Prompt: Everglow by Coldplay This one is angsty.
It was the way he would have wanted to go. Killed on a rescue in his beloved craft. The blue and silver and red stark against the white of the snow. And that in of itself was quite fitting. Snow had always wanted him, and finally it got him.
Virgil sits on his bed, head in his hands, and shivers. It's not cold on the island, rarely is, but it's not the weather making him cold. There is a light that has gone out, and he can't help but feel lost without it.
How do you let go of the one constant in your life? The only person who has ever made everything alright, who taught you to run like a lion and soar like an eagle? The closest and best friend you have ever had?
The door opens and there are footsteps and someone sits next to him, but Virgil doesn't move or acknowledge them. An arm snakes around his shoulders and ever so gently pulls him over. A sob escapes him.
Nothing is said. Nothing. And in the silence Virgil can hear Scott scolding him for sitting there and doing nothing, of wallowing when there are things to do and people to save. It is so typical of his brother to be thinking of others at a time like this.
John snorts. He must have said that out loud, Virgil thinks, and allows his brother to pull him off the bed and out the door. He knows where he's taking him, and for a moment Virgil balks.
As they get closer to Scott's room his brother's voice gets louder. Suddenly Virgil stops, causing John to almost fall over. He can't do this. But John is far stronger than people give him credit for, and he drags Virgil through the door.
He is afraid of what he'll find there, and he squeezes his eyes shut and covers them with his hands. If he can't see it then it isn't true, and he can go on believing everything is alright. Footsteps recede and he's left alone in Scott's room. There is no voice now.
Virgil takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. He scans the room. It hasn't changed, the large painting of One, the painting of their family when it was last whole, the pictures adorning the walls. He can feel the tension in the room, it's just waiting for him to look at the bed.
Scott is sitting up in bed. His head is bandaged, as are his ribs. Left arm and leg are in casts. His skin is still blotchy from the frostbite, but there will be no lasting damage to that. It's the first time Virgil had come to see him since the incident.
For a wild moment Virgil just wants to run away, like his seven-year-old self did when he caused Scott to fall out of a tree and break his arm. But he can't leave. This was his fault, and he nearly, they nearly, lost Scott as a result. Virgil hasn't been in Two since the accident, either.
Scott pats the bed next to him and Virgil is compelled to sit, even though he doesn't want to. Because he does want to, he wants to hear that everything is alright even though it obviously isn't.
And Scott, ever the big brother, tells him exactly what he needs to hear. It wasn't Virgil's fault. There was a sudden crosswind that caught the cable and meant that One couldn't manoeuvre properly. Two couldn't have done anything more than Virgil tried.
More importantly, there is an uninjured hand on his arm and a squeeze.
Everything will be alright.
The light is still shining.
The snow didn't win.
No everglow needed.