Charlie walked into the house, just getting back from making a trip to the store. He only went to the store to try to pick up chicks, but had no luck (which was odd for him).
"Hey, Alan, you home?" he asked, getting no response.
Hmm, odd. His car is in the garage but he's not answering me. Eh, he probably went for a walk on the beach or something.
Charlie walked into the kitchen, and saw Alan, laying in the floor, blood everywhere. He ran over, panicked, kneeling down next to his little brother.
No, no, no, this—this isn't happening! He's faking—he's playing a joke on me, I know it.
"Alan… wake up, this isn't funny!" Charlie said, shaking him.
He felt for a pulse, but couldn't find one. That and the fact that his brother was just starting to feel cold confirmed Charlie's fear. He pulled Alan into his lap and held him, trying to hold back tears. Charlie never showed much emotion, but he loved Alan. He was a strong person, but Alan was all he really had, and now, he's gone.
"Why? Why would you do this to yourself?" Charlie whispered. "Did you even think of Jake?"
He sat there for a minute and then it all hit him like a ton of bricks.
Alan did this because… because of how Charlie treated him.
"Oh, Alan… I thought you would've known that I was always saying those things as a way to show that I loved you. Dammit, I loved you. I still do, I always will… didn't you know that? I'm sorry, Alan… I was a horrible brother to you."