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He let silence lapse between them.

“It’s not loud noises, you know,” he continued.

“What is it?” she asked, softly.

“I know for some people it is. Fireworks and shit like that. Not for me. It’s heavy metal music.”

“What?” She looked at him, bemused.

“Yep. I had my headphones in under my helmet. Blasting Metallica. When the bomb went off, I didn’t even hear the explosion. It was just that music, grinding in my ears while we were thrown to hell. While everything came apart around me. Like a soundtrack. And you know...it’s a...lucky thing that I wasn’t closer. Because obviously there’s no surviving that. But when I went to the hospital, what they saw initially was a concussion. Along with all the broken bones. But when it didn’t get better, they did some CT scans. When the bomb went off, it was like someone had taken my brain and rattled it around my skull. It was like years of boxing or playing football. But the impact happened inside. It’s...”

“You have a traumatic brain injury.”

It was a relief that she’d said it. That she knew what that was.

He needed to say this, because he felt like he was being poisoned from the inside, and it was that feeling that drove him to want to numb things. And that was just so dangerous for him.

He had to talk. Like a confessional, and she was here.

He didn’t believe in signs or the divine so much these days but she’d been the first thing he’d seen when he’d come back to town. And she was the one here now.

That mattered. He needed it to.

“Yeah,” he said. “Like I said, they didn’t figure that out right away. It wasn’t until... You know, for a long time when you are living with something like that, you think it’s because the whole thing was shit. Right? It was shit. I didn’t have my work anymore. I didn’t have my position anymore. I didn’t have my crew anymore. I thought that I felt like shit, that I couldn’t smile, but I didn’t want to be around people because what I had been through was shit. But it turns out it was my brain.”

“Why didn’t you tell anybody?”

This was the hardest thing. Because it was a mix of his own damned ego. Not the one he had now, the one he’d had then. He’d been that all-American boy. He’d been a hero. He’d taken pride in all of it. He’d bought into his own press. Been the grand marshal of his own parade.

He’d believed he was great because other people had told him so. He’d believed he was special. That was a hell of a thing to admit, even to himself. Like he was special by virtue of his birth, his looks, his height, his ability to throw a football. It had all been decimated in that bomb blast.

Then he’d learned the truth. About life and himself, in one world-ending moment.

And he needed to say it. To say this.

“Because a legend is supposed to be invulnerable, Rory. And I’m not. I don’t like this version of myself. I’m not proud of it. I know Lydia wanted me to come and stand there and look at that parade and smile. Take it as my due. Be the guy I was before. I wanted that, too. Maybe that’s the reason I don’t want to see anybody. I thought being here might fix something. I just brought the same bullshit with me.”

He studied her. His little sister’s friend, trying to see if he had lost her admiration for him.

Maybe that was why he’d had to say it.

To see what sweet pretty Rory, who’d written a love poem about him once, thought about him now.

He saw pity there. He didn’t like that. He’d never been an object of pity before. People had envied him.

“If people can’t accept that what you experienced changed you, then they’re the problem,” she said.

“What makes you an authority on that, Rory?”

“Because I don’t think the people around here are infallible. How about that? Because I’ve always been invisible. But I definitely felt like I was more than that. Because I think people like what makes them comfortable. Whether that’s to let somebody like me fade into the background, or to make somebody like you an uncomplicated legend. But that doesn’t mean there can’t be more to you. Just like there’s more to me. At least I hope so. At least there better be.”

“Yeah, but you’re talking about being more than what they think. I’m talking about being less. You can see that I’m not exactly thrilled by the idea.”

“Why does this make you less?”

“Have you enjoyed my company since I came back?”

She blinked. “Not really. No.”