“Of course I want to be with you,” Milo said, as his voice calmed down. His hands hovered over Anta’s, as though wanting to hold them. “But not like this. We can be together again when the time comes for you to join me in the afterlife.”

“But I can fix you, and…”

“No,” Milo said sternly. “I refuse to be with half a man.” He let go of Anta’s hands, leaving them colder than ever. He returned to Prota’s side. “Look what you did to yourself,” he said once again. “You’re broken. How can I love you when you’re like this? …When you won’t even love yourself?”

Prota’s wet eyes looked up at Anta, stabbing him in the heart. 

For once, Anta could feel it. “I’m sorry,” Anta said, not to Milo, but to Prota. “I’m sorry I shut you out.”

“But it’s not just that, is it?” Milo asked, staring daggers at his former lover once again. “Splitting yourself in two was just the catalyst for something else, wasn’t it?”

Anta swallowed nervously, feeling Milo’s sharp eyes on his back.

“I can feel it,” Milo said, darkly. “I can sense their suffering. All of them. Just like he can.” He turned to Prota once more and lifted him up off the floor. He cupped his face gingerly in his strong hands. “Those people are hurting, aren’t they?”

Prota nodded, his eyes red, his expression severe. “They’re in agony,” he confirmed. “Never-ending agony.”

Milo’s thumb rubbed Prota’s cheek. “It’s okay,” he said, in a bedside whisper that made Anta jealous. “I know you feel terrible about what you’ve done. The guilt stabs you in the heart every day. But don’t worry… You have the power to fix this.” He leaned in and pressed his lips softly against Prota’s.

The sensation was familiar to Prota, although he still couldn’t consciously remember.

Anta felt a subtle hint of the kiss on his own lips, though it didn’t seem to assuage the pang of jealousy in his chest at Milo choosing his other half’s side.

Prota found himself reluctant to let Milo’s lips separate from his, but the soldier pulled away, leaving Prota feeling empty.

Milo stepped toward the machine and looked back at the two halves of his partner. “I refuse to be a part of this,” he said. “You need to come to terms with yourself and with the way the world works. I can’t force you to set things right, but all I can do is hope that you make the right choices… for everyone’s sake.” With that, he turned the dial counter-clockwise on the resurrection machine and stepped back into the capsule.

“Wait, Milo!” Anta called out to him.

A strong grip on Anta’s arm prevented him from running to his beloved. It was Prota.

“Don’t,” Prota said, sternly.

Anta watched in despair, as the resurrection machine worked in reverse and undid everything he worked for. After the machine stopped whirring and steaming, Prota let Anta go, and the man ran to the door. He opened it in desperation, wishing for the small hope that something had gone wrong… that Milo would still be on this plane of existence. But his hopes were shattered. Anta collapsed on the floor, heartbroken.