To love and to leave
Now they’re apart again. The other exists; lives and breathes and laughs. The other one is cursed.
He knows what it’s like, when he looks in the mirror at his reflection that isn’t him. He knows how the person looking back at him is not him. There are no words to describe this sort of disconnect. Sometimes he catches himself wondering if he ever existed at all — or if someone else had made him up so they could get through life, and have some semblance of peace after everything that happened to them.
Then he remembers the look on her face when he pulled her from the fire — the look of a woman who was willing to go down fighting. And he feels the same kind of determination in his bones — in his heart.
It’s just…not quite him. But the others know him better than he does; they know he would never hurt them on purpose, never hurt any of them. They don’t need a sign to tell them things. So he smiles at them as they stand around, watching the world move around them.
He smiles because his heart aches, aches for the world that has already changed so much in so little time. He smiles, because he can feel himself slipping away from them, slowly, until he’ll barely notice. Because he doesn’t want to. He wants to be close enough that he’ll always know where they are, but far enough away that he won’t feel guilty about it.
Because even though he loves them, he knows that someday, soon, he won’t belong here anymore. It doesn’t seem real to think that. To think he could ever leave this place. That the people he cares most about will finally let him go.
Even if they’ve tried. Even if they’ve tried to stop him. Even if they’ve done all of the horrible, awful things they’ve done to try to keep him here. He thinks he deserves to. He can feel it in him, now; can feel it like something deep inside his chest, something dark and heavy and painful.
Like there’s another being standing inside him, a creature born from hatred and hate alone. A creature whose only aim is to make everyone suffer; destroy, destroy, destroy. A demon. It calls to him, whispers promises in his ear. Its voice echoes inside of him, echoing his own.
It calls him. But not out loud; it never does. He knows better, now, knows that voice better than anyone else ever did. He recognizes it — he knows its secrets, knows the monster inside him. His brother. His twin. Their mother gave birth to one; gave him into the world in her blood.
She gave him away, took away what should have been hers in order to protect both of them. Now they’re apart again. The other exists; lives and breathes and laughs, she is left all one.
To protect him, she thought. That they wouldn’t grow up together. Not like they were meant to.
