A.N Reposted with some major improvement, although I guess it's still the same story in essence. Also the scene changes were a little ambiguous so hopefully here they are clear.

Part of my 'Good intentions' universe. If you like this one, check out my profile. Also I am now taking Beta-requests.

Enjoy

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Hydrophobia

"What?" Jien pulled the threadbare remains of his shirt over his head and flung it carelessly onto the riverbank.

Cocking his eyebrow in disbelief, he shot a look to his younger brother who lingered anxiously at the entrance of the clearing. He kicked off his sandals and placed a tentative foot on the loose earth below, fiercely warmed by the midday sun, it radiated a strange sort of heat that flooded up right through his ankles and throbbed up into his belly. He flexed out his toes into the sandy decline; it was the height of summer and even in the shade there seemed to be no relief from the afternoon sun. His skin ran in various shades of tanned all year round, labouring work outdoors had given him a rough and somewhat leathered complexion; but as the day had become long and his hours seemed short by comparison, a few rogue freckles had developed on the crook of his nose. They gave him a boyish expression that was only exaggerated by the huge, relentless grin that had played upon his lips all morning long; he looked young, or more correctly, he showed his age.
After all he was only 19 years old.

Goyjo stood a little further back, a good couple of feet before the parched earth become loose pebble and wet sand. His arm hung crookedly around the trunk of a dilapidated fence post and he stood with the casual insolence that only a pre-teen can establish. He had grown in the past few months but it seemed as if his all limbs hadn't evened out yet, a strange mixture of child and youth. He was going through a growth spurt early. His wardrobe consisted of everything that had Jien had outgrown and his clothes either fiercely hugged his body or hung loosely off it; his t-shirt had developed a patchy greyish tinge and the jeans he had thrown on that morning had split along the side seem as he had met with a hard, closed fist and been smacked backwards over a kitchen chair. By the knee a flash of blue-ish flesh throbbed through the rip, bordered by the white freying edges of material. His waistband routinely slipped down over his hips, yet the cuffs rode way up over his ankles, displaying large sock-less feet. He was getting tall; Goyjo towered over boys his own age yet was noticably skinnier. Quite suddenly his face had hardened and lost all of the childish roundness that it had one contained, his left eyebrow was raised in a thick ugly lump of greens and purple. He stared straight back at Jien and he spat a glistening glob of spit onto the peaty earth with a thick smoker's hack.
He was 10 years old.

Jien took a long hard look at his half brother and elaborated, "You're telling me you can't swim?"

A peal of laughter erupted from the young man as he began to shuffle out of his pants, "I don't believe it."

Grasping hold of a nearby branch to steady himself, Jien stripped off his shorts, a pair of ill-fitting, greying khakis that hugged his legs uncomfortably in the thick humidity. They were stiff with the dirt and dust of the building sites and he was glad to loose them. They joined the modest heap of clothes by the base of a nearby tree, a pack of cigarettes hanging casually out of the cargo pockets.

"Come on Goyjo. How often do I get an afternoon off to spend with my little brother, eh?" Jien roared, a huge smile spread over his face as he gazed across the expanse of the freshwater lake.

Hardly ever.

Goyjo had not answered and Jien simply could not resist approaching the edge of the water giving his muscles an anticipatory stretch; he was itching to dive in.

Hot childhood summers were long behind him, but the memories of the lake flickered past him with startling regularity, pleasurable twangs of fond times rose in his belly and brought an unexpected and genuine grin to his lips. He felt his worries beginning to slip from his shoulders as if they were a piece of clothing in themselves, a long heavy black trench that could be left on the bank of the lake along with his undies.

Buck naked, he dipped a courageous toe in the sun dappled lake, it was unfathomably cool, icy even, in the midsummer heat. Impatient, he turned back, Goyjo was still rigidly fixed in place, arms now crossed, he hadn't moved.

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There hadn't been running water for a long time and so the small metal tub had to be filled from water heated on the stove. It was a long and thankless task, taking more than a dozen trips to the outside pump that then had to be laboriously heated potful by potful in the kitchen before being transferred, steaming hot by the bucketful into the bathroom. The room was unnaturally large and one would expect there to be more permanent fixtures than a disused, unconnected bathing tub and rather lonesome toilet. The condensation made the plaster flake and crack on the walls leaving permanent, greying patches of water damage. The room was constantly damp, even in the summertime, it dripped and leaked and creaked and groaned, the flourishing and persistent mould seemed the only thing keeping the reluctant four walls together. Needless to say, bath-time was a ritual that wasn't practised quite as often as necessary.

A teenage Jien, still rippling with energy after his afternoon shift had already rapidly bathed and left for the night, ambling into town the carefree nature he had yet to be stripped of. Goyjo had been left the lukewarm remains of the tub. He didn't look forward to it, but even at his boyish age after several water-free weeks, he had started to suspect that the adverse smell he was developing would outweigh his aversion to ritual cleanliness.

Five years old, Goyjo had been sternly instructed by his mother to "get in the fucking bath before I fucking throw you in" and he had quickly obliged, his spindly limbs straddling the edge before slipping in the tub with a modest splash. The bath was full and the water coolly lapped up around his chest; with a slight shiver, he plunged himself beneath the surface and began to rinse off a rather ungenerous layer of soap, with a serious, alert manner that was quite ugly on his tiny frame.

The remains of Jien's shaving foam floated on the surface on the water, like frothy scum on a pond. Frowning, he found on closer inspection little flecks of black dashed through the suds, suspended in the glossy white foam. 'Like frogspawn' he mentally noted and tried not to disturb the tiny capsules as if real frogs would burst forth from them any second. Jien had told him not to touch the globules of see-thru goop when they had been to the lake themselves, he had told him that they were baby frogs and if he moved them then there wouldn't be any adult frogs to catch in the summer. Goyjo frowned and flattened the foam with clumsy splashes till it dissolved into plain old bathwater; it wasn't real frogspawn so it didn't matter, he reasoned. It didn't seem fair that the mommy frog just left it's babies sitting on the edge of a freaking pond where anyone could get them, Goyjo noted, if he was a frog he would have hidden them right at he bottom of the lake where people wouldn't find them, not even the fish with the jaws full of razor sharp teeth that lived there too wouldn't get them, 'cause he would hide them deep in the mud till they hatched and were big enough to swim away.

Losing his train of thought in a sudden moment of childlike realisation, it occurred to Goyjo that the black stuff must have been from when Jien had been shaving. The teenage bristles had appeared almost overnight, minuscule patches developing unevenly over his chin and bottom lip. Little more than 'peach fuzz' he had heard his mother say, with a strange mixture of pride and scorn, she had come up close and stroked his bristles with a careless hand. Her hot breath had forced Jien to step back and look sheepishly away. Jien had taken great pleasure in examining his 'beard', he had taken out his father's old shaving kit reverently and begun slowly and systematically removing the sparse gathering on his upper lip. It seemed stupid to Goyjo, if he had wanted it so much why was he getting rid of it as soon as it appeared?

Sat naked in the tepid water, he began to hum the reniments of a song Jien had taught him, trying to remember the decidedly filthy lyrics as he kicked his legs to a made-up beat. He had sneaked into his older brother's bed and Jien had been in a good enough mood to let him stay there and keep him company when he bruises hurt too much to let him sleep. He liked Jien's songs. They were always usually about girls and came with decidedly inappropriate gestures; sometimes about what you can do to them, but more often about what you can get them to do to you. He giggled, how long would it be before he could have his own beard, he was already five and the time passed so slowly.

He was much too young to be embarrassed in front of his step-mother, but old enough to be decidedly wary as she appeared and hung lazily round the door frame.

"Hey Mom" He attempted, but received no answer. Picking up on a particularly bad mood he clamped his mouth shut.

"You're being tested,' He told himself. Just be good. Don't cry'

She stood with her eyes closed firmly shut and with internal rhythm rocked gently on her heels, her lips lay semi-parted producing a low, sultry hum. Goyjo avoided her gaze and after a few nervous moments triumphantly retrieved the sliver of soap that had all along been resting on the edge of the tub. It had no discernable smell, he noticed as he crudely rubbed it across his face then into his hair.

Sometimes he had to tell himself not to cry, but it was hard. He loved his mother, in that strange childlike way that knows no different, but the last couple of turbulent years had imprinted a healthy sense of fear upon the child and often he could not stop that thick black feeling of terror from appearing in the back of his throat when he saw her stare at him from across the kitchen table or heard her call him back into the house on balmy summer evenings.

He squeezed his eyes shut, tight.

It was in this moment of blindness that the 3 feet of distance between the tub and the door was suddenly bridged and in less time than Goyjo could fathom, his mother's hands clasped firmly on his shoulders and forced him beneath the cloudy surface. Without so much as an extra breath of air Goyjo felt himself plunging downwards, the slick layer of soap on his hands only easing his submersion. The whole of his mother's weight was upon him and he could not break loose, breathless and in panic his legs kicked wildly and fruitlessly. He was pinned.

Not 15 seconds had passed when his mother, with no warning, changed position. Shifting her weight, she reached out to rip a handful of crimson hair and force it deeper from the surface. Goyjo's left side gained movement and with an unthinking desperation he had thrown all of his negligible weight into the struggle. The tub rocked barely more than an inch but it was enough to unsteady his mother, who grasped hold of the edge in panic and applied enough force just to push it firmly on it's side.

A tsunami of bathwater flooded the bathroom floor and gasping like a fish hauled onto land, Goyjo coughed and spluttered and wept onto the ice cold tiles. His step mother too had slipped, tottering backwards on her haunches. She lost balance. He head had cracked on the titled wall with tremendous force producing a sickening, bloody thwap, contact between porcelain and bone. A bloodcurdling youkai shriek escaped her, a scream of both shock and pain as a trickle of crimson readily flowed over scalp and into her own pale blond hair.

Trembling and gasping Goyjo coughed the wet contents of his lungs onto the tiles, he took a breath, as deep as his was able. The shock and the cold made his throat burn and his mind felt heavy as he took his fill of sweet, damp air. He blinked and rubbed his raw, bloodshot eyes. He felt very alive, very aware he was still here. After some time he stood and waded though the icy inches of bathwater to reach the door handle. He told himself not to look back, he knew it would frighten him.

Hours past and the evening blended into a stark freezing night; still she had not moved from the flooded tiles, her mind was far from thoughts of cold. Goyjo had sat in the kitchen, listening with horror and she rocked and sobbed and cried out for Jien to come home, to help her, to save her and be with her, long in the early hours of the morning.

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"No. So what?" Goyjo relayed, his eyes half closed in an ugly squint. "Don't wanna know anyhow."

Jien felt the fresh rush of water surrounding his ankle, cool laps teasing his sweat drenched calves. The thickening hairs on his legs were stood to attention as if themselves were inching to jump ship and leap into the rippling pool.

"Hell, swimming, man, water….it's in your blood." Jien exclaimed, the frustration built up in his chest, yet a glazed half smile leaped to his face, he winked. "Well half of it anyway."

It took Goyjo a moment to understand what Jien had meant, but as he cottoned on he could only manage to growl, "Half- Kappa, right, very funny" His lips tightened and his stance became only more resolute.

"Come on," Desperate, Jien pulled himself away from the water's edge, yanked his shorts over his ass and hurriedly threw on his cut off t-shirt. "Look, if you don't wanna get undressed, that's cool you know. Swim with em on."

"No"

"You'll dry off on the walk back." Jien reasoned, his voice now more whining that persuading. " I can get 'em washed afterwards and a little water won't…"

"I'm not embarrassed." Goyjo burst, he angrily kicked a pebble into the cool stretch of water, it didn't skim the surface, instead it dived with a decisive, loud 'plop.' Jien envied it. A glimmer of frustration must have been evident in his face, Goyjo backed off a step or two in case his brother's patience failed. If they scuffled he could see himself being thrown head first off the bank. His heart made a fearful flutter.

'You're not scared, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry….' He told himself.

Running his tongue over his teeth, Jien could feel the likelihood of an afternoon dip in the lake becoming a less and less likely prospect, he could only demand with a whisper of exasperation, "What's the problem kid?"

Goyjo gave pause for a moment, his breath had become hard and an unusually youkai kind of sound echoed in the base of his throat. Something played upon his lips but it was quickly swallowed back down.

"I don't wanna swim, I just wanna go home."

The most unbelievable lie ever told. Goyjo never wanted to go home. Everytime they went out he begged and coerced and bargained. He fled and struggled and argued. His mother was awake, stalking the house with a sharp temper and a quick hand. Jien could only shake his head in disbelief. "Like fuck you do."

Somehow, somewhere there was still a glimmer of boyhood inside Sha Jien. 19 years old, resigned to take care of his increasingly difficult half brother, his impossible poor mad mother. The child in him begged himself to throw himself into the icy pool. Summersault, dive, skim the pebbly bottom with his finger tips and feel the exhilarating rush of adrenaline as his lungs begin to beg for air, the satisfaction that comes with a gasp at the surface and the hot touch of the lazy sun upon his back. The delicious warmth of summertime and the cool, clean waters that wash it all away.

Jien glanced to the lake as he shoved his feet back into his sandals. The strap across the left toe was broken, though taped up previously many times before they were now long beyond repair. Without truly realising the significance of it, he had already begun to calculate the cost this new expense would bring. Of rent payments and grocery bills, work schedules and faulty wiring.

Of what could be forgone in the weekly allowance. Of what was left to sacrifice.

Goyjo had already begun to disappear along the path back home, eager for once to leave his half-brother behind. Jien did not allow himself a look back along the bank. Tightening his belt one more notch, Jien slowly and reluctantly followed.

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I had chosen this title before I had found out that Aquaphobia is the correct work for a fear of water, Hydrophobia used pretty much exclusively to the condition of Rabies patients who develop an aversion to water due to physiological illness, rather than physiological conditioning. I stand by my decision to use Hydrophobia in the incorrect sense. It just sounds cooler.