"Why is it always stormy weather? And brother, tell me if it all gets better. Why did you leave, why did you die? You finally made your brother cry."
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When you introduce someone to the dead, do you paint them in the light of your eyes, your mind, let them be known as the person you thought they were?
Or do you instead sing their praises, how they had deserved to live, list down the many ways they would have made the world a better place, let them be known as the person they wanted to be?
I don't have to decide, because I know Chris wanted to be seen as a whole, his strengths and flaws open for the world to see. He wanted to be seen as human.
"Chris was both the best and worst brother I could ever hope for," I begin speaking, and it is as if my lips were the opening to the river of emotions within me as it all started flowing.
"He would never stop encouraging me to live my life to the fullest, to take as many risks as possible if it meant I would eventually succeed."
I don't like this, I don't want to share my brother with anyone, don't want to share my feelings. I hate that it makes me feel bare.
I hate that I am feeling.
But I have started, and it is too late to stop.
"He loved our parents too, especially mom, and never wanted to be anywhere without them. He prioritised family above everything else."
I like to think that I can no longer feel pain, that I have been hurt so much I have developed an immunity of sorts, but now, I'm not so sure anymore.
Chris was my brother, mine to love, mine to remember, but I don't want to remember him, don't want to feel the pain that comes with my memories.
Kyle smiles at me patiently.
"You don't have to talk about it if it makes you feel uncomfortable."
I shake my head, because I do not want to admit it, do not want to admit that the very thought of Chris unnerves me when all he ever did was try to keep me comfortable.
"Dad left when I was five, and Chris was seven. He left the day after he'd promised me he would never leave. He had been cheating on mom with his colleague and felt not a single ounce of remorse."
I will never forget that moment, when Chris and I sat huddled with our mother as she broke down for the first time since she'd been married. Mom was a happy person, who loved dad with an emotion so bulletproof, but a love like that was useless when dad was the one pulling the trigger.
I will never forget it, but I do not want to remember it, either.
"Mom broke down that day, and Chris was forced to grow up as the older brother. He would start helping out around the house, contributing in the little ways a child could while I stayed in my little pathetic oblivious bubble.
He had lost his childhood, but he fought hard to let me keep mine, to keep me away from the cruelty of the world for as long as he could."
My eyes feel moist, and it annoys me. My vision blurs and I hate the way my lips start to tremble.
It doesn't bother me anymore, so why is this happening?
Kyle is still staring at me, patiently waiting for me to open up to him and I hate that I do this so easily, hate that I am desperate for him to know my brother, to appreciate Chris' existence.
"He protected mom, he protected me, but nobody was there to protect him from the world, or to protect him from himself. He promised me too, you know. He promised he would never leave me, every single night."
Kyle scoots closer to me, and I stay where I am. He brushes his fingers against mine and I feel the sparks fly. It scares me to know that just a spark can ignite a fire that will burn down every wall I've built.
Kyle's gaze bores into mine and I close my eyes and sigh.
I cannot stop the words that escape my throat, the memories that escape the room I have locked shut in my mind.
"I found the knives one day, when I got home from school. There was one under his pillow, one in his schoolbag, one in the pocket of the jacket he would never take off.
Then I found him in his room the next day, just staring outside the window. He jumped when I entered, because I was supposed to be in school and nobody was supposed to be home but I had decided to skip school for his birthday."
My hands shake, and Kyle envelops them in his own. He is worried now.
"You don't have to, Nick."
I don't, but I have to, because it is far too late to rein myself in. I will continue to let it out until I am empty once again, until I lose even my memories of Chris.
"He had a gun in his hand, the gun dad had promised to give him when he turned 20, because dad liked the number 20 and made it the legal age in the family."
Chris had always looked up to dad, until the day dad left. He never forgave dad for what he did to mom, but he never stopped yearning for dad to return, either.
"Chris told me to leave the room, to take a walk outside and come back in a few hours."
A bitter smile twitches at my lips.
"I refused, told him I wanted to stay with him and he turned around to face me and he was crying. He could barely even speak through his whimpers but he told me he would always love me."
I didn't know shit about depression, or suicide, or why Chris was crying because I was so sheltered and spoilt by the one person who was breaking inside.
"I told him I loved him too, and he asked for a hug but I refused because we made it a point to only hug when we said goodnight."
I am a stranger to pain, but I will always be able to recognise the regret that never leaves its home in my very being.
"He turned around, facing the sky and he told me he would be watching us from the sky, from the heavens and that he would always be with us. I asked him where he was going.
He didn't answer, but he told me he loved me and mom more than anything in the world, and brought the gun to his temple."
It hurts.
"He pulled the trigger before I could say it back, and I didn't even know he was dead when blood splattered everywhere and his body fell to the floor."
I don't know if I am laughing or crying, don't know if it is water or regret that is rolling down my cheeks.
"I waited for mom to come home, and told her Chris wasn't waking up."
I always had the feeling that mom loved Chris a lot more than she loved me. It was a minor difference, but I understood, because Chris was really the only one who was of help to her.
I now notice that I am shaking, tears streaking down my face and my body pressed against Kyle's as he threads his fingers through my hair the way Chris used to when I couldn't sleep at night.
I had forgotten how weak I feel when I cry.
I'm scared.
I'm scared because Kyle brings out the parts of me I never want to see again, because he reminds me so much of Chris, that I may end up making the same mistake.
I may end up loving Kyle.