A slow, shuddery breath escaped him as he stood rooted to the spot, unable to look away from his brothers. By his sides, his hands clenched and unclenched until his nails had nipped angry crescents into the skin of his palms and his knuckles were a bloodless white. He could barely hear over the pounding of blood in his ears, escalating in time with the quickening of his pulse. Incredulous disbelief held him in check while a raw kind of hope, a hope that was burning him up from inside out, paralyzed him with fear. He knew that his eyes weren’t betraying him. But Jr. also knew that he couldn’t bear for this to be a trick, an illusion, a sick prank played on him. Bound and overwhelmed by emotion — guilt, relief, grief, terror — he remained where he was, eyes raking over their forms as if trying to commit them once more to memory. It had been long. So very, very long.
Hearing his twin’s name spoken out loud, the sound of their younger brother’s voice — Gaignun, Gaignun, Gaignun — was like an electric shock rolling through his body, jerking it into motion without his consent. He took one faltering step forward and then another, before he suddenly broke out into a sprint for his brothers. His insides were churning, his instincts were screaming at him for letting his guard down, and when he finally pulled up into a stumbling halt, it was roughly seven feet from them, as close as he would allow himself on blind faith.
Now, as he paused to catch his breath, memories of meeting KOS-MOS in Asgard penetrated the fraught haze that had clouded his mind upon seeing his brothers; KOS-MOS, who should have been dead, KOS-MOS who remembered nothing beyond her rescue at Vector Industries…and then memories of Jr.’s own theories and revelations on timelines, on time paradoxes and alternate universes. This could be real, he thought wildly, wretchedly. This doesn’t have to be a ploy.
What if it was? What if this was a trap?
His expression contorted with a desperately sad smile that he couldn’t swallow.
It doesn’t matter. They’re still my brothers. They’re always my brothers.
“So,” he began lamely, wetting his lips. “Nice duds.”
no subject
Hearing his twin’s name spoken out loud, the sound of their younger brother’s voice — Gaignun, Gaignun, Gaignun — was like an electric shock rolling through his body, jerking it into motion without his consent. He took one faltering step forward and then another, before he suddenly broke out into a sprint for his brothers. His insides were churning, his instincts were screaming at him for letting his guard down, and when he finally pulled up into a stumbling halt, it was roughly seven feet from them, as close as he would allow himself on blind faith.
Now, as he paused to catch his breath, memories of meeting KOS-MOS in Asgard penetrated the fraught haze that had clouded his mind upon seeing his brothers; KOS-MOS, who should have been dead, KOS-MOS who remembered nothing beyond her rescue at Vector Industries…and then memories of Jr.’s own theories and revelations on timelines, on time paradoxes and alternate universes. This could be real, he thought wildly, wretchedly. This doesn’t have to be a ploy.
What if it was? What if this was a trap?
His expression contorted with a desperately sad smile that he couldn’t swallow.
It doesn’t matter. They’re still my brothers. They’re always my brothers.
“So,” he began lamely, wetting his lips. “Nice duds.”