"It was almost nostalgic, you know?" Gunther said, a deep, dark humour to his voice as he spoke up after a moment of silence. Rhys glanced at him, and Gunther had dropped his other hand, his other still wrapped around Rhys' on his knee. He was twisting the sheet between his fingers with his other, his face streaked with tears.
His eyes were distant, remembering something that Rhys wished he wouldn't, that he wouldn't think back on his time with his parents with even an ounce of kindness, but that was what made him and Gunther different.
Gunther still loved his parents.
Rhys knew part of it was the brainwashing, but it still twisted him up inside that they had been dead longer then Rhys and Gunther had been alive at this point. Yet, they still had a place in Gunther's heart. Rhys wondered if that was the difference between S Class and A Class.
