They had met in a bar… not the greatest place for a 5-year old child and a 13-year old delinquent to meet for the first time, but it was a beginning.
He had been a raven-haired rogue with a cold persona and glacial black eyes – he had had a name he had told no one, instead calling himself 'Reborn'.
He had been a small, afro-bearing snob with a cocky and selfish personality – his name was Lambo Bovino.
Both of them were running away from home – Reborn from his dead mother and abusive father, Lambo from honestly nothing (though he would say that it was because his family had been selfish, that they had never given him what he wanted, and that they always ignored him).
They had sat beside each other in the worn leather stools, Reborn doing underage drinking and Lambo thinking himself big and bad with his tall order of soda and a side of candy – it was only breakfast time, close to 5 in the morning.
The fact that there was a bar open so early hadn't mattered. The bartender hadn't cared either.
They had sat together, Reborn not talking but Lambo going on animatedly about his past, his present, and what he supposed his future to be. When he was done, he looked up at Reborn with sparkling green eyes and he had said…
He had said that Reborn was the 'bestest brother he had ever had'.
From that day onward, he had never left the other boy's side. Though he had been tried many times to abandon the other, sometimes even taking the few first steps away – but he couldn't bring himself to leave.
They were connected. They needed each other… or maybe it was just that he needed Reborn… but still.
He loved Reborn. He loved him enough to accept the boy's turn to the dark side, how he was quicker to pick up a gun than lend a hand. He accepted the late nights home, his duty of bandaging the older boy up whenever he couldn't reach his wounds, and even how sometimes the boy would bring back women twice his age – sometimes thrice and others quadrupled. He loved him enough more than to just deal with these things, but to readily embrace them; even protect that part of him.
Well, the day came when Reborn stopped being a boy and became a man – his 18th birthday, the day he sat down on the futon in their small and yet expensive living room (already, he had a name for himself, one that others feared) and seemed to ponder their whereabouts for the first time. Maybe the hundredth time, Lambo couldn't know for sure.
Lambo had only been 10, so he had sat down on the floor in front of his 'big brother' and had waited for him to speak like worshipers would wait for their god to speak.
Time had passed – hours of it.
Finally, Reborn looked down at him. Lambo stared expectantly up at him.
Five years had passed since that day at the bar; since that time, he had never seen his family – Reborn hadn't seen his either. They had escaped their past, straight into the hell of being orphans and depending on each other (mostly Lambo on Reborn, but Lambo had proven to be helpful as well because of his younger age and how people pitied a lost child), and now they lived in comfort. Just because Reborn could kill people without being caught and entertain ladies with skill.
And Lambo could manipulate people – he could play the annoying brat to cause a distraction, the innocent child to prove a fake alibi, or even an abused soul to mislead others.
But he tried not to do that too often – at least not to the people he liked or when he had everything he wanted. And especially not to Reborn. Never to Reborn – Reborn could always see through his lies.
Together, they had created a single life – their own. Both of them under aged – they shouldn't have gotten as far as they had, but they had gotten further than they had thought possible.
Reborn crossed one leg over his opposing one, the heel of his foot resting on the other knee. He placed his elbow on the arm of the futon and dipped his chin into the cradle of his palm.
"It's time."
Lambo cocked his head curiously. "Time for what?"
"Time for you to learn how to use a gun."
The child's eyes widened, a gleam settling over his green irises. His hands had shaken in his lap. "A g-gun? Really? So cool!" His face broke out into a cheek-splitting grin.
Reborn had answered his smile with a smirk of his own. "Consider it a birthday present to myself, to watch you shoot for the first time."
What he hadn't expected was to use a living target – one that had apparently wronged Reborn, one that stared at Lambo with tears in his eyes and a gag in his mouth, arms and legs bound.
Lambo had cried his first shot, hitting the other in the leg. The second shot, after a brief talk with Reborn asking him if he was trying and all around insulting him, he shot the man in the liver.
The third shot penetrated the heart.
And Reborn had petted his hair (no longer a wild, curly afro, but soft locks of black sable) and had grinned like a proud parent.
"It's time."
"T-time for what?"
"Time to get you your own gun… consider it a birthday present to myself to see you carry around a weapon I taught you to use."
Reborn gave him a Model 22.22 LR Pistol with a checkered wooden grip, Taurus manufactured.
Lambo had never before felt so cared for.
Lambo was 15 and Reborn 23 when he got his first girlfriend.
He kind of felt that maybe he was a late bloomer – especially when compared to his 'big brother', but apparently, others just thought it was because he was stuck up that he stayed alone for so long.
She was sweet… a bit of a gold digger, but she was genuinely kind – she just had expensive tastes.
One night, she decided that they go to his house – not really a house so much as a lavish suite in a prestigious hotel.
They had sex on his bed. It felt good… not as great as he had thought it would, but it was fulfilling and she seemed to enjoy herself after whispering (screaming) into his ear what she wanted him to do.
He was officially not a virgin.
And then Reborn broke down the door, making his girlfriend scream even louder.
His expression had scared Lambo – as if he were a traitor who needed eradicated. As if he was dirty and worthless… as if he had hurt him.
Lambo had hugged Reborn as tightly as he could – foregoing the personal barriers they had set up; to him, it just seemed like his big brother needed a hug.
In the next moment, he had a broken arm and bruised ribs.
His girlfriend abruptly stopped screaming, following a sickening crack and then soon accompanied by a dull thud as her body fell numbly to the floor.
He had stared at her dead form for long, breathless minutes.
Reborn had stared at him for the same amount of time.
"It's time," Reborn had said, almost in a growl low in his throat.
"… Time for what?" He felt as if he wasn't even a part of himself anymore – as if he was dreaming, maybe.
His big brother had just killed his first-ever girlfriend.
"Time for you to learn how to do a cleanup."
The next nine hours were concentrated in scrubbing out every sign of his girlfriend's existence in his room, eradicating alibis from friends, and even convincing acquaintances that they had never officially been going out.
He was a really good manipulator.
And Reborn led him every step of the way through the process.
By the time they were done, the body long gone from the premises and Lambo exhausted, the teenager was sprawled on the couch – his bed having been burned to a crisp – and was half asleep.
Reborn was leaning over him, one hand braced on the back of the futon and the other on the arm next to Lambo's head. He kissed him, full on the lips with his tongue penetrating his mouth.
Lambo moaned and then – too suddenly – remembered who was kissing him. It wasn't his girlfriend – it was the person who had killed his girlfriend.
It was his big brother, for goodness' sake.
He released a sound of surprise before shoving the man away, pressing himself into the corner of the futon. Reborn hadn't followed him; instead, he had stared at him, tongue lolling over his lips.
"It's not quite time…" He had purred.
"T-time?"
"Time for us."
Reborn left him like that, afraid and nervous.
His 17th birthday, Reborn hands him a Model 22.22 LR pistol with a checkered wooden grip, Taurus manufactured.
He had grinned, eyeing Lambo with consideration. "It's time."
"Time for what?" He had looked from the gun to Reborn. The incident two years ago had never been repeated, so he was at ease. Well, as much at ease one could be when they knew they were talking to a hitman.
"Time for you to decide."
Lambo curiously cocked his head. He was in an eerily familiar position, legs folded beneath him on the floor before the futon, Reborn posed with a hand on his chin and one leg over the other.
He felt as if he was experiencing déjà vu."
Reborn slid off the couch and knelt down in front of him, ducking his head so that they were level. Suddenly, his situation wasn't so unoriginal. "Do you want to stay with me or do you want to leave?"
"I never want to leave!" It was an automatic response, instilled after twelve years of loyally following the older boy, of accepting his crimes and trials. "I never want to leave you."
"There's only one way you can stay with me now, Lambo." His brother/father/friend figure purred. "You're too old to be my little brother, I'm too young to be your father, and we can't be friends."
Lambo trembled. "What are we?"
"You can be mine…" Reborn slid the small frame handgun into his lap, "or this can all be yours. You inherit everything in case anything happens to me; and I have taught you how to do a cleanup. All that's left for you to do is pull the trigger."
"… Kill… you?" He looked from the gun to the man – the man he loved, but had never actually thought about loving in such a way as was being insinuated. "But I can't kill you…"
"Can you love me?"
"… I don't know."
"Try."
He kissed Reborn – because it was a much better alternative than killing him.
It felt good. Really good. The spices of tobacco and coffee seeped into him, teasing his senses. Reborn deepened the kiss and his tongue came out to play.
Before Lambo could even think about it, they were on the futon, Reborn hilt-deep inside of him, and he was screaming oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, "REBORN!"
When they relaxed into the furniture, Lambo limp and Reborn content, they settled in with Reborn lying partially on top of Lambo, still inside of him.
"… I…" he licked his lips, stealing another breath of musky air, "can love you…"
Reborn nuzzled his head into his throat. "It's time."
Lambo chuckled. "It's time for us?"
"It's time for us."
Author's Note: A pointless one-shot that I'm not quite sure actually made any sense… My stories seem to average four pages.