𝐒𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐎𝐃

   And he doesn’t think about the amount of times he looks over his shoulder expecting to see someone he can’t see anymore. 

   Those moments still play out in his head, that confrontation near the palace, the emotions that had twisted through Sam–Lucifer’s eyes. The words that he threw at him, the feeling of his blade sinking through his own brother’s back, the golden blood that dripped down it, that stained the clouds. The feeling of Lucifer’s halo shattering in his hands, destroying his divinity and the angelic nature. 

   The light that faded from his eyes as shadows finally consumed it. 

   Every time he closes his eyes he can still hear him. His voice, his laughter, his kind words that had always brightened even the darkest bits of the world. They had made a promise, several promises, and not a single one had been kept. They don’t matter anymore. No matter how much Michael turns around now, how much he searches, his twin won’t be there anymore. Because of Michael he won’t be there anymore. 

   The other Archangels are avoiding him, and Michael is equally avoiding them just as much. Unable to look his siblings in the eyes, unable to face them after what he had done. They’re afraid of Lucifer, undoubtedly, but they’re just as afraid of him. If he was willing to do that to his own twin brother, what would he do to them? Would he rip them apart just as fiercely for a mistake and throw them from Heaven? Burn them as he burned the devil? 

   He didn't want to hurt any of them, he didn’t want to hurt Lucifer. And now every time he closes his eyes he hears his brother screaming in his head. The pain, the anguish, the heartbreak at what was done to him. The burning and crushing feeling of that halo shattering in his hands. Dissolving into nothing as if it was never there in the first place. None of them had even known Michael could actually do that. He didn’t even know… he’d just been so angry at the situation. So afraid of what was happening, at what his brother was turning into, at losing their other siblings. 

   It wasn’t fair. 

   The office door opened and Michael turned from the bookshelf he was staring blankly at, an attempt at organizing his thoughts by cleaning. It hadn’t worked, he was exhausted and doing literally anything to keep himself going. To keep himself away so that he doesn’t have to close his eyes and picture what happened in the clouds, that endless repeated vision of harming his own twin, the sounds of his petrified voice echoing in his eyes. 

   Gabriel stepped into the office and closed the door behind him, his gaze quickly taking in the mess that the office was. Scrolls everywhere, papers littering the desk and the floor, the books he had knocked over, the blanket in the corner that covered HIS violin and the stuffed duck. Something he needed to have close, but that he couldn’t look at anymore. Things he refused to let the Seraphims take away, but that hurt to keep close as well. He can see the moment that Gabriel spots it, registers whose white blanket that is, but turns away from it just as quickly. He won’t ask. 

   The Archangel’s kind gaze turns over toward him and he attempts for a soft and comforting smile. It is anything but. As much as he loved Gabriel, Michael can’t take his kindness right now. His heart is too heavy and his head tells him that he doesn’t deserve it. A deep breath is taken and he turns back to the bookshelf, setting the ones in his arms down where they belong. “Can I help you, Gabriel?” 

   “I came to check on you. Azrael… he said you haven’t been home, really.” Of course the Angel of Death was keeping an eye on him, he was quiet and sneaky, Michael hadn’t even noticed him. Not that his head was allowing him to notice much at the moment. His ears pick up the sound of Gabriel moving closer, lingering off to the side. “You know we can move your room. That we probably should. The palace is large enough we could stick you on the other end of it if we have to.” 

   “And what is that going to help, Gabriel?” The words are bitten out, harsher than he intends to and Michael shoves the last book onto the shelf. “Will that change what happened?” Will it fix what he did? No. Nothing will fix that, no matter how much Michael repents in his life from now on, it won’t undo what he did to Lucifer. It won’t fix the situation. It won’t put his twin back in the clouds. 

   Michael turned to face his brother finally and saw the way his face lost the frown, the pinch of sadness on his expression, the concern but also the judgment and judgment won out in the end. “If you didn’t want him not in Heaven anymore, then why did you throw him from the clouds? We could have figured something else out. We could have–tried whatever it took to change how this went.” 

   “You think I wanted to?” His voice cracks, his heart shattered at that question and the feeling of distress that had been trying to consume him since he tossed Lucifer over that edge was finally starting to win out. “You think, out of any of us, that I wanted to be the one to step in front of him? To hold my own sword against his own? That I wanted to hurt him like that?” Of course he did, it’s what all of them believe, including Lucifer himself. He saw it on his face, when he delivered that final sentence, when he chained him to that pit he created in his fall. He looked at Michael and he believed he wanted that from the very beginning. 

   To be rid of him. 

   No. The only thing he ever wanted was to just keep him close. To hold onto him. To watch him flourish and shine like the star he was named after. To continue to bubble with that joy, that love of the world and everything in it. He just wanted to protect him as he had promised, to stand beside him and be there when he needed him. The last thing, in this entire world, that Michael wanted was to watch all of those things he loved about his brother vanish from his eyes. 

   But he hadn’t been given that choice. 

   The ability to do that had been ripped from him. 

   “...I can’t protect everyone.” The words tremble out, slipping from his numb lips desperately as the burning in his eyes finally made itself present. Finally won out against the fight in his chest. He had tried, God above how he tried. To do what he could, to protect everyone, but he had to choose. Heaven and the rest of the angels who were falling or Lucifer. It wasn’t a choice he wanted, no one ever wants to have to pick which family member they harm, but he had to. That was left on his shoulders as each of his siblings were knocked from the sky, beaten and falling apart. All of them or one of them. And he’s a big brother, he had to save his little siblings, to hold them close and protect them. 

   Michael’s hands curl against this chest, gripping his own vest as the tears finally started to escape down his cheeks. “He wasn’t going to stop.” ( I can’t ), “He was going to hurt everyone.” ( I’ll go through you first ), “I had to choose–” ( Even if it costs my life, Sam, I will rip you from the clouds ). 

   It hurts, his chest feels like it’s constricting and against his own volition a sob tore from his throat. That was it, that was his undoing. Michael crumbled under the weight of his own desperation and fell to his knees. It felt like he was choking on his emotions, struggling to breathe as the heavy sobs finally fell from him. He hates it, it’s not fair, why did it have to come to this? He can still remember what it felt like to have Lucifer by his side, that ever constant and warm presence, that familiar bond that lingered between them. The joy at feeling his brother hang off of him, that unconditional love as he reminded him they were all more than what God deemed them to be. 

   That it was okay to be themselves. 

   To have fun, to be free, to live. 

Now he goes back to an empty room, he turns around and no one is there, he can’t feel him anywhere in Heaven. Call out is useless, he has nothing left of his brother to hang onto other than that damned violin and duck plush in the corner of his room. A visible, painful reminder of a shattered past and the joy that once existed in himself. 

   He did this and it still hurts. He did this and he hates himself for it. He did this. 

   Does it matter that he was trying to protect their siblings? That he was saving their family? That he knows, if he actually killed any of their siblings, Lucifer would have hated himself? No. No it doesn’t matter. Because he did it. That was it. Facts, actions over reasoning, that was what people saw, that was what they listened to. That was what they believed in. Those actions spoke more than words ever could. They draw their own conclusion from what they see without searching for the actual truth. No matter how much this tore up his heart, no matter how much he just wants his brother back, Michael was the villain. 

   And his broken sobs, his shattered heart in his hands, will mean nothing. He could cry, scream, and bleed for what he had done. For his brother that was thrown from the clouds and left to rot at the bottom of that pit he created, and no one would care for how he sees it. For the anguish that tore through him at making a choice that no person should ever be able to. 

   For all that he can’t breathe under the weight of this pain, he knows that Lucifer suffers just as much in this–if not more. 

   For all he feels he lost, his twin lost just as much. 

   Gabriel finally seemed to react and he felt his brother’s arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him up against his chest and gripping him as tightly as he could. Grounding Michael and the anguish that ripped through him. He buried his head in his little brother’s shoulder and sobbed for the heartache that was crushing him. Drowning him and ripping the remains of his heart into nothing. 

   Why does it have to hurt so much? Will it ever stop hurting? 

“You’re alright.” Is he? “We’ll get through this.” Do they have any other choice? “No one won that day, there is no victory in war, Michael. No one blames you for what happened.” They do, though. Lying, he’s lying to try and make this better. But nothing will. 

   He already knows his twin spends more time down here than he’s meant to, that he sneaks around when he thinks they’re not watching, when he wants to do whatever makes him happy. He sees that, he understands it, and as much as he wants to lecture and scolds Samael for it… he knows he’ll continue to do it anyway. 

   Curiosity, he was something they shared. He just had his under far more control than Samael did. 

   It was easy to get swept up in the force that was his twin, that bright and happy personality that he had, the joy on his face. He was a bubble of light, of stardust and encompassed that title he earned so fully. The Morning Star. For as bright as he shined, there are days that Michael wonders if he was designed to be the opposite of that. The shadow to the light that burned inside of his twin. And often enough the light outshines the shadow. Absorbing it into them and dragging him along. 

   How easy it can be to give into Samael’s antics should worry him, instead he just wanted to see his brother continue to smile. To be that person he was. He never wants to be the one who has to take away that light in him. 

   “A few minutes…” 

   Eden was the ‘promised land’, the place of no suffering, or happiness and life. It was created by all of them and God to hold the humans and give them everything they could need. The amount of greenery, of animals and sunlight was a bit suffocating. There was just so much that it was fairly easy to lose your way when you were walking around. The dense forest was annoying to navigate, as was each branch that snagged on his robes or poked him in the face. 

   Samael apparently had no problems making his way around here though, given the way he tugged Michael behind him as if he knew exactly which direction he wanted to head in without having to fly up and get a vantage point. This, when he noted it, was tucked into the worry category. If he’s spending enough time down here to walk around and know exactly where he needs to be? That was too much time.

   He shouldn’t be down here this much. He should be leaving his work in Heaven on Michael’s plate to constantly be down here. 

   “Over here!” 

   Whatever he wanted to show him was apparently within their reach. He let Samael tug him through the bushes into the open area that he wanted. It was one of the many rivers they had crafted together, one that ran through most of Eden into the larger body of water at the very end. It was shallow enough that when Adam walked into it, the water would reach his waist. He knows that they often used the rivers to bathe and hunt fish in. That was one of the reports that were sent up to Heaven on what the humans did daily. 

   The tug on his arm draws his gaze over to his brother, falling in step with him as they make their way over toward the waters edge. When they reach it he feels Samael let him go and his twin kneels down in front of the water, excitedly waving for Michael to join him. He casts a confused look at the water before slowly following suit, kneeling down beside him and fixing his robes neatly into place. They got dirty once down here before and their father had been incredibly angry, though that probably had more to do with the mudslide than  it did the dirty clothes. 

   “It’s a very pretty river, Sam, I don’t know–” 

   He hears the sigh his twin heaves, the roll of his eyes, without having to look at him. “Mikey, relax, you’re too tense. We’re alright, we’re not doing anything wrong, you–” Samael’s lips press together and he turns his head to look at his brother finally. His twin seems to consider his words carefully, which wasn’t something Samael did often, and then he spoke. “I’m worried about you. The more you take on… the more it seems to hurt you. There’s nothing wrong with having a bit of fun. But you treat it like it’s a crime.” 

   Oh no. Was he upsetting him that much? Michael didn’t mean to make him feel bad. Samael spent so much time down here that he didn’t think his brother noticed anything in Heaven anymore, forget whatever was going on with Michael himself. He thought his brother’s only concern was the humans, that he didn’t notice anything in the clouds anymore. Apparently he noticed just enough. As Michael watched and inquired about him, Samael was doing the same thing. 

   They’re twins, that bond was a force. 

   No matter how far apart they might be, the other will always be on their mind. 

   No matter how distant Samael might seem from him, he was still a fundamental part of Michael’s being. He’ll always care about him, always worry about him, always wish to see that bright star burning inside of him. That’ll never change, and perhaps to some level it was just as true for Samael. He wanted it to be. He wanted his brother to always care about him and to know that Michael will care for him too. 

   “I’m alright.” He finally replaces quietly, leaning into Samael’s space and bumping their shoulders together. “I have you, don’t I? When I forget that there is more outside of the office and what we have to do, you’re there. I lean on you Sam, and I hope you remember that you can lean on me too. You’re my brother, my twin, and we’ll always have each other. Right?” 

   The smile he earned was definitely worth it, the bright and blinding one, the joy on his twin’s face. “I’ll always keep you being suffocated by that stuffy office, Mike. It’s a promise!” 

   A soft laugh slips from him, the edges of a smile tugging on his lips as he shook his head at his silly brother. “Sure, and I promise to always be by your side, alright? We take care of each other, Sam. No matter what.” Leaning against his brother again he pressed his forehead against the side of Samael’s head. “I love you.” 

   “I love you too, now look at what I wanted to show you.” 

   Pulling back a bit he turned to the water and watched his twin reach out into it. There was a swirl of his own golden magic, the power of creation flowing through his veins as easily as it did Michael’s own. He breathed physical life into the river in front of them and then when he stopped there were three little yellow creatures beneath his palm. Samael picked one of them up, cradling it in his hands as he turned back around to face Michael. The tiny creature blinked up at him and he blinked back at it. 

   “You made yellow moss? Why is it alive?” 

   “No!” Samael laughed, bright and cheerful. “This is a duck! Well, I want it to be a duck. That’s the name I picked. Aren’t they adorable?” 

   Ah. He was messing with his magic again. Granted, these are far more adorable than the other things they’ve created to fill Eden with under God’s watchful eye and demand. “I see. They are very adorable, yes. They don’t seem as if they’ll provide much food for the humans. Do they get big–” 

   “Michael!” The look of horror that stretched across his twin’s face had him raising his brows at him. “They’re not food! They can’t eat my ducks!” 

   A snort actually slips from his lips and Michael falls to the side, laughing bright and freely at the look of sheer audacity on Samael’s face. He looked as if he wanted to gather all his ducks up, hide them inside his robes and run away with them. It was adorable, so horrified at the mere suggestion that the ducks might not be worth much because they had no meat on their bones. Michael laughed and laughed until he was choking on his own breath and coughing to try and keep breathing. 

   He gets himself under control and pushes himself back up, smiling widely and warmly at his brother. “Alright, not food. Here.” Reaching his hand over he picked up one of the ducks that were in the water. He cradled it in his hands, tilted his head to the side and then nodded slowly. Spreading his own magic over this one he changed its shape, watching the magic change the color of the feathers, make it bigger and widen the shape of it. Grew it. “All things must develop, all life must grow up, all creatures have an end. As adorable as your ducks are, they must grow as you once did.” The duck finally stopped changing and in the little yellow one's place now was an adult duck. “This one will guide the others and protect them.” 

   Leaning over to the side he placed the duck back into the water and watched it start to swim away with the little yellow ones that his brother made. Satisfied he fixed this he turned back to his twin and caught the warmth and happiness in his eyes. 

   They weren’t supposed to get attached to them. 

   Lucifer and him had been so close in Heaven, two halves of the same soul, born from the same stardust. His brother was the person that he always turned to, that he relied on, who shared the weight of everything in Heaven. He got away with far more than Michael was ever allowed to. His joy, his happiness, his bright and radiant personality brought joy to all of Heaven but especially their father and that earned him his golden title as God’s Favorite. 

   He knows what people think, but there was no jealousy there over that. Maybe… maybe just envy, a little envy. The idea that God, this being meant to love everyone and everything equally and without conditions, confused him. But he wasn’t jealous over their Father’s clear favoritism. No matter how hard he was on him, carving him into his weapon, all he had wanted was for Lucifer to be happy in Heaven. To find his place amongst the clouds and continue to shine. Isn’t that all anyone wants for their sibling? To protect them. 

   Eden was their undoing. Those humans were his undoing. Of all the creatures he could form such an emotional attachment to, he wished it had only been the ducks. His heart always bled for everything around him, for the angels in the clouds he felt were treated unfairly, as lesser for not being Archangels to the humans that walked Eden. Who were trapped in the cycle of fate without a choice in the way things were. 

   And then he had to fall in love. 

   It felt terribly unfair, that for all the years they had together, for all that they had done, for all he thought he mattered to Lucifer–a human unraveled that. A single woman. Love pushed him to see them as more, made him want better for them, made him believe that the way the Heavenly Order was going was unjustifiable. 

   "𝘐𝘧 𝘸𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭, 𝘔𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘭, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦!"

   It wasn’t right though, it wasn’t the way things were meant to be, it wasn’t what God wanted. He didn’t hate Lucifer for thinking that, he could understand where he was coming from, but they weren’t meant to second guess God. Heaven, the universe, them and everything else existed because of him. It was his power that designed the system and the way things were, if they went and changed it they were going against Him. They’re not supposed to do that. It isn’t right to do that. They were angels, they were meant to obey and do what he wanted. That was the entire reason they were created. Vessels of His Will. 

   He had thought that his brother understood that. 

   He was an angel too. He had to know what he was thinking was wrong. 

   Michael didn’t hate him for thinking that way,  he just wanted him to understand that it was dangerous to go down that line of thought. To let such darkness into his heart, to slip from the faith they were meant to have in God. To doubt Him was to doubt themselves and the reason they were created, he didn’t want Lucifer to lose that piece of himself. His brother was all he really felt he had. All Michael wanted was to keep him close, to pull him back from that dangerous edge he had perched himself on. 

   He could still so clearly remember how close they were, how they’d lean on each other and playfully banter. The joy he felt at working beside him in creating things, getting into trouble being reckless and silly, playing their violins together and flying in the sky. That singular image of the way Lucifer would light up when Michael actually cracked a joke at him and pulled him around Heaven to show him something amazing he found was still burned into his memory. 

   He had adored  Ś̸͙̺̥̰̯͙̭͆̏͂ǎ̴̯̀͠m̵̢͕̫̓̔͑̊̈ǎ̴̯̀͠ë̸͓̮͉͈͇͍̖͎̩̞͈́́́̋̇̾͋̈́̾͆͑͘͘͜͠͝l̶̬̞͎̖͉̹̝͕̝͖̣̉͆  with everything in his heart. With every inch of his soul. 

   It just wasn’t enough. 

   ₩ⱧɎ ₩₳₴₦'₮ ł₮ Ɇ₦ØɄ₲Ⱨ?

   "𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦!?"   "𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘚𝘢𝘮, 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨."

   Then he came for Heaven and something in Michael just broke. It shattered, ripped itself apart, burned the edges and he was stuck with a horrible decision. An unfair decision. Who wants to have to CHOOSE between their home, their family, their duty and obligation and their own twin? The person who was supposed to know him better than anyone else, who was supposed to stand beside him, who was supposed to be there for him? Who he was supposed to be there for? 

   But Lucifer made him do that. He pulled his sword against their own family and painted the clouds gold with angelic blood that day. He struck their own siblings down, he ripped the Seraphims apart, he wanted to prove something and Michael still doesn’t know what. What was the point in taking the fight to Heaven? Was it supposed to make them listen more? Was hurting their family, hurting him supposed to open their eyes to what he was saying? He wanted to change things, and he did, he just changed too much. 

   He broke too much. 

   Michael saw the bodies of those he grew up with, that he helped raise, fall to the ground and perish before their eyes. He watched Raphael shatter at being unable to heal and save everyone. He held his family in his arms as the light faded from their souls. Lucifer had brought war, pain, and suffering into the clouds and he made Michael make a choice. One that no angel, no person, should ever have to make against their own family. 

   "𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱!" "𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵."

   He didn’t want to hurt Lucifer. He didn’t want anyone to hurt. But he had a job to do, an honor to uphold, and people to protect. If his brother wasn’t going to stop, if more lives were going to be the payment for this vendetta of his, then Michael needed to stop him. Eventually, he knew his brother would hurt enough people that he would break. He would regret it. It wasn’t in Lucifer’s nature to want to hurt anyone, much less their own siblings. He had to protect everyone, including his twin from his own self. 

   So he wielded his sword against the devil. 

   His reluctance to fight his own twin was what made the fight more equal than it would have been. He didn’t give it enough force, he hesitated when he wasn’t supposed to, he turned his back on him at one point and for it all he paid a price. A scar that would never heal, a damaged part on his wing. 

   When he had gained the upper hand he’d turned his sword into a spear and rammed it through Lucifer’s back. He had pinned him to the clouds in order to stop him–and that was where things got out of hand. Where his anger at what Lucifer had done started to shine. In a moment of wrath he had torn, had shattered, Lucifer’s halo and then his own wings. He had broken ɆVɆⱤɎ Ⱡ₳₴₮ ฿Ø₦Ɇ in them and ฿ɄⱤ₦ɆĐ them. He had torn him down in a way that no angel should ever have to feel. 

   "𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘦! 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘦? 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯? 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘎𝘰𝘥?  𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘥𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦."

   It wasn’t meant to hurt him, but the anger had gathered during all that suffering and Michael had snapped. He had reached his limit, the amount of pain that one heart could conceivably take and he had lashed out. He’d thrown him from the Heavenly Realm and watched him fall. It wasn’t enough for Heaven though, when they finally managed to pick themselves up they’d held a meeting on what to do about Lucifer. There had to be some sort of punishment, something eternal, and the first thing argued was death. 

   They wanted him to die for the lives he took in Heaven, for betraying God, for ruining everything. Michael had fought, and had argued that casting him out was punishment enough. But he could come back, he could heal and bring war to Heaven a second time, he could burn the clouds. 

   And for a second time he had to make another choice he didn’t want to. 

   With the verdict of chaining him to the pit he created in his fall, Michael sealed the final nail in the coffin of their relationship. He broke whatever might have remained. 

   He destroyed the one person he wanted to protect more than anything because of the choices that he made. That desire to protect, to free the souls he thought deserved to be more than what they were. He ruined that bright, happy, sunny personality that his brother once had and left him a hallowed up shallow husk of what he once was. 

   Michael watched the light fade from his brother’s eyes that day and knew he did it. 

   Hurting him was never intended, he just wanted the suffering to stop. He just wanted everything to go back to the way it was. To be able to hold his brother’s hand and feel like everything would be alright. They were family, he loved and cherished every single moment he got to spend with him. His true friend. 

   It still burns in his chest to think about it. To remember the way that Lucifer had looked up at him when he ruined him and that single questioning look in his eyes. 

   "𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦?"   "𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘦, 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦?"

   And he was, he was, but he had to protect their siblings too. Their little brothers, their family. How was he supposed to choose between one sibling or another? How was that even fair? 

   His body is trembling, shaking with the amount of emotions that were running through him. He couldn’t breathe and all he wanted to do was crumble. It hurts in ways he can’t even properly explain, the amount of grief he still carries over that day is numbing. He hates the choices he had to make and he hates even more that he was put in that position to have to make them. 

   Reaching his hands up he buried his face in them and finally sunk to his knees, a quiet sob slipping from between his lips. 

   His heart is broken, shattered right in half like his soul and he fears it’ll never be whole again. 

In his grief, he manages one singular answer to the question.