It’s the same sad story every night, with bottles of spilled liquor and the crumbs of snacks in open bags scattered around. Gabriel could only sit and stare for a moment, just to take in his handiwork and truly appreciate the work of art he had crafted with his own powers.

Not an original design, of course. Someone like him couldn't fathom coming up with an idea as perfect as this — the image of his friend. His dead friend. The curve of their cheek felt so real underneath his fingers, even though the fact that this was all just an illusion lingered in the back of his clouded, yet fragmented mind.

“Petra and Sway aren’t joining us tonight?” he’s asked.

Gabriel could only shake his head in response, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. The skin beneath his callused thumb felt soft. Warm. Alive.

“No. Not tonight,” he answers, voice uncharacteristically gentle. Almost reverent. “I missed you a little extra today you know.”

He’s met with that chime of a laugh he hadn't heard in so long, the warm feeling of mirth spreading deep within his gut over the familiarity of it all. It’s easy to escape like this, to reminisce over simpler times. Happier times, of days filled with early morning company spent with each other, and the hubris of arrogant youth. They were just children back then before they were basically sent to be killed.

Gabriel never did get the chance to confess his feelings. He never will — and now in front of his favorite ‘what if’ and his best ‘he’ll never know’ he’s not sure if he ever will. None of this was fair. Charles’ machinations led to everything that has happened, both good and bad. The fact that his teammates had died before the creation of Cerebro, barring the possibility of actual resurrection seemed to be the cherry on top of how laughably tragic everything turned out to be.

“Don’t laugh,” he chides, trying to sound annoyed but he’s more focused on attempting not to seem as inebriated as he is right now. “I mean it. Today, I missed you. Tomorrow, I will too.”

He didn't comment on the immediate look of concern he got from that. How a hollow ghost of his past trauma was somehow able to worry for him. Even pained. Maybe he’ll miss them forever, despite the underlying fear that one day the memory will fade and he’ll just end up yearning for something he no longer fully remembers or understands.