Gilbert is crouching in the courtyard of the big Nightray household's mansion, looking curiously at the ants which are making a long journey to their nest. A violet-winged butterfly lands on his hand and Gil smiles broadly, enjoying the beautiful weather.
"Gilbert, over here," a familiar voice resounds somewhere from the courtyard. It appears to be coming from the section with the luxuriant, fragrant flowers.
He almost forgot about his younger brother, consumed by this wonderful day and now he paces to reach him and make up for such a mistake.
"What are you doing, Vincent," he asks, peering from behind a rose-bush.
"I'm having a lot of fun. You should join me," Vincent replies, his sly eyes sparkling.
Gil advances towards him and only then takes notice of a doll carelessly dropped in front of his brother's feet. Its eyes have been poked out and a pair of scissors responsible lies in Vincent's hand. He comes to a halt and clutches his fists in disapproval.
"Vincent, why?"
The blonde tilts his head for a moment like he's thinking and then says: "I couldn't stand to watch something prettier than you."
He snaps the scissors a couple of times for good measure and looks at Gil with eyes overflowing with the kind of love a brother shouldn't hold. Gil knows that look very well; it's the kind Vincent gets whenever they're bathing together, and though he doesn't fully grasp its meaning it causes him to fidget nervously.
"I wonder what would happen if I made the smallest of cuts here," Vincent teases him, advancing to the front of Gil's pants with the scissors.
Gilbert's body grows cold in anticipation. "Don't," he mutters, genuinely worried.
"Your expression is so tempting, brother," Vincent says, disposing of the scissors. His now empty hand rests atop of Gil's private area, running a finger over it. Gil jolts in discomfort and the blonde chuckles.
"Oh how small and sensitive you are, big brother," he proceeds, guarding the boy's hand to his own shaft. Though a bit younger, Vincent seems to be developing faster than his sibling.
"This is embarrassing. Please… stop," Gil protests, his voice cracking. Vincent is reluctant but lets him go with a kiss on the cheek.
"You can just watch me then," he concludes, unzipping his pants.
Gil sits in the shadow of the orchard, observing his brother in wonder as his hand makes smooth motions following the line of his boyhood. His gaze is fixed on Gil and he seems to be excited over something. At some point, though, droplets of white fluid spurt out and Vincent's body spasms, a moan of what sounds much like pain escaping his lips. Thankfully, soon he is his usual self again, zipping up his pants and looking 'decent'.
"Let's go home," he proposes, gently taking a hold of Gil's hand.
That night, Gil lies awake, recalling what he saw that day, but lacks the courage to inquire about it, so he tries to just let it go. Only much later does the complete understanding of Vincent's sin dawn upon him.