Helter´s defeated expression did not change. But his heart felt like being relieved by Vincent’s words. His eyes widened a bit. Was it real? Vincent apologizing…? Helter always thought he would be the one who had to apologize to his brother for leaving him alone for so long, for being another motherfucker assassin in secret. But he never did. And maybe he never would. Why? It was just absurd. The damage was already done, and saying sorry, would not change anything in their lifes. He doesn’t think it would make Vincent feel better anyway. However, there was his little brother apologizing for his mistakes…
Vincent had to stop himself from drawing back from the touch. It was just a hand on his shoulder, yet it was something that meant that his brother was trying hard to express something. Brother wasn’t the type to pussyfoot around something; he always said what was on his mind, straight and clear. Yet, he could not speak now, of all times. The small gesture sent a current of fear wallowing in him. What was his brother trying to tell him? He was disgusted with him, maybe. Disgusted by his outburst, his lack of emotion, his callous disregard for other human beings…
All these thoughts of flaws and failed friendships were ousted from his mind when Helter wrapped his arms around him. Skelter squirmed uncomfortably, bewildered by the show unusual of affection. His brother was warm, very unlike the cigar-smoking, sailor-mouthed, liquor-drinking assassin that the world knew him as. It frightened him. Angered him, almost. This was not how assassins were supposed to act. Assassins didn’t have friends or family. They only had weapons and cold, hard money.
He considered shoving him off in a fit of disgust, but he couldn’t help but think about how they were when they were both still young and innocent. A time when he was still happy and not this horrible, unfeeling, pretentious monster of a human being. A time when all they had was each other. The last time Helter held him like this was when they were forced to sleep in a park, and the brothers had to clump together for warmth. It was cold as death, but Brother tried his best to keep him warm. He didn’t even care about himself; he bundled him up in his jacket and just hung onto his little brother as if Death were coming to snatch him away.
Why was he thinking about this now, of all times? They were both “grown-up”. They no longer had to worry about getting adequate food or finding a safe place to sleep at night. What was this he was feeling? A deep pain? Much worse than just physical pain, surely. But from where? His still-human side. He didn’t think it was still alive, but there it was. Weak. But still alive.
Mouth twisted into a frown, his own arms slowly raised themselves to return the hug. This was very much unlike them. If the other assassins saw this, they would probably murder themselves from disgust. Yet, he understood now what his brother was trying to tell him, even if it was through such an insignificant gesture. Even after all that he had done, his brother was still there for him. Even after finding out about the evil and wicked person that he was, his brother still loved him.
“I guess we must fight for something now that we’re alive. I’m not sure what the army or whoever the fuck runs this place has in store for us, but we’ll fight it together. I’d- I’d rather fight for a chance to live rather than not live at all.” What he was doing now was not living. No. Far from it. It was simply surviving, just as he had done in the ranks. “I guess we are worth fighting for.”
When his brother finally released him, Vincent broke out in an angry blush. He adjusted himself, trying to stick that indifferent expression back onto his face. They were probably not going to talk about this moment for a long time. “I always keep my revolver loaded, Helter. After all, I am an assassin.”