My mother walked away with my brother once; I don't think I was ever the same.
He stood rigidly, uncomfortably hot in the black suit he wore. His smile, when it came, was slow and deliberate. Like the best man that he was, Yamato waited patiently for the ceremony to commence. Before him stood Takeru, his mouth slightly parted and his eyes shining with unbridled emotion as he stared ahead of him. He wanted to laugh, bitterly at that, but one look at her was enough to steal the breath out of him.
She was wearing all white. Her gown was flawless on her, long and clinging mercilessly to her body, growing wide near her feet to give the illusion of a perfect mermaid tail. It was funny, because he had always imagined Mimi in a long, trailing princess gown whenever he did picture her in white.
He had loved her so much back then – still did. But he travelled too much and was always too shy to ask her to come with, too proud to admit that he wanted her to stay by his side forever. The distance grew between them until it was more than miles, and hours, and time-zones. And in his cold absence, she fell in love with someone else.
Which brought him to the present, standing before the bride and groom-to-be, hands clasped together to keep from wringing the little git's neck as he married the woman of his dreams. The irony was almost enough to make him want to cry, or laugh, or run out of the place without looking back. Twice now, he had been left by the women who should have loved him most, in favour of his little brother, who was everything Yamato should have been.