The pain was so great that it wasn't. He felt empty, half there, half not. It felt like the world was in slow motion and in fast forward all at once. Fire and rain could have been battling around him and it wouldn't have made a difference to him. There was nothing left.

Like something missing inside him.

In the beginning, he cried, unable to speak not only because he choked whenever he spoke on tears but also because he felt physically unable to, like the flame inside him that represented his life force had been put out.

It didn't help that everything reminded him of him. It was a curse, a terrible dark magic. The sight of the other boys was no better. Tino had wept so loud Emil had heard, curiously wheeling himself in to see the two crying together, neither able to explain their sadness, until Lukas managed to mumble "he's dead" in a husky voice, more to himself than to his brother who clenched his hands in tight fists on the arm rests of the wheelchair.

Still crying, Tino didn't meet their eyes, running out of the room with his hands gripped to his phone. He was probably going to relay the news to Berwald, leaving the two brothers alone in the kitchen, neither saying a word, the silence painful. He had loved the rare times it was silent, he had thought, but at that moment he realised how much he would have paid, what he would have done, to fill the quiet with that laughter that was missing.

Slowly, Emil rolled closer to him, less than gracefully slipping out of the chair to sit by him, laying his head on Lukas' shoulder for comfort. Normally Lukas would have been more than happy to offer him this, to be this close to him, but this one time he didn't even budge, didn't move a muscle, didn't speak. He just sat staring at his pale, intertwined hands, sight blurred.

Tino came back, Érik following behind him, trying to stay calm, being their guardian and anchor, but tears fell down the sides of his face in stray streams. Tino sat down next to Lukas, burying his face in his shoulder. The oldest man surrounded the three teenagers in his embrace, fingers tight on Tino's shoulders, resting his chin on Emil's head.

Lukas wasn't quite sure how long they had stayed like that, the four of them sharing warmth and comfort, weeping. At some point, all the tears became silent. He wasn't sure when, having zoned out.

"Is...Is there any chance he's still alive?" Emil whispered, breaking the horrible silence, voice wavering, unsure if he wanted to hear the answer. His head was still on Lukas' shoulder and instinctively Lukas stroked his silver locks.

Érik gasped for breath. "Yes," he paused, unsurely, "Yes there is. There's always hope."

The Norwegian closed his eyes. Mathias could be alive, he could be well... But what if he wasn't? His breath hitched in his throat. Movement could be felt beside him as Érik got up. He seemed to be biting his bottom lip and Lukas couldn't blame him, not now.

"How about we watch a movie, take our minds off it?" He suggested, looking at the boys who were still tangled among themselves on the floor. A small part of Lukas felt offended by the suggestion, a small part that seemed to be saying "How can he think of anything else at a time like this". But he nodded; nothing could be done. He shifted and the others moved away from him to let him get up.

He picked Emil up as best as he could, getting ready to set him down in his wheelchair, however first letting him rest against his chest some more, lying limp in Lukas' bridal style hold on him. His brother's shoulders shook, arms wrapped around his shoulders. He seemed to want to say something, hesitating. His brother stroked his hair soothingly even though he felt like a tornado raged inside him. After a few moments, Emil breathed,

"I never let him help me when he offered." Regret rang as clear as a bell in his voice muffled in his older brother's shirt, making his heart wrench.

He set him down, wheeling him over to the living room, passing a mirror in the corridor. He slowed down, seeing his reflection, his eyes duller than he remembered, face red, a glint in his hair. Saying he'd join them in a few moments, he ran upstairs, two steps at a time, bursting into his room.

He yanked the hairpin, pulling it out of his hair with a yelp as some strands of fair hair tugged out with it. He rubbed the sore spot on the side of his head subconsciously, eyes solely on the pin, angry tears building up in their corners.

His fingers tightened around the object, the metal cold on his skin. "It's not fair," he whispered, the tightness in his chest tighter than anything he'd ever felt. It felt like a tsunami, getting closer and closer to him, about to swallow him whole.

Suddenly, he threw the pin, and it hit the wall, leaving a dent, landing on the bed covers. After staring at it for another few moments, his legs gave in, and he fell onto his knees, feeble on the floor. He covered his face, once more wet, feeling like a lost child.

He felt arms wrap around him, pulling his head back against a boy's chest. He nuzzled into Tino's shirt, soaking it, letting it all out. The boy hugged his shoulders tightly, caressing his hair with the back of his hand, shushing him softly, saying that it was all right.

"It's not fair, Tino," Lukas mumbled, and Tino nodded silently. "And..."

"And?"

Lukas took a shaky breath, hiding his face further in the boy's chest. "...and I never told him I loved him too."

Saying it out loud, he felt like some weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Tino said nothing, continuing to stroke his hair, thinking. He jumped up suddenly, startling Lukas.

"Give me a minute!" he exclaimed, rushing out of the room and almost slipping, coming back with a white ball of fur in his arms. The Norwegian couldn't help himself but chuckle; the Maltese ran out of the Finn's arms straight at him, covering him in wet doggy kisses which, Lukas had to admit, tickled. He stroked Hana, a small smile on his lips at the small dog. Tino sat down beside him, smiling sadly, his eyes still red from before, giving the pup affection too.

"Thanks, Tino."

"It's no problem Lukas. Really." Tino looked at him, and the Norwegian could see he was holding himself back from crying any more, whether it was for his own sake or Lukas' he didn't know.

With a sigh, he placed Hana on Tino's lap, pulling his knees to his chest. "Did you tell Ber?"

Hesitantly, the Finn nodded. "He wouldn't admit it but... I could tell how big a shock it was. He knew Mathias the longest and..." he trailed off, unsure of either what more to say or whether he could say it without crying. Lukas nodded, running a hand down his face. "What are you gonna do now?"

The question was so out of the blue that Lukas furrowed his brows in confusion, his face sticky. He voiced his confusion, unsure what to make of the boy's question. He just sighed in reply, pausing for a moment.

"Ber is going to meet up with his family in Sweden," Tino explained, nodding to himself, looking at the wall. "I... I'm trying to get in contact with my mum too."

The Norwegian rested his head against the hard edge of the bed frame, focusing on the ceiling lamp directly above him. A part of him wished it would fall straight on top of him before he chased the thought away. Mathias wouldn't want him to think that way, never. And yet...

"I might get in touch with my mum too," he muttered, his voice lacking confidence. "Last I heard from her was six years ago."

"A lot can change in six years," Tino pointed out.

The words acted as a trigger, making him flinch. He remembered that late spring day when the letter arrived, remembered how he had felt angry, isolated and alone. Then Mathias came along, pushing him out of his comfort zone. His heart throbbed.

"Yeah... It can."

He had asked for Emil to help him word the letter, both struggling for things to say. Lukas remembered their mother far clearer than his sibling, but even to him she was more a dream than a real person.

Érik had dug up some information on her whereabouts and had found she lived in their old home now, almost as if she had never left. A pang of guilt struck the boys, guilt and pity. Lukas shoved it aside, signing the bottom and handing the pen to Emil to do the same.

It was short, awkward, but it was a start. He let Emil seal the envelope while he himself put on the stamps, writing out the address on the front. The writing was messy, his hand shaking wildly, uncontrollable.

"Let's go send it," Emil urged, probably as weary of the house as he was, finding that everything reminded him of Mathias. Lukas agreed, and they made their way to the little post box on the end of the street, the older wheeling the younger along at a slow pace, trying to delay their return.

"Érik's trying to reach him," Emil said, filling the silence. Lukas didn't reply but stayed attentive. "Trying to find out if there were any survivors." He shifted, looking back at him. "Do you think he's alive?"

"I don't dare hope."

"Yes you do. Hope's all that's keeping you going right now."

He blinked a few times, mauling the information over in his head. In the end he decided to remain silent. Emil sat back properly again, looking forward, the letter creasing in his grasp.

Lukas replied, "I don't hope. He's alive. I know he is. He's too stupid to die even if he was killed." Emil laughed at that, shaking his head. "And I'll wait for him even if it takes the rest of my life. I'll see him again. We'll see him again. All of us, together."

Emil agreed, posting the letter, and they made their way back in silence, everything to be said said. Lukas wasn't sure where his sudden burst of confidence had come from, but it lifted his spirits.

Hope is the one thing which keeps us sane. It keeps us human.

This chapter is so bad I am so sorry.

I had free time so this happened. I don't really think it came out quite how I wanted it but it's the best I could make it so enjoy!