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Bettel remembers the bombs. Remembers the shakes and the tremors, the flashes of blinding light. He remembers shielding Flayon with his hands, pulling his younger brother to his side, using his body to protect him from the plaster and cement that flaked off from the ceiling.
He remembered being lost, hand holding his brothers, as he searched for their parents. Up and down the hallways of their home, the layout memorised and something he could guide himself through while blindfolded.
He remembered being found, arms wrapped around Flayon as his younger brother wept, screaming for their parents. He remembers the suits, the dirty clothes — he remembers the cold hands and the warm chests they held him close to.
He remembered putting on a brave face, smiling down at Flayon as he wrapped his younger brothers fingers around his favourite dinosaur toy, promising him that they would be safe, that Flayon would be safe. Bettel would do everything in his power to keep him safe, even if it meant sacrificing a piece of himself.
Except, now that he remembers it all, he wonders if the part he sacrificed was too great.
He had forgotten him, his brother. The same younger brother who he had taught how to write a proper number five, how to spell cat, and all the different colours of the rainbow.
He stands before his younger brother — who has lived too many lifetimes to count, who has experienced the fear and pain of dying — and he wonders if he ever earned the title of brother.
Flayon is before him, he's over 18,000 years old, and Bettel is 27. His younger brother is before him, and he can't help but feel scrutinised under his watch.
He failed him. He wasn't there to protect him, not the first time, the second, and definitely not the thousands after.
His chest feels like it's caving in on itself as his mind runs with every single terrifying scenario it can come up.
Bettel has failed at being the basics of a big brother, and Flayon is standing right there, looking up at him like he hung up the moon and stars.
He feels sick.
He feels his knees shake, his body lurch forward, and his eyes well up with tears.
"I—" He stammers, throat burning as the emotions inside him grow and eat him alive. "I'm so fucking sorry, Flay,"
And he means it. Every single part of him burns and aches, and he feels the guilt eat him alive. His younger brother— his baby brother, had been left to defend himself, and Bettel wasn't there each step of the way to help him.
"I'm sorry," It slips off his tongue, almost like a prayer. "I'm sorry,"
When he can't hold himself up anymore, his legs shaking, he falls.
His knees hit the hardwood floor, and a pair of hands grab at his shoulders.
"I'm so sorry, Flay," His arm wipes at his face before staying there, taking in a shaky breath before it leaves in a sob. "You didn't deserve any of that, I'm sorry,"
"Bettel, please—" The hands on his shoulders shake him lightly, and he can feel his brain rattle inside his skull. "Please listen, Betsy, it isn't your fault this happened,"
"I should'a been there," He gasps out, his upper face hiding behind his sleeve. "I’m here to protect you, an' I didn't do that,"
"Bettel, you couldn't have," Flayon urges, grabbing Bettels arm and slowly pulling it away. The tears have dampened the sleeves and are running down Bettels cheeks, staining the dry skin with shiny tracks of salty tears.
"I should've" Is what Bettel responds with. "I should've " Is what he can only make sense of.
"Bettel…" Arms wrap around Bettel and pull him into a warm chest. His ear is against their skin, and the heartbeat within is loud and thrumming.
He listens. He takes notes. He tries to make as many memories as he can of this very moment.
"I forgive you," Flayon whispers. He wasn't mad at Bettel in the first place. He didn't hold any blame on him. They were both young — they were both children.
But Bettel needed to hear the words, and Flayon would do anything to make his big brother feel even the tiniest bit better.
And if the sobbing that had restarted was any sign, it was working.
So Flay brought his hand up, stroking Bettels hair, and pulled him closer.
"I forgive you,"