(CW: mention of death)
"This is going to help a lot of people."
And when your brother says it, determination and pride on his face from all his hard work and all the work ahead, it's too hard to disagree, to not believe it.
Because he believes all people should be saved, that all people deserve that.
And you nod, excited, with your head filled with superheroes and battles and vibrant colored daydreams of reaching those heights. Because you believe him.
Because his dreams will help so many people.
And later when you have stolen his dreams without ever meaning to, when he is gone and there is no help for him because of you, you carry that dream for him.
Because you believed him, because he is no longer only your brother; he is the immortal reminder that good people help.
Because people who are brilliant, or strong, or anything other than average are meant to do better, because he did.
Meant to be good, because he was.
Meant to save the world, because he was going to.
And your version of saving the world was still a colorful splash page of good versus evil when his was real.
So you borrow his dream and you think about it every day how he believed every person deserved to be saved.
And never let yourself say what you thought so long ago, that maybe only good people deserved to be saved.
And what you think now.
That maybe you're not one of them.











