Instead of Oxygen

Inspired by this part of horsie890's story The Echo Never Fades.

Me rushing to catch him as he fell, getting a permanent rust-colored bloodstain on my bass. And not caring.

Me holding my brother’s still-warm body, his fresh blood painting his black shirt a dull red that glistened in the bright lights of the stage, his terrified hazel eyes staring up at me as the life poured out of him and onto the stage in a pool of red ink.

First story ever that has made me cry, over a year ago. This was written for her. I suggest you read her story before or after you read this to understand the full concept.

For now, read on.