I hate to admit it, but that brat's sort of beautiful when he's asleep.
Damn it.
Even with the metal arm and leg and the scars where both are attatched, he's still a better version of everything I was supposed to be. Talented. Loved. He's got his brother. His - our damn father.
He's got all that. He's got everything,, as far as I'm concerned. And what'd I end up with? Nothing. Nothing at all, because of course I'm not important. I'm just the prototype for what he ended up to be. Just a failed experiment, a ruined doll discarded and thrown away, forgotten for a better one that wouldn't break so easily.
But he's going to break, dammit. He's going to. I'll make sure of it. I'll prove to everyone just who's the better son, who's the real failure-
I should hate him.
I've got every right to detest this boy with every fiber of my being, but... there's something about him. Like how the cold steel of his arm and leg feel against my skin. Like the way his face looks in the split second between a glare and a smile. Like...
I should hate him. For taking away everything I ever wanted. Everything I deserve.
Why's he got to be so goddamn beautiful?