Category: Real Person Fic
Length: <1k words
He does stupid things sometimes. Ever since you died, he hasn’t been the same. He relied on you with his heart and his soul, and when your support was cruelly ripped away, he smashed to the floor, broken into a thousand pieces that no one could fix. We’ve all tried to save him, don’t get me wrong, but he doesn’t want to be saved, not without you in his life. He’s given up, and spiralled down into pits of despair we didn’t know existed. He’s on a path of self-destruction, and we just have to sit back and watch him.
Not even Mike can get through to him anymore, and that hurts. He hates watching his older brother, who was once so strong, break down in tears at the slightest reminder of you.
Sometimes he drinks himself into oblivion, and he’s never happy drunk any more, but in floods of tears, crying because he’s lost something he can’t replace. But more often, he drinks until he passes out, and we carry him to bed and undress him, and tuck him in praying that maybe in the morning things will seem better, and maybe, slowly, things could go back to the way the were.
Without you, of course.
It was Mike who discovered the cuts, disfiguring his beautiful, snow white arms. They paint a true picture of his feelings; the red paint on his skin canvas is startling, to say the least. It shows destruction and despair, which is his essence nowadays. We tried to talk to him about it but he just pushes us out, unwilling to let anyone in now because he let you in, and you went and died didn’t you? I don’t blame him.
He’s coping in the only way he knows how, and if it really helps, I don’t have the heart to stop him.
He’s only trying to make the days not hurt until he can crawl in next to you once more.