The air in Taji's small house was thick with the scent of his mother’s cooking, a comforting aroma of fried chicken and collard greens. It was a house full of women – his mother, his twin younger sisters, and his two-years-older sister. In this estrogen-filled haven, where Taji was the sole male presence, Bryan was more than a friend; he was the brother Taji never had, his entire world. Bryan lived with his father, but their lives were so intertwined, they were practically family. "Brothers till we die," they’d vowed, a mantra that cemented their inseparable bond.

Taji’s mother always tried to guide him with gentle words. “Taji, you have to be good. Study hard.” But Taji’s mind often drifted, a constant hum of possibilities when he was with Bryan. The thrill of exploring abandoned houses, sifting through forgotten relics, the illicit rush of pilfering candy from corner stores and sharing it with Bryan – these were the moments that defined his young life. Bryan had gifted him a Super Nintendo, and the television became their kingdom, a portal to worlds where they were heroes, vanquishing villains and unearthing treasures. It was a stark contrast to reality, a reality that sometimes felt overwhelming, sometimes achingly lonely. But with Bryan, those feelings could be momentarily forgotten.

Bryan’s home was a cacophony. His father’s gruff voice, the occasional clatter of breaking glass. Amidst the noise, Taji cherished Bryan’s laughter above all else. Bryan was often reckless, his actions impulsive. Yet, Taji remained steadfastly by his side, a silent shadow, an extension of himself. They were each other's missing pieces, a formidable unit against the world’s perceived threats.

“Blu, wanna come over to your place today?” Bryan’s voice, a familiar question. Taji nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, my mom made some good sides today. We can eat together.” Bryan’s face lit up, a radiant beam. “Bet! Your mom’s cooking is the best.”

Taji’s mother embraced Bryan as her own. No matter how unexpectedly he'd show up, she welcomed him with open arms and a heaping plate. “Bryan, eat up. You’ve grown up with Taji, you’re practically my son now.” Bryan would blush, nodding enthusiastically. Their friendship transcended two households, a bond growing strong within a single, shared enclosure.

Yet, shadows always lurked at the edges of their world. Taji called himself ‘Insane Gangster Crip,’ Bryan, ‘Gangster Disciple.’ Names far too weighty for their young years. They sought solace in the sweet haze of methamphetamine and marijuana, momentarily escaping the storm of bipolar disorder and intermittent explosive disorder that often raged within them. The world labeled their sanctuary a ‘mental health treatment facility,’ but within its walls, Taji and Bryan found their greatest comfort in each other.

“Hey, Blu. We’re gonna be friends forever, right?” Taji’s voice, a sudden query late one night, the glow of the TV casting shadows on their faces. Bryan paused, his fingers still on the controller, and met Taji’s gaze. His eyes held a seriousness that belied their years. “Of course. We’re brothers. Till we die.” Taji grinned, a soft, genuine expression. “Till we die. Let’s make it happen.”

Then came New Year’s Eve, 2017. The air, a potent mix of cheap liquor and stale dust, hung heavy. Beneath a dim, flickering light, they discovered something. The cold, hard feel of metal, a surprising heft. A .22 caliber and a .38 caliber revolver. They knew what they were, but the true danger they held remained a mystery.

“Is this… for shooting?” Taji’s voice trembled. Bryan’s eyes gleamed with a feverish excitement as he handled the gun. “Only one shot left. Who wants to go first?” In that instant, the gun in Bryan’s hand gave a violent jolt. A deafening roar, and Taji’s body lurched. A shock, far greater than any pain, washed over him.

“Ah!”

No scream escaped his lips. His vision blurred, his breath catching in his throat. Bryan’s face was a mask of pure terror, stark white. “Blu! Are you okay? Are you okay?!”

As consciousness receded, Taji saw Bryan fleeing, his retreating figure shrinking into a mere speck in the distance. Collapsing onto the cold asphalt, Taji’s last thought was the word: ‘Brother.’

How much time passed, he couldn't tell. Voices, unfamiliar, pierced the fog. “Baby! Wake up!” “We have to cut his clothes! Quickly!” The sensation of cold metal biting into his skin. The faint, urgent shouts of paramedics. Taji lost consciousness again.

Lying on a sterile hospital bed, Taji stared blankly at the ceiling. The doctor’s words about bullet fragments lodged inside him echoed in his ears. The lack of insurance amplified his despair. He was discharged the next day. Walking home, his arm swathed in bandages, Taji’s thoughts returned to Bryan. His friend, who had abandoned him. That betrayal cut deeper than any bullet fragment.

Two weeks later, Taji attended a mental health counseling session. But his mind remained a tempest. Lost in an uncontrollable tide of emotions, he couldn’t utter a coherent word. He was admitted to a crisis center for a week. The sterile white room, the unfamiliar faces – it was a stark reminder of how unstable, how precarious his life truly was.

And then, today, Friday, July 10th, 2026. Ten years had passed. Taji had finally undergone surgery, the last bullet fragment removed from deep within his body. Holding the small piece of metal the doctor had handed him, Taji gazed at it in silence for a long moment. It seemed to hold the entire nightmare of that night, a decade ago.

He slowly turned his gaze towards the window. The sunlight was blinding. Bryan, the friend who had run from him ten years ago. His face appeared in Taji’s mind. Anger, sorrow, and… a lingering ache of longing. All these emotions churned within him.

“Brother…” Taji whispered, the word barely audible. They had promised to be brothers until they died. Was that promise still valid? Taji didn’t know. All he knew was that, like this small piece of metal, the wound from ten years ago still resided deep within him. The friendship, forged in the crucible of fractured homes, had been so strong. Where did that friendship end? Taji couldn't say. But today, after ten years, he had removed the foreign object from his body. He could only hope that, someday, he could also release the knot in his heart.