There is a room in the basement of an ordinary house, a house like any other. In that room stands a boy, a boy with wavy bronze hair and deep brown eyes, the kind of brown that promises a challenge.

He is the challenge.

His face is scrunched up and his brows are furrowed, somewhat marring the natural good looks he is slowly starting to grow into. Those who don't know him would say he's glowering at the object in the center of the room. But Jared doesn't glower. He doesn't need to. It wastes time, and he doesn't have time. He has a job to do, and he's focused on it.

Nothing else exists.

He stares intently at the punching bag hanging from the ceiling. It hasn't been carefully installed – the chain holding it up is showing wear, and a handful of stuffing hangs loosely down at the bottom.

But he doesn't care. He welcomes the bruises the bag has already obtained. It makes it weaker. Right now, this isn't just a tool to practice on. It is his greatest adversary. It is what he must conquer.

He lays the first punch. Smack.

They've said he's too weak to stand up to the boys who are hurting his brother. They've said he's too small, too inept, feeble, spineless, delicate.

Smack.

"You're fighting a losing battle, Jared," his oldest brother, Tom, had warned him, a careful note in his voice. "You have to let Evan deal with this himself. He may be younger than us, but we're not responsible for protecting him. You – we – can't help him with this." Jared knows what that meant. Tom doesn't think he's strong enough.

Smack.

But Tom doesn't walk with Evan home from school. He doesn't see the bruises that form on his brother's arms, the way he quickly covers them up with his sleeves when he sees Jared looking.

Evan is his brother. Those boys are hurting him. And Jared isn't going to sit idly by and watch it happen. Not to Evan. He feels a responsibility for his younger brother in a way that he doesn't think anyone else in his family does. He'd been the one to help Evan with his asthma, carry an extra inhaler for him, forge notes for his gym teacher. He'd helped raise him when he was still a boy himself, made him laugh when no one else could, wiped away the tears he shed when no one else was paying attention.

No one hurts his family.

Smack.

And true, Jared may still be young, younger than the cowards picking on Evan, but he can take them. He can scare them.

Smack.

His eyes narrow as the punching bag sways. He's not one to give up easily, never has been. Teachers have always told his parents in hushed tones that their son has natural leadership qualities but no one to lead, a general without an army. And his parents would pretend to look interested, nod perhaps, but would be running through the things teachers had said about their three other sons, and Jared would pass through their mind in an instant.

Jared is always forgotten.

Smack.

He wants to be remembered.

The next day, he approaches the gang of bullies in the schoolyard alone. Jared doesn't have many friends. Other kids respect him and the wisecracks he sometimes makes in class, the laughter he can bring to a room in the most surprising moments, but he's scared to have friends. Friends mean loyalty, and Jared only has so much of that to give.

"Leave my brother alone," he says firmly, surprised at how steady his voice remains.

The older boys laugh cruelly and walk further towards him, a swagger in their every step. Jared hates them instantly. "Your brother? And who might that be?"

"Evan Howe. Leave him alone."

The largest in the group, a mean-looking boy with a gap between his teeth, narrows his eyes. "Or what?"

Jared punches him in the jaw. It's quick and unexpected, and the boys blink, unsure of their next move.

Quickly, however, the leader motions toward Jared, and the others descend on him. He flails his arms around, but he has little force and no form and he's quickly pinned to the ground. The oldest boy leans over him and snickers.

"Little runt," he laughs, kicking Jared's side, and Jared clenches his teeth. He will not go down screaming. The other boy punches him suddenly in the face, and everything goes black.

When he wakes up, all he can see is white. White bedspread, curtains, and a bright light streaming in through the window. Slowly, he becomes aware of another body next to him. He jumps and makes a fist, half of his mind still in the fight, but a hand reaches toward his shoulder and presses him back down onto the bed.

"Calm down, idiot, it's just me," the hand's owner smirks, and Jared realizes Evan is there with him. He groans.

"What happened? Where am I?"

"Nurse's office. They found you in the yard about an hour ago. You were knocked out cold. When Mr. Wickson was bringing you in, you kept trying to kick him, saying something about runts and punching bags," Evan laughs. A moment passes. Slowly, Evan's eyebrows begin to crinkle and his smile droops downward. "Jared, what the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that someone needed to teach those guys a lesson," the bronze-haired boy mutters, his eyes drifting downward.

"And you thought you should be the one to do it?"

"No one else was going to!" Jared snaps, looking back up and locking his gaze on his brother's. "I had to do something! They were hurting you."

"So this was about me," Evan sighs, his frown becoming more pronounced. Jared rolls his eyes.

"Of course it was, stupid. Someone had to protect you."

Evan stares at him for a long minute. There is something in his expression that keeps Jared's eyes focused on him, something that reminds Jared of the way Evan used to look at him when he was younger, as though there was nothing he wanted more in the world to be like his older brother, the only one he could ever trust to be there for him no matter what.

As soon as it becomes clear his brother isn't going to speak anytime soon, Jared clears his throat and says, "I'm sorry I didn't…I'm sorry I couldn't do anything."

It's a blow to him to say it, to have to admit that he failed at saving the only person who really matters to him, and for a minute he remembers what it felt like in the yard, being pinned to the ground, helpless to save the brother he loves more than anyone else.

Maybe I am weak.

But Evan shakes his head.

"You did do something," he says softly, and suddenly he's hugging Jared, and Jared sits motionless, shock freezing his every muscle, because this isn't what they do. They don't hug. But slowly, his arms reach around to hold on to the younger boy, and his grasp on him is firm and strong, everything he wishes he could be, everything he can't be yet.

"I will always protect you. Come hell or high water," he says, almost mumbling, unsure if Evan will even be able to hear him. But he does.

"I know."

And it's the first time Jared Howe truly feels like he matters.