Not every origin story starts with a bang. Some start with a dare, a truth, and a sketchbook full of what-ifs.
I’d never seen somany people wearing spandex in my life.
There was a guy in a full-body blue morphsuit next to us, and someone just walked by with a cardboard dragon tail taped to their jeans, but I couldn’t focus on any of that. I was too busy watching him.
Tru sat behind a table stacked with glossy, hot-off-the-press copies ofThe Carters: Origins.His hair was longer now, but still curled behind his ears the way it used to back in college. He had ink smudged on the side of his hand from signing nonstop. A line of fans wrapped around the booth, all of them gushing about how “raw” and “emotional” and “visually stunning” thecomic was.
And every time someone asked if the characters were based on anyone, Tru said the same thing.
“They’re me and my husband.”
He’d glance at me when he said it, as if he hadn’t already said it a hundred times. It still hit him right in the chest.
It did the same to me.
Technically, we weren’t married yet, but the way he said it—like it was inevitable—made my heart do this full-body lurch. For the past two years, we’d talked about it, dreamed about it, even sketched out tuxes on napkins. Hell, we signed the lease on our new apartment underThe Cartersjust to mess with the landlord.
But standing there, surrounded by cosplay, overpriced churros, and screaming fans, it somehow felt more real.
I wandered closer to the banner behind his booth, where the two main characters—TRUTH and DARE—stood back-to-back, capes billowing, the city skyline blazing behind them. TRUTH looked suspiciously like Tru would if he had glowing lasso powers and bigger biceps. DARE looked like me with broad shoulders, reckless eyes, and great hair.
He even got my scar right. The little one above my brow from when I’d fallen off the monkey bars in second grade. I didn’t think he remembered.
“You kept the scar,” I said, nudging him as I ducked behind the table.
Tru looked up, blinking. “Of course, I kept the scar. It’s iconic.”
I wasn’t sure about iconic, but I knew Tru loved to trace it with his tongue.
“You really think we’re superhero material?”
“You survived the closet, Dare. I survived losing you. We earned our capes.”
Damn. His words robbed me of a comeback, so I just reached for his hand under the table and squeezed.
A volunteer in a Naruto shirt came over and whispered something to him. Tru nodded, then turned to me with a ridiculous smirk.
“You should go stand by the panel stage,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because I have a surprise. And you’re gonna want a front-row seat.”
Thank God he hadn’t made me dress up as his character.
Ten minutes later, I was wedged between two overexcited teens dressed like anime princes while Tru took the stage. A hush fell as the lights dimmed. A spotlight clicked on. Behind him, a massive screen flickered to life.
It was a brand-new comic panel, one no one had seen before.
TRUTH and DARE stood on a rooftop at sunset against a skyline that looked suspiciously like the mural in our old apartment. TRUTH was holding something behind his back.
In the next panel, he dropped to one knee. The crowd gasped. My stomach did a weird flip.
Then another panel. DARE’s face filled with shock, awe, and love. Then: YES.
Followed by the ring. The kiss. The caption at the bottom of the page:
“Even superheroes need a partner.”
