The Big Book Of 2P

Anniversary [SLIGHT TW ALSO THIS CHAPTER IS REALLY SAD]

  Everyone knows that Luciano and Romero never got along. Despite being brothers, they hated eachother. They never spoke, never glanced in the other's direction except to glare, and for the most part pretended each other didn't exist.

  But nowadays, that has changed. It's the same in the public eye, but there's one day out of the year things are different.

  The morning of May 18th, they were already out of the house by sunrise.

  They were already in their cars.

  They were already meeting one another at the quiet field decorated in marble slabs of memorial.

  With empty eyes hiding so much, they would approach each other outside of the black iron gate.

  They'd stand there for a moment, side by side, staring at the other world they were about to enter, not to return until sunset.

  They'd always be silent, then Romero would slowly brush Luciano's hand, and Luciano would take it in his, and they would begin to walk.

  Not a word was ever exchanged as they'd walk aisles and aisles of graves, the one they are looking for's location ingrained into their memory.

  No one would join them. They are free to let the tears fall, and they would so. Silently walking ahead, the only sound would be the grass crunching under their feet as liquid beads of grief trickle down their cheeks.

  They would walk upon more rows, and more, the tears becoming more frequent as they neared their destination.

  Then they would arrive. A quiet, almost secluded grave. Just two marble slabs, one on top of the other, words engraved into the stone.

  '1738-2013'
  'Flavio Vargas'
  'Friend, lover, brother,'
  'Part of a family.'

  That's what they would read to themselves every year they visited, until the writing became etched into their brains.

  They would stand there quietly for a moment, staring at the grave as if he was there.

  Then, Luciano would break into loud sobs. Romero would comfort him for a moment before breaking as well.

  They would hug and cry for what would seem like an eternity, their fingers never leaving their interlocked position.

  Once their heartbreaking sobs were reduced to thin tears, they would turn to look at one another and hold a sad but hopeful smile.

  "Time has treated you well, brother." They would say in unison.

  Blinking and wiping at tears, the sun had nearly finished it's trek across the sky, and they would return on their path home.

  But not before both leaving a single orchid each lying on the grave.

  They part ways outside of the gate, knowing to erase the tearful reunion from their minds until the next anniversary.