It's a shattered, broken tale. A shattered broken tale, for a shattered, broken world.

It's a story of consequences, a story of regret, a story of hope and determination. It's a story that begs to be heard, begs with silent pleading and eyes like pits. It's only in telling that it will gain a happy ending, after all.

Even so. How do you tell a story like rain? A story with only glimpses, like a shattered mirror, floating in space - similar, so similar, and yet so different with each retelling...?

Perhaps in this case, we will find a beginning in the end. Not the beginning, nor the end, but an beginning, and an end.

The end of the world, to be exact.

--

It's like a broken stage.

There's only one light here, shining like a spotlight, casting shadows that show just how dark and empty the world has become. It is not a gentle light, it is not a soothing light – it cuts the world away, leaving only this tiny sliver of hope.

There are figures there, their features made hollow and strange by the curious illumination. They each hunch, arms close, as if they could huddle from the emptiness. They've been sitting a long time, though perhaps that isn't true. There's no time here, after all. Only this single moment, stretching on into infinity, forever and ever.

“*well, this sucks.”

The speaker stands, hands in pockets, his face creased into an uncharacteristic frown. The others turn to look at him with expressions ranging from longing despair to outright fear. An empty eye socket twitches, and a halo of red light appears inside it, adding a dash of red fire to the scene. It seems to think for a moment, before a wide grin spreads across it's face, revealing a golden tooth that glints like the light of a dying star.

“*i don't know about you shmucks, but i'm leaving.”

Shock passes through the group as they stare at one another. Whispers bloom and die in the darkness, like the echo flowers that no one will ever hear again.

“...You... You can do that?” Comes an awed whisper from somewhere in the shadows.

“Theoretically possible.” A more academic voice replies, unsteadily, hoarsely, before a finger is pressed to her shaking lips.

“I DON'T SEE HOW. BUT I GUESS IF IT CAN BE DONE, MY BRO CAN DO IT.” Comes another, not really a whisper at all, though it's clearly trying to be at least low. The speaker pretends not to hear, though the glowing eye twitches ever so slightly.

“...Should we? It's our fault we're here.” Comes a deeper voice, a rough rumble filled with kindness softened by despair. In the shadows, this speaker reaches for his wife's hand- only to have it pull away. This is fine. He knows he has much to make up for, in her eyes.

“*i don't care.” The standing silhouette remarks, holding his arms up in a shrug. “*i'll find a way. i'm sick of this dump and all of you, besides.”

The glowing eye slides to the right, briefly illuminating another worried figure, gangly, tall, opening his mouth to fill the air with shouting words. Under the baleful red light, the skeletal jaw slowly closes, head hung.

“*and i'm not your brother. not anymore.” In the darkness, there is the soft pat of a tear hitting the floor. The others pretend not to hear, but the speaker just grins all the wider. “*i don't care what happens to any of you anymore, but i'm leaving. just try to stop me”

And with that, the speaker turns, sauntering into the abyss with an almost insultingly casual gait. They all watch his form dwindle, fade and disappear.

After a while, the one who had cried stands and follows, without a word.