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HIs serious voice is so cute, focused, lower, sometimes humming as he thinks. It's cute... but I want cuter. The blade in my hand glints in the light as I raise it to the flame. So many months he's greeted me with a smile, scanned my purchases, whishes me back as I leave. Except he does that for everyone. It's not my fault that I'm in love... it's his fault that his love is shared with so many others.
Warmth, a splash, screams, blood, clatter.
The knife falls to the floor as I take in my little brother's bloodied face. I'll take care of him. Sobbing, I take hom into my arms, convicing him I'm the only support he'll ever get.