Who knew that being blind would give me such clarity?
Hearing the soft thudding of their feet always reminded me of a better life. I could have done so much more as a father; I realize that, but there's nothing much these old bones can do except for wait. I remember them back then, and how carefree they seemed to be together. Even though they were both from broken homes. I can admit that, but what is hard to admit is that I implanted the seeds of doubt and ruin into my own son. Because of that, he decided to live vicariously through Black. He became his angel.
I can see it all. I know the real meaning of his plans, but how am I going to stop him. There's not enough time to breathe life back into him, to grant him rebirth. Black, I believe, must do it. They care for one another. They've been there for one another, and now, it'll be erased. In just a single moment, in just a mere decision, it'll be gone. But how is that, that he can decide something so selfishly? Am I one to talk?
What words could I impart to him that would make it all better? What would change his mind? Each stepping-stone I've laid down for him has cracked under his feet, and now he's slipping with each movement forward. But he paused. He's stagnant where he is now. There's no progressing. He's constantly running in many directions inside of his mind, scrambling at the walls like a wild animal suddenly trapped.
His mind has so many avenues of tight, cramped spaces, and yet he pushes through each one, never realizing they're getting tighter. The only reason he even escapes…
…is because of Black.
Black. What a wounded boy. What a lively, cocky, arrogant, rampaging boy. I've never seen one like him, but he is the air that White needs. He is the only breath that gives him life, because White so listlessly trudges forward in any direction his mind slings him. He does what's right, or so he says. Can White, this woefully aggressive boy, pull him from that bleak fate? I want him to save him from falling, from succumbing to the claustrophobia of his mind, from dying a worthless fate.
I can only see the many things that have been haunting me these many years, and now my voice has lost all will. Even if I shout the truth, there's no way I can actively stop it. But I want to end it. I want there to be an end to it—this horrible plunge from a tragic climax. My son… My wandering son. They are both the same, I guess. It's amazing I've never taken it fully in before.
Fate, let there please be an ending for my twin sons, and let it be the glorious dream they both deserve.