Alright, so I feel the need to cover a few things to begin with. One, I know this topic is about as taboo as they come, even though it has been done with Eclare before on here. I've been holding off on uploading this simply for fear of scrutiny, but I have a ton of ideas for this story, so I'd like to pursue it. Second, this story is about Eli and Clare, and they are siblings. As in, related entirely by blood. Not half siblings or step siblings. Same parents, all that jazz. It's rated M because in chapters to come, they will become intimate. If this doesn't sit well with you or you think I'm far too twisted for writing this, just press the tiny "x" on this tab right now, because you've been warned. But, if you choose to stick around and read it, I hope you enjoy the first chapter! I'm thinking the story will change perspectives every few chapters, or sometimes within each chapter, I'm not sure yet. I'll be sure to make the difference between Eli and Clare clear. Reviews are always appreciated, as I love to get feedback to help me grow as a writer. Enjoy!

I think one of the things I hate the most about being here is listening to him making love to her. They can go at it for hours, and they're never modest about it either. It wasn't my choice to live here under the same roof with him. Before everything happened, we were content to avoid one another, never intruding in the other one's life. He lived on his own in this tiny apartment, smack dab in the middle of New York City, and me with my mom back in Toronto. Though there were always buried issues, it was fine just avoiding each other. But now, I was all but forced into his life, much to his chagrin, I can tell.

The headboard of his bed is slamming against the wall rhythmically. I wouldn't be surprised if the damn thing crashed through the wall, though I could really do without that. I wish he had a shred of shame, but he never has. That's Eli for you.

I miss having my own room as opposed to a measly futon in the living room that becomes a couch when the sun comes up. As if I don't even exist when I'm not here. As if I'm so very easy to forget. I'm not comfortable here in the city. They may call NYC the land of opportunity, but I for one think it's the land of snobs and uppity drones. This city is mechanical, impersonal. And I want out. Eli seemed to adapt to life here well, as if he'd lived here all along. It was clear to anyone that he was happier now than he ever was in Toronto.

It seems only one of us could enjoy the place at a time. I'm just a person occupying space; a transient visitor. Gone before I arrived, forgotten before I can be missed. I wonder sometimes if Eli even spared a thought on me before I can to live here. Judging by his reactions to me, all signs point to no.

I swear I could willingly tear my own ear drums out as I hear their voices, her chanting his name as if it was her personal mantra. And him, loudly groaning hers. "Imogen, Imogen."

The vomit is just begging to come up. Violently.

I pull my headphones on, turning the volume up to an extreme level that would even block out a nearby gunshot. At once I can feel and hear my ears ringing, but it's better than listening to them. I'd prefer a migraine from my music than a mental scarring from them.

After about fifteen minutes, the bedroom door slams shut, my eyes shooting right to it as a shirtless Eli emerges from his room. His bangs are plastered to his forehead with sweat, his cheeks bloody red.

Just seeing him like this makes my cheeks go red. I'm not even sure why.

He shoots me a look, one I can't quite read. I'm not sure how to respond, clearing my throat and returning myself to my busywork.

"Sure you don't want to move out?" Eli jokes, though I can feel the bit of truth in it. It's hard to explain to him that I don't want to be here. I am by force.

"Nope, but I lack another option, don't I?" I shoot back, my voice venomous with annoyance.

I hear a small "hmph" of indifference from him as he grabs a beer from his fridge. Before, when Eli lived at home, he never drank. It's still weird seeing him pop open a can, as if he's been doing it since he came out of the womb. As unfamiliar as I am with him, I know this wasn't a trait he had in him before. "I'm not going to stop bringing my girlfriend over just because you're here."

My eyes roll, having heard this over and over again. Somehow the term "girlfriend" just eats at me. Fuck buddy would be far more fitting, truth be told. I don't like Imogen. She has this irksome buoyancy to her that just makes me want to make her miserable, bring her down to my level. I wish Eli would tire of her, but it doesn't seem likely. "I get it, it's fine. I just drown your god awful sounds out with my music."

At this, Eli strolls over, his signature smirk pasted on his face. This can only mean mischief, no doubt. "You know, you could go get a boyfriend of your own to have fun with, instead of being bitter about me and my sex life." I can literally feel my jaw dropping at his nerve, how pompous he is.

To be honest, I've never had a serious boyfriend, but Eli doesn't know this. Keeping that in mind, he also doesn't realize I'm still a virgin obviously. He doesn't need to know this either.

"I-I know. I'm not interested right now, that's all." I stammer, adjusting my headphones around my neck nervously.

The damn smirk widens, his pearly white teeth peeking through. "Yeah, you keep saying that, Clare. One of these days I'll come home to you moaning, and then it'll be your turn to piss me off." Without consent I can feel my face heating up. Not just at the thought being heard having sex, but being heard by him. It's too bizarre to ponder, so I spare myself the trouble.

I shake my head dismissively, doing my best to mask the fact that Eli got to me, even if it was unintentional. It isn't even worth a rebuttal, I decide.

It seems he's taking this as a victory for him, which is fine by me. Deep down, he did win, but I'll never give him the satisfaction, especially when I barely comprehend everything I'm thinking.

"Eliiii!" a whiny voice shrills from the bedroom, his little pet beckoning him back to bed.

"The lady needs me. I'd put those headphones back on if I were you. It's going to be a long night." He cocks an eyebrow at me, grinning before he retreats back to his room with the slam of his door. As if on cue, the sounds commence, signaling to me the need to drown it out with music once more. I lay down on my tiny futon in my corner of the world, attempting to ignore my brother's moans, and how much they're making the place between my legs throb.