Things have been quiet in the Von Erich household for a while. You don't know how long, because you daren't make a sound to ask, and you daren't make a move to check for yourself. Doing anything just feels wrong.

David's dead. David's gone.

Kerry has been a mess all morning. He's tried to hold it back, for you, for his ma, but you can tell. He's been for a run, he's come back, and no one seems to have moved.

You're still upstairs, in bed, still in your pyjamas, that gorgeous yellow nightgown that he would've jumped for at any other time. But now, it just feels wrong. And oddly fitting. Yellow. Yellow for David.

Slowly, slowly, he crawls up the bed, sweaty shirt and shorts discarded, in solely his boxers as he slumps down on top of you, caging you in with his body and his arms as he buries his face into your chest. Your breaths are shaky and glitchy and your heart is racing so fast, and he just wants to calm you down, to console you the best he can.

His little darling. Missing his darling brother.

You were David's friend before Kerry's girlfriend, and he knows it's wrong to be questioning your grief. So he just holds you tight, letting you sniffle and hiccup while you stroke his sweaty hair, pressing soft little kisses to your collarbone and chest.

Your best friend is gone. His brother is gone.

What is there to say?

"Crying ain't gonna get us nowhere now, is it peach?.."