His | (Hers 0.25) ✔

06| Brood

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B r o o d 

(v.) to think deeply about something that make one unhappy, angry, or worried.

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You can't go back and change the beginning, but you can start where you are and change the ending.

  – C.S. Lewis 

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In the weeks that followed, Damien was there to watch James heal.

It was a miracle, because James was smiling so much more, and he was back to stealing a strip of bacon off Damien's plate; James was always messing around in Damien's room, and he actually started taking pictures with Damien more often.

James was more than excited to read Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, constantly telling Damien Come on, Dams, I want to read Harry Potter now please, and Damien would always chuckle lightly before grabbing his own copy of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

But it just felt wrong.

Damien's copy of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets felt weird in his hands, and that was when Damien murmured I'll be right back, James, and he walked heavily towards Aaron's room.

Damien almost cried.

Standing in front of Aaron's door felt exactly as he did when he stood here all the other million times – Come on Aaron, open the door, we have French now you idiot – but standing here this time, right now, was different.

It didn't feel the same, because there was no one on the other side.

Standing right here in front of Aaron's bedroom door made Damien forget that Aaron was gone for a second.

Because Damien was here way too many times – to wake Aaron up for breakfast, to let Aaron come and play, to drag Aaron for classes – and it just didn't make any sense to Damien on how Aaron wouldn't open the door right now, with an irritated frown on his face as he muttered Jesus, what now Damien?

Standing in front of Aaron's room was like a slap to the face to Damien.

With a choked breath, Damien grabbed the door handle and twisted it.

It was heartbreaking, seeing Aaron's room after all this time, with Aaron still not in it.

For some reason, Damien held this small hope that by this time, Aaron would've come homed; that he would knock on the door with a sad smile on his lips, and tears in his eyes, and Damien would wrap his arms around his younger brother and usher him inside, where he belonged.

It never happened.

True to his word, Aaron didn't stay in touch with any of them. James stopped asking about him less, and Damien didn't say his name out loud; James stopped crying over Aaron a week ago, and Damien tried not to remember the day he left.

Aaron's room was practically empty, and even though Damien was there the day the maids and butlers cleared everything out, he didn't know why it hurt this much. If Damien closed his eyes, he could see Aaron's wrinkled Harry Potter bed sheets, and his messy stacks of books by his bedside table; if Damien closed his eyes, he could see Aaron's glasses carelessly left on his study table while he was carving out Harry Potter spells on his bed's headboard right behind his pillows, and his over-worn Ravenclaw sweater that he got on Christmas – Damien could still see Aaron in every square inch of this room, even though he wasn't in it.