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One that he remembers vividly is of his brother, Vis. He's his youngest brother, someone who idolizes Paris, and he adores him with all of his heart. The need to be there for him, serve as a role model for him, and guide him through his life was so strong. The boy was so broken, so hurt, so confused, and so bloodthirsty. He was on his way down the wrong path, and it was Paris's job to keep him standing straight.

So when he finally fell asleep normally and he was inserted in another fake world, he felt dread take over him completely as he saw the situation he was given. It looked like a war was going on around him. He wanted to search for everyone in his family in the middle of all the violence and death. But he couldn't, because suddenly it was like things moved in slow motion, and he watched in devastation as someone plunged a knife right into Vis. No, it wasn't just a knife; it looked like a full on katana, long and sharp and right through precious little brother.

His legs moved on default, speed walking and then running for Vis, the man who stabbed him gone, leaving his brother for dead. Vis was on the ground, body moving in a strange way as he gasped for air. There were tears running down his face, blood pooling around him, and his eyes lit up when he saw Paris kneel beside him.

Vis moved his hand up, gripping Paris's own as he tried to choke words out. What he said wasn't the most decipherable thing ever, but Paris could understand: "Please don't mourn me."

Paris's heart was stolen from him, it went out to Vis as his body shook with overwhelming sadness, eyes clouding with tears of his own. This one was a relatively quick one, because the pain had come nearly immediately. He didn't even have time to understand what was going on before Vis fell to his defeat.

He brought his brother's hand up to his lips, kissing it and holding it to himself dearly. He didn't say anything, didn't need to, especially since he knew he would soon wake up and find his brother safe and sound. That didn't mean it didn't hurt, though. The sight of Vis struggling to breathe, spitting up blood, and depicting the epitome of a wreck as he drifted away from life helplessly.

Paris kept his brother's hand gripped in his own as he leaned over him, kissing his forehead next. "I love you." He said gently. "I love you, I love you, and I will never, EVER, let this happen to you. I'll see you again once I leave this Hell. You're okay, brother. You're okay."

Vis smiled pitifully, nodding and laughing hysterically as he coughed up more blood. Paris saw the life begin to leave his eyes, and again, he muttered "I love you."

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