Pandora Hearts: Brothers.
Okay. I got a good night's sleep and it's time to put depressing thoughts aside by engaging in writing! I haven't written in an entire year or more but I've recently discovered the awesomeness that is Pandora Hearts (yes, I'm that outdated, people) and naturally, I'd be attracted to the Nightray brothers. Seriously, how can one not like the chaotic relationship between crazy and emo? So, yes, here's a random scribble on brotherly love!
Dedicated to frenetic ♥
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
It's the way his brother says he loves him that sends shivers up Gilbert's spine - he'd gotten used those three words long ago, echoing in his mind whenever a small child with mismatched eyes showed up with a flash of scissors and falling stuffing. It was that sound, that sight, that never failed to make Gilbert wrap his arms around him, ensuring warmth and offering security. After all, he knew that sound all too well. It was the sound Vincent made whenever he was angry-- no, lonely. And the only way to make him stop is to do just that, hold him tight and whisper promises of never letting go.
But Gilbert knows, even though he denies, that he failed to do so. He failed to never let go. He knows, because the small, insecure child who used to shiver and cry in his arms was no more. He doesn't know how or why-- or more precisely, perhaps he doesn't want to. Because the difference is too great, too much despite the large gap between his memories. Because now, in front of him, is a boy whose hesitant, sweet voice had evolved into dark whispers that speak of lies and tragedies and twisted fairytales, and those lips-- yes, those lips that hid a beautiful, innocent smile Gilbert used to cherish - now curl into a devilish smirk that tugged painfully at his heart. Yes - innocence - that is where the difference lies.
And whenever night drapes the sky, Gilbert closes his eyes, curls in his bed, and hopes for a tomorrow where he isn't greeted by a smile void of innocence and a touch so cold it burns. It hurts, because it reminds him of how truly useless he really is to have failed the one person bonded to him, deeper than blood, longer than a hundred years. But as much as Gilbert hopes, this is no nightmare. His retribution is long and crude - even now he can see it all happening behind his closed eyelids, haunting his every dream. That is what the Abyss is - casting its hand upon their memories, the nightmares become the truth, and the dreams remain as they are.