Here's the link of FF.net

and here it is if you can't be bothered.

She had had enough. No matter what she did, she couldn't gain the approval or affection from the brother the loved so much. Why? Why didn't he love her back? What was she doing wrong? She sat in the courtyard, crying into her knees, her knife resting beside her. This wasn't unusual; she had been there every day for the past few weeks. She picked up the knife and sank its blade into her wrist, slicing across. She felt the brief ecstasy that came with it, the release of tension and blood soaking into the grass around her. She stared at her wrist and blinked through her tears and was suddenly angry. She wasn't the problem. He was. For some reason or other, her brother was in denial. He was the stubborn one. She knew she couldn't change her brother's mind, though. No one could. She felt the stinging sadness again, and a desperation, a longing to be wanted, to be held; a wish, she feared, that would not come true.

He had slipped away from the meetings to check up on her, as he always did this past week. Through no magic did he turn invisible; he just was, and always had been. He would watch her from the distance and every time, he felt his heart tear as her skin would, and he wanted to go to her, to be her savior. But he could not. He would remain rooted to his spot, watching in a combination of agony and longing. But his courage would wane and he'd walk away, the sounds of her sobs echoing in his mind.

Today was different. He trudged forward as she sobbed, still staring at her wrist. He kept quiet, he made no sound to indicate to her that he was there. He was behind her now, breath caught as she stewed in her laments. She looked to her wrist and clenched her jaw, squeezing her eyes shut, and rose the blade to make a deeper, lasting scar through her wrist. Alarm went through his body and he quickly grabbed her arm, stopping her from stabbing herself.

She gasped, but no one said a thing. She didn't turn to look back; she remained frozen in time, contemplating her actions. Her shoulders shook as she silently sobbed, and muttered softly, loud enough only for him to hear. "...Thank you... my guardian angel." He took the knife from her, and sat down behind her, letting his arms wrap around her waist and she leaned back into his chest, sniffling and muttering apologies.

He smelled of crisp winter air and prairie wheat, and she felt warm in his arms. He wasn't her brother. But she wasn't complaining. And for the first time in a long time, she smiled.