October 1997

A red baseball cap adorned the head of a tall guy who jumped up and down ecstatically—dressed head to toe in a full Red Sox gear. Another guy, though just sitting, was equally excited as he threw his hands up while holding two bottles of beer. On the TV screen, a Red Sox player sprinted towards his teammates, celebrating a victory in the biggest baseball game of the season. The jumping guy—still in his moment of elation, suddenly stopped as his friend spoke up.

"Twig," he began—still watching the TV as the players celebrated. The guy with the Red Sox cap, now sitting back down, raised his eyebrows in curiosity. "A boy would be fun to have around, huh?"

His large pointed nose crinkled as the tall guy chuckled—taking a swig of his beer. "It'd be such a hassle, bro! Imagine mini-you running around—ruining your life? No thanks. A daughter would be much calmer. She'd take care of you when you're old.. being a papa's girl.. But a son—" he shuddered, cringing, "just the thought of it gives me the creeps, bro—ugh."

Seemingly in disagreement, the pro-son guy slammed his beer down on the coffee table in front of him, scolding, "What the—damn it, you can play with a son, brat! Imagine riding a bike with your son when you're old—nah, just imagine him playing baseball with you! Proud of him.. seeing how cool he is.." then with a twinkle in his eye, he confidently said, "just like me."

"You're just a fucking narcissist, John. You know that, right?" the tall guy grinned as he took another sip of beer, refilling his glass once it was empty.

"Oh, fuck you." Winters replied, taking a swig of his beer with a smirk forming on his lips. Then, out of the blue, he added, "My boy will be so popular that your daughter might end up chasing after him." before giving a confident wink.

Choking on his beer, the guy with a pointed nose snorted and scoffed, "Not a chance! It'll be your son pining after my Emily!"

At the announcement, it seemed like the whole room stopped. Even people on the TV seemed to pause, turning to him with a collective 'what the fuck' look on their faces. Another set of 'what the fuck' look painted on John's face as he turned to his tacky bro, snapping, "The fuck?! Don't tell me that's the name—" before facepalming dramatically.

"Problem, asshole?!" the dreamer retorted, annoyed. But then, spreading his fingers to the sky like there was an imaginary marquee, he closed his eyes and proclaimed,

"Emilia Cavill."

And when he opened his eyes.. he was grinning widely, boasting about his choice. "Damn, she'll be a beautiful child. We'll call her Emily, and she'll have my nose.. my eyes—"

"Just imagine Violet and that's what she'll look like, you dumbass," rolling his eyes, Winters retorted, and with a disgusted expression, he added, "and Emilia? You fucking serious? Damn, that's so exotic. Oh–it's not that bad though. At least people wouldn't wonder why the child has British name as her last name—while his dad looks like a dupe Al Pacino."

Annoyed, Cavill turned to him, "First of all, Al Pacino's half American—then yes, he's just like me! British-Italian—"

"Difference is you're British, Greg. Even your last name's Cavill—"

"Oh do me a favor and shut the fuck up, would ya?" rolling his eyes, John switched his attention back to the game, uninterested by his bro's genetic resume. "Second of all—party pooper?! Like you haven't imagined what your kid will be like! Admit it! I bet you already got a name picked out too, haven't you?!"

John remained silent, just shrugging and drinking casually. Still irritated, Greg shouted, "Hey, admit it! Come on, let me judge! What's the name, huh?!"

As he took another drink, John smirked, then turned to Greg with a raised eyebrow. And as he was about to speak—

"Tyler!"

You call out, jogging to catch up to him—your bag swinging at your side. Tyler turns to look at you, a slight smile spreading across his face. Noticing his hands already full with various food containers, you quickly help pack them into your bag. Once finished, you quickly grab them to hold in front of your chest.

Tyler growls in disapproval, trying to take them—but you shake your head. After a few attempts, you insist and jog away, causing him to give in and shake his head. 'Hardheadedness kicking in, I see.' he thought. What he doesn't know.. is that you.. probably just want something to hold on to—since everything feels like nightmare by now.

You find yourselves already walking side by side down the long corridor. Despite the bright striking light of the space.. neither of you says a word. As you clutch your bag upon your chest tighter, you let out a sad sigh, prompting Tyler to take a glance at you uncomfortably.

Finally, you arrive in front of room 557. Your slightly trembled hand hangs on the handle, about to open the door—when a hand is placed over yours, sandwiching you and the handle. Letting out a sigh, your helpless gaze meets his.. and he squeezes your hand—gesturing that he'll be the one opening the door. Slightly giving you a soft smile, he briefly strokes your cheek.. before finally.. with forced bravery..

Cavill opens the door.

"We brought food everyone~"

Entering the room, Tyler holds the door open with his hip—giving you space to walk in with your full hands. The moms welcome the two of you, helping you unpack the food from your bags—whereas Tyler's gaze.. is glued to the far end of the room. To where he makes clear of two figures. His dad turned his head slightly as they found you and him entered the room—before continuing his conversation. His dad.. who's been sitting next to Mr. Winters.

John lies down on the hospital bed. His pale complexion is visible on the lines of his face. Despite looking utterly exhausted, he manages a chuckle, "So bummed I couldn't be there for the wedding."

In utter confusion, Greg cluelessly asks, "Who?"

Rolling his eyes—accompanied by a mischievous grin, John leans in and whispers something in his ear. Looking momentarily confused, Greg starts to glance at you and Tyler—but John quickly pulls him back! "Don't stare, idiot," he urgently whispers with a playful grin. At the far end of the room—nonchalantly helping the girls prepare for the food, Tyler lets out a slight smirk, somehow taking a hint of what they're talking about.

Greg's confused expression gradually breaks into a broad smile as realization dawns on him. Though.. it is soon replaced by a look of profound sorrow as his face falls.. and tears well up in his eyes as he slowly turns his head to gaze at his brother.

"Man I don't know what I'm gonna do without you bro—"

And he crumbles. Greg sobs, shoulders shaking as eventually, his body gives in—resting his head on his bro's chest. John's cheerful demeanor quickly transforms into a somber one as he reluctantly places a comforting hand on Greg's head. The once already silent room falls dead silent except for Greg's quiet sobs.

Hearing the cruel reality from Mr. Cavill's plea makes you feel like your heart just plummeted from 1,000 feet in the air. You helplessly sit on the sofa, staring blankly at them from afar as you feel your heart finally lands and crashes into a million pieces.

It hurts.

Imagining it already hurts

Imagining how much worse it will be when it actually happens—

You choke, dropping your head down as you close your eyes shut—holding a war of sobs as your body shakes. Watching you in that state nearly runs Tyler to the brink of tears, but he throws his head back, trying to hold them in.

Initially looking like he was holding back his emotions, John finally lets a few tears escape. However, a look of relief washes upon his face as he says,

"It was a good life, huh?"

Your mom, already sitting next to Violet, has her hand over her mouth—eyes shut closed, trying to hold back her whimpers. A completely different picture from her bestfriend, Violet—who angrily strokes your mom's back and scolds, "Don't say things like that, John! There's still a 30% chance—and it's still a chance! Goddammit can you just—" however, she chokes before she could even finish them. Eventually feeling helpless hearing her own words—she looks down and starts whimpering as she holds Janet close.

Smiling in content while gently rubbing Greg's back, with a slight chuckle, he finally turns to Violet to say, "Vi, take care of this bastard, will ya?"

Violet gasps. For a painful second she pauses.. before she starts crying even harder, her anger and anguish plain on her face. "No! You take care of him yourself! I don't want to take care of him!"

Violet Cavill. She rarely gets upset. But this time.. Winters understands. So.. maintaining his smile, he raises his hand—one resting on Greg's back and the other extended—inviting her in for a hug. Without second thought, Violet releases your mom and runs into John's embrace, sobbing uncontrollably against his big stomach, joining her husband.

"Take care of Janet and Emilia too, will ya Vi?" he asks as the room fills with the sound of everyone's heart-wrenching sobs. You and your mom's shoulders shake as the two of you try to contain your own grief. And then..

There's Tyler.

Tyler just stood there, his knuckles white from clenching too hard. Looking up is better than resting his eyes on his peripheral gaze—anything that's not in his line of sight. He's holding it in. Holding back the tears.. the emotions.. everything from bursting out. Because if he lets go.. he doesn't know if he—

"Hey, brat."

Tyler closes his eyes and lets out a faint sigh, John's voice breaking through his walls. Eventually—like it or not—he lowers his head.. and Tyler's gaze finds his. With a smile on his face, John's head tilts, gesturing for the boy to come over. Reluctantly, with a defeated smile, Tyler walks to his side. His gaze drifting to his parents who've been clutching on Mr. Winters' body.. then looks back at the big man. Noticing just how much weaker he looks.

The man who was always so vigorous.. The one who could smack him on the back of his head every time he messed up.. Who always cursed whenever he felt like it. For a moment, he sees John's strong facade falter—but it's quickly replaced by that familiar smile. Wanting to lift his spirits one last time.. Tyler yells playfully,

"Sir, yes sir!"

Just like he used to when he was a kid, slightly lifting his head while giving him a salutation. He then draws a big grin on his face—also eliciting a big one from Mr. Winters. For a moment.. they both gaze at each other..

Before it crumbles. His grin trembles, his mouth starts to quiver as tears spill over—and John, too, for the first time, breaks down. Tyler collapses against John's chest, surrendering all his weight to him. The four of them, John, Greg, Violet, and Tyler are shaking with sobs, bodies trembling with the weight of their grief. From a distance, you and your mom cling to each other, not wanting to witness the heartbreaking scene.

"Alright, alright! You three—get up! You're heavy, you brats!" he coughs.

Greg and Tyler slowly stand, still sniffling. Tyler gives him a cup of water as Violet weakly tries to stand—but fails—remaining curled against John's big stomach, continuing her sobs. John gently strokes her head, then looks at Tyler. With all the strength he has left, he cups Tyler's head—his touch tender as he emphasizes, "Remember what we talked about, son?"

Tyler, sniffling heavily, nods, "Of course–Mr–Winters–"

Overwhelmed, John pulls Tyler's head close—their foreheads bumping. His voice starts to shake as he quivers, "Take care, Tyler. You'll grow into a fine young man, brat." Tyler's sobs intensify as he grips John's hand. After a moment, John releases him slightly, ruffling his hair and gives the back of his head a gentle smack. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he glances over at Greg, raising his eyebrows, and boasts,

"Just like me."

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