R e m o r s e
You know he's dying. He's not in pain, he will never be. It will be quick, when it eventually happens. So you talk to him everyday, knowing that it might as well be your last conversation. He doesn't have longer than four years, but he might have a few seconds. You don't know. Not even Donatello knows.
Leonardo doesn't care though. You know it doesn't matter- but he can't train anymore. It could endanger him. Still, he sneaks out on patrols when he thinks no one is looking. You see, but you don't say anything, because he's covered for you before, as much as you hate to admit it.
And even though he's dying, you can't help the impatience, the harsh, painful words that you spit at him whenever you fight. Which is often?
Because you know he is dying, but you fight anyway. You never forget, but you spit and curse and insult him like nothings wrong. Like it used to be when you fought. But that seems a lifetime ago.
And when it's over, all you can feel is that, cold, sick remorse.
But it doesn't make the words come out.
Nothing does.
And what kind of brother does that make you?
What kind of brother does that make me?
What did you think?