[Aventurine ignores the questioning look of the barista, who decides it's none of his business. All that matters is that his twin is present in his arms and she's safe. She's done well for herself, that he can say for certain. All these years... he thought she was dead.
He was certain she was dead.
How many times did he dream of waking up under a pile of corpses? How many times did he roll over, still seeing dreams behind his eyes, and believe he gazed into the face of his dead sister? Every time a girl went missing on the news he looked at the pictures, as if it might confirm what he knew all along.
And yet. And yet.
He doesn't cry. He feels like he's close, but the tears don't come. He's no longer the soft, tender boy who couldn't bear to be out of his sister's sight.]
« I don't believe in coincidence. I think that fate can be cruel, but this time... »
[With care, he gently pets her hair. A reversal of how they used to be, but one he welcomes at the moment.]
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He was certain she was dead.
How many times did he dream of waking up under a pile of corpses? How many times did he roll over, still seeing dreams behind his eyes, and believe he gazed into the face of his dead sister? Every time a girl went missing on the news he looked at the pictures, as if it might confirm what he knew all along.
And yet. And yet.
He doesn't cry. He feels like he's close, but the tears don't come. He's no longer the soft, tender boy who couldn't bear to be out of his sister's sight.]
« I don't believe in coincidence. I think that fate can be cruel, but this time... »
[With care, he gently pets her hair. A reversal of how they used to be, but one he welcomes at the moment.]
« I gained something precious. »