Trigger Warnings for Incest, Child Abuse, and Underage kissing. Please tread carefully or turn back for your health!
Sae-hyung, it hurts, the words whimpered inside his brain.
Saeyoung tightened his hand around the empty beer can, the crunch of compressed metal adding to the sounds that grated against his eardrums.
He couldn't send back words of comfort, but he willed his heartbeat to remain a steady force beside Saeran, something for Saeran to hold onto that didn't involve pain.
From the way Saeran clutched desperately at his chest, he knew it worked.
From the way Saeran sobbed I love you through their connection, he knew it reached him.
I love you too, Saeyoung sent back with all his might. He knew it wouldn't reach Saeran, no matter how hard he tried—their connection just didn't work that way. But it still didn't stop his desperation, his attempt to change their fate.
The scene before him was blurring and Saeran became nothing more than a shapeless blob.
"Say it," their mother hissed and Saeyoung fiercely blinked clarity back into his vision. It was ugly, this reality, but if Saeran was going to suffer through this, the very least—the very least—he could do was be here with him.
"I did…" Saeran had his tears buried into the crook of the arm pressed against his folded knees ("Don't you dare look at your brother for help," she snapped). The other arm remained outstretched by the vice that was their mother's grip, her cigarette twisted into his skin.
I'm here, he tried to send. He prayed his heartbeat to do what his thoughts couldn't—I won't leave you alone.
He saw Saeran's head jerk once.
I know, Saeyoung heard and he had to push back a new wave of tears.
Instead, he began praying (to God? To some abstract entity of mercy?) that this would end.
"I said say it!" she screamed, digging a manicured nail into Saeran's wrist.
"I-I deserve th-this," Saeran stuttered but none of his words were muffled by his position.
Twenty-four. Twenty-four minutes since the last time he slipped the sedative into their mother's beer. The sedation should be taking effect any time now and at that point, mother wouldn't know up from down. From there, it would take another thirty minutes for the mixture to knock her out completely, which is wonderful but what he needed was the first half-hour a half-hour ago.
He should've done it the moment she woke up.
He should've been faster.
He should've, he should've…
(But he was too comfortable with Saeran in his arms this morning, not wanting to think of the inevitable with his brother's warmth safely tucked against his chest.)
"Say it again!" she screeched this time.
(He didn't want to think about anything but the familiar scent from Saeran's hair or the small hands that trustingly laid between their sleeping bodies.)
"I deserve this!" he cried out.
(And Saeran paid for his complacency, his selfishness, as always.)
You don't deserve this, he swallowed down as he kept his stare blank but trained on Saeran. He didn't dare look away, didn't dare stop making notes on what wounds to look out for on Saeran—or on what he would have to convince Saeran of differently later on.
You don't deserve this, he didn't say because he would just be asking for Saeran to get punished more. Every bad thing Saeyoung did, Saeran was punished for instead. Every good thing Saeran did, Saeyoung was praised for instead.
You don't deserve this, he wanted to beg Saeran to understand because he knew Saeran believed their mother's lies.
While never once applying those lies to Saeyoung.
Saeyoung understood why their mother chose to punish Saeran out of the two of them. Saeran was the one who was scared enough of their mother to listen to her whenever she demanded something of them. Saeran was the one who never once looked angrily at their mother, who said sorry to both of them for being sick so much. Who begged Saeyoung to let him sleep with the rope on so that Mother wouldn't find it off of him.
Saeran was the light.
And that meant there would be darkness on all sides trying to destroy everything that he was.
"It's okay, Sae-hyung," Saeran murmured.
It had been twenty minutes later.
They were back upstairs while their mother remained downstairs, where she would be on the floor unconscious at this point. Later, Saeyoung would have to go downstairs to put pillows under her and a blanket over her because if not, she would blame Saeran again for waking up cold, uncomfortable, on the floor, and aching all over.
As much as Saeyoung would like to drug her into another deep slumber (You're no better than her, a voice inside him sneered. I'd be worse if it meant protecting him, he acknowledged with resignation), V and Rika told him he couldn't use it for more than two days a week and this was already the second day. And he doesn't want to actually kill her.
He plays around with the idea. He does.
He's not sure which of his self-hatred is stronger: for wanting to do it or for not having done it already.
And he can't stop himself from wishing to commit the deed, especially when he looks down at the mottle of bruises and marks on the arm alongside today's burn marks.
"Saeran-ah," Saeyoung started sternly. He looked up from the napkin-wrapped ice cube he was holding against Saeran's most recent wound.
Saeran curled in on himself further as he kept his stare on the floor. But one arm was still bent up to play with Saeyoung's sleeve as the other remained outstretched—on his own volition, this time—to let Saeyoung treat him.
"But I'm not," Saeran feebly protested. It was the only reason why Saeyoung didn't tell him to stop. Because damn him if he were to ever take away Saeran's right to tell him no. Even over this. "I'm not a light. If there's anyone who should be a light, it's you."
Saeyoung closed his eyes brief at that and, oh, if only Saeran knew.
It was times like these where he was selfishly glad their connection was a one-way valve.
Saeran could feel his nervousness, but he didn't know it was because V and Rika set him up with a shadow company to temporarily shut down an energy source in a city neighborhood and he was desperate to accomplish it.
Saeran could feel his guilt, but he didn't know it was because he would drug their mother twice a week.
Saeran could feel his sadness, but he didn't know it was because there were times Saeyoung lost all hope and could barely muster enough energy to keep Saeran from feeling the same.
"It's okay if we don't agree with each other." Saeyoung felt Saeran's fingertips press against his cheek and Saeyoung opened his eyes again. He felt blessed (this is proof right? Proof that God exists) at being able to see Saeran's simple, genuine smile. "That's why we're halves of each other right? One half can give each other encouragement when the other half isn't able to."
That's what makes us one half of a whole, Saeran whispered, caressing the aching thoughts inside Saeyoung.
Rika explained to him what falling in love felt like. The butterflies in your stomach. The rush of happiness in your veins. The skipping of heartbeats and the focusing of thoughts around The One.
Rika told him that the love he felt for Saeran was different from the love she was describing. Saeyoung had no choice to believe her because there was no way he'd ever question Rika or V. Whether they were wrong or right was out of the question because he owed every part of himself to them. Either way, they were always right.
But it was times like these—in the very deepest depths of his mind—Saeyoung couldn't help but question the validity of their teachings.
"You're right, Saeran-ah," Saeyoung chirped, uncovering the burn mark on Saeran's arm so that he could deliver a sweet nuzzle. "See? This is why you're my better half!" At the sight of red splashing over Saeran's cheeks, he grinned in the only way he could when he was with Saeran.
You're my better half too, Saeran responded shyly, even as he lightly whacked Saeyoung on his bicep, much to Saeyoung's amusement. But then Saeran frowned, his blush receding just as his smiled twisted into a frown. "Sae-hyung…" he repeated, seriously this time. Oh…our hands.
Saeyoung barely held back a sigh. Damn bond.
In an attempt to distract Saeyoung, he bumped his nose against Saeran's hand. "Yes, Saeran-ah?"
To no avail.
"Your hand is getting too cold again," Saeran said, concernedly looked at the ice cube Saeyoung was still holding.
Saeyoung reached over to blow the fringe of Saeran's hair upwards. "It's okay, Saeran-ah."
"Hyung!" Saeran whined, pouting. But not to be deterred, he furrowed his eyebrows determinedly and began to reach for the melted ice cube. "Give me the ice, it's okay, I can hold it myself."
So, in response, Saeyoung held it high above their heads. "Don't raise that hand," he said sternly. "Just rest, okay? And think about the surprise I have in store for you today."
That stopped Saeran in his tracks and his hand froze where it was, curled to pick up an icy napkin. The one you've been planning for New Years.
"Exact-a-mundo!" Saeyoung emphasized, steadfastly ignoring the fog of shame that covered Saeran's thoughts. "We have a big night ahead of us. And the Mom is on her weekend black-out, so we're safe to head out." Ten times stronger and deeper than her normal black-outs, Saeyoung didn't say.
Saeran curled an arm around his shins, bringing his legs closer against his chest. "Hyung," he mumbled into his knees. I didn't even get you anything.
"You're alive," Saeyoung forcefully said. He kissed the spot on Saeran's hand where he nuzzled his nose against just minutes before. "That's the only present I'll ever need from you until our butts are soggy from old age and way, way longer after that."
Ew, hyung, Saeran said exasperatedly, even as he ducked his head to giggle behind his knees.
Saeyoung smiled at the sound, an honored warmth cascading down to his beating heart. "If I could give you the moon, I would," he said, voice quiet with sincerity. "You deserve that."
Saeran's cheek concaved, signaling how he was chewing on his inner-cheek again. Mom doesn't think so, he hesitantly supplied.
A muscle somewhere in Saeyoung's neck spasmed and he took a deliberate, silent inhale. "First off, don't bite your cheek." He nodded as Saeran's teeth immediately let go of the poor skin. "And I told you that's because she says whatever whenever she's drunk," Saeyoung said sternly. The lie became lighter and lighter to bear as the years passed.
Because, yes, mom said the worst things whenever she was drunk.
But also when she wasn't.
Sometimes, it's when she's high. The rest of the times, it's when she's sober and Saeyoung tells Saeran that she's drunk on a different type of beer that didn't smell like regular alcohol.
V and Rika tell him it's because their mom is a wounded creature who needed help and healing from what was wrong inside her brain.
But honestly…he can't help but believe what's truly wrong is that the brain belongs to her. Maybe if the organ was owned by someone else, it would relearn because it belonged to a better person.
"Then wouldn't you say the same things…" Saeran couldn't look up from the floorboards and Saeyoung prepared himself for the worst. "…If you were drunk too?"
Saeyoung missed the days when Saeran was young and innocent.
It was terrible because Saeyoung should never wish that on Saeran and he knew that. The world was an unforgiving, shitty place—and history has taught time and time again that refusal to change sealed a promise with death.
But young and innocent Saeran would've never been world-wise enough to make such logical, brutal comparisons.
"That's why I'll never drink. Or smoke cigarettes. Or do drugs," Saeyoung finally responded, keeping his tone light. "Even if I ever wanted to—" Because, yes, Saeyoung sometimes wanted to. "—The day I would is the day I stopped loving you. The day I become someone you should hate."
Saeran finally looked at Saeyoung.
The pain in them reached all the way down to his heart and Saeyoung almost grabbed at his chest.
Saeran reached out to lay his palm on Saeyoung's chest and the pain, almost instantly, ebbed into nothing. "If I ever hate you, then it's because I became something else—something wrong and unrecognizable," he said. Then he reached out, rubbing his thumb right where Saeyoung's heart would be located. I hurt you again.
Saeyoung took Saeran's chin in hand, making his brother look back at him. "No, Saeran-ah." The firmness in his eyes softened into tenderness. "You anchored me again. Thank you." He returned his hand back to the wet napkin, rotating it to a different side. He never, once, aimed his smile anywhere else but Saeran.
Saeran clenched his eyelids together.
Saeyoung's smile faded. "Saeran-ah?" He caressed the skin that wasn't covered by the napkin.
"If I!" Saeran suddenly exclaimed, much to Saeyoung's numerous eyeblinks. "If I deserve the moon," he mumbled this time, his cheeks ripening like a tomato. Then he shook his head, looking at Saeyoung with determination. "Then you deserve the stars," he said with such painful sincerity. "Please don't forget that, Sae-hyung."
Just when Saeyoung thought it was impossible to love Saeran any more than he already did.
"Don't you forget that we'll get married at the space station," he returned playfully, his smile back full force this time. He knew practically all of his teeth was on display from the way Saeran parted his lips, subconsciously mimicking Saeyoung's display of pearly whites.
Idiot, Saeran sighed and Saeyoung laughed delightedly. "Only men and women who aren't siblings can get married," Saeran half-heartedly protested. It would be nice to wear matching rings like that though.
"So we will," Saeyoung simply responded, before continuing, "That's only on earth." He winked at Saeran, whose blush spread to the tips of his ears. "That's why we'll go to outer space!" It's a place where we won't get hurt and do anything we want, Saeyoung didn't say.
A place where we can be together without consequence, he didn't confess.
A place that seems just as impossible to see as outer space, he didn't dare release from his tongue.
Saeyoung breathed in deeply when Saeran reached up to lie an open hand on top of Saeyoung's.
"Maybe someday?" Saeran asked quietly.
Saeyoung raised their hands so he could kiss each of Saeran's knuckles. "Someday for sure."
Saeran rubbed a silent Thank you, Sae-hyung against Saeyoung's cheekbone with his thumb, before lowering his hand back onto his knees. As he turned his head to face outside the window, his eyes dimmed with a sadness burrowed so deeply in the golden flecks of his eyes.
Saeyoung's ribcage trembled with the effort not to sigh, not wanting to give Saeran another thing to worry about. Instead, he averted his eyes back down to Saeran's burn mark, lifting the thoroughly warmed napkin from Saeran's skin.
He had cleaned off the specks of cigarette ash under cool water before putting on the ice wrapped in napkins. He hoped it was enough to keep away bacteria from crawling into the broken skin. Still, it was like a small crater with the edges making a ring of raised skin. It still was an inflamed red and when the wound would eventually cover over with a blister, Saeyoung will have to be careful that Saeran doesn't pop it like last time.
Against his will, Saeyoung looked at the other arm where mother burned her last cigarette.
Even seven weeks later, it still looked terrible.
This new one, he knew, will be the same.
Lord—Saeyoung sent to the heavens—if I kill our mother, Saeran would still be able to go to heaven, right?
But Saeran was him. And he was Saeran.
Maybe God would deem it necessary for both of them to suffer eternal damnation.
It would explain the tragedy they are enduring now.
Saeyoung forced a smile as he looked back up at Saeran, who continued to keep watch as the sky darkened into night. "Alright. Looks ready for some ointment, Saeran-ah. I have a Band-Aid we can use to cover it up before we go outside."
"Okay," Saeran said quietly.
Saeyoung breathed in deep but did not dare allow that air to escape until he was sure it would be soundless. He took out the ointment from his pocket, the crinkle of the band-aid wrapper the only sound between them for that moment.
Then Saeyoung heard Saeran's timid voice in his head.
Saeyoung…can you promise me something? Please?
Saeyoung…was immediately on guard at that request.
Full name and full name only. Unable to say the words aloud. Please.
None of that was ever a good thing.
Saeyoung busied himself by unscrewing the cap and squeezing a generous amount right on Saeran's wound. "It depends on what it is," Saeyoung said lightly.
I really do believe I'll grow up. That I'll grow older, Saeran started and Saeyoung wondered, idly, if Saeran really thought he was fooling Saeyoung. I do, just like I promised you I would.
He forced himself not to tighten the hand that was holding Saeran's arm.
But accidents happen. Things that should never happen could happen. Like mother searing cigarettes into his twin's arm. And if that happens, if I can't make it until you leave—
"We leave," Saeyoung got out through clenched teeth.
Saeyoung…
He forced himself not to roughen the movements that was meant to gently, comfortingly rub in the ointment.
Saeyoung, you have to prepare yourself for the worst.
He forced himself not to—
Fingers tentatively laid on his cheek. "Saeyoung."
He failed.
"You're not going to die!" Saeyoung screamed, bent over and pressed Saeran's knuckles against his eyebrows. Even with how long he surrounded Saeran's forearm in iciness, Saeran's hand remained warm. "You're not going to…" Tears squeezed from his clenched eyelids. "So stop calling me that. Stop trying to separate me from you." Don't try to put our paths on different directions, he didn't plead. "Please."
But Saeran was relentless. "You have to if I can't make it out with you," he said gently.
"What did I just tell you?" Saeyoung snapped. He immediately regretted the harshness of his tone.
Saeran forgivingly curled over him, placing a kiss on his scruffy hair.
Then he said something that made it hard for Saeyoung's lungs to function.
"It's okay if you can't be positive all the time, Sae-hyung," Saeran said, the poison of his words as saccharine as his voice. He inadvertently kept pouring the acid on Saeyoung's wounds as he assured, "You don't always have to be strong for me. I can be strong for you too."
He failed, that's when Saeyoung realized.
He failed to keep his burden off Saeran's shoulders.
How much had Saeran been able to recognize without his knowing?
"I'm sorry, Saeran-ah." No wonder you're saying these things, Saeyoung sobbed inside himself. The shame bled from in to out as he realized tears were slipping from his eyes and dripping down Saeran's fingers. "I'm sorry," he gasped out. "I'm sorry."
I'm sorry for not being strong enough for you, he kept beside the lump in his throat.
Saeran's voice was soft and steady as he cradled the back of Saeyoung's neck. "Hyung, no," he said, firm and strong. "Please don't do that."
Saeran unfolded his legs and planted them beside Saeyoung's hips. Then using his butt to scooch him forward, he lifted his hand from Saeyoung's neck and lightly pulled his hand out from Saeyoung's gasp. Saeyoung letting him go immediately at the first tug.
"I'm sor—" Saeyoung began to croak out.
"Sae-hyung," Saeran interrupted and, honestly, if Saeyoung wasn't so miserable right then, he would've cracked up at his little Saeran sounding so stern.
Saeran lifted himself by his arms and plopped right onto Saeyoung's lap, curling his legs around Saeyoung's hips to cradle his brother's lower back. Then he wounded his arms around Saeyoung's neck and rested the side of his face on his bicep. Saeyoung's locks peeked into his nostrils and as strong arms comfortingly cradled his back, he inhaled Saeyoung's familiar scent.
Only then did he let his muscles relax.
"Are you comfy?" Saeran asked. Saeyoung let his heartbeat speak for him. "Good," Saeran declared, then kissed Saeyoung's earlobe. "Tell me if you feel uncomfortable, Sae-hyung."
Saeyoung hooked his chin over Saeran's shoulder and titled his head towards Saeran's touch. Saeran obliged by delivering small, several kisses to wherever he could reach.
Saeyoung bit his inner-cheek and dug into it hard, welcoming the sting.
He wasn't sure when it happened and God—God damn it—did he wish his dumb brain saw this sooner, but…
…Saeran was trying to learn how to take care of Saeyoung.
Never before had Saeran tried to actively comfort him as he did now. He always assumed that Saeyoung was okay, that he wasn't the one in need of comfort. But now…now Saeran was trying to take on the duties that Saeyoung was trying so hard to keep him from feeling responsible for.
But somewhere along the line, Saeran got smarter and Saeyoung got weaker. Or maybe it's because Saeyoung wavered that Saeran had to pick up the slack.
Saeyoung had a strange thought here: If only V could've been your brother instead.
V always seemed to know what to say. What to do. What was needed. Everything that Saeyoung learned—hacking, how to better protect Saeran, how to better himself for Saeran—was because V was there to teach it to him.
V would've been able to help Saeran without burdening him.
V would've kept Saeran safe.
Saeran spoke up.
"I don't," Saeran started softly, petting Saeyoung's hair while the other hand rubbed circles into his tense shoulders. "I don't know what you're thinking, Sae-hyung. But you're the bestest brother I could ever have." He kissed the skin behind Saeyoung's ear. "You're the only brother I want."
I thought you didn't know what I'm thinking? Saeyoung wanted to question. But then he would be telling Saeran he was right. And that, at least, was a rookie mistake he could avoid.
Tears once again began to blur Saeyoung's view and he cast it into darkness before they could escape. "That's because you don't have any brother but me," he tried to joke. His throat hurt from trying to keep his voice steady.
"Mm-hmn," Saeran hummed. "Because you're me…and I'm you." Saeran chose then to lean backwards and Saeyoung forced his eyes open, relieved that all tears stayed inside. "So don't say sorry, hyung." He pressed an open palm against Saeyound's chest, where his heartbeat was no doubt causing Saeran further pain. "You have nothing to be sorry about. Okay?"
Look what you've done, Saeyoung shot at himself. "Okay," he agreed, trying and failing to bring his heart to its baseline. Then he realized his brief reprieve was over as new tears began rolling over the cold trail left by its predecessors. Two things he failed at then. It was disgusting. He was disgusting. He huffed a humorless laugh. "Hah."
Saeran took Saeyoung's wrist in his and pulled them to his chest, giving an assuring smile as Saeyoung's tears continued to fall.
You've been so strong all this time, Saeran sent him. How many tears have you held back because of me?
Saeyoung hung his head at that, wondering why he couldn't do any better for Saeran. He was by your side, Saeyoung spat at himself—Why can't you be by his?
"As long as we have each other, we can still smile even in hell," Saeran suddenly said. He leaned his head forward. "That's why you wouldn't trade me for anyone else, right?" He began to kiss Saeyoung's tears away. "Well, I don't want anyone else but you too."
"Saeran-ah," Saeyoung said weakly.
Then Saeran's salt-seasoned lips covered his.
Saeyoung's eyes fell closed with an exhale and he brought Saeran closer to him. With one hand on Saeran's cheek while the other wrapped around his waist, he adjusted the angle so that their mouths slotted together more deeply. Their mouths opened automatically to let the other in, just to familiarize themselves once more with the feel of each other's tongue.
When they parted, their eyes opened halfway, enough to see the other's slightly swollen lips but not enough to fill their sight with anything else.
"Your heart feels better," Saeran mumbled.
The corner of Saeyoung's lips twitched upwards. "Because of you," he muttered back before touching his forehead to Saeran's.
Saeran smiled shyly. "You make my heart better too." He laid an open palm of Saeyoung's chest and, this time, it was with joy rather than sorrow. "I'm glad I can do the same for you, Sae-hyung."
Then it struck Saeyoung.
He could finally say the words aloud that he couldn't say with their mother standing between them.
"Saeran-ah," he breathed, tightening his hold around Saeran's waist. Idly, he thought it was similar to the way he has seen people wrap their arms around life-rings. "I love you."
It was fitting that he was reminded of that comparison right now.
"I love you too, Sae-hyung," Saeran said. His eyes shined like a beacon and, mournfully, Saeyoung wished for a photograph.
This didn't fix anything.
It didn't change the fact that Saeran was growing up and, in his own way, learning to fight back.
It didn't change the fact that Saeyoung was failing The One who meant more to him than anyone else.
But it did change his resolve to do better by Saeran—to be worthy of being his brother.
And that starts now, he promised himself.
"Come on, let's get you bandaged and we can finally celebrate together," Saeyoung said, soaking up Saeran's smile, gentleness, warmth, him.
Saeran slotted their noses besides each other. "Let's go," Saeran whispered and he sent out one last message.
I want to start this year the way I want to start all of them.
With you.