𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 ─── a songfic

now i'm getting colder ;

i was sitting on my bed late at night, my back against the wall as i strummed my guitar mindlessly, when caysie stumbled into the room, her eyes bright.

she paused when she heard my playing. that's . . . beautiful, she said when i stopped. what is it ?

and it was only then, when caysie said those words, that i realized i'd been playing that song, the one i'd played for harlow so long ago on christmas. the one he'd also called beautiful. i could remember everything about that night, still had that guitar pick he'd given me, could still taste the waffles we'd shared.

did he even remember that night at all ?

it's nothing, i answered caysie.

does it have lyrics ?

no.

you should add some.

i can't write lyrics. you know that.

caysie rolled her eyes. you can't, or you won't ?

i ignored her. what happened at the party ?

her eyes brightened again, but she gave me an innocent look. what party ?

'what party,' my ass. you reek of beer and vomit, case. tell me.

she didn't need any more encouragement ; the words tumbled out over themselves. i met someone – a guy. and hell, corlan, he's gorgeous. he's so sweet and –

i glanced away. must be nice.

caysie fell silent.

i quickly sat up. shit – shit. caysie, i didn't mean –

you're not yourself.

what ?

you're not yourself, corlan, caysie repeated. you're getting . . . colder.

i don't get what you –

ever since harlow, you . . . caysie shook her head. you're not the same. you're more withdrawn, you don't write songs anymore. you're getting colder, corlan. and i hate it. she swallowed, sitting on her bed, not meeting my gaze. i want my brother back, all right ? my stupid twin, i want you back.

i didn't answer for a long time.

finally, i shoved my guitar back into its case, slowly shaking my head.

you can't always get what you want.