I wonder if his life is worth living anymore. None of this was ever about me. None of it would ever be about me. But it was all because of me. Because he had dared to love me, and I had dared to break his heart. But how could I love him, when the fates that brought us together were so intertwined.

From birth we had been together, inseparable they say. Our first fight, I even remember. Now it was a trifling matter, normal chocolate or dark, dark had always been his favourite. I wonder if I had been kinder to him then, if it would all be different now.

Even when we went to different schools we saw each other all the time. How could we not? One year, when he had little money to spare I bought him a necklace for his birthday. I remember his curious look as he held it in his hand. But he still said thank you and gave me the biggest hug. When I laughed he looked curious again, and I told him that the best gifts are the regiftable ones. I opened the present wrapped in silver string on my birthday to find the necklace lying there. And a promise that he would find a way to repay me. His smile was all I needed. I wonder if I had realised things then, if it would all be different now.

I broke up with my first boyfriend two days before Valentine's day. He came to find me crying, weeping through a tissue box. Two days later I woke to find a bouquet of flowers sitting on the doorstep. You know I'll always love you, was imprinted upon the silver card. After that, he bought me flowers every Valentine's day. And always the same was printed upon the little silver card. I kept those silver cards, placed them in the envelope from my birthday. I wonder if I had seen it, if it would all be different now.

There was no one who could love me more than him. And I knew it, I saw it in his eyes, saw it in the way he was the first to say hello and the last to say goodbye. But I could never return that love. My love was distributed elsewhere. When there wasn't a boy there was a crush, when there wasn't a crush there was heartbreak. I should've known that the cure to heartbreak was love. Yet he was always there, and I never noticed the cringed expression on his face when he heard of my latest sorrow. Why couldn't I have seen it all.

Now he lies, calm in his deadly stupor. Broken from the start, his heart had never healed. What would it be like, to live a life always having that crack? I wonder now, if he would want to live. To live a life, in which he would never fight over chocolate, regift presents or buy flowers. Never smiling.

When you love someone, you'll do anything for them, anything to make them happy, to bring that smile back. He had chosen his escape, it was what he wanted. To deny him his last wish. All of this, it was always about me. It would always be about me.

So I gave him his last wish, because when you love someone, you'll do anything for them, just to watch that smile return as I did now. But still I wonder, why couldn't it all be different now dear brother?