I wish I was better. God help me to become a bet—I'm a good pers—help me! Good things happen to good pe—
Hao closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. All the noise buzzing through his head… humans were always so predictable. Yearning for acceptance, and help, and hope.
A hand fell on his shoulder, squeezing lightly and making him turn a little to look at his younger brother. The shorter boy's expression was tinged with worry, but he was smiling to hide it… and Hao felt a disgustingly strong stab of anger in his stomach at his brother's thought (I'm not good enough for them… He's not good enough for me…).
He slapped the hand away, his eyes not moving from his twin's now hurt expression.
"Why did you…?"
"Because you're right."
If you could have had his way, maybe things would be simpler. Make a whole lot more of sense, and that was at least the young shaman's opinion.
Because, in what kind of world were good things supposed to hurt so much, be so bitter when the bad things felt so right, so perfect, so disgustingly wonderful?
It just wasn't fair Hao (the very embodiment of wrong from his girly, stupidly soft hair to his scrawny, practically emaciated body and those ridiculous pants and crazy, haunting, gigantic earrings and lego shoes and and and….) would just have to walk past him for him to forget he has friends, fiancée and a duty to humanity to keep it from being barbequed as soon as his demented twin felt like it.
If Yoh could have his way Hao wouldn't smirk at him in that horrible knowing way and move just the right way they might have brushed skin had he wanted to and the other allowed himself it.
Because in a simpler, rational world, right wouldn't mean torture and wrong wouldn't be what haunts his dreams and eats away his sanity.