A World Without End
Summary: It is a beautiful day, and Takumi is dying.
Pairing/s: Souma/Takumi, Isami/Takumi
Warning/s: slash, incest, polygamy (and angst written by an amateur ;_;)
A/N: I'm going to try writing SouTaku fluff next; these dorks aren't meant for angst.
Death is a leeway from wickedness, for he will drag his sins and secrets to Hell with him
It is a beautiful day, and Takumi is dying.
He holds onto his twin brother's hand, a tight grip of physical contact to remind him that yes, this is real and he's not left behind. But Takumi wonders not for the first time if Isami's simply acting, waiting for the time the fire in Takumi would die and fade away so that the remaining better brother can step away from the blonde's shadows and become his own light.
And he would burn brighter than Takumi, and all those that neared him would burn and fade, too, like dusky moths that searched for reassurance that everything's okay and they are okay.
Perhaps, in another life, Takumi would become a moth to Isami's light.
But he wouldn't mind, not when he was the dark simply parading around in bright vibrant colors of yellow, white and blue. Not like this. Never like this.
He felt forbidden things for his brother and he was better off dead, anyway.
Perfection is but a mask, and he shall attain it, for his evils are a burden that are his and his alone
Isami strived to become better, better than his bestest greatest brother because he wanted to hide such a beautiful thing in his too long limbs from a world without end – a broken player that only knows how to repeat reminders of hurt, ache and longing. His brother was simply too precious for that.
He would lead an army head on if it meant keeping Takumi safe. And he cannot fail, he can never ever fail because failure meant pain, and he didn't want to see those eyes the color of the sky – so much like his own, Isami muses, but far more pure and untouched and alive – worrying for Isami because he wasn't worthy of his love, not when he harbors a love so unlike his brother's.
Isami cannot fall in love with his not-look-alike twin because it is a sin, evil and disgusting.
But he did, anyway, and he wouldn't want to mar his beautiful chaste brother with something so wicked, a love like his.
So he would hide behind a mask of calm with his grinning and laughing – and it would be so easy, because Takumi is such a dork that he finds himself wanting to protect that smile because wow, it feels so good seeing himself like that.
And he would lead an army for his brother, his friend, his love. Or die trying.
And he shall become detached, for he is much too scared to love, much too insecure for love
Souma can never take Takumi seriously, no, not when it meant having to confront a bothersome feeling such as love.
The only experience the redhead has with love is cooking, but that didn't count, did it? No, of course not. Cooking didn't make him feel horny, didn't make him feel all weird inside and made his heart dance a wild rhythm of thump thump ba-thump and didn't make him feel such an overwhelming urge to kiss the blonde senseless and decorate him with lots and lots of bite marks that marked him his, that made him Souma's most treasured person and he was his, only his.
And he knows he's not the only one.
"Did you see Takumi-kun today?"
"Yeah. Quite hard not to, with a face as pretty as that."
"Heh, and a cute butt to match!" Laughter rang from the room, half-lewd, half-wistful. It was always the same; people pinning for things they could never have, people pinning for those they could never hold close, always ending up hurt if they pushed the feelings too far.
From dark corners to cubicles and gym lockers, Yukihira Souma knows he's not the only one.
And he is damned twice for a feeling he cannot control, for his love belongs to two men far beyond his reach
The first time Takumi sees Souma, it's his hair that captures his attention. It was such a beautiful red that looked like the setting sun against the blue of Takumi's eyes, so much like the color of blood that coats his sinful heart that beats only for his brother Isami that it sends a painful tug to his being.
Because the first time Takumi sees Souma is the second time he falls in love. And it was wrong because according to the books and legends and songs that were sung to the world long before his birth, you cannot fall in love with two people at the same time.
Then again, you weren't supposed to be having incestuous feelings for your twin brother.
But it was unfair, really, to want someone that barely gives you the time of his day. He honestly didn't think his beating organ littered with invisible scars and bruises could handle any more pain, because it hurt, dammit, and all Takumi ever wanted was for someone to care – the kind of care his Mother told him grand stories about, the one that defied every single thing because love does wonders when she was tucking her son to sleep.
Perhaps his Mother lulled him to dreamland with mere sweet nothings, but Takumi wanted to make them a reality. Then again, they are illusions and the world that he lives in is real. Dreams don't last forever. But when they do, the world isn't dead.
It's him.
They decided to take a chance in a World Without End for surely a love as pure as theirs cannot, can never be evil
Perhaps Hell is good, for their sin is beautiful
Takumi drowns himself in the rain as they rush past him in an onslaught of freedom, his heart going out to these drops of tears that Heaven showers the world with – do angels cry? – and for the first time in a long while, he feels welcome. He is not alone because everyone lives under the same sky and –
– and he is alone because the sky that he knows is Isumi's sky and the determination for improvement is shared with that stupid annoying Yukihira with that stupid annoying smile that he can never call his, can never be his.
And to Takumi's shock and horror, his eyes grow heavy with clouds and it rains.
He weeps with the world for an innocence loss to the cruel winds.
The truth feels so wrong – but so right, because they know that it is right and their beliefs are simply contradicting them – that perhaps it's what's real
Souma meanwhile gathers the courage to try, because even in his dreams the face of Takumi haunts him. It is always there, constantly lurking around and he cannot and will not get the blonde out of his head because there was something simply so right about it and Soma can never bring it in himself to push him away, not when he couldn't see Takumi in the flesh to remind him that this is what he should do, that this was right.
So he stalks the night with awkward shuffles before he reaches Takumi's apartment – and Isami's, he remembers – and rings the doorbell, fidgeting with his umbrella and waits with the drip drip and pitter patter keeping him company.
Light peeks underneath the door and Souma leans forward in anticipation and it's not Takumi but Isami and the words that was creeping from his throat and out into the open is fleeing because it's not Takumi.
Isami's knuckles are white as they grip the wooden slab and he knows, Soma knows, Takumi Aldini is not there.
When the beautiful boy returns, the floorboards creaking as the sole of his shoes trudges inside the room warmed by fire – so familiar yet infinitely foreign because their sun is Takumi, not this– the two of them practically shoot upright and bombard him with questions.
Takumi at first is confused but immediately flusters, Souma and Isami's shouting flying over his pretty head, distracted by unspoken thoughts of how happy he is that the boys that he loves are there, and they do care, even if it wasn't the kind of care he wanted.
The blonde blue-eyed bombshell vaguely hears his brother asking him if he's okay, because his face is red and did he catch a cold from the rain?
And Takumi, living up to his name of 'dork', answers. "Of course I'm fine, Isami! Because the boys I'm in love with care enough to worry about me!"
He beams, and Souma gawks while his sibling blinks, dumfounded. He just confessed that… wait, what? He did not just say that, did he?!
But he did, and the blonde gives a gasp of his own. "E-err, I mean, the boys that I love as a friend and brother because, y'know, even if I did love the two of you, I totally would not tell the either one of you and… um, yeah?" But the truth is out, and they will be – no, they are disgusted by him.
Takumi scrunched his face because he thinks he's going to cry and he's pretty sure he's going to cry and a sniffle or two escapes him. He burieshis face on trembling palms and is caressed by calloused hands that are not his and feels chapped lips warm his own and too long limbs wrap around his back, and it's okay, they're okay.
Apples bloom on Takumi's cheeks, and Isami and Souma's fates are sealed.
Maybe their love is not as hopeless as it seems. And they'll make it work. Somehow.
A/N: Just to let you know, I am aware that the term 'bestest' isn't really correct. But it sounded somewhat fitting here- or, at least it did for me. So I won't remove it. Also, reviews (especially criticisms) are welcome, because this is the first time I've written a story (or a series of angsty dabbles) seriously. It's not mostly made up of dialogues (which is my forte, and there's barely any here) but I really wanted to write a slash story for the fandom. I do hope that you'd enjoy this. Like I said, I'm going to work on pure SouTaku fluff next (and probably a poor attempt at writing lemons, lol).
