Sicksicksick.
003.
The older one sighed inwardly as he walked down the hall. He was clad in just his boxers and his pyjama t-shirt. It had been bought for him by his younger brother, in the hopes that he would realise the Superman logo emblazoned on the front was referring to him.
‘I could stab you for making my heart hurt this much.’ He thought.
Although the words were violent, the dictionary he used to define them made them work in the most affectionate way. He didn’t mean that he could live with killing his baby brother; he meant that he couldn’t live without him in the most ironic way.
His adoration for his baby brother had been blatantly obvious from the moment he saw him. He had been wearing denim jeans in a three-year-old’s size, and a bright red t-shirt with a dinosaur stitched to the front. When he first looked up into his mother’s arms to see the ‘bundle of joy’ his parents were talking about, he had torn out a chunk of his heart, and given it to him, right there and then. His parents could see the affection, but they were happily unaware of the level it had progressed to, fifteen years later.
And every time Gerard looked at his brother, it was the same. Nothing had changed since the moment they met; everything always seemed so new to them both. It was like they had only just realised that their eyes matched, or that their hair colours were so contrasting. To outsiders of their little screwed up world, they looked like nothing more than friends; they didn’t look like brothers from a glance.
But that’s the point, isn’t it? You can never tell someone’s past, or their story from a glance. Stony stares from the world can do nothing compared to what being under the microscope can see.
“Dude?” the younger asks, poking his head out from his doorway. “What are you doing up?”
“You’re one to talk, aren’t you?” he replied sarcastically.
The words, again, were not the nicest the man could have picked, but they meant the same as a whispered, ‘I love you,’ from his mouth.
“Yep,” he smiled. He could sense that his brother wasn’t annoyed at his question. His very aura was laid back and relaxed, now his older brother was here – he felt comforted.
The aura of his brother was suddenly tense. Wouldn’t you be? In the very presence of the only one who could do that to you in the middle of the night? Especially with the close blood ties?
Think about how you’d feel, and then judge others.
He felt wrong inside. He was thinking about his baby brother in such a dirty way. It was not just incest, it was paedophilia, too.
‘It would only ever happen under the ruling statuary rape. Not paedophilia,’ the voice inside his head told him. He knew the voice was right, he could never; not if he didn’t want to.
And he could never want to, could he? He was too angel-like to commit this demon sin.
“Go to bed.” The older one ordered, knowing it wouldn’t work.
“I don’t wanna,” he replied. “Will you come and have a chat with me? I can’t sleep.”
“Fine, but after my shower.”
The younger one agreed, and the older walked off to the bathroom, stripping and clambering into the shower. He turned the temperature down to a heat that would make the masses shiver and spun around the dial that would send liquid from the water tank pouring out, pounding on his back.
Twenty minutes later, the older boy was sat on his younger brother’s bed, staring at his perfectly contoured mouth as it moved, letting his articulate thoughts flow out.
“What happens when you love someone with all your heart, but you know they’ll never love you?”
“I don’t know, bro. I don’t know what you’re supposed to do.” The older stated.
He knew what he had done, but he knew if he told him of his antagonizing want, his baby brother would pry too deep into his thoughts. So instead, he stated the way he was not an Agony Aunt, and how he didn’t know the textbook answer.
“Oh.” He replied simply.
“But you never know. They could love you, just as much. You should tell them.”
“Do you think I’m gay?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“Because you didn’t say ‘tell her’. You said ‘tell them’. You were implying that I’m gay.”
He only smiled at the boy, he acted like he had swallowed a dictionary. For a fifteen year old, he was a Brainiac. The boy was wrong though, it couldn’t be further from the facts – he was certain he was straight; it was his faint twinge of longing that made him old on to the hope that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t quite as straight as a ruler.
“No, I don’t think you’re gay. Now, it’s late, go to sleep.”
The younger didn’t object. He’d do anything to obey his big brother’s wishes; he, unlike other teenagers, realised that the ones who were older than you were more probably wiser and more experienced.
He rolled over, burying his fists in the cotton bed sheets, and hiding his closed hazel eyes in the pillow. His entire body was curled up in a foetus’s position. He was soon asleep, it was late and he was tired.
“I love you, baby.” The elder whispered, kissing his lover’s forehead. “I love you so much more than I should.”
He paused, stroking away some of the stray strands of hair that had laid themselves over his face.
“And nothing could ever change that. I love you.”
He walked away, in silence, back to his bed. He curled up just as his baby brother had, and fell asleep, pretty much as soon as his head hit the pillow.
Across the corridor, in the other room, the younger’s eyes fluttered open with the sound of the closing door. A quick scan of the room told him that he was alone.
“I love you too.” He whispered into the darkness.
‘I could stab you for making my heart hurt this much.’ He thought.
Although the words were violent, the dictionary he used to define them made them work in the most affectionate way. He didn’t mean that he could live with killing his baby brother; he meant that he couldn’t live without him in the most ironic way.
His adoration for his baby brother had been blatantly obvious from the moment he saw him. He had been wearing denim jeans in a three-year-old’s size, and a bright red t-shirt with a dinosaur stitched to the front. When he first looked up into his mother’s arms to see the ‘bundle of joy’ his parents were talking about, he had torn out a chunk of his heart, and given it to him, right there and then. His parents could see the affection, but they were happily unaware of the level it had progressed to, fifteen years later.
And every time Gerard looked at his brother, it was the same. Nothing had changed since the moment they met; everything always seemed so new to them both. It was like they had only just realised that their eyes matched, or that their hair colours were so contrasting. To outsiders of their little screwed up world, they looked like nothing more than friends; they didn’t look like brothers from a glance.
But that’s the point, isn’t it? You can never tell someone’s past, or their story from a glance. Stony stares from the world can do nothing compared to what being under the microscope can see.
“Dude?” the younger asks, poking his head out from his doorway. “What are you doing up?”
“You’re one to talk, aren’t you?” he replied sarcastically.
The words, again, were not the nicest the man could have picked, but they meant the same as a whispered, ‘I love you,’ from his mouth.
“Yep,” he smiled. He could sense that his brother wasn’t annoyed at his question. His very aura was laid back and relaxed, now his older brother was here – he felt comforted.
The aura of his brother was suddenly tense. Wouldn’t you be? In the very presence of the only one who could do that to you in the middle of the night? Especially with the close blood ties?
Think about how you’d feel, and then judge others.
He felt wrong inside. He was thinking about his baby brother in such a dirty way. It was not just incest, it was paedophilia, too.
‘It would only ever happen under the ruling statuary rape. Not paedophilia,’ the voice inside his head told him. He knew the voice was right, he could never; not if he didn’t want to.
And he could never want to, could he? He was too angel-like to commit this demon sin.
“Go to bed.” The older one ordered, knowing it wouldn’t work.
“I don’t wanna,” he replied. “Will you come and have a chat with me? I can’t sleep.”
“Fine, but after my shower.”
The younger one agreed, and the older walked off to the bathroom, stripping and clambering into the shower. He turned the temperature down to a heat that would make the masses shiver and spun around the dial that would send liquid from the water tank pouring out, pounding on his back.
Twenty minutes later, the older boy was sat on his younger brother’s bed, staring at his perfectly contoured mouth as it moved, letting his articulate thoughts flow out.
“What happens when you love someone with all your heart, but you know they’ll never love you?”
“I don’t know, bro. I don’t know what you’re supposed to do.” The older stated.
He knew what he had done, but he knew if he told him of his antagonizing want, his baby brother would pry too deep into his thoughts. So instead, he stated the way he was not an Agony Aunt, and how he didn’t know the textbook answer.
“Oh.” He replied simply.
“But you never know. They could love you, just as much. You should tell them.”
“Do you think I’m gay?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“Because you didn’t say ‘tell her’. You said ‘tell them’. You were implying that I’m gay.”
He only smiled at the boy, he acted like he had swallowed a dictionary. For a fifteen year old, he was a Brainiac. The boy was wrong though, it couldn’t be further from the facts – he was certain he was straight; it was his faint twinge of longing that made him old on to the hope that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t quite as straight as a ruler.
“No, I don’t think you’re gay. Now, it’s late, go to sleep.”
The younger didn’t object. He’d do anything to obey his big brother’s wishes; he, unlike other teenagers, realised that the ones who were older than you were more probably wiser and more experienced.
He rolled over, burying his fists in the cotton bed sheets, and hiding his closed hazel eyes in the pillow. His entire body was curled up in a foetus’s position. He was soon asleep, it was late and he was tired.
“I love you, baby.” The elder whispered, kissing his lover’s forehead. “I love you so much more than I should.”
He paused, stroking away some of the stray strands of hair that had laid themselves over his face.
“And nothing could ever change that. I love you.”
He walked away, in silence, back to his bed. He curled up just as his baby brother had, and fell asleep, pretty much as soon as his head hit the pillow.
Across the corridor, in the other room, the younger’s eyes fluttered open with the sound of the closing door. A quick scan of the room told him that he was alone.
“I love you too.” He whispered into the darkness.