Drabble Number Six.
Author notes: Haven't written anything in a little while, a present for finishing up Emotional Instability. Something random I got at like midnight. Oh, and watch out for a first-person PoV.
Chapter Title: In The Darkness
Chapter Rating: M, for yaoi-rific incest and rape, as non-descript as it is. Don't read this if you don't like the idea of two brothers having forcible smex. Also rated for character death, torture, and a bunch of other stuff that's really disturbing, though I tried to be vague about it.
Genre: Horror, Drama, I suppose. Dark is a good genre, too. Some angst thrown in.
Chapter Summary: As this pain envelopes me, and my breathing slows to the point of almost stopping, I feel myself smile. It's nice to be close to my brother again, even if it is in all the wrong ways.
Disclaimer: Don't own the lovely Uchiha boys. If I did… Well, some things are better left for fantasy.
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It's a very eerie sensation to not have eyes. Especially if you've depended on those eyes for so much more than simple sight for more than half your life. Blinking is especially odd, feeling my eyelids slide over the empty sockets, worrying they're going to sink in and get stuck. I can't seem to control my eye muscles into not twitching my eyelids down. The blood loss from the battle has affected my body.
It's all right, though. Not having eyes, that is. From what I've come to understand you don't need eyes once you're dead. What bothers me is that my tongue is also gone, and the amount of blood I've been swallowing is going to give me stomach cramps pretty soon. Of course, it's either swallow my own blood and get stomach cramps, or choke on my blood and die. And as fun as it would be to take away his chance, I can't seem to force myself to do it.
Even without eyes I can sense when he nears, almost like a brotherly bond, like I can feel the hum of Uchiha in his blood. It's probably more of a training thing. I open my mouth to comment, blood spilling uselessly down my chin and onto my chest, a warm contrast to my cold skin. Sounds escape my throat, unable to form words without my tongue to guide them, so I give up, letting the blood trail down from my lips. It warms me up, even as I grow colder from the loss of it.
I'm bound in no ways, which would normally mean I'd be gone all ready, except I've discovered it's impossible to move when one's leg has been removed from the knee down. That must have happened in the fight, I can feel that the bleeding there has stopped, just as I can feel the red-hot infection crawling inside it.
Both my arms are broken, moving them too painful for proper words, so they sit uselessly at my sides. This entire scenario makes me want to laugh. Or cry. I haven't done both of those in so long, I'm not sure I can tell the sensations apart.
My body is handled almost delicately, turned, pressed into the wall I had been leaning against, stump of my left leg resting flat, grinding dirt into the open wound, right leg folding behind me. There's a moment of odd warmth, as if he's close, then incredible pain that flares up briefly, before becoming just another ache to add to the collection.
Ironic, I won't die a virgin.
I don't think there's pleasure in this lewd act for him, either, though. It's about control, I'd bet anything, about proving something. What I don't know, or care. It's over soon enough, and I'm left along for a moment.
Warm again, on my right side, as I'm shifted to sitting across a clothed lap, like a child. Warm arms around me, then cold steel on my chest. I wonder if I'll stay conscious throughout all of this.
Steel presses into my skin, sharp and cold. Begins to dig, tearing skin, muscle, bone, and organs. It hurts like nothing else has before. As this pain envelopes me, and my breathing slows to the point of almost stopping, I feel myself smile. It's nice to be close to my brother again, even if it is in all the wrong ways.
It's wrong for two brothers to commit acts to and against each other that we have. Wrong to force each other to live in hated, when there should be love and protection. But that doesn't matter, I know inside my slowing heart the truth. It's all my fault.
Summoning the last bit of my strength, going past pain, mental limitations, and even physical impossibilities, I choke out words around ever-increasing blood flow.
"Sorry… Sasuke…"
My eyelids close over the empty sockets, and I can't force them open again. My lungs are torn, fluid fills them, so I stop trying to breathe. My lungs try to force me, but I will them away. It's a lost cause, I'm sure he can see that. I feel as if I'm on the outside looking in for a moment. My chest rises, barely.
Falls.
Stays.
Darkness.
Warmth.
Death.
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Wow, that was messed up. Gah, went NO WHERE that I wanted it too, but I like it. I'm so sick, I know.
Indeed, Sasuke was torturing Itachi and stuff. I tried to throw everyone for a loop, did it work?
Probably not.
Umm… I really like how I ended this, it seems nice. Kind of peaceful, for such a painful way to die.
If anyone has any requests involving these two brothers, please let me know. I'll write just about anything dealing with them, especially those little introspection pieces.
Oh, and you should go read Emotional Instability, because it's finished. And really good, I'm told.