"Everyone is entitled to their own sorrow. Hearts are not comparable, nor metric, with no form of measure because all of it is irreplaceable." -Monty Oum

My name is Dirk Strider, and I am presented with a question.

Throughout my life, this question has always been there.

I first saw it on some sort of poster when I was nine.

"What is the best part of you?"

That question has stuck with me ever since.

I`ve thought about it time and time again, wondering what, exactly, the best part of me was.

Could it be that I`m drop-dead gorgeous? That I`m extremely intelligent? Maybe that I`m so humble?

It could be any of these, and it isn`t.

Sitting here, all alone in the darkness of my room, I`ve realized something.

I`m nothing.

I don`t have a best part of myself, because there is no me.

Because there would be no me without Dave.

Dave, who forced the young and irresponsible me to stop pissing around and get my shit together.

Dave, who taught me that I was capable of loving and caring for someone other than myself.

Dave, who has cancer, and who isn`t going to survive.

Dave, who was too stubborn and ashamed of being weak that he told me only when it was too late to save him.

Dave, who brought out the best in me, and the worst.

Dave, who is almost dead, and will probably die today.

When he dies, I`ll have nothing.

When he dies, his bro will die along with him.

My phone rings, and I know. I know before I pick it up.

Before I put it to my ear.

Before I hear the professional voice on the other end.

"Is this Dirk Strider?"

Before I reply that yes, this is indeed Dirk Strider.

I know he`s gone before they tell me, with their falsely sincere apologies.

The old Dirk knew.

But I hang up the phone as a different man.

I`ve become a man with nothing left to live for, nothing left to die for, nothing left at all.

Everything I need to do flashes through my mind, and I`m tired.

The man I am now has aged several years in the course of a few minutes.

The man I am now is nothing.

At the funeral, he stands silent and stoic.

When the lawyer reads out Dave`s will, and he thinks: he`s not old enough to have one of those.

He wasn`t old enough, he means.

When he returns home, just to find an empty apartment.

As he takes a seat on his couch, and takes his ironic anime shades off.

When he puts Dave`s on instead.

Through all of this, he is changed, and he`ll never, ever be the same again.

And as he falls asleep, the last thing in his mind is an image of his brother`s face the last time he saw him. On a day when he`d still had strength.

On the day before he`d died.

On the day before Dirk had died along with him.

As his eyes slide closed, and he releases a hoarse whisper.

"I`m sorry I couldn`t save you this time, Dave."

As it finally sinks in that he is utterly alone.

Dave was the only part of me.

Dave was the best part of me.