"Let her go, Seimei."
Seimei craned his neck to eye Ritsuka standing in the kitchen doorway, a towel draped over his dripping hair. He continued to mop the water of his black locks as he eyed his family members attempting to kill one another in the kitchen as if it were totally normal - or maybe it was, in a sense. Seimei could smell his watermelon scented shampoo from where he stood, close to the humming refrigerator.
Before Seimei could answer, Ritsuka shook his head as if deeply disheartened and headed upstairs without another word. Misaki was still alive, fault of Seimei's slackened grip, and had stopped moving entirely. As for Seimei, he kept eyeing her silently, fingers clenching and unclenching around her pale through indecisively. He knew killing their mother was a stupid thing to do - she was their income, after all. Their father paid her good money for her to take care of them (she had long ago gone too crazy to work) and it would stop if she died. He let go of her and she fell to the floor, her back against the wall. Like an animal she curled into a ball and faked death as though it might save her from anything else Seimei had in store for her.
"Go to bed," he ordered, picking up the newspaper and throwing it into the trash. She obeyed, pulling herself up and limping dramatically to her room; she did so enjoy being theatrical. Her second son seemed to have developped that habit as well.
Seimei retraced Ritsuka's footsteps up the stairs and into his room, which was comfortably warm thanks to the computer humming on the desk and generating heat. In the weeks that had followed the incident, as it was now named, Seimei had purchased a new, larger bed - whether to leave more room for Ritsuka to inch away (should he feel the need to) or to accomodate both the bodies he left to the imagination of whoever asked. On another, less important note, he had bought curtains that matched with the new bedspread, if only for his personal satisfaction.
Ritsuka was lying on the bed, reading one of Seimei's thick, leather-bound books, squinting; he was in need of glasses but refused on the grounds that it didn't suit him very well. Indeed it did not, but it pained Seimei to see him force his adorable eyes so whenever he watched tv or read a book. Ritsuka didn't look up as Seimei came in the room.
"What are you reading?" he wondered aloud. Ritsuka scoffed to an interior joke.
"Whuthering Heights," he said with a smile. (My spell check is off, I'm sorry if I mispelled the title, I did off what I could remember.)
"I didn't like it," Seimei answered as he sat at his desk and opened his e-mails. Nisei, being the attached sociopath that he was, had sent him 17 in four hours. Seimei deleted them all.
He remembered that he'd thought the romance in the book was cheesy, albeit not traditional, and all characters striked him as dislikeable. Then again, he didn't like many people at all.
"Why not?" Ritsuka had closed the book and rolled on his side so he could watch Seimei type away on the keboard, fingers dancing over the keys. He's so graceful in everything he does, Ritsuka thought, his face turning a little red.
"It's not my genre of book," was all Seimei would say, even when Ritsuka pressed him for more. The youngest sibling liked the book, although he couldn't understand all of it, and some chapters were long and pointless in his opinion.
"Is mom making something for lunch?"
That was Ritsuka's way of inquiring about their mother: Is she dead? was what he meant. There was no fear or apprehension in his voice, just blatant, emotionless curiosity. Seimei found that endearing.
"I'm not sure, you can ask her." No.
Ritsuka simply nodded and got up, fixing his hair like he'd spontaneously started doing a week before. He then went to where Seimei was sitting and sat down in his brother's lap, reading the e-mail Seimei had opened before, his chin propped into one open palm. He'd started doing that two days after the incident (lol, I make it sound so tragic), which again was odd, as if he yearned to be closer to Seimei and not far, far away. Seimei didn't mind. Ritsuka was a bit big for it, and he weighed enough to put cramps in Seimei's legs, but he was warm and the older boy found it to be satisfying. Seimei put one hand around Ritsuka's waist while the other one clicked and typed. He didn't particularly like being watched as he answered Soubi's e-mails - he didn't even deign to open one of Nisei's - but it was well worth it.
"Is my tail annoying you?" Ritsuka inquired after a few minutes, now leaning back into Seimei's chest, his tail flicking back and forth and occasionally rubbing against Seimei's rib cage. He asked this with a bit of concealed laughter.
"Of course not."
"So where's my present?"
Seimei closed his e-mails and started loading his online game, clicking uselessly in boredom and impatience. He couldn't remember buying Ritsuka any present, so he only clicked more furiously.
"What present?"
"It was like...three weeks ago. You said you'd bought something for me."
Irony being what it was, Seimei found his foot kicking the box with the drug and needle in it as he was waiting for the loading to finish. He temporarily forgot about the game and looked down into Ritsuka's amethyst eyes, ears perked.
"I forgot to go get it," he appologized half-heartedly. Ritsuka pouted.
"Then you owe me," his brother stated, crossing his arms over his chest. Seimei almost scolded him for acting so childishly.
"What do you want?" He had a feeling it'd be particularly painful if Ritsuka's previous requests were anything to go by. Ritsuka thought it was funny to see Seimei going around looking for some outrageously rare item because he never broke a promise - hence why he never made any, Ritsuka excluded. One time, feeling more daring than usual, he had requested an item that didn't exist. Seimei tried and tried - and, consequently, so did his Fighters - but found nothing. He was downright furious when Ritsuka nervously and guiltily told him it didn't exist, making it one of few days when Seimei had been mad at his little brother.
But Ritsuka only turned in his lap so they were facing each other and moved his face closer, ears flicking excitedly.
"Kisssss," he giggled, blocking the computer screen with his head in case Seimei was tempted to direct his attention elsewhere.
Seimei blinked and replayed the memory in his head to make sure he'd heard right. He then decided that Ritsuka was definately not a regular person, and that that was alright - more than alright, it was exhilarating. In some small, innocent way, Ritsuka returned his feelings, even if he didn't understand the full extend of them.
Cutting off his own thoughts, he put one hand on Ritsuka's warm - he was blushing - cheek and leaned his head forward to press their lips together. Seimei kept it simple, satisfied with feelings Ritsuka's soft, warm lips against his own. It was the younger boy who tilted his head somewhat and brushed his tongue against Seimei's lips shyly at first, then with more insistance. Seimei hesitated, then opened his lips, but was the one to control the kiss, invading Ritsuka's small mouth with his tongue. He groaned a little, shifting in his seat so that Ritsuka could slide farther into his lap, and the boy squeezed Seimei's hips with his legs. Ritsuka was moaning too as they made out, and despite him initiating anything and everything he let his big brother be in control - for his size and age, and maybe more.
Encouraged by Seimei's reaction to kissing, Ritsuka pushed their bodies closer and bucked his hips into his brother's, moaning louder into his mouth. Seimei wondered how innocent he really was, taking advantage of his excitement like that. He groaned again and held onto Ritsuka's hip tightly with his hand, arching a little so that their groins rubbed together. Ritsuka pulled his face away, saliva gleaming on the left side of his mouth. He wiped it off with his sleeve, eyes hazy with lust.
"You're hard," he stated in a low voice, one hand hovering dangerously close to the waistband of Seimei's dark, almost black jeans. He brushed Seimei's lower abdomen with his fingers, biting his redened lip. "Want me to put my mouth on it?"
How he wanted to say yes - yes. He wanted to look into those violet eyes, so much like his own, and tell him that he would love to. Instead he rolled the chair back, just to be safe, and pushed Ritsuka off his lap with a distraught grunt. Ritsuka looked taken aback as he stood in between the desk and the occupied chair, his eyes going from lustful to angry and confused. Who am I pleasing by refusing, Seimei thought to himself when Ritsuka kicked him half-heartedly in the shin and plopped back down on the bed, angrily yanking the book open at a random page. Neither knew what to say, and now Seimei was excited and hot, legs spread in the chair. He straightened his shirt and fixed his hair before tentatively approaching the bed and brushing the back of Ritsuka's neck gently with his fingers.
"Quit it," the younger boy mumbled. He gripped the book tightly with his hands; it was upside down.
"I love you," Seimei whispered close to his ear, kissing the back of his neck. Ritsuka curled into a stubborn, protective ball with the book pressed to his chest, ears flattened on top of his head. Suddenly he was his little brother again, in need of protection and adorable in his own way. "You're not going to talk to me?" he teased, almost purring.
Ritsuka did something that looked like a shake of the head. Was he saying no to both of his statements?
"I'll go make you a sandwich," Seimei replied finally, getting up from his kneeling position and going down to the kitchen.
As he was meticulously cutting ham into adaptable slices, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He set the knife down carefully and pulled it out of his pant pocket, opening it and pressing it in between his shoulder and ear so he could use both his hands.
"Yes?" It was a greeting that meant state your business and then go away. "It's Soubi,"
Seimei tsked, closed the sandwich and dropping it into a china plate. On second thought, he cut up some slices of cucumber and placed them next to the sandwich.
"Now? It's not a good time."
"I can't keep him for long. They'll track him soon."
"Fine, I'll be there in thirteen minutes." And then he hung up, put his phone away and went upstairs with the sandwich in tow.
Ritsuka was still denying the world when he entered, so he put the sandwich on his desk but didn't touch his little brother again.
"Here's your sandwich." he paused. "I'm going out, I should be back in an hour. Do you want a massage before I go?"
He heard Ritsuka groan. "That's not funny..."
"No?"
Like he'd hoped, Ritsuka was out of bed and groggily made his way over to Seimei; he then huddled into his side, bangs shading his face. Seimei wrapped both arms around his brother's lean, nearly too-skinny body and kissed his head.
"Don't go downstairs while I'm gone - mother's mad," he warned. Ritsuka nodded. "When I get back we can take a bath." Ritsuka nodded enthusiastically.
For the third time that hour Seimei headed downstairs, put on his coat and scarf in the lobby and went out, leaving his feelings and thoughts behind him in the house with Ritsuka.
xXxXxXx
Ritsuka did go downstairs, unlike he was instructed, to get a glass of juice to quench his thirst. He looked around warily for his mother, and when he didn't see her he went to the regrigerator. He frowned when he didn't see any orange juice and leaned forward to push the milk and butter aside to see if it had been nudged into the back. As he was about to pull back, he felt a cold hand wrap around the back of his neck before everything went back and his body slumped forward, but was caught before it could hit the ground.
"Got you..."
xXxXxXx
"Soubi, where are you? I'm wasting my time," Seimei spat, looking around the apartment disinterestedly. He'd been there twice before, once to check and see if it was appropriate and another time to get Soubi when his cell phone had broken. Now he couldn't see his Fighter or his annoying blonde companion.
"Here..." a low voice answered. It seemed to come from the bathroom so that's where the Aoyagi boy went, kicking the door open with his foot. Soubi was standing next to the toilet in his art clothes, paint splattered all over the white cotton shirt.
"Where's Takaya?"
"He's not here," the Fighter answered, gazing sideways.
"Did they take him back?" It was a warning, not a queestion, but only someone who knew the man very well could know that.
"He was never here," Soubi sighed.
"Why did you tell me he was? You lied to me, you unloved fuck," he spat, eyes narrowed and ears flat. I'm sure I've said this before, but Seimei never sweared unless he was about to kill or he felt his very was of life was being shamelessly threatened. Soubi shuddered.
"...Forgive me."
And that's it for now. I'm sorry for the late update, I was busy...or not in the mood. I hope you like it (I aim to please), and you read and review. That's my all time favorite. Some people do a 'if I get X reviews I'll update', but that seems a little unfair...so don't give me a reason to start using it :)
And if you have ideas, do share...I'm running out of them, which is unusual, but whatever. I'm not a writer in the sense so I don't have writer's block, I'm fresh outta new shit to write is all.
Awwww...poor Ritsuka though. He's gotta be so confused.
It's so wrong and yet...so very, very right.
P.S: If anyone guesses who abducted Ritsuka gets to make up one chapter and I'll do whatever he/she says. If that sounds like too much work, I'll just dedicate something to you. If you're not interested, nothing happens ... And no it's not Voldemort or Darth Vador.