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When he wakes, he feels it deep within his chest.
A scream of pure agony leaves his throat before he can stop himself. He doesn't need to glance over at his brother, who he knows lies just beside him, to know that he's gone.
When the others arrive he has his twin grasped tightly to his chest, a poor attempt at a hug as the slider's arms lay limp beside him. He doesn’t know how he's convinced to let go, or when his love was ripped from his arms. But, as he attempts to recollect all the broken pieces of himself, he can't help but note their bed had never felt this empty before.
—------
They go through the motions of a funeral, his speech a choked babble that he has no energy to decipher. The rest of his family goes home, he stays by his lover's side, like he promised he would. He soothes a finger across the red stripes he's always adored, that he wished their children would have received as the service people warn him of their strict schedule. With a final kiss to cold lips, he watches as once again, he's left alone.
—-----
From then, everything is a blur, a constant loop he doesn't bother to recognize. Mikey attempts to drag him from his lab after his seventh time rewatching the footage, reliving the loving moment he and Leo shared before half his soul was ripped from him. He bites and scratches at scarred hands, overwhelming himself with sounds of broken screams and claws dragging against the hard floor.
When his little brother's arms wrap around him, he doesn't have the energy to do anything but beg.
—----
Grief has many stages, as he's been told countless times by his family. They’ve used the same half-assed excuse every time, that these feelings will pass, that Leo wouldn't want him to be stuck in this pit of depression.
When Raphs hand touches his shoulder he can hear the words before they even leave his mouth. Instead of staying to celebrate with the family, he opts to throw out the cupcake that he and his twin should have been sharing. He doesn’t pay attention when the neatly drawn 18 is smeared against the sides of the trashcan.
—-
No matter how much they pleaded, insisting he get help, he never got better. The final step was acceptance, to understand and believe there was no way to get his Leo back. He wouldn’t, could never possibly dream of living in a world where he was truly alone and without his better half.
One too many arguments ensued from his adamant denial, leaving him soaking wet on the streets of New York with a barely concealed sword pressed tightly to his side. He didn’t think much as he turned onto streets, working on autopilot to hoist his weakened body up the rings of the ladder to a sickeningly familiar rooftop.
Familiar scenes flooded through his mind as he undressed, folding the blue hoodie into a neat pile beside him. He only reacts when he moves the sword closer, flinching when the slightly warmed metal glides against one of his thighs as he settles it against the weight of his palms.
He traces the cracks along the sharp edges, digging into them until blood travels along the slope of the weapon. He only breaks out of his trance when he realizes the liquid coming too close to his beloved's brilliant mask. He rushes to take his own mask in hand, soaking it in his own regret.
Once he’s sure it’s cleaned, he sets his brother's weapon down, cradling his bloodied mask in his hands. His finger stings, but the bleeding has stopped as he again reaches for the handle of the sword with his clean hand. The wind slaps against his face, highlighting the warmth of his tears with nothing to soak them up anymore.
By the time he has his mask tied to the hilt, the tails have begun flowing with the movement of air. He watches in fascination as the two colors intertwine, winding around each other in a tight embrace as they move with the wind.
He watches for a second more before shifting to stand. His legs threaten to give out as he steadies himself with the sword, wincing as he hears the precious metal scratch against concrete.
He brings the blade eye level to inspect it, and finding it without impurity takes time to get it into position. He knows that the action itself would most likely damage the blade, but he hopes Leo can find it in himself to forgive him when they meet again.
He feels the tip scratch against the softened part of his plastron, takes a deep breath, and draws the blade back.
It doesn’t go through the first time, his protective layer still stronger than most. But he doesn’t stop, only sighing in relief as the surface splinters and gives under the pressure of his movements.
He feels like he is whole again as the blade makes it home, piercing through his chest and directly to his heart. As the feeling began draining from his limbs and coldness creeped in from the metal in his chest, he can’t help the shaky smile that begins curling his lip; acceptance settling over him like a warm blanket. He hopes he looks as content as Leo did.
———-
When he wakes up again, it’s to a hard surface digging into his chin. He startles, scared it didn’t work until his eyes flit upwards, instantly picking up on the red crescents he’d been dreaming of.