Kevin Lee, most cherished brother, I dare call upon your name as a year changes and the day on which you passed away has come once again. And as I eternally love you and cannot forget your mercy as big and wide as the heavens, I humbly offer you a meal with clear wine and various dishes. He's here. I can feel him.
Chimney Han and the Lees in 7.06, There Goes The Groom.
I cannot even begin to articulate how beautiful and heartbreaking the Kevin moment was.
The idea that this man who Chimney loved as a brother, who he lost too soon, came back to him in his moment of need and pointed him home? The way Kevin is one of his ghosts, but only in the most loving way.
As tragic as it was, losing Kevin brought with it a realization of unconditional love in the Lees—because not only did they manage to love him through the hurt, but they needed him, too. He wasn't a reminder of their pain—he was the son they had left who they could have lost, too, but didn't. He was love and joy, even through all the hurt. They were a family. A little bit broken, but built on the kind of foundation Chimney had never had until them, at least not since he'd lost his mom.
For Kevin to be the one to point him home? To send him to the two people whose unconditional love had kept him alive, if only in their hearts? To the parents who'd raised them both and didn't deserve to lose another son? To the two people who had never let him down?
dating simulator where it starts normal but it slowly becomes clear that all of the romanceable characters are attempting to cover up an extremely specific murder they committed a year ago before you arrived
EVERY SINGLE DAY there are MILLIONS of characters in their late 20s who get falsely accused of being father figures to teenagers when in reality the description of "weird older cousin" or "step-sibling that moved out before you were born" is 1000000x more apt