid stared at him, winded.
But in the smoke and noise, a bottle shattered behind Flippy. His breath caught. He was back there again. Screams. Blood everywhere, soaking into his entire being.
He collapsed behind a wall, shaking.
Splendid found him moments later.
“Hey—hey, it’s over. You did great, man. You saved me.”
They sat together after that, backs to the brick wall. Splendid offered his number. “In case they come back. Or, y’know. If you ever want to talk.”
They started messaging more. Jokes. Memes. Then real conversations. The weight they both carried, different but just as heavy.
One night, Splendid shared something unexpected.
“I used to think being a hero meant flying around saving people,” he said over the phone. “Big stuff. Flashy stuff. But… it’s not just that.”
Flippy listened in silence.
“My parents got busted when I was a kid,” Splendid continued. “Real shady shit. It messed with me. But my brother… he made it worse. People kept comparing me to him. ‘Don’t end up like your brother.’ You know?”
Flippy murmured, “Yeah. I know something like that.”
“So, I guess… I wanna be someone people can count on. Not just cause it'd make me look good or anything… I just wanna be seen like a real person.”
There was a beat of silence.
“That’s valid,” Flippy said softly. “It matters.”
Splendid hesitated. “Kinda thought you’d say it was dumb. You went through…a lot worse. My stuff’s nothing in comparison.”
But Flippy shook his head. “It matters. And honestly... I wish I could’ve had that drive. My dad sent me into the military because he thought it’d toughen me up. My dad felt I was too soft and easy-going.” He sighs.
“Guess it worked. Built me into something people fear and respect. But for what? Murdering? Watching people die? I couldn’t save them. Not all of them.”
Splendid grabbed his wrist. Firm. “Stop. You’re being way too hard on yourself. You tried your best. It’s not easy. It eats at you. What you lose. What you give. But you’re still here, Flippy. That’s what matters.”
They met again at the park one evening, benches bathed in amber light.
Flippy glanced at him. “How did you stop comparing yourself and your brother?”
“I didn’t. Therees some days I remember how I looked up to him. How I wanted to be like him.” Splendid said. “But then I remember…I’m not my brother. I’m not his shadow anything. There’s things that I did that he could never do. Sure, we’re siblings, share the same blood, but at the end of the day—I’m me.”
He turned, eyes resolute.
“And so are you, Flippy. Even if you feel no one sees you, or even on the days where you feel you lost yourself. I help you. I see you. And I’ll keep reminding you until you see it too.”
Flippy looked away, swallowing thickly.
“You really believe that?”
Splendid grinned. “Every damn word.”