Bitterroot Valley feels like we only go backwards

"Have you tried turning it off and back on again?"
Well, Alarian could officially say that he had, even if unintentionally. The blissful dark fell heavy like a cloak upon him, but was ripped away all too soon. Somewhere between his brother's apologies, he had already started to stir. His limbs and head felt heavy, wrapped thickly in a malnutrition-and-stress-fueled fog. And for a moment— for a moment, all his sharp edges softened, his raw places soothed.
He was just too tired to hold on to it anymore; too tired to fight the way Zamael had always drawn him in. Alarian's eyes fluttered open, breath hitching as he shifted— into his brother's embrace, rather than away. I'm sorry, The words tumbled from him before he could stop them, shame rising in his chest as he realized what had just happened. I'm— tired.
It was a lie, and it wasn't; a complaint, and an explanation for too many things to pinpoint now. He was quiet again, heart racing again as he realized that whether he liked it or not, he needed his brother. Maybe more than he ever had.