Another random, little drabble.
-slinks off to a dark corner-
Koumei doesn't like beer.
Fine, you can laugh.
He hates the tinge of bitterness on his tongue when he downs them, especially, especially Guinness Stout. Zenmei was partial towards that horrible, horrible, satanic drink. The one time Koumei had allowed that disgusting pig-slop to pass his lips was when Zenmei had forced him to, after the arson incident, when the two brothers were at their house, high on adrenaline. The police had not caught up to them yet, probably trying to put out the fire.
"C'mon Koumei, just drink it. It's nice!"
"It looks sick. I don't wanna. I don't trust brother's taste."
"Koumei. Just. Drink. It."
Koumei drank. There was stuff that he would rather not get into a fight over with his brother. After all, he was younger by a year. He's supposed to show appropriate respect. His brother would beat him if he did not. Koumei always lost, anyways. Might as well do what brother said and make things easier. So Koumei drank. He opened the can and drank, long and deep.
"..."
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHH!!"
The next few minutes were spent trying to rid his mouth of that horrible taste. It was bitter. It was fucking bitter. It was horrible, horrible, abso-fucking-lutely bitter. It was worse than bittergourd. It tasted of dirt and chickenshit. It was, it was, horrible. After that one particular incident, Koumei had always steered clear of alcholic stuff. Zenmei knew, of course. And took particular pleasure in forcing his little brother to drink in public company.
Koumei knew that Zenmei was a bastard. That night, that one fateful night when Zenmei arrived home half-drunk and stoned, boasting that he had "Just fucked some pregnant bitch, stupid whore, screamed like a dog the whole time, you shoulda heard her wail...", Koumei knew that his face had gone grey when he heard that statement. Koumei had dragged Zenmei out of the apartment, stuffed some money into his pocket, took a knife with him for protection and flagged down a cab. They were still caught, though, early in the morning. There was no-one in town who did not know who the Muroto brothers were.
He still loved his brother though. There was only the two of them, couldn't help it. If his brother did not bring him up, stole and robbed for money and foodstuffs to feed them, Koumei thinks that he would not be able to survive till today. Well, maybe it was not exactly love. It was more of a respect, a fear that if Koumei ever left his brother, his brother would hunt him down and kill him. Koumei knew, without a shade of doubt, that Zenmei would kill him if he really left him, that was what Zenmei was like.
Zenmei was bitter, bitterer than the beer that he loved so much.
Koumei hates beer.
end.