Each time I wake up, the first thing I do when I open my eyes, is to make sure that he is still lying beside me. Why should he abandon me, I am not sure, but it's something I have to do every morning. When I see him sleep peacefully, I cannot do more but to watch him and smile at him. I run my hand delicately over his cheek, through his hair... I run my fingertips delicately over his closed eyelids; getting acquainted each bit of his skin day by day, running the rest of my fingers over his eyebrows, feeling the furry texture beneath my skin. Inevitably, it becomes a matter of life and death the fact that I need to run nervously my thumb over his lips; as delicate as if the slightest pressure might break them. I want to kiss them, but I don't do it. When he wakes up, I only smile and say "good morning" with the broadest smile I can offer; and then he returns it, still half asleep, rubbing his eyes. He looks like a small kid, with his sleepy face. The day slowly passes, and even though I know everything there is about him, I wonder what new things I can discover today. I know him when he's angry; I've spent all those moments with him. And even though I know I am the rational of the two, the fact that I can't do much to ease his anger, it makes me as furious as him, even though I can keep my cool.

I love his caramel eyes; so expressive and cheerful; and when those eyes are sad, even though I am the mature of the two of us, it makes me incredibly sad seeing them that way. I'd do whatever it takes to see them happy again. I'd leave behind anything just to see him smile one more time. But, when I can't do it, I cry besides him. That is what makes us so close. I spend every single moment of my life with him and for him; I know what makes him smile and cry; I know when I can console him and when I shouldn't do much but stay silently by his side. He is my other half. We arrive to school and in or spare time, when he needs his own space, I watch him from the window of the third floor. I watch him as he speaks to someone else; a beautiful girl with short brown hair and gorgeous big brown eyes. I know what he's telling her: because I know what's on his mind and I can read it in his eyes. He is telling her that he likes someone who doesn't like him back and I keep my cool one more time, but my insides turn as I allow myself the idea that maybe --and just maybe-- he might feel the same feeling I have for him for one second; and as that idea dies, I think "why do you do this to me?" and I take a deep breath and I tell myself "you know he's not talking about you, why do you even think that?" and I can keep going my way as normal as ever, even though there's a new crater in my heart. The day is over and we do club activities where he and I play that I confess my love for him secretly among camouflaged words and he feigns he knows and forbiddingly loves me back. Sometimes, those innocent lies are the ones that give me strength. We return to our home as the sun sets and moon rises; and in the course of the melancholic night, I sometimes can't take it anymore and I fall apart in front of him. He hugs me tenderly in the warmth of our bed and I let my self get lost in his words and caresses. I close my eyes and listen what I want to hear; what I need to hear. What lifts me and nourishes my reason to live; this forbidden feeling for my brother I cannot control. He's the first one to fall asleep and I hug him as hard as I can to make sure he won't leave; to make him be mine. I to go sleep like that every night and I can't help this little tear that escaped from my eyes. My hands slowly make their way up to his hair and I tug on it delicately so he doesn't wake up. I don't want him to see me this way because I am the mature one, this ground and his shoulder; I can't let him see me like this because I am the one that helps him, nourishes and nurtures him. I must not allow him to see me like this, because then he'll know. So I calm down without letting him go. I feel his heartbeat next to mine, his warm breath on my forehead. And as I feel more relaxed and sleepy, the question I've been asking myself since the day I realized who is really on his thoughts: "What will I do, the moment he finds out he wants to take one step further and follow a different road than the one we've been going through all our lives?" I open my eyes one last time before I fall asleep and look at his moonlit-kissed face. I watch him sleep and though I know he loves her, I wish with all my strength he is dreaming about me. Just with that I'll be satisfied; where I become his by nightfall, in his dreams. My eyelids fall, imposing their will; and, slowly, one last thought comes through my mind and my heart before falling asleep. A thought that can only be expressed in one word, as weak as a whisper... "Hikaru..."