46. The mighty Green Lantern
THE MIGHTY GREEN LANTERN
A week had passed.
A long one.
Rae had lasted exactly two nights in the shared Airbnb before deciding she valued sleep – and professional boundaries – far too much to keep listening to Spring and Preston rediscover each other at all hours.
So she moved into her own space.
Technically, she called it “creating a better working environment.” In practice, it meant finding another place across town where the walls didn’t come with a soundtrack.
Spring didn’t argue.
Preston had looked mildly proud of himself.
Rae called Spring mid-morning from her new place. “So,” Rae said, skipping pleasantries, “what time are you and Preston gonna be at Brian’s office?”
Spring paused. “I gotta check with him.”
“Then ask him.”
“I will when I see him.”
Rae snorted. “Girl, please. I know he’s over there right now.”
Spring laughed. “How?”
“This is exactly why I had to move out of the Airbnb,” Rae said. “Y’all been sleeping together every night. I’m over here single, celibate, and tired.”
“Rae—”
“Just tell me the time.”
Spring exhaled. “We’ll be there in about an hour.”
“Cool,” Rae said. “I’ll be set up.”
As she ended the call, Spring looked over at her lover. He was getting dressed after yet another love-making session, their third shower of the day.
They got in the car a little while later, the radio coming on automatically.
His song. Spring was excited.
Preston, unimpressed, reached over and turned it down, then off.
Spring glanced at him. “You don’t wanna hear your own song?”
He exhaled through a smile. “I’m gonna be singing it for the next year of my life.”
She nodded. “Yeah. Fair.” A moment passed before she glanced over at him. “So… are you happy to be back?”
Preston kept his eyes on the road, but the corner of his mouth lifted. “Yeah,” he said. “I am.” She waited, knowing there was more coming. “Feels good fixing the money mess,” he added. “Feels good being able to walk into a studio again and not feel like everybody’s waiting on me to fail.”
“That’s a win,” she said softly.
“Yeah.” He paused, then shrugged slightly. “Just… the road again. All that noise.” He trailed off, like the rest of the sentence wasn’t worth finishing.
Spring understood. “Well,” she said, lightening the tone, “we can always run away.”
He glanced over with a smirk. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. That village we talked about in Tanzania.”
Preston laughed under his breath. “You mean the one with no Wi-Fi and goats running through the street?”
“Exactly,” she laughed. “You sing to the goats. I make documentaries about the goats. We live a peaceful goat-based life.”
“Honestly? That sounds better than most record deals.”
She smiled out the window. “And when the goats get tired of you,” she added, “we open a café.”
“What kind?”
“Coffee. Music. No paparazzi.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I could disappear there.”
The car filled with quiet again as the city kept sliding past the windows.
When they pulled up to the medical building, Rae was already there, camera case open, tablet out, focused. “Hey,” she greeted, like this was just another shoot.
But Spring felt the shift, the weight of what was about to happen. The thing that was gnawing at Preston. Brian .
They walked inside together.
Brian’s office was clean, minimal. Diplomas on the wall. The kind of place that said I made it , but without flexing.
The door opened.
Brian looked up from the desk.
And for a second, no one spoke.
Preston and Brian just stood there, staring at each other like they were trying to reconcile memory with reality. Same faces. Older edges. Different lives.
“Damn,” Brian finally said, breaking into a half-smile. “It’s really you. Superman.”
Preston nodded once. “Yeah. It’s me. What’s good, G.L.?”
The air hummed with years of everything unsaid sitting between them – not hostile, just unresolved.
Spring watched from the side as the past and present collided.
Two men who used to know each other standing in the space between who they were and who they’d became.
And she realized, whatever came next wouldn’t just change the documentary, it was going to change everything.
Brian walked closer and smirked. His blue scrubs fit him nicely; he was as fit as he’d ever been.
Preston smirked, then said, “Looks like you grew a couple of inches.”
Brian gave a half-smile. “Looks like you got the world screaming your name again.”
Preston exhaled. “I didn’t plan for that part.”
“None of us ever do.”
Rae stood unnoticed in the corner, letting the camera roll.
Spring stayed just out of frame, watching both men carefully.
Brian gestured toward the chairs. “Y’all wanna sit, or we doing this standing like we still seventeen?”
That broke the tension. Preston chuckled, shaking his head as he sat. “Man… I forgot how blunt you were.”
Brian smirked. “And I forgot how quiet you get when you’re nervous.”
Preston looked up. “I’m not nervous.”
Brian raises an eyebrow. “You came to me . You nervous, brotha.”
There was a slight pause, then Preston nodded, honest. “Yeah. A little.”
The two men chuckled.
“So, what you wanna know?”
Preston answered before anyone else could. “I wanna know where we broke.”
“You hit me fool.”
Preston nodded, conceding the point. There was so much left unsaid over years that he didn’t even know where to begin. He swallowed hard, angry at himself for the moment he hurt his best friend out of jealousy.
Brian leaned back, folding his arms, studying him. “Same ole Big Bird, can’t take a joke.” He chuckled. Then continued “We didn’t break, man,” he said. “We just chose different exits.”
Brian didn’t look like the kid Preston remembered. Same face. Same eyes. But the confidence sat different now – earned, not borrowed. The kind that came from knowing exactly who you were, even if it took a long road to get there.
They sat across from each other, coffee cooling between them.
Preston heaved a sigh. “Listen, man, about the punch, I’m sorry. It was?—”
“We were kids, it was stupid, water under the bridge,” Brian promised. The words took a weight off Preston.
Brian exhaled slowly. “I was never mad at you, you know. Hurt for a while, but never mad.”
Preston didn’t interrupt. He’d remembered when Brian talked like this, you listened.
“I was always good,” Brian continued. “Triple threat. Singing, acting, dancing – I had range. And when I got to HSPVA, I thought, finally . My people. And I was the king, however short my reign may have been – and before you say anything, Spring, I made the pun so you didn’t have to.
” He gave a quiet laugh. “Then I heard you sing.”
Preston shifted slightly.
“Nah,” Brian said, holding up a hand. “Let me finish. I’m talking about the first time.
Hallway, no mic, just you being you. You were over by Idelburg’s office and I watched grown women – teachers, moms – lose all dignity.
No shame. Just… undone.” He shook his head.
“Your talent was undeniable. And I was cool with that, because I was still me. Triple threat, remember?”
Preston smiled faintly.
“Then there was Cameron,” Brian went on. “That boy ain’t never met a camera that didn’t love him. Could sing damn near as good as you, had charisma for days. Superman and Batman.” Brian leaned back. “Which made me the Green Lantern by default. And I made peace with that… until Spring showed up.”
Preston felt the shift.
“She was beautiful,” Brian said simply. “Sang well enough to spar with you. Danced like she didn’t need permission. And she wasn’t just talented; she was a force of nature. She didn’t orbit you. She expanded you. Hell, she expanded the group in ways that none of us could.”
Brian’s voice stayed steady, but his eyes gave him away.
“That’s when I realized, I wasn’t going to Hollywood, I didn’t like it, but I was okay with it; that was never my path.
Nigerian family – you already know. Doctor.
Lawyer. Engineer. Those were the options.
But still, it was my time until I had to choose one of those for the rest of my life.
” He laughed under his breath. “Did you know I actually graduated a semester early?”
“You did?” Preston was stunned by the words.
Brian nodded and smiled slightly. “Yeah, man, I was doing extra courses just to graduate early. Working after school, summer programs. I stopped hanging out after junior year because I didn’t have the luxury.
I stayed there because that’s where my friends were, and I wanted to spend time with y’all. ”
Preston swallowed. He hadn’t known, hadn’t taken notice.
“I felt trapped, man,” Brian said. “And the worst part? I couldn’t tell my best friend.
Because my best friend was about to be a star.
And everything I loved was already slipping away.
” He looked directly at Preston now. “By the time I realized it, it was already happening. You were moving forward. Cameron was shining. And when Spring came… I became invisible.”
Silence stretched between them.
“I didn’t hate you,” Brian said quietly. “I hated the timing. I hated that I couldn’t stay. And I hated myself for resenting something that was never your fault.”
Preston’s voice was low. “Bro, why didn’t you just say something?”
Brian smiled sadly. “Because brothers don’t dump their fear on each other when one of them is about to fly.” He reached across the table, gripping Preston’s forearm. “I love you,” he said. “That never changed. You’re my brother. Always was, always will be.”
Preston nodded, eyes burning just a little. “I love you too, G.L.”
Brian leaned back, lighter now. “And for the record? Green Lantern still saved the world countless times.”
That did it. Preston laughed, deep and real, the weight between them finally shifting into something like peace.
When the cameras finally cut, the room feels different. Lighter. Like something old was finally allowed to breathe.
Brian stood and nodded toward the door. “You got everything you need, director?”
She stepped inside, cautious at first, then smiling when she saw both men standing side by side.
Brian spread his arms and drew her into a hug. After a deep embrace, he said, “Look at us. Justice League back together.”
Preston laughed under his breath. “Yeah, just missing Batman.”
Spring smiled, real and relieved, and the three of them stood there for a moment, past and present folding into one another.
Then the mood shifted.
Brian cleared his throat. “I want to say something,” he said, looking at Spring. “About Cameron.”
Her chest tightened, but she nodded.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come to the funeral,” Brian said. “I was out of the country. By the time I got back… it felt wrong to show up late.”
Spring nodded. “I understand. But you know Cameo wouldn’t have cared.”
Brian hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “I know. When I heard drug overdose, it just… that’s not the guy I know, you feel me? What’s been sitting with me is: Cameron wasn’t a drug user. When did he start using, man?”
He looked at Preston, who frowned. “I mean… I didn’t really know what he was into toward the end. We hadn’t talked in a year, and I was off the scene. But it’s not hard to stumble into a drink or a needle in this industry.”
Brian shook his head. “That’s just it. I mean, the kid was afraid of needles. Like, afraid afraid.”
Spring looked up. “What do you mean?”
“Preston, remember when we had to get our shots to go on that Barcelona trip for school? I went to the same doctor with him,” Brian says. “Routine shot. He freaked out – full panic. I had to help him calm down just to get through it. He made me promise not to say nothing back then.”
Preston exhaled slowly. “I mean, when I really think about it, he wasn’t really running with that crowd. Not like that.”
Brian leaned back, thoughtful now. “It doesn’t really line up.”
“How do you mean?” Spring asked.
“Patients with that kind of fear almost never get over it – they certainly don’t become needle users,” Brian insisted. He stopped himself once he noticed Spring’s attention perk up. “I’m not saying anything definitive.”
But it was too late. Spring felt it – the pull of the thread.
Brian clocked it immediately. He softened his tone. “Listen. I don’t want to jump to conclusions. And I don’t want to turn this into something before we even have facts. No need to go full Nia Noir.”
“We’re well past that, G.L.” Preston chimed in.
Spring nodded, but her eyes were already searching. Brian stepped closer and said, “Let me look into it. Quietly. I have access to some things. I just need time.”
Preston studied him. “You think something’s off.”
Brian met his gaze. “I think something doesn’t add up.” There was a pause, then Brian smiled, easing the tension just enough. “That’s all I’m saying – for now. But I’m on it. Justice League, remember?”
“Always,” Preston vowed.
Spring exhaled, trying to let it go. But she couldn’t.
Brian walked them to the door, the warmth returning just enough to keep the moment intact.
As they parted, he clapped Preston on the shoulder. “I’ll call you,” he said. “When I know more.”
Preston nodded. “Yeah.”
As they stepped outside, Spring felt it settle in her bones. Focus .
Because whatever happened to Cameron – whatever everyone assumed and moved past – it wasn’t finished.
And she already knew herself well enough to understand one thing: once she sensed the truth hiding somewhere nearby, she didn’t let go.