AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Jericho and I spread stuffies across the floor, building rows of soldiers, preparing for the war.
When I glance up, I see that our Daddies are watching with their hands over their hearts. Roman has a tear in his left eye—he blinks hard, and it rolls down his cheek.
Well, I can’t leave Daddy like that.
Rising to my feet, I rush toward Roman and thrust my arms around his chest. "Don't cry, Daddy."
"It’s a happy tear, boy." Roman squeezes me tight. "You and your brother have been through so much—and now you’re reunited. This is the way you two must always be. Never fight, never say cruel things to one another. Always put each other first and play with stuffies. It’s how you’ll be friends until the end of time."
Lazaro barks and grunts. "Now, you’ll make me tear up."
"Me, too." Santino dabs his eyes.
Jericho beckons me back to the battlefield. After blowing a kiss to his Daddies (oh, Daddies are so sensitive—always in need of their boy’s affection), he gets down to business.
We commence our all-out war. Cannons go off, sending imaginary cannonballs across the battleground.
Poof—a bullet made of fluff travels through the air, then rams into Jericho’s front-line forces.
"Oh, no." Jericho moves them out of the way, protecting them from my onslaught. "Not fair."
He sends a barrage of bullets back my way. My stuffies duck, then scamper behind me to save themselves.
A giraffe stuffy who’s acting as my sniper shoots at Jericho’s President—but the "bullet" bounces off the President and rams into the Bunny General.
"Bunny General!" I sniffle as I tug the bunny out of the way. "Nooooooo."
Jericho makes a sad face. "He served the battlefield bravely. From now on, this day will be known as Bunny Day to commemorate his sacrifice."
Our Daddies are all crying and drying each other’s eyes with tissues. Lazaro pats Roman’s eyes, who snatches the tissue and blows his nose.
Marcello—oh, my God—rubs his eyes on Santino’s tie. "Hey," Santino grumbles, yanking his tie away. "Find your own tie to dry your eyes on."
"Sorry," Marcello sobs, "this is just so precious. I can’t stand it."
Jericho and I turn to each other. We haven’t finished our game—but the sight of our Daddies losing it causes us to tear up.
Jericho crawls close to me and hugs me. We both cry, and I sob in his chest, burying my nose in his body like I used to do when I was a little boy and scared of thunderstorms.
Like then, Jericho comforts me, squeezes me tight, doesn’t let a single scary thought plant a root in my heart, no, he keeps them at bay, far away from my tender soul that can’t handle frightening things.
"Just like old times, little bro."
Lifting my head, I stare into his eyes. "It sure is."
Marcello sets something by Jericho’s knee. "You might be thirsty from playing."
Jericho lifts the object up… and smiles when he sees it’s a bottle.
"Mmmmmm." He sips apple juice. "This hits the spot."
I make a grabby motion. "Brother Bentley wants."
"That’s not how you ask, is it, Bentley?" Jericho issues me a stern look. "Use your words."
"Want juice." I scrunch my eyes shut as I reach for it. "Thirsty."
Jericho slides the bottle into my hand. At once, I bring it to my lips, letting the yummy nectar flood my tastebuds.
