He awkwardly rubbed the space between Nigredo’s shoulder blades, thumb brushing over the worrisome notches of his brother’s too obvious spine, as if he could smooth them away. On an instinct from a time long past, barely remembered, Jr. found himself gently shushing the other boy when Nigredo began to cry. It was a struggle to keep from doing likewise, but he managed—he couldn’t keep dissolving into tears around his brothers, after all. Not when they’d been through so much. If he needed to be a rock for them, he’d do just that. Hooking his chin over Nigredo’s shoulder, he simply stood there, heart heavy with sadness.

Albedo’s voice cut through him like a knife and, body stiffening, Jr. pulled back from Nigredo, startled and confused. Staring at his twin and wondering what the sudden question was about, it dawned on him. It’s the link. Glancing back at Nigredo, his expression twisted. Had he really upset his brother that much? Cautiously, he placed a hand on the brunet’s arm, ducking his head to meet Nigredo’s eyes, and asked quietly, “Hey. How’re you holding up?”

Then, shooting his twin a dry look, he loudly replied, “I’ll let him speak for himself. That alright with you, mother hen?”