"We've been able to retrieve some of the bodies from the water." The man speaking had a long face, pink cheeks, and hat covering what was probably a bald spot on his head. "Set them out for claiming. If you recognize anybody, tell us and we'll add 'em to the list."

The teenager nodded briskly. His white-blond hair was plastered to his forehead and jaw, deep violet eyes roughened like a stormy ocean.

Eirik wasn't stupid.

Judging by his tattered clothes and lack of umbrella or hat, the director had assumed he would know somebody from the sinking. But Eirik wasn't ready for the man to be correct yet.

Layers of frostbitten, marble-esque corpses lay strewn in front of him. Eirik paced down the rows, arms hanging limply at his sides as he walked. His father would have gotten on to him about that if he were here. Eirik didn't think his walking was important at the moment.

What startled him the most were the abundance of men fixed in front of him. Some of them were barely his age, or younger than him. He passed a young man with frozen spectacles planted on his face.

As he neared the end of the line, a small bout of hope swelled in Eirik's stomach. He hadn't seen Niels' yet—maybe he had gone to their house. His father would come to pick him up, and Niels would place a hand on his shoulder and they would finally see each other.

It was too good to be true.

Eirik had gotten to end. It seemed as if God taunted him, by placing his brother's body last in the row. To build up his hope, only to crush it by the end. Niels' eyes were still open, royal blue and glazed over, looking to the dark sky above him. His skin was sinewy and even paler than usual, lips parted ever so slightly. Gold, silk hair adorned icy chimes, light curls splayed out onto the ground below him. Eirik knew not to get his hopes up. His heart seemed to drop to his stomach as he noticed a gleam just above Niels' left ear; the teenager kneeled close to his brother and allowed a finger to brush against the gold cross. It intertwined down the crevasses and contours and was cold to the touch.

Eirik couldn't believe Niels had actually kept the pin. He'd given it to him around four year ago through the mail and thought it was too feminine for his brother. Apparently not; it was lustrous even after settling in the freezing water.

The young boy almost unclipped it but stopped himself halfway through the action. "It looks better on you, Niels," he decided and let it be.

He checked Niels' pockets, self-conscious by the unwavering stare of a woman a few feet next to him. She was standing over the body of another young blonde man, eyes closed as if he was asleep before drowning.

Eirik came across a mushy, chipped corner of a picture jammed into Niels' pocket. He furrowed his brows and tentatively worked his way to investigate further. It took a good five minutes before Eirik truly realized what it was.

A young, chubby-faced child stared back up at him, hair rustled and pieces sticking up all over the places.

His younger self was pouting to the camera.

Eirik didn't care about the young woman next to him. He choked back a sob and sat in front of Niels, legs crossed and tears plopping onto the picture below him. He locked hands with his brother and the gates broke. The tears came freely.

They had such a profound bond and never were able to reunite.

He stayed with his brother for an hour.

He had nothing else to lose.