He curled himself into as tight a ball as he could manage, trying to squeeze the pain from his tired body. He barely felt the sting of the cold air as he started unlocking doors within himself, nothing could distract him now, nothing could make him forget.
He would never forget.
Tears poured down his face, and he could care less. The walls were down, no one was around, so now he could let the guilt, the pain, the regret... oh the regret. He couldn't help but feel a pang of self-loathe appear, as he reflected on the past few years.
He had returned to his friends, just as he had promised. They were so happy to see him, and flung themselves on him, crying out in joy. He didn't realize the reason behind the sudden pain he felt at that moment. He smiled back, and embraced them each. Tear clung to him, and he held her just as eagerly. This was what he wanted, what his friends wanted for him, what was supposed to be...
He didn't understand the pain he felt.
He lived, just as he had promised. He fought alongside his companions; working to prepare this new Score-less world they had made. The trials weren't as hard anymore, nothing could seem as hard as what he had had to face during, and leading up to, the final battle with Van. Whenever his mind would wander down that dangerous path, he would remember the deathly gray Asch, as he held him limp in his arms. He couldn't stand it. He should never have left him, he should have stayed and fought alongside him, regardless of how angry he would be with him. He'd rather have his original yell and scream at him, than have to see his lifeless face every time he closed his eyes, hear his accusing voice every time he was alone.
He was weak, more so now than when he had been an ignorant and spoiled brat. He was weak without his original yelling at him and pushing him forward. Van was right; he could not live without a purpose. Asch was a painful truth, a reminder of what he was. He had always been his goal; working harder and harder to fill his expectations; to please him. He had admired hie strength, his will, his idivivual beauty. Though he was his mirror image come to life, he still had some of his own habits, and he shone with his own confidence and self-assurance; he hadn't needed anyone but himself. But Luke broke that front by always trying, always asking to be let in. He still ached for him every second he could.
He closed his eyes and saw his face.
Luke curled into himself, and cried until the air froze the tears to his face, and he gasped to catch his breath. This was the price of living, the bill he had to fill for returning, and he found himself wishing for his death, because he just couldn't take the pain of trying to deal with the death of his other half, his missing piece, Asch.
