It's not fair! He's not even trying and... the red-head turned away, anger running through him like a wildfire. He leaned against the pillar in the hallway and slid, coming to a sitting position with his long legs tucked up close to him. He touched his forehead to his knees, staring at a space in the ground between his designer sneakers. I had to try. I had to put every ounce of myself into trying to win her... and it doesn't matter.
Her laugh flings a whip across his back. He glares at the spot between his sneakers, as if imagining he could burn a hole in the floor with his eyes. Those eyes may be the color of the sun, but they're cold as ice at the moment, and growing harder.
Walls. He hated the word. Stupid as that seemed, he hated the word Walls. Because he'd let his fall. He'd found her big brown eyes peering through a crack, happy and interested and able to tell him from his brother, and he'd shoved fingers in the crack of the wall and torn them down, trying to get to her as she danced away, not understanding. He'd changed his outlook on the entire world because of some words she tossed carelessly over her thin shoulder.
She'd taught him that there was a world outside his, and then she'd sent him spiraling down alone because not only had he lost her but in the process he lost his brother as well, because of her and he should hate her but he can't bring himself to because he doesn't hate her. He loves her so much and she doesn't care.
The spot he's staring at blurs and he wonders why. Then he notices the feeling of numbness in his head, the stinging around his cat-like eyes and the tightness of his throat. He chokes, trying to maintain control because, after all, they are just around the corner and he isn't going to let them see he's hurt.
He's hurt, stabbed, bleeding, because he's finally realized that he never had a chance. The other guys is the King, the Boss, the richest man she'd ever meet. And he always got what he wanted.
The only thing he had wanted was her. King could have... whatever he wanted and whoever. But he chose to fall for her. And you lost. Just like all the stupid girls who played your game. His thoughts are getting sharper and hurting him almost as bad as if he'd dragged a knife across his skin. He'd never do that, of course. No, he couldn't. Because what, pray tell, was the point of adding more pain to the blade already twisting into his chest.
He closed his eyes and tasted salt as something rolled down his cheek and across his lip, gravity pulling down his tears just as she pulled him down into the abyss he was in now.
A hand brushes his shoulder and he looked up. His face stared back at him, eyes sympathetic, and he narrows his eyes.
The younger boy stared at his brother, crumpled on the floor. He looks broken. He thought. He called his name, very very quietly.
The older looked away, eyes shadowed by bright red hair, but there are strands of the ginger sticking to his face, revealing the saltwater that has left darker spots on the knees of his black pants. Go away, that face seems to say, but the younger brother doesn't. Instead he crouches beside the identical, mirror image.
Mirror.
If the older twin is a mirror, he has been shattered. The yellow eyes that now glare at him may be the same in shape, in color, and in all physical ways... but to the younger of the twin brothers they are so different it is scary. They don't match the rest of his memories. It's almost as if he's looking at a different person.
There his fears tremble in his heart, because in the past they were together. Sadness flared in both, not often, but when it struck they both felt it, like a thunderstorm in their soul. They laughed together, cruelly, twisted, and at others because they'd been hurt so many times. The hurt they could both feel, the hurt that was easy to deal with because they could share it. And now they couldn't, because the Girl With Brown Eyes that had freed them from their world had hurt them, even if she didn't know. She'd torn straight through the links bonding them together and left them floundering, with their pathetic attempts at social skills.
The older wants the pity in others' eyes to go away. He wants the unpredicted, throbbing knife in his emotions to come out, and the wound to stop bleeding. He wants to go back to times before the girl.
The younger wants to see a smile on his brother's face. He wants the pumpkin that was the carriage to carry them back to their house, even if it means the fairy never visited and they never went to the ball. He wants everything to be back to normal.
But no one can rewind time.
They should have stayed, safe and sound, in their little world. Because now, the don't know how to move on.
A/N: Sorry... this is very angst-y. Um... Just my thoughts. I've been in a wierd, bad mood and I'm not sure why. This... made me feel a little better. So, yup. Here ya go. Review, please?