Ah, to Grieve for Those Who Are Imaginary

I was mapping out the plot line for a project of mine, sort of a Steampunk/neo-industrial queer movement and romance bit, when I came to the heartbreaking realization that one of my two protagonists would have to die.

No seriously, this was heartbreaking. For one thing, he's the sweetest character imaginable. He's firm in his beliefs, is loyal to a fault, and kindhearted. (No, he's not a male Mary Sue. He has his own issues, not to be discussed at this time.) Anyway, he's basically the kind of character you fall in love with.

And he has to die.

Why, you might ask?

Well, because stories don't always have happy endings! Because sometimes bad things happen to good people! And because if I _don't_ kill him off, the story will be converted to instant cheese.

But it is a very sad thing for me to deal with. Which made me realize that I had become very attached to my character. Not so much as one might care for a child, but certainly more than a simple plot device.

To give you an idea of what this character (Cain) is like, here's a fragment of the story:

_The Kitrich's looked up hopefully as he stepped into the room with a weary smile. Their son might have been eleven or twelve, and looked absolutely miserable.

In moments, it was like Turner Street didn't even exist. Cain was back in his office on Porter Lane, and he was Doctor Tadlock, not just a rat in the walls. He slipped his eyeglasses on and knelt down to give the boy a smile. "Hello, I'm Dr. Tadlock. What's your name?"
Liza came quietly to the door, twisting a rag around her hands.

"Cal," the boy answered. He was pale with fever. "Cal Kitrich, sir."

"A good name," Cain murmured, pressing his hand to the boy's forehead. "I bet a boy like you is learning his numbers now, aren't you?"
"I don't go to school, sir."

Cain faltered, but went on as though he had expected this. _

It makes me feel like a terrible monster to kill him off.

I will probably need therapy after this.