Kyle's expression collapses into pity, and it hurts. Wilhelm isn't stupid. He knows that his brother is never coming back, not really. But that doesn't mean there can't be something left of him, somewhere out there. Maybe, in these darkest and narrowest hours, that something has reached out to him for a reason. He doesn't know. All he knows is two things: that Erik's voice is just like he remembers — he'd almost forgotten — and that he can trust Erik. He's always had more faith in his brother than in himself.

It's up to you now, Wille.

"No." He's shaking his head, an endless stream of denial. His eyes shine like glass, broken and jagged; his jaw pulls tight. As he releases Kyle, his fingers trace the face of his watch, the one that used to belong to Erik. It's one of the few things that survived the crash, and he's never without it when he visits the Horizon.

Wilhelm isn't weak either. He refuses to be.

"I'm not going to die in here, and I'm not letting anyone else die either. You taught me how to defend myself, Kyle. My whole fucking life I've just protected myself, or...or let others protect me, but I can't—" His voice breaks. "I can't watch them die. I can't."

One moment, he's angrily swiping his knuckles under his eyes, and the next— He's gone.