Polyamorous.

We've had three perfect days in a row. I mean, I actually got Anaias to go out of the house. We went shopping, out to eat, and it was so good just seeing him smile and laugh. Anaias is absolutely beautiful when he's happy. But if there's one thing that can fuck up a perfect week, it's emotions. Emotions have never been Anaias' favorite thing, but watching him go through them was never mine.

You can see the turmoil in his brown eyes, see the hate, the anger, the sadness. Anaias has the most expressive eyes out of most people and definitely the most expressive out of the three of us. When the boy is breaking down in front of you, it's the most heart wrenching thing to watch. You want to help rein those emotions in, make him happy again, but you can't. You're forced to watch him crumble before you. The innocent heart of a precious boy tainted and dirtied with thoughts and memories that would bring even the most heartless person some pain.

I watch him from the doorway as he stares into the bathroom mirror at the dusting of bruises across his skin. There's a few fading ones, the pair in the shapes of hand prints on his hips and the bite mark on his shoulder. My heart literally burns at knowing that the same man who contributed to our creation was the one who made these. He put these marks on my baby brother to cause him pain and to show that he had ownership of something he never even should have had the audacity to touch.

"They make me sick," he whispers, fists clenching and unclenching on top of the marble counter. "I hate him. I hate me."

I go to open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Instead I watch him crumble to a thousand pieces as fat tears roll down his pale cheeks. He sobs loudly, and I'm barely quick enough to catch him when he collapses, curling up into my arms on the bathroom floor. The grip he has on my arms is so tight that I'm actually worried that his nails may break skin, but I don't dare tell him to let go. I can handle a little bit of discomfort because I know what he's going through hurts so much more. I've been there, done that and now, sadly, it's his turn.

When he finally looks up and opens his eyes, I cringe at the amount of self-loathing I can see in them. I shake my head, brushing his hair back. "You shouldn't hate yourself, but you have every right to hate him. He had no right to do what he's done, no right at all. He don't deserve the satisfaction of making you feel low. You're fucking perfect, Anaias."

"How can you even say that?!" he screams, trying to push away from me. I won't let him go though, not this time. "How can you tell me I'm perfect when we both know that isn't true?!"

"Anaias," I say, still trying to hold onto him as he fights against me. "Anaias. Fucking stay still!"

"No! Let me go. Let me go!" he yells, but luckily, I prevail this time and manage to hold him steady.

"Anaias, look at me. Look at me, okay?" I ask softly, watching as angry brown eyes peer up at me.

"You're perfect. None of what you've been through is going to change my opinion. I hate him for doing that to you, but I also hate a part of me for contributing as well. I hurt you in some of the same ways he did, and though it was out of my control, it still happened. So if there's anyone in this world that you should hate, it's me and him. But definitely not yourself."

That seems to stop the blackette in his tracks, all self-hatred disappearing and being replaced with sadness. "Cal," his small hand reaches for my face, resting against my heated skin. "We've been through some fucked up times, okay. But I will never blame you for what our father made you do. I will never despise you the way I do him. You're my big brother, Callen. I would have taken being under you over being under him any day. You were always gentle with me. And even though it's a sick and twisted thing, for the time that you were there, you kept me together, kept me from falling apart."

Hearing his words nearly makes me fall apart, but I don't cry because I want to be strong for him. He should hate me, really. I never had the intention of causing him the same physical and mental agony as my father, but I suppose loving him the way that I do is a crime of equal worth. Anaias has always meant the world to me, and don't get me wrong, I love Quenton with all my heart. But Anaias is a part of me and was my world for the better part of my life. Being so close and intimate with him, no matter how fucked up the means or the level, was bound to cause us trouble somehow. And it has in the worst form, because I am in love with my younger brother.

"Cal," Anaias whispers, his face dangerously close to my own. His nose rubs against mine, causing my breath to hitch in my throat. As if I could make myself anymore obvious.

"Yeah?" I ask, breathing in the sent of his skin as he hugs me.

"Promise me that you won't continue to harbor this hate for yourself. If I don't get to hate me, you don't get to hate you."

I nod, numbly and the next I know he's pulling me out of his bathroom and into his bed. There are no words said as he curls into my side, cuddling me for all that it's worth. And I remember how much I've missed things like this. When it was just me and him, we'd find ways to be alone and curled up with each other in our beds. It felt like old times, without the fear of a certain man walking in and taking one of us away, or worse: having us both at the same time. I'm not sure I can forgive myself for the things that I was forced to do to him, but if he can forgive me, that's all that matters.

It's not long before I hear sniffles again and feel the wet tears meeting my arm. His sobs are silent, little things. I'm astounded by the fact that he still has the energy to cry. But this is Anaias, and sometimes every emotion must be crossed before he settles down.

"Ani, baby," I say, wrapping my arms tighter around him. He doesn't fight me this time which is a good sign.

"Please, please. Make the pain go away, Callen. I don't want to feel like this anymore," he cries, shaking a little in my arms.

I do the best I can to comfort him without giving in and over-stepping the brotherly boundary because he can't know, he must never know. His fists are curled and his body tensed for the longest time as he cries silently. I do nothing but hold and rock him because I know that telling him that everything would be alright would only prove to make things worse. So when he finally settles, having cried himself to sleep for the umpteenth time in his life, I'm grateful.

I am only one man, but I swear to all that is holy, I will do my best to take his pain and replace it with everything good. No one, especially Anaias, deserves to be a living disaster, no matter how beautiful.