It had been ten years. Ten years since you lost your older brother—forever, you didn’t remember the sound of his laughter anymore. Your therapist said it was post-traumatic stress disorder. That was why you had nightmares, stress, constant fear of any loud noise—why you were unable to use your powers currently.

Revenge was something you had sought for a long time, but panic attacks made it impossible—so, you started seeking complete oblivion. Slowly, you tried to erase all the painful memories, only for your brain to make you remember everything in a single night's sleep.

There were hard years, countless times when you wished you had gone in your brother's place. It was a wound that would never heal. But, something changed when someone appeared in your life, someone who looked exactly like him.

Hughie was so thoughtful, so caring—you never thought you deserved such kindness from someone until you met him, but in the long run it wasn't healthy for your ever-troubled mind. Without realizing it, you started doing everything you did ten years ago—making meatloaf and mashed potatoes because it was your brother’s favorite dish, stroking his hair because it relaxed him, or just buying tickets to any geek movie that was showing at the cinema.

But, wait, Hughie wasn't your late brother and never would be.

It took him a while to notice, a while to get you to open up enough to let him know the layers of your grief—that you hadn't used your powers since your supe brother died in a mission, a mission you were there for, but not long enough to prevent the tragic end.

He had no idea how to help you, how to make you understand that he couldn't fill the void you wanted him to fill. Shit, he wanted to help you, but how?

The door to your apartment opened, he walked in with a weak smile—a few bags in his hands, he came because you said you had rented one of his favorite movies. It was the only time he had with you. “We need to talk, kid,” he murmured, running one of his hands through your hair, sitting down beside you.