3469
Bura-sama
Monday.12.24.01
Friday.2.1.02

Disclaimer: Digimon belongs in no way to me. I'm making no profit from this sicko story. Really, I'm not. I don't own the characters, I'm merely using them for my sick and twisted fantasies, and no infringement is intended.

Warnings: This is a Takari (Takeru X Hikari); Takato (Takeru X Yamato); Hikeru (Hikari X Takeru); and Yamakeru (Yamato X Takeru). This fic features both heterosexual and homosexual situations, rape, incest, suicide, and mild lime scenes. You have been warned, and any damage this fic might do to your mental stability is strictly your own fault.

Notes: Italics mean flashback.

Glass Doll

chapter three

The back of that chair looks almost like a broken heart, Takeru considered that for a moment. Then, he abruptly burst out laughing. "So ironic that I would even..." Another laughing spell overtook him, and he sat on the counter as his body racked with hysterics. "... That I would even think in terms of broken hearts and fluffy clouds." Almost as soon as it has started, the laughter was gone. "Takeru, you have been reading too many of those damn romance novels." They drew him in with sinfully painted sex scenes and smoldering words. Then they left him hanging at the end with compromised ideals and an even more confounded feeling in his heart.

"Hey, little girl, why are you crying?" Bending down low to look directly into her tear-stained face.

She sniffled twice, then wiped away tears falling from her eyes. "Mommy and Daddy moved away, and now Mommy's gone." A fresh set of tears escaped her eyes and she buried her face into her hands.

He could relate. His parents had split up when he was much younger.

Footsteps from behind the girl, then pale fingers were gently stroking the little girl's hair. "Our father came out of the closet, and our mother blew her brains out because of it." More knowing eyes looked up from the little girl to the stranger-boy standing in the shopping checkout lane.

Okay, so maybe he couldn't relate.

The little girl snuffled, "I don't want a gay daddy!"

The older sister bent down to her own knees, just as Takeru was doing. "Honey, being gay isn't evil. It's like I told you, sweetheart -- locks and keys. God made girl locks and boy keys. Sometimes, two locks or two keys come together. It's nothing wrong, but God wanted a lock and key to come together so that they could unlock the beautiful gift that two of the same kind can't uncover."

What a simple explanation. Takeru wished it was that easy. The younger sibling sniffled again, and stared up at her sister with wide eyes. "But they told me at school that being gay is the work of the Devil."

The whole room was silent. The older girl gently gripped her sister's shoulders, and forced her to look into her eyes. "Honey, who told you this?"

"My friends at school. They said that God sent nasty fags to Hell because He didn't want them in Heaven." Wide green eyes were trembling with emotion.

The older sibling shook her shoulders. "Honey, don't listen to those brats. They only say it because they're scared.. they're scared that they're the same way."

"So it would be okay is I was gay?"

"No." Firm and absolute. "I will not have a lesbian for a sister."

Now the girl was really confused, "But you said there was nothing wrong with being like Daddy."

Understanding dawned, "Honey," she was going to get an answer. "Did someone tell you that you're gay?"

"They say at school that if you have gay parents, then you're gay too." Tears ran down from big bright eyes.

The older sibling glared hard, ignoring the hypocrisy in her own voice, "So help me God, you are not gay, and I don't want you around those faggots that said you were."

The little girl looked past her sister and into Takeru's knowing eyes, "Are you a faggot?"

Takeru flinched as he recalled what had happened earlier that week. People were so hypocritical. People were so judging.

He slid from the kitchen counter and with a slight giggle walked toward his brother's room.

---

He heard the door being unlocked, opened, and pushed shut all in a matter of seconds. He was home. He heard the jacket being unzipped and tossed on the back of a chair. Heard the quiet sound of his brother stepping out of his shoes, sighing in exhaustion as he locked the door behind him. And they say your senses are dulled when you're drunk off your ass. The little fwip forewarned the lights being turned on, and Takeru squinted because of the brightness. He heard more than saw as his brother stopped walking and stared at him.

"Takeru... ?" It was little more than a whisper.

Takeru looked up into his brother's eyes and giggled, "So cute." Yamato flinched.

The beer bottle under his feet rolled across the floor, and Yamato looked down to it with disgust. "Takeru, have you been ... drinking?"

Another girly giggle. He looked down to his feet. Stiletto heels dangled off of the kitchen counter. He slid off of his perch and wobbled as he started walking to his brother. High heels just weren't made for guys. He stumbled, and smoothed the wrinkle in his lace hem. His grin faded and turned hard. "Don't even pretend you didn't know." The guilty look in the other's eyes. Victory. He pulled the slip down a little more; it almost came down to mid-thigh. The fishnet stockings were starting to itch. He couldn't feel his toes in the shiny black shoes. The heavy gold earrings pulled against his ears, and the lip gloss tasted weird on his tongue. The mascara was starting to run down his face, and he had the sneaky suspicion that the eye shadow looked more like a bruise than it should have. He stepped into the light, and Yamato paled. At least he could still leave a good impression.

"Welcome home, honey." A hand with fingernail polish smeared all over the fingers reached up and curled around Yamato's shoulder. He took an immediate step back and thought that his little brother looked almost hurt. He knew that he himself was scared out of his mind.

"Takeru, what are you doing?"

Two of those smeared red fingers reached up to brush away a lock of his hair. Yamato shuddered under the touch. It wasn't from fear. Takeru brought those fingers down to lightly touch his brother's lips. "Just what we both want." Yamato shuddered again.

It was a gentle kiss, warm and inviting. Takeru's hands went up to push the other's head down, and his lips opened in silent command. So sweet... so warm... so--

Yamato jerked his head back as far as Takeru's embrace would allow. "Takeru. We CANNOT do this." He almost believed it.

Their lips were only a breath apart. Yamato could still taste the alcohol that tainted his brother. Those sweet lips of his pushed against his again and Yamato groaned. Takeru pulled back and Yamato could feel his smile. "I didn't say you had choice."

Panic. Panic and a slight shiver of arousal heaved through his body. Takeru pulled him closer so that their chests were pushed together. "Stop squirming." Yamato wriggled faster, and with each movement Takeru's hold on him tightened. Another kiss on cold flesh and another and another and suddenly that cold flesh wasn't so cold.

The kitchen counter bit into the back of his legs, but Yamato didn't seem to notice as he struggled to stop his little brother. No matter what he did, the other's hands seemed to be quicker and far better at holding his own frail wrists down. He could feel his brother pushing against his thigh, making his intentions known. And then the kitchen counter wasn't behind him anymore, and he suddenly found himself without a shirt. It took a moment to register the fact that Takeru was slowly and steadily pushing him towards the bedroom.

Just give into it Yamato... How he hated that inner voice. How easy it would be to just stop fighting Takeru on this issue.

His back hit the door to his bedroom, his hip slamming against edge of the doorknob. Then Takeru was pushing him up, and fumbling with the button on his jeans.

Yamato forgot to resist.

It didn't seem wrong as his little brother started tugging his pants down and reached down... Takeru's smoldering hot tongue licked its way across Yamato's neck and down to bite his shoulder. The sound the older sibling made was somewhere between a shout and a moan. Takeru moved back to open the bedroom door as his hand searched for the door knob.

This is what you've always wanted, Yamato. Don't lie to yourself...

He could almost taste it, what was going to happen. Takeru tightened his arms around Yamato to open the door and moved to go through it. He backed up, not paying attention to the familiar surroundings he had tried so hard to make a home.

And then suddenly he was on the floor, Takeru sprawled over him and laughing. The now-crushed beer can rolled across the floor and collided with the wall. Takeru laughed hysterically, and then suddenly just collapsed against him.

Yamato waited for a moment, then picked up his little brother and brought him to the bed. Pulling off his high heels, he pulled the blankets up to his shoulders and moved the pillow around until it seemed to rest comfortably under his head. Yamato plopped down on the bed and took a deep breath. His heart was racing, guilt had already flooded through him from what had almost happened.

"I can't believe I almost slept with my little brother." Nausea twisted like a painful knot in his stomach.

Convinced that Takeru was dead drunk and not waking up anytime soon, Yamato finished pulling off his jeans and climbed into bed next to the reeking form of his little brother.

"Yamato, you'll always be with me, right?" It was said with such a sweet, vulnerable little voice.

"You know I will, Takeru." A warm smile full of love.

"And you'll never let anything bad happen to me?"

"Never."

"Yamato. Yamato, I love you." A much younger Takeru. A much more innocent Takeru.

---

"This is so hypocritical." The hissing sound as a can of beer was opened.

Yamato slowly brought it to his lips and took a small sip. He'd sworn off beer on his sixteenth birthday. He'd sworn off beer two days ago when all he could think of had been Takeru and Hikari having sex. He hadn't meant to walk in on them in his bedroom. He's meant to knock, but Takeru had never minded before...

Realizing that the beer was empty, he sat the can down next to the other one on the floor. Alcohol is bad, alcohol is bad. He stopped himself from opening another can. His head was starting to ache from sitting against the foot of the bed for so long. The clock next to his bed was blinking 1:53 in lovely red LED lights. He heard the rustling of his blankets being pushed back.

"... Yamato..." It sounded more like a moan than an actual word.

"Yes, Takeru?"

"I'm sorry." The loud thump told Yamato that Takeru had fallen out of the bed. "For everything." He stumbled out of the bedroom and veered right toward the bathroom.

Yamato sat quietly, back pressed up against the bed. Takeru returned a few minutes later and sat down next to him. "Miyako's going to want her lingerie back eventually."

Shock twisted in those blood-shot blue eyes, "Miyako?"

A small smile crept across his face, "She wanted more than an autograph, and left me something to remind me of her." He looked at his brother with an ironic grin. "You had no trouble finding them, though."

His little brother was blushing. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"I see." Maybe it was the alcohol that was making the corners of his mouth kick up in a smile.

He was hesitant to continue talking to his older brother, "Yamato... what exactly did we... do?"

Yamato flinched. "Takeru, it doesn't matter what--"

"What happened between us?"

He sighed before answering, "I came home to find you dressed up like Mimi on crack. I... you kissed me and told me that I didn't have a choice." A deep breath, then another, "Then you pulled me to the bedroom --"

"Yamato," Guilt and self-hatred bubbled up.

"Then you tripped over a beer can and passed out." He reached up and stroked his brother's hair. Pulling his smaller body close, he wrapped his arms around him. His face was pressed into the other's hair, intoxicated by the almost spicy smell mixed with alcohol.

"I need to get back to Mom." A choked whisper.

"I called her and told her you were spending the night." The words muffled in soft blond locks.

"I don't think It's such a good idea..." It was almost a groan. "Hangovers suck."

"Just let me hold you for a little while, Takeru." The silence reigned for a few moments more. "So what brought you to this drinking spell?"

Yamato felt more than saw Takeru's answering shrug. "Problems with Hikari." A quiet pause as the siblings sat intertwined on the floor. "The usual." It went without saying: We've been arguing about you again. Not that she knows it's you.

Yamato closed his eyes and took comfort in his brother's warm embrace. Sleep was so welcome.

---

Takeru woke up to find himself resting against Yamato's shoulder and his body racked with unbelievable pain. His head throbbed and his ears were stinging. Probably shouldn't pierce your own ears with a thumbtack, Takeru. He reached up and warily touched his ears. Besides being crusted over with blood, they screamed beneath his fingers. Groaning and pulling himself from the floor, Takeru realized with dismay that he was still wearing the lingerie. And makeup.

He blinked twice before realizing that he was in Yamato's bedroom. He looked around and stumbled toward the bathroom. He returned a few minutes later with no shirt and a pair of Yamato's jeans that were far too tight for him. The make-up had come off with vigorous scrubbing, although the nail polish was still smeared across his hands. He sighed and walked over to Yamato, ready to pick him up and get him off the floor. He stopped short as he noticed for the first time the small pile of beer cans.

"Oh, Yamato." Immediately leaving the bedroom, he raced into the kitchen and jerked open the refrigerator door. He noticed it right away. The small brown bag stuck in the back. "Damn Yamato, you told me you quit." He reached for the bag and squinted to read the print. Tequila. He walked over to the sink and started to pour it down the drain. "It's too good to go to waste, and I haven't had a drink since yesterday afternoon..."

It burned as he felt it coat its way down to his stomach. He took another gulp right from the bottle, and grimaced. He did not need to get drunk again. Hey, it'll make the hangover pain go away... He took another drink, and hiccupped. Sliding down to the floor in front of refrigerator, he started taking small sips until he gradually noticed there was less and less in the bottle.

"Takeru?" It was whispered from the door. He didn't bother to look up; he could see his brother's disapproving stare. He didn't bother to look up as those slender fingers reached down and snatched the tequila. The bottle was empty except for the worm. "You're going to die of alcohol poisoning before you're eighteen." It was said in all seriousness.

He didn't even realize it was his own hands that were suddenly moving. They reached up and touched that beautiful blond hair. They moved down and with a touch that was feather-light moved over his brother's eye lids. They continued down and brushed across the other's lips. Yamato sharply inhaled and stepped away. "Takeru, no."

"But I want to." Spoiled brat? Not quite.

"We don't always get what we want, Takeru." He knew his voice wasn't very firm.

"You'd never say 'no' to me." A hand snaked out and tugged at the sky blue shirt his brother was wearing. Yamato dropped the tequila bottle. It shattered in the kitchen floor. "You promised."

"Takeru, listen to me: NO. This will never end well, no matter how much you think you --" His words were silenced as his little brother stepped forward and kissed him.

And then they were walking back to the bedroom, Yamato pushing against the iron grip of Takeru. They stopped for a mere moment as Takeru stepped on the bottle; aside from an agonizing moan, he didn't seem to notice the blood dripping out of his foot. He kept pushing Yamato backwards until he hit the foot of his bed and they fell back against it. He tore his brother's shirt off and jerked him upward enough to remove the jeans. They were tossed aside, as were Takeru's clothes.

Takeru's mouth dragged downward from his brother's neck in fervid kisses. Yamato's hands tried to push him away, but every movement was blocked. He was saying something to him, something that Takeru only interpreted as resistance.

Takeru didn't notice when Yamato stopped resisting.

---

Early morning sunlight warmed his face, and Takeru blinked awake. His head was pounding like a hammer striking an anvil, and his muscles were achingly sore. There was something wrong with his foot and he looked down to see what --

He was not in his bed. Conscious for the first time of his surroundings, he realized he was in Yamato's bed. A fresh wave of guilt flooded in when he remembered that he had gone over to his brother's apartment drunk off his ass and had tried to rape his older brother. He pushed the blanket away and stood. Sharp pain arched up through his leg, and he collapsed back down on the bed. He had blood smeared across the bottom of his foot. A deep cut lashed across his sole, probably a puncture wound. I hope this doesn't require stitches. Moaning to himself, he limped across the room, picked up his discarded jeans from the night before, and hobbled into the bathroom.

His eyes were bloodshot when he looked into the mirror. Blue and red. He tugged on the jeans, conscious of his injured foot. "I wonder what happened to it..." It was said as he tightly wrapped a towel around his foot and looked around for a shirt. Yamato wouldn't mind if he borrowed his clothes. He couldn't remember wearing a shirt the night before, after the little lingerie stint. He hated that he'd slept naked in Yamato's bed. Sure, it was normal for him -- but he never slept nude in someone else's room. Hikari being an exception. He walked out of the bathroom and into his brother's bedroom. He spied a wrinkled blue shirt on the floor and stopped cold.

He saw the other pair of jeans on the floor and nausea twisted inside of him. He looked up to the bed and saw the unmistakable form of his brother. The bile was rising in the back of his throat as he noticed the uneasy breathing in Yamato's sleep, the pasty white skin of his brother's back. He hurried back to the bathroom and started retching as it all came back to him.

Skin and skin pushed together. Domineering hands holding back unwilling ones. His brother's ragged breathing as he squirmed to get away. "Damn, this is wrong! Stop it Takeru!"

He collapsed down, his head resting on the top of the sink. The queasiness wouldn't leave.

It was all catching up to him. Sleeping with Hikari, getting her pregnant, losing the battle with alcohol, and now raping his brother.

Then the tears started. One, two, three drops against the white tiles in the bathroom. Four, five, six hit his forearm. He hadn't let himself cry, had stopped himself before the first tear could fall. Once they started, he feared they'd never stop.

"Takeru?" His head whipped immediately to the door. Yamato was standing there in blue silk pajama bottoms. No shirt. Takeru's eyes went immediately to the softly crushed skin up and down his brother's back. It would be all bruises before the day was over. He had a weary look in his eyes, as if he'd aged ten years since the day before. Takeru caught the look in his eyes that flashed through for only seconds. Guilt.

"Don't you dare blame yourself for this Yamato." The other opened his mouth to argue, but Takeru interrupted. "Did I wake you up?"

He leaned against the door. "You've never been a quiet crier, Takeru." Takeru didn't miss the wince as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I hope you're not crying for me."

"It's everything. It's you, it's Hikari, it's the --" A weary grin cracked along his face. "I never told you, did I?"

"Told me what?" Curiosity was mixed with dread.

"Yamato, you're going to be an uncle."