See? I kept my word. It's Saturday!

Now, where did we leave off? Oh, yeah. The storehouse. Make yourself comfortable for the chapter is long and full of dialogues (oops, wrong fandom).

Hope y'all hadn't missed chapter 24 "Only I am to Blame", if so, please swipe back to it, 'cause it's hella important.

Oh, and Xaori… that one down there is for you!

Chapter 25 – Aftermath

Part 1 – Illicit Affair

As soon as the roller shutter garage door was high enough to drive under, Chris's car elegantly slid inside like a black purring panther. The engine's rumble topped up the ambient until, with a twist of his wrist, Chris killed it.

"Hold up." The big boy said, motioning his sister to close the door she'd already clicked open while still unfastening the safety belt.

Chris leisurely closed the roller shutter with the compact remote hanging from the gear shift. Everything about him suggested he was taking his time. He adjusted in the seat, rested the elbow against the base of the window and began to absently scrape his temple with two fingertips. His hazelnut brown eyes shuttled back and forth, trying to rearrange his thoughts, doubts and the ridiculous amount of worry that had kept him quietly pensive on their way home from the industrial area.

He glanced at Claire, who was placidly waiting for him to speak. She welcomed his eyes into hers and comfortably kept her gaze locked on his.

Those brief moments in the car were the last chance they'd have for the rest of the day to discuss some remaining things that still needed to be talked out, with the minimum of safety they needed.

Despite the mere thought of it being enough to cloud his features as he downright disliked it and all the angst it carried along, Chris was aware of the fact that he and Claire needed to be careful all the more now, since they had drawn their parents' attention, somehow or other. His constant alert and preoccupation to not get caught had paradoxically intensified now that their incestuous romance was allegedly over. Every extravagance was to accurately avoid, in order to not arouse any other suspicions from their prying parents. Chris intuited that, at least for him, hard times full of asperities to face loomed ahead.

"Before going back in, we gotta talk some things out." Chris said, nodding at the matt black metal door that connected the garage straight to the living room.

"I'm all ears." Claire assured, letting go of the handle and turning towards him.

"First of all," Chris said raising his thumb as to count. "We gotta keep an eye on Mom and Dad." He exhaled through his nose and slightly shook his head. "They noticed something's not alright between us. They're no fools."

"Yeah… unfortunately." Claire sighed in regret. She caught her lower lip in her teeth and sucked it as her mind wandered. "Mom believes you're just jealous of Rebecca, though."

"What?!" Chris asked in confusion.

Claire briefly explained the cosmic hoax she'd invented to justify the fact they'd seemed to be at daggers drawn with each other during last night's dinner.

"Did she buy it?"

Claire worried her lower lip a little more while she weighed her mother's behaviour about what they'd talked about. "Yeah, I… I think so."

"Good." Chris nodded, taking mental note of that as yet unknown information. His intuition was ready to bet the boy's balls that their parents hadn't even remotely swallowed that attempt to humbug them but, for the time being, Chris preferred to believe the opposite. "Anyway, we absolutely must not let them realize something… big happened to us. I don't want them up my ass to fucking bust my balls with their questions."

"Do you…" Claire faltered, stiffening in her seat. She fidgeted with an auburn strand in utter discomfort and reduced her voice to a whisper as she met her brother's tense look. "Chris… do you think they suspect something else about us?"

Chris quickly recollected all the precautions they'd taken to hide their illicit affair and he repeated to himself they couldn't have been caught. "I don't." He exhaled.

"I saw Dad coming into your room this morning." Claire insisted, almost gasping as she suddenly remembered a detail that hours before had already got her to gulp down a mouthful of bitter worry. "Did he say anything about me? Did he ask you something? I don't know how convincing I was yesterday… Jesus, they literally grilled me! And I-"

"Whoa, whoa, Claire, Claire… Claire." Chris soothed, waving his palms in the air to incite her to calm down and not give in to panic. "Hold up. It's alright." He reassured her by telling that Robert had simply warned him that, anytime in the week, they'd have had to help Grandpa John to overhaul some parts of the old motorbike he'd purchased. Just that. Pure and simple "guys stuff" planning. In hindsight, Rob had indeed regarded him with a couple of quirk looks, and most certainly he'd mentally wondered about those terrible dark circles under his firstborn's eyes and why the bed looked like anything but unmade. Nevertheless, the shortest conversation had been utmost neutral.

"If they even just suspected about us… about what we've done," Chris reasoned, to reassure himself first, even before Claire. "I reckon none of us would be here now." The boy dared a smirk, almost like a brat outsmarting the adults for being still alive in spite of it all. "I'd already be dead by now." He felt quite a remote sense of victory that didn't outlast his smirk though.

Claire sank into the seat and sighed. "That sure sounds comforting."

"Claire, look at me." Chris said, waiting until her blue eyes were one with his. "They have no clue. Trust me."

"Ok."

"They only think we had a stupid fight." Chris continued. "And even if they don't believe your lie… I mean, what are the chances they'd guess the truth?"

Claire looked away, struggling to mentally calculate an indefinite concept such as "their chances". Chris was right. Which parent would ever suspect their kids were two nasty doers? Incest isn't the first thing that comes to your mind by any stretch of the imagination when you see your children fight and act weird right after. Right?

The girl released a breath and nodded. To go paranoid was of no use.

"We have to be convincing and make them believe everything's alright." Chris murmured.

"Absolutely." Claire agreed.

Chris ducked his head a little and closed his eyes. "Even if nothing's alright."

His pained murmur got the girl sitting beside to look at him with renewed sadness. She threw herself onwards to draw him into her hug – or at least to drape her arms around him as much as she could – but, at the mere rustle of her movement, Chris retracted even more towards the windowpane, interposing his palm between their bodies to halt her affectionate abandon.

"Chris…?" Claire wheezed, quite mortified by that abrupt rejection.

"We can't."

"You assured they know nothing. It's safe to hug." Claire softly spoke. "It's always been."

"It's not about them…" Chris whispered, hoarse and downhearted. "It's about us. I can't."

Chris made a great effort to control the emotions showing on his face and to screen his vulnerabilities from that hurtful presence, at the same time, but he failed. For a short moment, he failed to hide away. So Claire got to catch a glimpse of the vast obscurity harbouring within him. It was a shadow on his face, a blink of his eye, a twitch of his lip, so short-lived that Claire wondered whether she'd dreamt of it or not. But the feeling that he was hurt way more than he let appear remained.

"We can handle it. Together." She encouraged, speaking over the howl of guilt inside her head. She needed him to be strong, so she could tell herself she hadn't screwed him that much. Claire pressed a hand onto her stomach as it wringed in regret. She needed to believe that lie or her own body would've declared war to her mind.

"It won't be easy." Chris bemoaned. "Maybe you'll just pretend it never happened, but to me-"

"Stop demeaning me!" Claire snarled, glaring a chiding look straight at his face.

Chris looked clearly taken aback and stared at her wide-eyed as the girl sat back in her seat, sullen and frowning.

"Just 'cause I didn't fall in love with you it doesn't mean what I did with you is meaningless to me!" She grunted through her pout.

"I didn't say that." Chris defended himself.

"It won't be easy for me either, Chris." Claire remarked, furrowing her brows so much that her frown darkened incredibly. "I didn't fall in love but I did love you every night. And trust me, I fucking didn't wish to stop. And I know I won't stop needing you only because of… yesterday."

Chris tightened his lips in order to refrain anything inappropriate from slipping out and took a moment to reprobate himself for his inconsiderateness.

"Sorry." He muttered as a miniscule spark warmed his heart as he felt his sister was on his same wavelength for once. Her way.

"I don't want you to think I'm just a little girl who only wanted to get laid come what may." Claire bluntly pleaded.

"I don't." Chris hastened to reply. Too hastily. He spoke even before he questioned himself "how much" he really didn't.

Part 2 – Softcore

Meh.

That's all Claire could come up with after what technically was an orgasm but practically was just… meh.

It was late night in Girly Room and the girl had been idly toying with herself for a while now as she tried to masturbate herself to sleep, unsuccessfully.

Splay-legged beneath the thick blanket, Claire insisted a little more but she eventually slid her hands out her panties and sighed in resignation as her clitoris clearly had retired for the night. It was like dumbed.

Claire peeled her head off the pillow and looked at her fingertips. They were as dry as anything. She had gone all the way down on herself and she'd tried and she'd tried but as the climax came… it was the only one coming because she barely noticed she'd finished herself.

Let's just call it a day and get some sleep, do you hear? Her clit seemed to make fun of her.

She huffed and sank her nape back into the fluffy pillow. Chris wouldn't have left her unsatisfied like that, not by a long shot. It was whole-ass impossible to just not get wet when it was about him and he just knew how and where to touch her.

She scoffed at the irony that Chris would probably outclass her in female masturbation.

That night, Claire had acted quite out of habit because she'd needed a dose, a shot of endorphins rushing straight to her brain, like a junkie when the addiction calls, but she couldn't consider herself aroused in the least. Should she have either laughed or cried for having quite forgotten how to please herself? Or should she have rather pitied herself for missing Chris so badly that not even the thought of him was enough to turn her and her clitoris on?

Claire frowned and snorted, for she knew the answer pretty damn well.

Earlier on, before getting finally out of the car, she and her brother had agreed to adopt a "soft approach" to start resolving their recent rather explosive issues. Chris, in particular, was pretty concerned with the aftermath management. He seemed reluctant to just brutally sever ties with each other – even so it looked like the most effective thing to do. Also because to just wholly ignore and avoid each other for a while would've only aggravated their position at their parents' eyes.

Therefore, by the time they entered the living room, the two kids had stated to maintain their usual closeness although stopping every unnatural touch and behaviour. Night-time would return the usual sleeping in the respective bedrooms, their tongues would remain accurately sealed behind their own lips, meant to never twirl and entwine together as nature itself commanded, and by no means they'd undress in his car ever again. And bathrooms were to be used separately.

Sex. Was. Over.

End of story.

By every means of the word.

It sounded so simple it could only be out and away the hardest goal to accomplish.

Whilst Claire dispelled a mental vision from the past of Chris licking her fingers either in or out of her body, she wondered how her brother was doing right then. How was he enduring their first night apart as siblings with a forbidden past? She turned in her bed and sighed once more.

He'd said he was certain it would've been so easy for her to just forget, Claire remembered, and it was so infuriating it exacerbated her frown, especially now that her body unashamedly proved him wrong. She grasped a fistful of fabric and tightened her hold until her knuckles turned white. Oh, he should've seen her now! He wasn't the only one struggling there. Conversely, it was rather harder for her, as the big fucker still had her photos neatly stored in some recondite folder of his phone. As long as he was able to get a boner, he had nothing to fear. His nights would've been just as lonely as hers but, at least, he had some relief granted at his fingertips. Literally.

Maybe it was with the will of showing him how wrong he'd been, or maybe it was just the lovely intention to check him, but Claire grabbed her phone and texted the handsome boy on the other side of the wall.

Claire: hey big bear…

Why was it taking him so much to reply? He couldn't be already asleep. It was barely midnight! Alright, he'd had a helluva night but he hadn't looked that sleepy while watching TV until an hour before. Was he trying to show her he was fine even witho- HE WAS TYPING!

Chris: hey

Hey. HEY. Claire made a funny sound through her nose – unclear of whom it was addressed at – nevertheless, she smiled like a little fangirl finally being noticed by her impossible celebrity crush. The most neutral hey suddenly sounded as lovely and terrible as they came.

Claire: how is it going for you?

Seconds passed, but that double check sign didn't allude to turn blue. Chris hadn't even read the last message! Claire started to doubt whether he even liked to hear of her or not.

Had he just fucked his phone off as he saw it was her texting? Was their simple plan valid only during daytime? Did he consider it just too-hurtful-to-bear to pretend they were still the old siblings they'd grown up as, even by night? Was she hurting him by seeking his virtual company exactly in the same hour they usually were about to happily sin together? Was she just reminding him he had motherfucking lost the woman he loved?

Too many questions for the loneliness of the late hour and no answers nor replies is sight. On one hand, Claire utterly disliked being ignored like that. On the other though, she grew concerned about Chris's well-being.

Once more, guilt threatened her stomach.

By such a stupid little thing as texting, she had offered a helpful hand, in order to share a handhold to cling to in their common wrecking and, oh, she'd be hanged if she'd have let him ignore her! They were in this together, and together they'd have come out of it! He had to accept her hand or the monster in her stomach would've had the go-ahead for devastating all her inners. Soul included.

Therefore, before the irreparable occurred, Claire made up her mind to draw his attention on her in order to elicit his interest and dispel that displeasing feeling away.

Claire: I think I just jerked off to you.

He couldn't ignore that.

In fact, the message went from sent to read in a split of a second. Those little blue lines howled in victory on Claire's screen like the trumpets of Apocalypse.

Claire: but it wasn't like having you inside me.

The red-haired girl had to blink twice and force her jaw to go back up as she saw his name appear in the incoming call screen.

Chris was calling her.

Claire immediately jolted upright, with her eyes stuck on the vibrating device, as the rosy-lighted room held its breath along with her. Shaky fingers tapped the screen and picked up the call, while she was too frightened to either hear him crying and broken on the other end or get a harsh reproach for having sinned again in spite of all her good intentions.

"Hey…" Claire whispered, grimacing for the sarcasm of her own stupid brain.

She heard Chris wheeze and sob a little and she swore, she heard her heart rip in two as well. How naïve to believe he'd heal by masturbation and amateur softcore pictures of her! His heart was broken – she'd made it so – no surprise he wouldn't just rub one out to rub the memory of her off his skin… and heart.

Claire felt horrible.

"Chris, I…" Claire started but trailed off as soon as she kept listening to the noises coming from the other end. The more attention she paid to his breathing, his leaping panting, the more she realised her brother was anything but crying. He was rather…

"Keep talking." The rough voice of him hoarsely commanded. The long, breathy moan that followed literally snatched away every ounce of breath in the girl's lungs.

"Chris…? Are you…" Claire gasped.

"I don't wanna go soft tonight." Chris panted and bit his lips not to groan how hard he wanted to go down on her because he missed the unforgettable girl's taste.

On the other end, Claire bit her lips too, but for a whole different reason. Those noises were music to her ears and… clitoris. It was like the mating call of the wild animals they both nightly turned into. Claire slowly slid back beneath the bedsheets and hummed a little as her hand travelled all the way down to her throbbing lady parts.

"I don't know if it's right, Chris." Claire susurrated in a luscious whisper as she caressed her navel.

"Claire. Please." Chris pleaded without letting down his bossy tone.

Claire giggled and released a sound breath as her fingertips finally grazed her hottest skin, awake and responsive at last. Oh, the miracle had happened! Just say the word...

"Chris." A first shocking wave of pleasure compelled her to hiss his name.

"Yeah?" He moaned.

"Keep talking." Claire gasped and she could almost see the wide grin plastered on the boy's face. Actually, she suddenly saw in her mind, clear and unmistakable as only clairvoyance ought to be, a glimpse of him, right behind the wall of her closet, outstretched on his bed, naked and sweaty, his big hand working hard up and down his even harder dick, erected and superbly pointing at the ceiling like a rocket ready to launch. And she grinned as she realised they'd had the same idea to confront that first demanding night of lonesome insomnia.

"Oh, this is so wrong…" She moaned in a tone that only revealed she'd slid a finger inside herself.

"You can scold me later." Chris groaned, appreciating the obvious acceptance of his subtle invitation. He adored that little role play she was arranging, to say the least, and he played all along. With no shame, nor regret, let alone consideration. "I'm tryna cum here."

"Me too."

"I thought you said you just did it." He taunted.

"I did, but it downright sucked." Claire admitted as her smile widened for all the thrilling signals coming from her pussy.

"I wonder why." Chris bitterly teased.

Claire evidently didn't get his provocation and ingenuously believed his was a sincere curiosity. "Because it wasn't your hands." She sighed.

"Still wondering why." Chris repeated, aware of the meanness of it.

"I want your hands to go down on me." She mewled, too stimulated to acknowledge the sharpness that underlay his words.

"Mh, cocktease." He chuckled, happy to hear her so turned on, and doubled his speed.

By the level of arousal they both had reached by then, all the grief and the bitterness of the last day didn't matter anymore. It seemed far and unimportant. It was a temporary respite from it and they wanted to make every second count. The illusory warmth of that distanced sex was gonna fade as soon as their bodies would've cooled down after the act. But for now, it didn't matter. That was a problem that Claire and Chris from twenty minutes ahead in the future would've to face. Present-time Claire and Chris couldn't care less.

Claire's legs clasped together as she quivered like a possessed.

She'd had to push a pillow onto her mouth and bite it to muffle her moans the best she could, and there it remained, covering her face, now that the heat was over. Their sexy hushed phone call had been going on for a while now but it had taken the usual bunch of seconds to end it all and leave her with the numbing warmth of the aftermath. She'd tried to hold it up the more she could but when Chris had started climaxing on his own and uttered all those rough dirty words to her, she just succumbed to lust and followed him in tow. It had been silent and savage at the same time. And hands down the best solo session of her life.

"Guess you came." Chris broke the panting-filled silence.

"Yeah." She susurrated and pushed the pillow away with a forearm.

The girl took a quick look at her nude self and at what he had done to her by his mere whispers. It looked like a tornado had developed in her room. The blanket and bedsheets were scattered all around, her pyjamas were officially missing, her bra had landed on the alarm on the nightstand and her panties were somewhere between the maths book and the pen-holder. And Claire… she messily lay down on her bed, mother naked and covered in a thin layer of sweat and her other juices.

She wondered if there was a similar scenery in Man's Cave.

According to what she'd heard him do, yes.

"Man! That was something!" Claire awed in a hushed tone.

"Yeah…" Chris panted. "Better than nothing."

Claire rolled onto the expanse of the mattress, stretched an arm beyond the edge to grab the blanket's hem and, gracelessly tugging it, she draped it around her hot limbs. "You were already doing it when I texted, weren't you?"

"I was." She heard his yawn mix with rustles of cloth as, seemingly, he was covering himself as well.

November air's ruthless.

"Does porn work for you? 'Cause I think I might need some here, in the future." She tittered, rubbing her fingertips together to enjoy the wet layer that enveloped them.

"I don't know." I fucking know it won't. "I was using you."

Claire rolled on her side and nibbled at her lip in remorse. "Damn, I kinda regret I didn't take pictures of you when I had the chance like you did, you know?" She suggestively whispered. "Now you have a part of me to vent your stress onto while I've got nothing but my imagination."

A clear snort came from the adjacent room through the speaker of her phone and it left her perplexed for the long moments she waited for her brother to speak again.

Stress.

On the other side of the wall, while adjusting his pillow with a casual big punch, Chris mentally fucked her off. Stress! After all the shit he'd poured out of his heart, she still dared to call it fucking "stress"! Yeah, right… stress! His abdomen was sprayed in sperm because of his "stress"! He'd got his knuckles bloody for stupid "stress" issues! He'd cried the last night away because of his hella "stress" levels!

Fuck you and "your" stress.

Because that's what it was to her. She may have loved him every night, as she's said, but, undeniably, she was the one who used sex as a pain-reliever throughout. Chris knew he'd started because of it too, but he'd be a filthy liar if he said he didn't start making love to her because of love since the very first times.

Chris inserted a hand between the pillow and his head and closed his eyes. He couldn't blame it on her. It wasn't her fault if he'd fallen for the forbidden person.

Who am I kidding?

"Chris?" Claire's soft whisper slithered inside his brain. "Are you asleep?"

"Just resting my eyes."

The girl quietly giggled. "I knew you had your eyes closed! It's like I'm there!"

Oh, her laugh! Why couldn't he just keep his frown on when she laughed like that? She was like a spring of joy at a funeral. Why had his mouth to curve into a grin even though he was bitter inside? He wished he could just stop being the good brother capitulating for the adorable little sister for once.

"Actually, I did that for you." He said.

"Did what?" Claire asked, confused.

"I left a memory of me in your room." He said, gulping down a sudden bolus of bitterness.

"Oh my God, where? What is it?" The girl gushed.

"Speak low." Chris grunted. "I almost heard you from here."

"Sorry… I just want that memory of you!" Claire apologised. "Oh, what a dream!"

Her enthusiasm was slightly making it a little more difficult for him now. "Keep your shirt on, Claire. It's not that much."

The badly repressed mewl she made put another smile onto his face. "Ok, open the bottom drawer." He gave in.

Claire literally jumped off the bed and, naked, she ran to her white chest of drawers. Following his instructions, she rummaged in it until her fingertips touched an unidentified object, carefully hidden at the bottom of it.

"What in the…?" Claire wondered as she extracted it until her jaw dropped at the sight of "a dildo?!"

Chris couldn't hold back a little chuckle. "Surprise." He joylessly exclaimed.

"Oh, geez! I can't believe you bought it in the end!"

Chris hid his face in his palm even though no one was there to see his sudden blush. He was talking to the girl he'd possessed for a month and screwed until the day before and, still, he felt embarrassed for a stupid sex toy?! He hadn't felt embarrassed when he'd asked if she owned one weeks prior, when he'd caught her spending the afternoon in leisure activities with his body. With the level of intimacy they'd got, he shouldn't have felt that awkward about it. What had changed now?

The big boy grimaced at the incoherence of it all.

"Yeah, I… I wanted to know how it feels." Chris admitted. "And that's the closest to another penis I'd allow myself to ever get."

"You could've just asked…" She joked. "I could've happily borrowed you a piece of your own dick!"

Chris utterly doubted she'd have done such a thing back when they were still switched but nodded the same. "That would've been fun!"

"Oh, I wish we did it! Now I'll never know how it is to bang a girl…"

"I'm pretty sure you do, instead."

"Shut up!" Claire exclaimed, the brunette head of Moira suddenly popping up in her mind. "It's not the same thing. And you know it!"

"Whatever." Chris sighed and said nothing more. He was tired, in the aftermath of a senseless wank and he had no intention of arguing over sex with girls. Especially now that he wasn't meant to do it… for a long time.

He frowned.

Would've he done it ever again? As for now, he couldn't even imagine such an occurrence and this thought was quickly draining him of every ounce of endorphins he'd got.

Claire fidgeted with the oblong thing, examining it closely. "Well, did you like it?" Claire wondered, drawing him back from his thoughts.

Chris rubbed his forehead and shrugged. Did he like it? According to the massive use he did of it... he loved it. Quite worshipped it – but he'd never admit that. "Let's just say it gave your pussy more orgasms than I did."

"I'm impressed!" Claire gushed, now looking at the gummy toy in her hand under a new light. That thing had been inside her. She wondered in how many places. "Why didn't you tell me about it?"

Chris had never thought about it. Thus, she found him without an answer to give. "Er… I dunno." He faltered. "Many things happened. We switched back, we had our lives to start over… I just forgot about it." He licked his lips and pouted in sadness. "Then you had me. And I thought you wouldn't have needed it." Ever.

Claire felt it. She felt all his melancholy striking back. "So, that's why you put it in the beachwear drawer? So that I wasn't to find it until next summer?" She lamely joked, trying to defuse it a bit, but only got a poorly faked chuckle in response.

There it was, the twenty minutes had passed, now Claire and Chris had to face the next aftermath. The rougher of them all. Distress was slowly rolling back in as long as the sweat dried on their skins.

The dildo weighed on Claire's hand like it was made of steel and, out of nowhere, she felt awkward about it. What if her Mom found it? Was she supposed to keep it? After all, it wasn't really hers. And what would've Chris thought if he knew she'd replaced him with a rubber penis? Her position was already so precarious at his eyes... She'd have just admitted she was just a little girl looking for some capital "D" to bounce onto. "Uhm… I can dispose of it you know… if you-"

"It's name's Chris."

Claire choked on the rest of her embarrassed mumbling. Had she heard well? Had he just said he'd named a rubber dick after himself? What was the necessity of telling such a thing now? What the hell?!

Chris didn't let her the time to wonder further, though, as that gummy resurrection from bikinis and neon sarongs had hit a nerve.

"You can keep it. Use it as long as it pleases you and then trash it, do whatever you fucking like with it. I don't give shit." Chris grumbled on the other end. He spoke harshly and unforgivingly, exacerbated by the tiredness and the surrogate of "us" he'd just got. "Just call it Chris. 'Cause that's its name and I want you to fucking think of me anytime you'll even glance at it. You can even share it with your friends next time you'll shower together. I don't care. Just tell them you called your toy like your brother if you can. I dare you."

In Girly Room, Claire listened dumbfounded by such an abrupt shift in tone. She barely had the time to breathe in to reply whatever lame thing her mind came up with, but Chris preceded her and hung up.

He left her kneeling by her chest of drawers, naked, speechless and surrounded by the pinkish darkness of her room. Again. This time his had been the last word though.

Claire watched his name fade from the screen and, dazed, she kept watching until it turned off. So, was that how it was going to be from that moment on? Was she meant to be his booty call by night and his enemy to hate by day? Were they going to be like that forever: two kids fighting and acting nasty then fighting again? Were they meant to be an endless spiral of good intentions and broken promises? One step forward and then back to square one every day?

Where had all the good words gone? The soft approach? Down the dirt like their siblinghood?

A shiver of cold shook her from the chaos in her head. Gripping to the white piece of furniture, Claire rose to a stand, grabbed some random panties from it, slipped them on and walked back to her bed. She slumped onto it, finally feeling the heaviness of that never-ending day weighing on her limbs. She hoped she'd soon fall asleep and leave it all behind. Leaving it all to tomorrow to worry about.

Claire curled under the blanket and tightly hugged her pillow, still vaguely humid with her sweat and saliva. A pair of tears glimmered in the faint rosy light of the flamingo lamp as she realised that for the first time Chris hadn't called her baby a single time while getting off.

Part 3 – Four minutes

Fuck Wednesdays.

Fuck ballet school.

Fuck the teacher and her pointy French nose.

Fuck the slippery dancefloor.

Fuck ballerina shoes.

Fuck her bruised toes.

Fuck Chopin.

Fuck panic attacks, tachycardia and fuck throwing up in the loo.

Fuck it all and fuck it here and now!

Claire had a great deal of things to fuck off as she walked home.

Her feet hurt but she stomped on those crispy fallen leaves on the granite sidewalk the same. What an unbelievably shitty day! It had started with Chris bathing her in fake smiles and fake normality until the very moment the front door shut behind them, then it was just unsettling silence up to the bus stop. It had been the "morning after" they'd never really had: when you wake up next to what had seemed to be a great lay when drunk but becomes the embarrassing date to dump by the sober morning. Not that they were much embarrassed by what they'd done a few hours before, though. Oh no, that was quite alright. Usual to say the least. The awkwardness wholly originated from the terrible way the night had ended.

They hadn't gone to sleep on good terms, for the second night in a row.

To make matters worse, that "great gentleman" of Albert Wesker had decided to radiate his horrible aura in the school's hallways and address a pair of hair-rising looks in her direction while casually walking by and randomly lowering his shades. Useless to say, it had covered her in goose-bumps, but not of the kind Chris – and Chris only – gave her. It'd been disgusting. What a daring move to do in public! Even Rebecca and Jill had noticed Wesker's obvious attention. While the girls stared speechlessly – and a scowling Jill mentally cracked her knuckles – Claire felt the ghost of his fingers slither on her skin and crawl around her neck almost causing her to gag.

Shitty, shitty day, indeed.

It was mid-afternoon now and Claire only wanted to bury in her room and have a foot massage.

She'd barely set a pained foot on the cobblestone way of her home when a low note reached her ears. A single note stirred in the air, vibrating until fading. Then a second followed, then a third, getting higher in tone each time, short moments of silence interspersing in between.

It was unmistakably a guitar.

Probably being tuned.

Claire didn't figure out where the sound was coming from until the first chord flew in the front lawn. And when the voice joined it, a music was born, and it was too late for Claire to escape. What would've soon revealed itself being an acoustic ballad, sprung from the first-floor terrace, unseeable from the street because of some big pots crammed with evergreen plants, but Claire didn't need to see to know.

Chris.

Like a cobra to a snake-charmer, her body stepped into the front porch but her soul flew one floor higher, dancing on the invisible pentagram that rough voice and the guitar strings weaved.

"…I can stay awake for days… if that's what you want…"

Claire rested her head against the white column and listened, eyes closed, to the sweetest melody and the shaky, rough voice, singing the song of heartbreaks she'd put on her saddest rainy days' playlist. Apparently, it was on his as well.

"…Be your number one…" Chris faltered but managed to stick to that note until the end. "…I can fake a smile… I can force a laugh…"

Before she knew it, Claire was already quietly humming and gently swinging her head along with the sad flow. "…I can dance and play the part…" She susurrated in a hushed breath and, like a cathartic spell, a soft smile pursed her lips.

It had been ages since she'd last listened to Chris singing. Even longer since he'd played his guitar. Those demanding times had compelled him to pull it out of its case to strum it a little. It was his way to cope, hopefully.

If until then the music had drawn her, now it pushed her through the front door and upstairs. Claire ran fast to miss the lesser she could of that song, inaudible from inside the house and, as she opened the terrace glass door and found it still going, she gasped in relief like a swimmer re-emerging from deep waters. She breathed in every note, every twitch of her brother's vocal cords and she flew, magnetized, towards him.

"…and I bleed when I fall down…" Chris sang, so close this time, his voice rougher as the chorus climax kicked in. "…I'm only human… and I crash when I break down…"

The guitar chords tuned soft and crystalline, free like wind and animated like life itself. Drenched in melancholic gaiety like only guitars can be. Chris's voice instead, it was quite scared of leaving his throat. He sounded unsteady and shy as if he feared being caught having forgotten the lyrics. His voice was as imperfect as his technique. He himself was an imperfect being who had seen perfection in forbidden places and had fallen for it.

"…your words in my head, knives in my heart…"

Claire slanted against the corner of the wall, unseen, and watched her brother sitting on the bench, his foot firmly planted on the low garden table's edge and his broad shoulders curved onto the instrument. All around him the mournfulness of deep autumn, the brownish grey of the trees, the few leaves still clinging to branches they were doomed to let go.

Some say, rightfully, there's a song for anyone, for every occurrence. Was he singing his heart out? Was he leaving to a song to carry what his mouth by then didn't know how else to express? Who was that song for? Was it for him? Was it for her?

"…You build me up and then I fall apart…" the rougher his voice, the lower the volume. Chris was succumbing to the emotional disruptiveness of his own musical choice. "…'cause I'm only human…"

That song wasn't either for him or for her. It was just a cry.

The cry of a lonely man, longing for the one who broke his heart. Stupidly, inevitably, loyally. The hopeless guy who cried for help. And as he sang a song that had resonated with him in the deepest and his heart bled, on and on, Claire… danced and played her part.

She peeled off the corner and, forgetting the pain in her feet, she swirled towards the bench, harmoniously swaying the arms in the hair. Her ballet teacher would've reproached her for not wearing the mandatory hair bun, nevertheless Claire wouldn't have given shit. She let her auburn hair swing around along with her and, when Chris caught a glimpse of them with the corner of his eye, he didn't stop singing, unlike she'd feared.

Then it happened. It was like making love again: Chris set the rhythm and Claire danced. She moved and his voice followed her and rose in strength but not in volume. Like any sinful time since the first.

"…I can hold the weight of worlds…"

Art is a way to veil with deceit the rawest truths. Chris sang beautiful words but he knew he wasn't able to hold the weight of anything in that moment. He was no titan, no Atlas. But he kept singing as his sister spun on her tiptoes in front of him, precarious and never-falling like dancers are.

"…If that's what you need…" Chris whispered as Claire knelt down in front of him in a wide, smooth move, arching her back like a cat. "…Be your everything…"

One chord.

One note.

Silence.

He couldn't sing the next line. He couldn't just watch her in the eyes and say he can do it. It'd have been a lie and he'd never lie to her.

Like every good thing, that song would've come to an end anyway, and it would've ended just like their romance: fading out. He could've resumed singing, but he'd never get her back. Ever. Chris just wished he could press the replay button over and over, but what's the purpose of elongating the agony?

Claire sat on her ankles between his knees, resigned to the new silence. She knew awkwardness was going to butt in again, but something inside attracted her to him like a magnet to iron. It was an imaginary rope that from the centre of her stomach tied her to him, preventing her from standing up and walking away. The music had stopped but now, though, they had to face it and dance. Chris put his guitar away, sitting it near the bench but when he turned again he found her hands gently grabbing his cheeks and drawing him downwards.

Into her lips.

Into her kiss.

He breathed her in.

It burnt like Hell's steam.

It burnt and blew whatever ashes left.

Chris let his mouth indulge into hers for the two seconds he was robbed of his will but then he immediately snatched it off. They were outside, to say it was dangerous to kiss it's a euphemism. Chris looked around in alert, taking advantage of his own paranoia to look away from her hurting beauty even so her hands didn't let his face go. Nobody but them was on the terrace. The surrounding silence betrayed their opportune loneliness. But what if a neighbour had seen them? How impossible was it to justify? Chris gulped down bad images and quickly browsed all the houses he could see. He expected to catch at any moment a pair of judgemental eyes staring back, while their owner would be dialling the RPD phone number.

"I can't see any of their windows from down here." Claire soothed and fondly kneaded his stubbled cheeks. "They can't see me either then."

"Don't do it again."

It had been a stupid move, so spontaneous yet so selfish of her. Claire realized it too late. With one single move, one senseless abandon, she had not only reminded him of what he was losing but also reactivated all his alertness.

"I won't."

Claire slowly slid her hands off his face but his head followed them downwards. Chris wanted more as the good instable boy he was. And he'd have surely kissed her, hadn't she interposed her thin fingers between their mouths at the very last moment.

The position wasn't less dangerous than the previous real kiss. But this time it was also slaughtering them because of the missed conjunction.

Chris had to settle for pressing his lips against her fingertips, desperate like the hopeless lover he was. He wanted to chase her, catch her and take her there, hiding his dissatisfaction and frustration behind fake amused smiles, but all he could get were a sad grimace and a pained look. He kissed her hand like a husband would kiss his just dead wife and, when he opened his eyes again, he found a pair of blue pools looking at him from behind a thin veil of tears.

Both still craved each other. Both knew they had to keep distance and repress their instincts. The barrier separating them was to wholly rebuild and it wasn't any thicker than her fingers.

Chris could've easily moved her hand aside and she'd have let him kiss the shit out of her without resisting it, but he didn't. A million reasons to not do it prevented him.

So he simply ducked his head and rested his forehead against hers.

It had taken him about three weeks of pure, reckless incest to put into verbal thought what had been just a formless feeling in the beginning and then a repressed shadow of doubt. Three weeks to figure out why to establish a romantic relationship with a sibling is the worst choice ever. It's not about blood or DNA, it's rather about the impossibility of… moving on. Not being normal lovers, they couldn't have what normal lovers normally have: the privilege of losing one another and part ways. And forget.

What reality, so vehemently striking back, was asking them was to downgrade their relationship while still being an irreplaceable part of each other's life.

It was torture at its finest.

Chris had never felt so screwed in life.

He straightened on the bench and looked away once again.

"Can you play another song for me?" Claire asked, fondling his knees now that his face was out of reach.

His stunning hazelnut eyes returned to lock with hers as he murmured "how am I supposed to fall out of love with you?"

I got a double disclaimer to do now. Obviously, the song Chris sings actually exists and it's titled "Human", so all credits for those lyrics goes to Christina Perri and every other co-writer involved.

The second, is about the scene as a whole.

Months ago (it was like June 2020) Xaori virtually came to me with the idea of Chris and Claire singing and dancing to this song. "I can't help imagining your OMIYS Chris and Claire dancing to it" she said. And as she wrote so, believing it was nothing more than a wish, I saw a scene unravel in my head and, I swear, I started giggling and clapping my hands like an idiot, and immediately scribbled it down.

It gets even more mind-blowing when you know I already wanted to insert a scene with a guitar but didn't already knew how. Funny how, even without explicitly talking about it, we imagined something so similar.

So, Xaori, my dearest, thank you for conceiving this little gem up here and enlightening my mind with it. It's for you (heart).

UNLOCKED CONTENT: you can now read the fifth chapter of Behind the Scenes Chronicles, titled "It's-a me!".