Disclaimer: Really…
Note: I'm going to do a companion piece to this one, too (like I have companion pieces planned for a couple other of my drabbles), but that'll come…sometime after I finish my Geography project ;-;
This one's in Ed's point of view. The second will be Al's.
Works almost like an interview? I don't know how to explain it…you'll see.
Who?
My own brother.
I know it's wrong, even if it feels right. I hate myself for it, yet he keeps on loving me.
Loving me. Unconditionally. More than anyone or anything has ever been loved by him before, or ever can be. I know it's wrong, but he carries on as if he doesn't know…
My own flesh and blood. My only remaining blood family. My kin. My brother.
My love.
My lover.
What?
Our final sin.
After all of these years of sinning, and of misery, after we had finally settled down, living a peaceful life together. And then there was the next sin.
The sin of loving one another, of wanting to be together like this, like no brothers are supposed to be. The sin of incest and the sin we will live with for the rest of our lives, no matter how wrong it is…
It is our sweetest sin.
Where?
Everywhere.
No matter where we go, alone or together, we love one another, the way we should not love one another. We may not act upon it, but often we do.
I see him cast me shy glances, and blush, and then I'll cautiously reach my hand out to his, underneath the table of the restaurant where Colonel Bastard so graciously invited us for dinner, where he gestured for us to sit, unknowingly allowing the two secret lovers to sit next to one another, nearly shoulder to shoulder.
Or maybe it will be at the library, where I'll notice those shy looks, that cute blushing face and I'll look around, confirm that the dark corner is our sanctuary, and move boldly toward him, and plant a gentle kiss on his lips, and smirk when he blushes more.
But mostly it's at our home – especially our room. We sign the contract with our shared blood, confirming this sin, and making it so neither of us can ever deny what we have done, but we don't think of this, generally, until after it's done with, and we lie together, hair and sweat mingling, lying content in each other's arms.
So this thing cannot be defined to any 'where', but simply noted that it is carried with us, forever, no matter where we go.
It, in a sense, is us.
When?
When? It depends on what you mean…
From dawn until dusk, every day of every week of every month of every year, and all of the hours between, from this day forward. We are together almost constantly, and it starts everyday…
I wake in the morning to be in his arms, but dare not wake him, and cuddle closer, breathing in his scent, not daring to be so clingy while he's awake, and lie there, happy to be like this, for once, with my head on his chest, until he wakes, and I pretend that I was still sleeping. He strokes my hair, and plants soft kisses on my forehead and the rest of my face, until I stir, and slowly opening my eyes, with an overdramatic yawn. He smiles, then, and whispers a greeting to me, a 'good morning' or a 'rise and shine'.
It continues throughout the day, too, our fingers interlocked, and our bodies always close together, until the evenings, when we forget our separate bodies and become one, merged together without a care in the world beyond the other, then we lie together, in silence, for an hour or so, until we drift asleep…
If you wish to know when it happened, that is a much harder question to answer.
I'm sure it was somewhere between all the pain, and the suffering, when we had only one another to rely on, and when we knew that without the other we were nothing, that our quest was nothing, that we were the most important things to each other. Maybe in all of that, maybe that was when it happened…
But it does not matter, so much when…
Why?
Because we needed – still need – one another.
We need to be together, despite the challenges – despite how wrong it is, despite how the guilt builds in my stomach every time he and I…
We wanted to be closer together – to be as close as possible, to be able to hold one another, so very close, and support each other…
These are all lame excuses, but I can't help it – there's no way I can possibly explain this. I can't explain why or anything like that.
It just is.
It's just too hard to give up perfection…
How?
Because we were all we had left, after all that happened, and we couldn't give it up, and so something was born from all of it, and now we are together, and our love grew so strong from what happened.
I remember how we came to be together…
It was in the spring, and it was raining…I had felt guilty with my feelings for him for so long, and…I was so glad when I found out he loved me, too…
I guess I can't explain this either – it's something for me to cherish, for myself, and there is no need to explain it, not ever.
In conclusion?
I'm addicted to his touch. I'm obsessed with him.
I can't get enough of his fingers dancing across my flesh, the tender kisses he places across my skin, and the way he feels against my skin, hot and passionate, and loving…
Though it hurts me to do this, because I can't help but think that I'm dirty for these thoughts, I can't even come to think that it's truly wrong. Not when I feel so good and wonderful next to him, when I see how perfectly we fit into each other's arms (among fitting together other ways...).
And even if it sometimes hurts, and I can't help but disregard what others might think, especially if this is what Al wants, what makes him happy…
Because we've finally found our little happiness, even in sin, and it's our perfection.