You make me sick. Everything about you makes me feel uneasy. You're all wrong and I can't do anything to change it. Every glance, word, or touch you throw my way only makes me want to wince or grimace with sickness. I can't stand you. These are the thoughts that haunt my mind in the night when you sleep next to me on the huge master bedroom bed. We're together and it kills me. It's always like this.
Your unsettling arm over my broad chest makes me feel the raw burning sensation that constantly follows any physical contact between us. That arm that holds the veins in which your mixed blood flows flinches a bit in sleep. I'm feeling sick again as I stare into your peaceful tan face, partly masked by the darkness in the room.
I'm afraid to move your arm. I'm terrified of the burn, of the feel of our flesh brush behind the imaginary pain. A touch from me to you is like heaven on earth for you, something you'll cherish. For me, it is a different case. I hate it. I hate your body, your soul, anything that has to do with you. I won't even travel through the forest that bears your name anymore. This is truly how much you affect me, brother.
Just everything about you…I watch your eyelashes flutter for a moment as I change position under the covers to get away from your hugging embrace. My head swims with nausea and ache as I move to sit up on the bed, shoving the silky blankets from my porcelain body. Some people claim me to be perfect. I am not. Those heathens shouldn't be so imbecilic as to think I am perfect when you are here. As my mate, you always held me just a step back from perfection. What made us do this? I can't even remember. You make me so sick.
Just thinking about it makes me want to puke. When you eat, you do the horrendous act with your hands. You slobber over everything and chew with your mouth hanging open like a dog. When you walk, there is no grace to it. It's more of a stomp crossed with a waddle really. When you kiss me, it's sloppy and wet. Too much tongue. Too much teeth. Too much you. When I have my way with you, you moan and whimper with pleasure. I want you to feel excruciating pain. I want you to scream. It's so wrong.
Some may say we complete each other because we're total opposites. I simply say you and I don't belong together. Some also say opposites attract. I can't say that I see the attraction between us. We have a bond as brothers. We have a bond as mates. But do I, can I, really love you for everything you are?
No.
It makes me feel…makes me feel like…You make me feel things I never thought I could. My skin crawls whenever I feel your presence come into a room. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end every time I smell the scent that is purely you. My body shivers uncontrollably when you speak to me in one of those tones that indicate you're dying to have me. I can't help the things I do when you are around. And after these things happen, the sickness overwhelms me. The feelings of a mistake.
So why do I let you stay with me? Why do I keep you?
The feelings of wrong may be there, but it only makes me want you more. Just knowing I'm doing and possessing something forbidden to me only makes me do it more. It makes me pine for you, your body, your blood. I want to own you and I want to forever. The wanting I feel for you is only fueled by the sickness I come to recognize when I'm with you. It's bliss. It's everything I want. And you lend it to me so willingly.
And yet there's still the longing to get away. Away from you and away from these feelings I harbor.
Maybe the sickness I feel isn't within you, dear brother, but in me for keeping you for that very reason. It's wrong, but I love it. I never thought I could love something like this. I love the sickness you give me.
I'm so sick.
Owari
-PL