The guy gave me a puzzled look and then turned to my younger brother. He smiled and said, “Well, little man, if you want to play laser tag, you'll have to wait. The next game starts in 10 minutes.”

My brother, Chris, looked relieved. He didn’t want to play paintball, he was scared of the pain. “Okay, I will wait,” he replied shyly. I sighed, relieved he was okay with waiting.

The guy turned back to me, “And as for you, young man, your game starts in 5 minutes. Better get ready.” He handed me a paintball gun and a mask.

I nodded, took the gear, and turned to Chris, “Stay here, okay? I’ll come find you when my game’s over.” He nodded, looking a little nervous.

I left Chris with the guy and joined the others. The field was large, filled with obstacles and hiding places. I could already feel the adrenaline rush.

The game started and it was intense. I dodged, ran, and shot paintballs. After a while, I completely forgot about Chris and immersed myself in the game.

Just as I was about to take a shot, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and was surprised to see Chris standing there, laser gun in hand.

“Chris! What are you doing here?” I asked, surprised. He looked around nervously and whispered, “I couldn’t wait. I wanted to play with you.”

I was worried. This wasn’t a game for kids. But looking at Chris, I knew I couldn’t send him back. So, I decided to protect him during the game.

The game continued and I made sure Chris was always behind me. We were doing okay, until a paintball hit Chris. He cried out in surprise and pain.

I quickly ran to him. He was crying and clutching his arm. I felt guilty. I shouldn’t have let him join the game. This was all my fault.

I quickly signaled the game to stop and carried Chris off the field. The guy was waiting there, looking worried. “What happened?” he asked, looking at Chris.

“He got hit,” I explained, trying to keep my voice steady. “He was supposed to play laser tag, not paintball.” The guy looked regretful and quickly called for help.

They quickly brought ice and a first-aid kit. I held Chris’s hand as they put ice on his arm. He was still crying, but the pain seemed to lessen.

After a while, Chris stopped crying. He looked at me and said, “I’m okay now, I think I can play again.” I looked at him, surprised.

I was about to say no, but then the guy said, “The laser tag game is about to start. Do you still want to join, little man?” Chris nodded, excited.

I couldn’t believe it. After what happened, he still wanted to play. But I realized, maybe this was his way of overcoming his fear. So, I let him join.

I watched as Chris joined the other kids for laser tag. He seemed excited, and I felt relieved. I decided to sit out the rest of the paintball game.

Chris played laser tag with enthusiasm. He laughed and ran around, completely forgetting about his earlier fear. Watching him, I felt a strange sense of pride.

After the game, Chris came running to me, his face glowing. “That was so much fun!” he exclaimed. “Can we come back again?” I couldn’t help but smile.

“Sure,” I replied, ruffling his hair. “But next time, you stick to laser tag, okay?” He nodded, his eyes sparkling with excitement. I knew we’d made a good memory.

On the way home, Chris kept talking about the laser tag game. His enthusiasm was contagious and I found myself laughing along. It turned out to be a good day after all.

That night, as I lay in bed, I thought about what happened. I realized that sometimes, you need to let go of your fears to enjoy the moment. Chris taught me that.

The next day, Chris showed off his paintball bruise to his friends. He told them about his adventure, his voice full of pride. And I, his big brother, felt proud too.

Looking back, that day was a lesson for both of us. Chris learned to overcome his fear, and I learned to let go of my overprotective nature. It was a day to remember.