colors of our pain {embry brothers blitz}

People have said that there isn’t a mean bone to be found in the Embry family, and in a way this is true.

But only because bones filled with hate tend to snap, and we can’t break a bone for it might just render us dead.

Yet this anger, this hate has only seemed to reach Atlas, and even then it’s only been temporary, for he goes through phases the same way his sickness does, some days being significantly better than others.

However, my days never faltered, never shifted from one end of the spectrum to another. It was a routine that not only took adjusting to; it was one that required the heart to not hate it. I could go through the motions with ease, the same as anyone else could, but the difference of sight was one that took much more heart.

It took even more self-control to listen to Atlas describe the colors of the evening sky but only seeing shades of grey.

It took some sort of heart to sit by Sirus’s side and not say a thing.

I don’t know what it required of them to watch me sit absorbed in a crossword puzzle like at the current moment in time, but then again, there wasn’t really indication that they cared anyway.

Regardless the scene was set again, with Atlas turned to watch out the window and my own eyes turned upon the page as I fidgeted with the pencil in my hand.

(They called me clever because there wasn’t a problem I couldn’t solve.)

“Hey, Atlas, can you help me with this?”

Maybe the question wasn’t seven down, but rather the mind and heart of a brother whose courage outweighed his actions.

At least this problem could respond.