A choked sob that came out sounding sort of like a laugh was the only sound David made when Elliot responded to his question. "Figured you'd say that," he said with a sniffle.
It was funny, in a way that had absolutely no humor, how visualization and reality could be so different. David had never actually, really imagined his brother's death or anything; quite the contrary, he actually legitimately believed that his brother would outlive this. And that he'd definitely outlive David. He'd always figured a scene like this would unfold when he was older. When they were both older. Gray in the hair with twenty or thirty years more memories under their belts.
And he always envisioned himself knowing what to say. With comforting words and loving sentiments, whether they were memories or promises. Things that would make it easier for the surviving brother to survive, to endure.
But here, in this moment, he had none. He was sure later, when things had settled, he'd have a million things. But now? None.
Elliot offered his hand and David took it, taking a deep breath to try and steady himself and keep the tears from flowing again. "I am too," he said, closing his eyes to push back some tears. "I'm sorry. That... things are like this... that you..." that you're dying and I can't save you.
"I always thought you'd... y'know, see the other side of this. I thought you'd would be there to rebuild." With his family. "I never thought you'd..."
Breathing deep, trying to ignore the lump that was choking him, he put his other hand on the other side of his brother's and gave him a weak smile. "I love you, dude. You know that, right?"
All the time they'd been reunited, he felt like he'd never said it enough.