"I'm sorry it has to be this way, brother." I remember Michael telling me. Of course, he wasn't really sorry. If he were he would've let me stay. Did I really deserve this? It sure didn't feel like it. He gently touched my arm, trying to comfort me. I jerked my head to the side. I wasn't about to let him see the tears that are flowing steadily down my cheeks, that would show I was weak. If I showed I was weak, well, he would win. I couldn't let him win. It was so unfair, being kicked out of heaven for what I did. Even now, I still don't think it's that bad, in the grand scheme of things.I didn't want to leave, I wanted to stay right where I was, with Michael. He would never admit it, but we had some pretty great times there. Especially when we were together. I was just a kid in his eyes, but that didn't stop him from loving me the way he did. For a moment, guilt overtook me and I was tempted to throw his arms around him, tell him how I really felt, cry into his shoulder. But I didn't.

Michael sighs. He put his hand on my cheek, turning my face towards his. I notice he's crying, but that didn't mean anything. After all, why would he care? He only wanted me for sex, right? I didn't flinch as he filled the gap between our tear-stained faces, kissing me softly, compassionately. I can't remember him ever kissing me like that before, usually he was rough, controlling. I couldn't help but hold the kiss and close my eyes, hoping he never lets go. But he does. After a few blissful minutes, he pulls away, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "I really am sorry." His voice is soft, choked. I hadn't realised how hard he'd been crying before I heard him speak.

"Please don't make me go." I whisper desperately, knowing full well he won't change his mind. Michael smiles sadly, pulling something out of his jacket, and handing it to me. Looking at the object in my hands, I'm confused. I'm holding a stuffed toy rabbit, something meant to be owned by a child, no doubt. It's fake fur is a pale blue and it's dark eyes are large and lonely. Looking at it I choke back a sob, as Michael pulls me into a tight hug.

"If you ever need to talk brother, pray for me. I'll listen." Michael whispers, letting me go. The next thing I know, I'm falling, still clutching the toy like my life depends on it. The pain is intense, my very grace is burning, and I feel my power fading. I dare to glance one more time at the sky, at my former home, at my brother. "I'll listen" he said. But he never did. Not once in all the times I prayed for him, did he answer me.