AN: Ever since playing the game I've wanted to write something. I started a Clear/Aoba story but never finished. Yesterday game feels came back on me full-force.
This story was mainly inspired by Harukami's heartwrenching fic Sleeping With(in).
Disclaimer: I do not own DRAMAtical Murder or its characters.
Sei slept. But sleep didn't equal absence. Sei dreamt. But this wasn't constant. Sei was used to observation, and that's what he did. He observed the life that Ren had created for himself and Aoba. It was a beautiful life, but also tragic: beautifully tragic. There was such love, such pain, such disgust; disgust that Sei couldn't alleviate. He'd given his body as a final gift, not only an answer to their hopeless love, but a sign of acceptance. He had already approved that his body be used in such a way, yet neither of them could move past it. Sei mourned; mourned the fact that even his final gift, his greatest gift, could not make his brothers happy. But they were happy, just not purely happy. It was a happiness riddled with guilt and wrongness.
The worst was when they slept together. Their senses peaked, their bodies entwined in passion, their emotions mingling with love, but their souls cried. Cried for what they were doing. Cried for the wrongness which was their very relationship. Sometimes Aoba would cry, cling to the body that was both his brother but not his brother. Ren would cling to him helplessly, unable to do anything for either of them. All he could do was continue their torturous pleasure.
One day Aoba admitted to Ren his personal dilemma. He longed for Ren, but lusted for his brother. As much as he knew it was because Ren was inside the body, his body was reacting to Sei's. When he looked at Ren that was what he saw, what he had grown to desire. It was a cruel paradox. Was he really only attracted because Ren was inside, or did it go beyond that? He didn't know, and that drove him mad.
Sei had only ever observed. He had never had one to call his love, and so, to him, the very fact that they had this thing called love made it precious, holy. In his eyes it didn't matter that they had once been the same person, or that they were using his body, a body that anyone else would view disgusting; he thought their love was pure and worthy of existence. If only he could tell them so. To do so, though, he would need to awaken. Not only would this make leaving again that much harder, it might only make the matter worse. How would Aoba feel knowing that his brother was present during all this? He may shatter.
So, Sei remained sleeping.