Fall for Him

by Andie Burke

The unexpected surge in professional work stress over the last few weeks meant Dylan had started to make big mistakes again. Like forgetting to take his meds, and thus forgetting to do all the things that had made his recent life so much better. Flooding the entire stupid kitchen was bigger than any mistake he’d made in years, and it was difficult not to fall back into the old patterns and intrusive thoughts from before he’d gotten all the diagnoses that changed his perspective. Breaking something sometimes doesn’t mean you’re broken.

Uh, so he went out with your brother once, and Jake was really into him but then the dude went off on him and made him feel like shit.

“Hey, so NBD, but I got drunk and slept with your brother, lied to you about it, and then we hooked up again two weeks before he went into an irreversible coma, and by the way I’ve been in love with him for twenty years.”

Awkward social interactions created small fractures in his mental armor. Every crack allowed old insecurities to slide right back into his brain.

“That reminds me, I need to go get my hair cut before Saturday. Saying it out loud so I remember.”

“He said watching you with your sisters was what taught him how to be a better brother to Olive and his other sister. You know, I don’t get the sense that those Murphy parents were ever very nurturing…” She paused to blink a few times and then continued. “Jake said he’d traveled all over the world and met all kinds of people, but you were the best man he’d ever known. The kindest best friend his sister could ever hope for. And right before he let, he turned back. He said that lately, the question wasn’t whether or not he had real feelings for you.

I realized that for years I was using your dad as an excuse. Devotion seemed like a good reason to avoid even thinking about finding someone else. I think you’ve spent a lot of your life worried about losing people. You hold that door closed so tightly because it feels like you’re protecting what you have…” “Mom…” “And I don’t think that’s just about Jake Murphy. I see it in everything you do for me and your sisters and Olive too. But really, it’s about your father.” “I promised Dad—” “It wasn’t fair for him to ask that of you. You were a child. Might be hard for you to understand, but when he got sick, your dad was younger than you are now.” Derek’s hands balled together. His mom patted his fists once. “And maybe you need to start investing more in your own life.”

“This. Is. Not. Funny. None of this is funny, you giant jackass.”

“Just look at your brother. You think that’s what he looks like when he thinks something is funny? Look at his face.” “What’s wrong with my face?” Dylan asked, slightly offended. “For starters, your ears are all pink, which means you’re uncomfortable.” “My ears?” Did his ears actually turn red when he was embarrassed? “And when he laughs for real his stupid dimples underneath his mouth come out, but now he just looks like he’s in pain. Are you jerks even paying attention to the fact that it bothers him?” Derek growled. Something about the way Derek said “dimples” helped Dylan shake the weight of mortification of the last hour. Derek noticed his dimples? “It’s a joke,” Calvin said. While more measured than the other two, he’d stood by and watched it happen, year after year. The relentless teasing. All of it. It was Felicity’s turn to do what Dylan had expressly asked her not to do … again. “That’s the thing though.” Her face was scarlet, as she marched all four feet and eleven and a half inches of herself to somehow tower over their three brothers. “It’s not a joke. You’re making him the joke. Like everything he went through before he got diagnosed should be some joke to shame him about—all the shit he had to put up with for most of his life. Oh ADHD, ha-ha, like oh look, there goes a squirrel! But do you know how hard it was for him? All the way until he was grown up. Do you know how hard it is for a man to ask for help because he’s just not coping? Because I’m sure that s...

“It was hard for you.” Felicity’s anger was less lidded than Derek’s. “It’s not some stupid personality thing that makes him the quirky comic relief of our family. You dicks made his life harder. I’ve watched it my entire life.” Derek stood next to Felicity. “And tonight, he put out that fire and almost hurt himself to keep a little girl safe because he cares that much about you all. Only to end up a joke again.”

“Stop saying it’s okay. It’s not okay, Dylan.” Derek held the pickle trophy between his hands almost like Dylan’s mother held her rosary and addressed the brothers. “This ‘award?’ This making your brilliant brother relive an experience that is clearly painful for him every single year in front of your entire family like some ritualistic flagellation? This shit is over.”

“Christ, Derek. I didn’t need you to do that. And I’ve told Felicity before not to … Ugh, I didn’t ask for your help—” Derek’s voice echoed off the surrounding trees. “Because you’ve been around this crap for so long, you’re just accepting their bullshit even though it’s everything you told me you hated last night. It’s everything that makes you feel worthless. That’s not okay.” Derek pulled Dylan to face him. “You are not fucking worthless.”

“I am not going to apologize for standing up for you. Ever. Those guys pull that shit again in front of me, and I will end them.”

“Do not ever let someone make you feel that small again. Because you, Dylan Gallagher, are not fucking small.”

“Christ, you talk so much when you’re weirdly nervous.

“What does the perfect life look like for you?” Turning onto his back, he rested a hand behind his head and pulled Dylan on top of him. He loved Dylan’s warm weight pressing on his chest, grounding him into the mattress. Derek considered. He’d never been asked it before. “I guess … quiet. I don’t like a lot of drama. Tonight’s events notwithstanding. If I really think about it, I just want some space to breathe … like land maybe? A nice porch. Someplace cozy with just a shit ton of space for my books and my DVDs so they won’t have to live in bins under my bed. Space for Gus to run around when I have him while Olive travels. If I could, I’d sell my apartment and try to save up to get someplace with space. I like being a nurse because it’s twelve hours and then done, but I feel like I want to do more with my days off. Maybe try to find a new hobby. Something stupid like gardening. Or maybe goat yoga.”

I feel like the last few years have been one crisis after another.”

“You deserve a place where you could have peace.

“I know it’s simple and nothing grand or exciting.” “Babe, all of my hobbies happen in my house or within a five-mile radius. Last year, I read an entire six-thousand-page book series in a week during that ice storm, and it was one of the happiest weeks of my life up until that point. Because I could just be in front of my fireplace. I felt peaceful.”

some people loved to travel. Some people loved adventure. But that he loved quiet. I never thought that made him boring. I thought that sounded nice.

“For the record…” Dylan sighed and rubbed his temples. “I forgot to take my Adderall when I got up to start working. Forgot it because I was distracted tonight. Which meant I forgot to do all the things that make me healthier while I was working. I’m not a tweaking college student taking Adderall to stay up thirty hours straight to cram for exams. I have an actual chemical imbalance in my brain. So, no, I don’t think I have a ‘dangerous addiction’ to a controlled substance.” Dylan barked out a self-hating laugh. “Ironically, my brain would remember to take my goddamn pills if I were addicted.”

“I’m so sorry. I just get in this hyperfocus zone sometimes. Interruptions … are hard. It’s not an excuse. It’s something I’m working on, and you didn’t deserve that.”

“I don’t need you to do anything. If I did, I would’ve asked. I just needed you to be my brother. I needed to be broken for a while. I needed you to be okay with me being broken. I just didn’t want you to look at me and only see something broken.

She smiled up at the overhead lamp as if even the memory of those performances made her feel something so intense, she couldn’t hold it all in. Something like … Stupid, lovesick, radiant joy. That’s what glowed on her face. Even in the pain and grief when all she had left was a memory of it. That passionate love still glowed inside her. “Michelle—” “I don’t think you know how to love broken things.”

“Just because you’re capable of doing something by yourself doesn’t mean you have to do it alone.”

“Dylan Gallagher, every single time I look at you all I feel is stupid, lovesick, radiant joy.”