“Him?” Prota asked, more confused than ever. “Who’s ‘him’?”

“I’ll show you,” Anta said, as he stood up from the bed, in a manner that looked so strong that one would never guess he had just been stabbed.

Prota admired the man’s sculpted body as he grabbed the outfit that Tiki had set aside for him on the bedside table and quickly got dressed. “Come with me.” He held out his porcelain hand, and Prota took it. 

Holding Anta’s hand felt so incredible that Prota thought he was flying. But his high soon faded as Anta led him to his desk and flipped over the little picture frame that stood upon it.

It only took Prota seeing the portrait out of the corner of his eye for a split second for the worst pain he’d ever felt in his life to wrack his body. He collapsed on the floor before Anta could catch him, feeling like his heart was being violently ripped in two. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t scream. He couldn’t move. It was so bad, he wished for death.

Anta laid the picture down, so that neither of him had to look at it. He looked sadly at his other half, though seemingly unaffected. “See what I mean?” He knelt down next to him. Prota was soothed almost instantaneously by Anta’s hand on his back.

“What…” Prota huffed the word out when he finally caught his breath. “What was that?” He looked over at his blue eyed other half. “Who was that?”

“That,” Anta said, in his soft yet deep voice, “was the man we were in love with.”

It was so strange. Prota’s mind didn’t remember that smiling red-haired man in the slightest. But his body… That wasn’t love that he felt. It was pure, unadulterated pain.

“That’s the pain that you feel when your whole world is taken away from you by death,” Anta explained, as he helped his other self back up.

Tiki’s death hurt, but it wasn’t like that. Prota loved Tiki more than life itself, but… Prota was only half of a person. While Prota had grown up with Tiki, Tiki was an acquaintance to Anta. Though he was certainly growing to love her, he hadn’t experienced a full life with her. Plus, that half knew fully well that she was alive. Whereas Gil, both Anta and Prota combined, had experienced his entire life with that man, even if Prota didn’t consciously remember it. 

“What was his name?” Prota asked himself.

“Saying it hurts all the more,” Anta warned.

“Please say it,” Prota begged. “I need to know.”

Unexpectedly, Anta pulled Prota into a tight embrace to steady himself. “His name was Milo,” he whispered.

Having those cool arms wrapped tightly around him… that firm body pressed against him, seemingly calm and collected, softened the blow. The pain in Prota’s heart was there, but it wasn’t as excruciating once he braced himself for it.

Instead, he felt an emotional pain, a horrible despair for something he couldn’t even remember. Tears poured onto Anta’s chest.

Anta squeezed him firmly, helping Prota release the sadness that he himself couldn’t. It felt so good, so cathartic, to have Prota cry for him. Anta had been holding back tears for far too long.

The two spent some time in silence in each other’s embrace. Prota was the first to break the silence. “His death hurt you so much,” he spoke his observations out loud, as he pulled away gently and held a hand to his heart. “Why didn’t you build the resurrection machine right away?”

“I could have done it back then, but,” his eyes looked past Prota, to the face-down picture frame on the table, “I didn’t think that would be the right thing to do. Every moment was precious for those still living. It was important to me that no one else would have to suffer the loss of the people most precious to them. Even though I desperately wanted to bring him back to life, it was more important to prevent others from dying first.”

“That’s very selfless of you,” Prota observed. “You put this into effect so that no one else would have to feel your pain.” He’d been so wrong about Anta all along. “It takes strength to be so compassionate in times like that. I wouldn’t be able to be as kind as you.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” Anta said.

Prota looked up and saw that he was smiling.

“You and I might be in opposition, but we’re the same person,” Anta reminded him. “Don’t forget that.”