memory and contemplation.

sometimes, chris has to sit back- breathe, for once.

he's in the attic, helping wilbur's parents move around dusty old boxes when it hits. there's a picture album that they put up a handful of years ago. the front is decorated in stickers that chris and willie picked out, because it's where willie's parents put pictures of them.

they started it a year after adopting chris into the family. 

he cradles the album to his chest, looks between the parents that will never be his, and mumbles, asking if he can be done cleaning, for a little bit? willie's mom takes one look at what he's holding, gives him a gentle smile and loose hug, and tells him of course.

he almost falls down the ladder out of the attic, but it's fine, he's always been a fool. it's his charm, so said willie, years ago. chris blinks painful tears out of the corners of his eyes, crushing the album against his chest as he rushes to his room. he does his best not to slam the old door, always so polite- determined not to cause any discomfort to his borrowed home.

the lock clicks, and he turns, back resting against the door, sinking down to the ground with a soft thump. he stares down at the album for a bit, fingers tracing lightly around the edges of the faded cross stickers he insisted on adding around wilbur's various bugs and leaves.

how different this would look, if they did it today. he's really been here so long, and he doesn't deserve it in the slightest. he balls up a fist and drags it under his eyes, smearing tears along his cheeks. he'll have to get a papercut or something, anything stupid, to hide why he's sobbing on the ground against his bedroom door.

he unties the little ribbon holding the side of the album closed, and opens to the first page, staring down at the two pictures featured there. a before and after, of sorts. 

the first image is chris and wilbur, side by side, with willie grinning into the camera, holding a rather fat frog in his hands, and chris with his arms crossed over his chest, cradling a little creature he'd found in the forest, smiling shyly at the camera. willie used to be taller than him, he notices.

the second image is from when they stopped using the album, with chris and willie side by side again, but this time its right- its actually them, hair chopped and chests bound, finally right. willie is making a stupid hand motion, and chris is holding karl in his arms, both smiling at each other. chris notices the green and black bracelet on one of his wrists and grimaces, turning the page.

the second page is four images- the first two of just chris, the second two of willie and sage- showcasing various achievements. chris's images are of him learning to work around the farm, first time milking a cow and first time having to chase a chicken back to the coop. the pictures of willie and sage are similar, them climbing trees and catching weird animals together, and chris can't help but smile, remembering how often they'd wander off and come home covered in dirt and leaves, wilbur's parents complaining the whole time despite their smiles.

the entire album is only half full, and chris thumbs through it, watching how they changed over time. willie stopped smiling as genuinely, chris started acting out, sage stopped appearing in images. they all changed appearances so much over the years, too. 

there's a picture of chris and chemi, side by side, wide smile on chris's face, a softer one on chemi's, his arm around chris' waist- and chris suddenly feels sick, his stomach dropping low in his abdomen. he thinks too hard- for just a second, and has to remind himself that he's free now. no more pain, no more hurt, no more scars. 

the last image in the album is damaged by water, obscured, but chris knows the shapes in it.

meat, is one of them, brad is another, he can even make out raelyn's eye color in the faded background- and he knows that the blue in the center is him, still remembers grinning so wide during this selfie, so glad to be around such special creatures.

chris sits there on the floor, sobbing against the back cover of the album for a while after he closes it. when his eyes are finally dry, he shakily stands, shuffling to his closet and hiding the album on the shelf in it.

there's a knock at his door, wilbur's babbling about something, and chris perks up immediately, wiping his face again before opening it. before willie can say much of anything, chris hugs him, and won't let go. he finally feels right, thinking something, after going through such a ride during the past hour.

"thank you for being my brother, willie."