They were three siblings, and for the most part he was generally forgotten and easily to be, sometimes so suspiciously habitually that it would be a wonder if he did it on purpose, being caught so often looking less dejected when ignored, and he didn't mind it at all. If anything, he deemed himself worthy of isolation. It was only in this way he could observe so much without being distracted as frequently.
He saw odd things. He saw things he claimed to be true.
He had spoken too much.
He paid attention to the weirdest things and only the weirdest things. Sometime then, he was talking of things that weren't essentially normal, and he'd share them to grown-ups: They say he's cute, but they couldn't possibly believe him.
Maybe that's why he talked a little less now.
/ . /
He was a day old. He was being carried by his mother.
Two small figures loomed around him. Four inquisitive blue eyes widened; a pair of sagacious cerulean perhaps turquoise, the other audacious azure or possibly cobalt.
He made out the words but he couldn't understand.
A small chubby extremity poked at his stomach, and he giggled.
"Say hello to your new brother, Rin!"
Large shapes hovered in and out of his vision, sharp details too complex for him to make out, and the faces too hard to identify. A strong force illuminated from above him, his image perception going whack with pain and fading slowly to acclimate: It was light, something his optical senses were supposed to adapt to, as much as everything else.
"I wanna hug him!"
"Sure you can, Honey—just be careful with him!"
His body weight was being shifted, and he was suddenly held aloft, so light before being passed on to another that impeded his mass from gravity. In this one he felt like he was lower on the ground while the pressure applied to holding him up was daintier but firmer.
"What can we name him, though?"
"I wanna him Len Two!"
There was a low friendly giggle. "I'm afraid Lenny's not with you on that, Rinny."
"I want Piper!"
"What about Oliver?"
"I like that. Let's say—Louie, then?"
Louie was born, and the first he saw in the world were his brother and sister, smiling happily down at him.
/ . /
He was three years old, and he knew what "family" meant, and under his circumstances had to learn what "twins" stood for at an earlier age than most.
Rin and Len were both two years older than him, and he knew that much about twins. Rin was the boy and Len was the girl. Um, right?
"Come on! Let's go to Eden's house!"
"Can't we just play here?"
Twins would argue about everything, too. They'd fight over this and that: Usually Rin would want to go somewhere and Len would want to go someplace else; in a case where Rin would break Len's toy, she'd never show him until he'd find out, and she'd normally pretend to be surprised—then later when she couldn't take the guilt she'd cry and confess. Fights between twins were, as Louie discovered, inevitable and perpetually unresolvable.
"I wanna come along!" he'd chirp as he usually does.
Rin ruffled his hair. "See? He wants to come with me!"
"No he doesn't!" Len snarled. He grabbed Louie's hand, almost crushing it. Louie felt like whimpering. "My Lui!"
"No, he's mine!" Rin held his other hand, and they were pulling him in different directions.
This would go on until he'd cry out. "Please stop!"
It wouldn't be Len who would back out—no, no, he's too 'mature' for that—the one who barks earliest scampers first: Rin, very aggravated, stomped her foot and made a run to the open street, like to puerilely prove she didn't need them to go to their friend's house.
Len reacted fast: He let go of Louie—"Stay here!"—and ran to get Rin.
He did nothing but watch, in horror, as his twins set out on the open road. Cars could go by! He didn't want that to happen!
The only thing that kept him in place was his brother's warning. Rin's shoe caught on a rock, and she remarkably fell on her face.
Len got to her before anything else could happen. He bent down to her, crouching and writhing in pain, as she tightly hugged her leg: She scraped her knee and it was oozing with blood.
And he just stood there, paralysed.
"That's blood, Sis!"
"It hurts!" she whined, and he saw tears run down her face. It pained him inside to see her so sad.
Apparently, it was the same for Len: Being the responsible and obedient one, he always brought along his nifty band aid box. Not for himself, as he's more agile than anyone, but for Rin. She's always the clumsy one, and he knew that.
He plastered it over the bleeding area, too young to apply antiseptic and innocent enough to believe it would soothe the pain for long.
"That better, Rin?"
She sniffed, hiccupping. "I guess."
"You want me to kiss it for you?"
Rin hesitated, and then nodded meekly. Len boldly leaned in and kissed her on the forehead, much to Louie's and Rin's surprise.
"Not there, dummy!"
"Okay, where?" Len kissed her on her left cheek then proceeded to her shoulders, Rin squealing in sore laughter.
It took them some time to remember that he was there, too.
Together they helped Rin into the house.
It was the first time he saw his older sister cry and not refusing his older brother to kiss her.
/ . /
He was nine when his brother was gloating over finally growing taller than his sister.
His sister found a way to get back at him.
"Hey Len, get that DVD for me."
She was sprawled on the bed, and he just got in the room with a drink in his hand.
"Get it yourself, why don't you."
If you could define what their family was, "lazy" would be at the very top of the list and stay there for eleven consecutive years. Louie never understood why they fight a lot, but when they do it's only between them, and it's like there's nobody else in the world. He couldn't find a place in them that wouldn't end up destroying their relationship.
"I can't because I'm so short. Seeing that you're big and tall and—"
"No way in the world, Rin."
"And why not?" she demanded, and wore an irresistible pout that Louie knew even Len would succumb to.
"I don't see your arms amputated" was his reply. Len knew more words than anybody else his age, and possibly a majority of those older than him. Louie could hardly understand anything he said recently, and, inheriting the hereditary laziness passed down from parent to child, wasn't bothered to sneak a look at the dictionary because he didn't want to find out at all whatever his brother could mean.
Rin was, according to their parents, declining in her studies. From first to fourth grade, she had been in the honours' class with Len. Suddenly her name wasn't on the fifth grade honours' class list anymore, and she wasn't even the least troubled why. He didn't know whether or not she understood every hard word Len threw in every sentence, but she sure didn't complain not knowing it.
"But I can't reach it!" On her part, Rin was very talented in acting: She belied her true intentions more times than owning up, although she's been doing this so often it's like you couldn't trust your brain with her anymore, and so the best way to be around her was cautious and uncooperative. An honest Rin would be very elusive and rare. She abuses her drama for the evilest ways, Len told Louie in a much exaggerated way of putting it.
Len scowled. "Still no."
"Can't you do it for your sweet little sis—"
"I'll go and get it," said Louie, sighing. He got up and was about to go over and get a chair when he caught Rin's eye: In that position of half-standing up he recognised that look on her face, one that he'd grown used to after so much of her antics. He knew that look, and felt lonelier by it than anything else. She was stiffly shaking her head, her eyes wide with fear yet sparkling with mischief, lips pursed as though been zipped.
'Let Len do it' was what he could read from her face. His entirety was crippling almost as low as his indignance was, the will to obey his sister's every command consuming him. He shouldn't say no to her, he said to himself, feeling shame and guilt and utter consternation at his own grudge biting.
Len looked bewildered: He looked disgusted with Rin.
"You can boss me around all you want, but don't take it out on Lui."
From childhood, as they couldn't pronounce Louie's name right, "Lui" stuck. For years he was led to believe it was his real name, too. Rin was taken aback by the bitterness his cracking voice betrayed. "I'm not. Lui's got nothing to do with this—you know what, I'll just get that stupid DVD by myself."
Despite Rin's knack for over-exaggerating on such objects that are of no notable interest often disregarded by the most that were less imaginative as her, it was doubtless that the cupboard, atop which the DVD lay, far surpassed their heights in inches, standing tall and empowering amidst insipid articles that value not a smidge of concern of anybody who were to stare at it, and Rin walked in front of it, swaggering.
Louie just watched the piteous victim of an improbability too dangerous for her pride.
All the times they'd gone wall-climbing, you could just guess who was best, boasting a radical time of 1:43 seconds, sniggering at the failure of the other whose legs immobilised him to continue higher up. (Sigh.) Rin didn't talk about her victory much, but whenever she did, she'd seldom stray as far as mentioning a certain "someone's" feet too wiggly.
Striking a pose not unlike Spiderman did in the movies, she raised one foot after the other on her toes, a small ridge unoccupied by the books supporting her, fingers clawing at the books.
When Len noticed she was having a hard time, he finished his drink, which he had been busying himself with for some time now, sipping away until at this point as though he'd been waiting for it to be ingested, saying in a voice far from meek, "Why not play the Xbox, it'd serve you much more use rather than scaling that immense furniture."
Rin blew back her hair, exclaiming stubbornly, "I don't get what you're saying."
Louie supposed that watching the movie was all she'd ever had in mind of from the start, obstinately considering none of the options more available to her merely as her superiority conferred her much tenacity. He looked at how Len would react, surprised that he appeared calm.
"I said, let's play video games."
"With you? Over watching Nine Hues of Orange? What makes you think I'm gonna say yes to that?"
"You still have to beat my high score."
Boldly Len strode behind her, unexpectedly wrapping his arms around her waist—Rin tumbled backward in surprise, the sound too unusual coming out of her mouth much like a squeak. Len's eleven-year-old legs couldn't support their combined weight, so the two collapsed on the floor, a few books landing on Rin as she caved in like a kitten, not because of the pelting books, but of her and Len's contact.
"Now will you play—"
"If it makes you get off of me, then I'd love to."
"You dork. You're on top of me—you get off!"
"Oh, not until you apologise to me."
It didn't take her too long to get impatient enough to stand up, leading to their climbing upstairs.
His eyes didn't leave the spot where they previously fought, not exactly distraught, surprised, though, at how little and fast they get back together without compromising words.
Louie sighed, sinking in his seat.
He was indirectly being shoved from their family in the littlest things they do. They don't even notice: And Louie thought that even if they did, they could hardly care as much as they do about themselves.
/ . /
He was eleven, and puberty was a hell he'd not risk committing sins getting into again.
Around this age, his sister told him the secrets of the transition of a boy—mind you, a prissy one—into a real man.
As uncomfortable as their discussion had been, Rin talked to him with ease, as though being female had nothing to do with her boyishness, which was on level with Len's femininity. (Not for long, though.) He swore that the whole time he was thrown into confusion one time and then into embarrassment the next Rin proceeded to go on as though everything to her was scripted, as well as his reactions. All that while he was so chagrined, feeling like a manipulated puppet whose strings were glued to his sister's fingers.
He'd cringe every time she'd say this and that, and she'd ask him if he understood what she had been saying. He'd sheepishly nod his head in an attempt to persuade her of his honesty, a stronger pitch than stuttering. She'd see right through him no matter what.
"You're real too young to know as much as"—Louie flinched when she said the words without as much as unease—"and"—make her stop!—"so I'll just have to give you the juices."
She saw him flush at the last word, and she pouted at him, flicking his forehead playfully. "No, not that juice. I'm talking about Len here!"
"What about Len?" he'd asked, wishing he'd taken back what he'd said.
Rin smiled. "I'll show you."
For days he hadn't slept as sweetly as he used to. Who could? As far as he knew, nobody he knew as much as anybody else with a sane mind intact and a lot of to full of imagination would see a single moon wane until the horrid, putrid thoughts proliferate and contaminate the essence of their being, leaving them insomniac just resisting their attempts to ward off such profanity. Rin, for one, didn't befit the definition of 'sane' that he knew of or any words akin to it he learned; he was starting to wonder—or not doubt anymore, he wasn't sure at all—how his sister could sleep so soundly at night with such atrocity mixing in her head all the time…in the same room as the subject of defilement, at that.
Louie couldn't understand why Rin insisted that she and Len sleep in the same room still to their mother. Perhaps that's what twins do, he thought bitterly, and didn't want to ponder about how those two could sleep with fighting all the time. He didn't know who was unluckier: Len, for sleeping in the same room as a tomboy who hardly cleans mess up—and when she does, Louie thought darkly, it's like hell with heels—or Rin, for having to listen to Len. (Whether it was his seemingly-rehearsed general sermon or whatever-Rin-talked-about-with-Louie-that-scarred-him-for-life, he didn't care.)
At times he'd pass by his older brother in the hall, and he'd flinch when he says hello, or might throw up when he so much as pats him on the back.
"Stop being so immature, Lui."
"You're immature, you cootie-catcher!"
And when Rin'd pass them by, she'd laugh her ass off.
"I love this family."
Louie grumbled as he folded his arms. I hate this family.
"Len's such a perverted jerk."
Louie could only nod, lying on his sister's bed, staring at the ceiling with deliberate vagueness. He didn't want to be in on whatever crap Rin was getting herself into again. He wasn't as easy to wind as their brother, who was very malleable.
Weird thick hardbound books were strewn on the floor along with the various horrifying magazines that showed obscenities he would never believe Len was into or imagine relishing, and Rin was leafing through everything, mad with the discovery of things she didn't realise about her twin without being so late. She was labelling the most explicit pages by leaving the article of reading open as though their gaping was her way of bookmarking it. The binds were bending from the wide openness.
This was making Louie very uneasy.
"I think we've had enough evidence."
"Are you kidding me?" Rin said, voice cracking. "Len can eat his words—this is freaking proof!"
Louie sat up, looked at his sister, then said, "I'm gonna go and play video games. Tell me when you're done with that."
He got up from her bed to exit the room and leave her alone with trifling Len's private stuff—
—and then the door opened.
A very pale Len stopped midway into his sentence when he saw his secret stash of precious porn just scattered on the floor. His eyes fell upon Rin, who was looking at him with equally wide eyes.
Louie thought he couldn't breathe.
The rest of the days weren't awkward, per se, although there was that air of definite loss of a happy something that used to be there.
It was a heated fight between his sister and brother: Their parents agreed that something must be done about their new feud.
"We've been talking," their father began. It was Sunday; naturally, the whole family took dinner together in the same table. Their mother had persisted on this tradition, and hoped they keep it up. "And we've settled on one thing. Len," he pointed his index finger at the older boy whose fork and spoon were neatly put on either side of his plate. "You're going to be moving in with Louie."
Louie turned his head to see who it was.
"The bed's a bit heavy to move, we know, and it'll not be easy lifting all your stuff out the room, but if it's to cool the both of you down—"
"So you're mitigating any further harm to be mete out?" Len inquired, and Rin face-palmed.
Their father and mother exchanged glances, mouth agape, and breathy pronunciation of a vowel not unlike an elongated 'e' escaping. "…Yes, something like that. We understand that—things—have been getting hard for you guys, so it's best to separate you."
"What your dad is trying to say is," their mother cut in, "Rin, Len, you need space, don't you? You're both growing teenagers and it may be humiliating for you two to hang together like you used to. No, it is humiliating. I know you hate to hear this"—they all groaned; their father bit back a chuckle—"except you're in the stage where everything's just happening so suddenly. Maybe you believed it's possible to happen to others, but not to your selves. This can help you make amends. Finish your steak, Rin, don't just move the meal to one side of the plate—you'll be friends again before you know it. You may not realise it, but you'll thank us for this sooner or later."
"Oh, please, Mum, don't make us hear anything from your prayer meetings…" Louie groused. Their mother looked pained.
"This is real-life, young man. Not like your explosive, violent games that you love spending time with so much—"
"It's Action!" Rin exclaimed indignantly from the end of the table.
"The point is," their mother stressed, "your apathetic attitudes need to stop decorating the house black. Don't do that, Honey, I didn't raise you to be racist," she added warningly to Louie, who, at hearing the colour, guffawed. "As you know, we're very concerned."
"She's right." Their father nodded. "This has to stop. Leonard, you'll be leaving tomorrow—"
There was a sound of something metal clattering to the floor.
Rin stood up. "You can't do that."
Len's eyes bulged: As did everybody else's.
"Len'll behave, promise," she said, doing the Girl Scout sign, one that she's been joking around with ever since they watched the Hunger Games. Len sent her an incredulous look.
Rin muttered something like, "Do you want us to get separated or not?"
He scoffed, turned to their parents. "I concur with Rin. You can't make me move, it's like—I've got too many stuff there already." Louie sensed the apprehension in his voice: Of course they didn't spill the beans to their parents. What good will it do? "You don't need to worry about us. Whatever this problem is, it's only—"
"—temporary," Rin interjected, not wanting him to insert any more unwelcome word from the dictionary. "We're old enough to solve it on our own."
There was a gasp: It was their mother, whose hands were on her mouth, eyes teary. Their father seemed as though he was affirming himself of something. Louie didn't know what was going on. Rin and Len looked at each other, twin-synchronising, what the hell?
"T-that's my babies, adults…" their mother was saying shakily, unclasping her hands as her husband wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
"Grow up too fast, do they?"
First it was Len they hugged, and then Rin joined in, persuading Louie to hug with them.
He couldn't believe how weird a family he's got.
Still, he didn't see his sister stand up for his brother before. This was a first.
He heard a scream from outside.
Louie sprinted for the door—slipping on his toes—tore it open and recoiled, snapping his eyes shut instinctively.
"You did that on purpose, right?"
A-ah, he'd better not intervene! This was too awkward. He was curious, though, yet too scared to know.
"No I didn't. I didn't even know you were in there." His brother was doing his best to maintain the firmness and control while also feigning nonchalance.
Louie swung the door and left a gap big enough for him to see through.
Len was wearing his usual Saturday clothes with his hands in his pockets, walking to the living room, with Rin tailing behind him…naked. Not nude naked: She was wearing a towel. But Louie'd bet Len saw something even more than that, judging by their conversation. The towel could only cover her torso and halfway down her knees, hugging her small slim figure nicely. She was still dripping wet from what could likely have been a shower.
"I bet you actually liked what you saw, didn't you, Lenny?"
"I wouldn't consider myself lucky seeing that."
"And what exactly did you see?"
Len stopped walking and wheeled around: Louie saw from afar his face red from blushing. Rin was smirking up at him, shamelessly pressing her body on his to tease him.
"I honestly don't wanna remember."
Rin raised an eyebrow up at him, wet hair shining and serene sapphire eyes catching the glint of the sunlight through the windows. She stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, breath tingling on his senses and numbing the left part of his brain, "Don't you?"
Her touch, he knew, would linger and leave him mindful about it the entire day: The whole front of her body brushed past his while she went to enter their room past Len's direction. At first, Len appeared as though he might crouch down on his knees, until he stiffly cast a glance at Rin behind him. She was pleasantly making her way to their bedroom door, hips swaying, when taken in another way, rather suggestively, humming a slow, melodic tune.
Louie didn't know what to believe.
Beyond what the younger boy could see, the older brother licked his lips.
Louie stared at the ground, shuffling his feet. His shadow was taller than him on the floor beneath him, following his movements, the sinking sun maintaining its animation. He heard the school bell ring its gong, the noise reverberating throughout the building, counting the number of times it was rung: Four.
Ah, Valentine's Day. No wonder his brother and sister were taking too long. In this school year, the Kagamines have earned quite a number of admirers altogether, including Louie himself, he thought perplexedly, marvelling at the chocolates he received. It was the school's tradition to give away sweets and such to people you regard highly, for reasons he at this point couldn't understand yet. He didn't see himself as somebody that deserved much respect, although it seemed it was true.
He was glad, in any case, that his family would be sharing their stash of delectable with him later: A family of good-looking people sure would be to your advantage. He didn't doubt that they'd be hoarding in the candies everywhere. That's why he was waiting for them now. Somehow, the bargain was, that if he'd be a good boy and stay outside until they'd come home together, Rin and Len would share them their sweets.
Alas, it'd be a while before they'd go and get him, Louie was certain. How typical.
It looked like he'd have to get them himself. A lot of students who passed by were starting to grow worried about him, and it'd be a matter of time and chance till someone he knew would see him, imploring for their company instead. It'd be much harder to resist if they persuade, as he couldn't thank them enough for the candies.
Without another thought, he headed into the building.
He didn't pass by many pupils anymore: They were all outside now. Doubt and uncertainty sprouted inside him as he wondered if his brother and sister were only playing a prank on him, having already left the school, on their way home now, consuming the sweets they promised to eat together with him.
Taking a turn to the right, the hall where Rin's classroom—Len would've been the only sensible one enough to remember an occasion such as this to actually come to the meeting place with all the elements, meaning Rin, intact, ignoring the time as punctuality would be nothing next to a group's totality—should be, Louie started paying attention to each door, reading the class names. He wondered why his siblings couldn't stay in the same section together, as they were twins, although the uncooperativeness of fortune was inconvenient: There were differences he'd take note of, however, that'd turn the tables drastically. He didn't know whether they were aware of it or not, but they were maturing in a way he just wouldn't welcome.
While the twins didn't realise it yet, everyone else did.
He was just around the corner when he heard voices—not just whispers in the quiet, but ones he recognised.
"…like you didn't know."
It was Len, he was certain. He's using a tone he barely caught his brother inflecting.
He could only assume that the person with him—as they should've been alone enough to conduct this dubiously secretive conversation—was his sister, Rin. "I…I can't deny I wasn't…suspecting something…"
"This shouldn't even be a surprise to you."
"Any other day, but…I can't believe you."
"Whether you believe it or not, it's true."
"A-and now, you expect me to, what, congratulate you for telling me the truth? That—that my brother's a f-fr—"
"That I'm a what?"
There was some shuffling.
Louie leaned against the wall to hear better: For one, wild, moment he wondered why he should be so reproachful. No, cautious would fit. When it could only be just his brother and sister…He wouldn't run away from them, would he? The circumstances were what called for his wariness, as what he was eavesdropping sounded totally serious, something he shouldn't get involved, or peek into, the fact that he respected these people the most nearly tangible as shame.
He pressed his ear to the cold doorknob.
"Go on, say it."
"You can't fight this any more than I can…and you know it."
Whatever they were doing now seemed like Rin was struggling to resist the unseen ways Len did to get what he wanted from her. There were muffled noises, undoubtedly by Rin. However docile Len was, he was still masculine between them, and in this situation, he sounded much more of one than Louie ever could've not thought: His hoarse breaths were deep, ragged, as the older he'd get, the more of a man he'd sound, blooming into a dark rose. He was snarling—growling—contrasting with Rin's gasping whimpers.
It stopped after a minute or two.
"…I need some space."
Louie drew himself back, regained his consternating composure, knew that it'd not be long before—
The door opened, revealing undeniably Rin.
She looked absolutely dishevelled. Even more so than usual: Her clothes were rumpled, hair an absolute mess, face aghast and tired.
"L-Lui? How long—"
"I've been looking all over for you," he cut in, nonchalance slicing the cold tension. "Where've you been?"
Out came Len, tidier and perhaps less surprised than Rin had been, although in his own ways ill in manner like he was exhausted. Or—disgruntled.
"W-we were just—"
"Let's go home…I've been waiting all day." Like he hadn't heard anything, like it was all water under the bridge, pretending everything was normal, he turned around, clicking his tongue, "I don't get teenagers…"
They said nothing after that. The walk home was much quieter.
Deep inside, Louie wondered if they suspected he knew. But the prospects were much horrifying than being discovered at knowing something he shouldn't…
Rin had sounded so weak against an equally unbelievably serious and stronger Len. There was nothing that could've just been nothing that happened if that happened. He was sure, he was certain…
…Whatever it could've been, it was something that, Louie was definite, would change their lives immensely.
/ . /
He was thirteen when he caught them.
He staggered backward in repulsive reflex at the revolting sight afore him.
They were doing an unthinkable.
They were kissing.
Not the innocent peck on the cheek that adults will fawn over from adorableness—not the one they shared together when they were younger—not like the way he'd seen siblings kiss.
It was different.
They were making out.
He was mortified.
Studying for a test, huh?
"Not down there."
"How about here?"
Volunteered to buy the groceries, right?
"They're bound to find out someday."
"They wouldn't notice a thing."
Play video games in the middle of the night, just the two of them, in Len's room. Yeah, it wasn't like it was wrong, was it?
They didn't do any of them without touching each other.
Twins shouldn't be doing this.
That's what family is for, isn't it?
He's boiling with anger.
More at them than with himself—
All this time—he knew—he did nothing—he knew more than he suspected.
He kept quiet about it!
His palm was bleeding, and so was his lower lip, something like repulsion leaking out of him like blood. He stood up, left them to do what they were doing. All the times he could've said something—everything he uttered was complete nonsense—dare he say it, bullshit. Would anyone believe him? Could anyone look him in the eye and tell him he wasn't just a kid hallucinating?
But he saw them…
They were in the same room, and every time it annoyed him to no end, because acting like he didn't know—like he didn't listen—like he didn't pay attention—just made them more obvious and daring, brazen and fast and touchier—in front of his very eyes.
It was like he wasn't even in there, like they could care less about him—and they did. He thought they did.
Rin giggled. Len smirked.
Behind the incredibly large newspaper they made a habit out of reading—concealing with—recently were warm hands running all over the other's body, touching, holding, and driving Louie insane.
I thought I knew you.
You are vile, twisted—sick.
How could he not have seen it? How could he have been so blind? Why was denial so obscure as to disable him from doing anything? He thought he was insane. Yet there they were, right before his eyes.
He stormed out of the room. Like he always did.
Louie was a natural model student. He was the ideal child for every parent a sucker to success. He's at the very top of his class and exceeded all the records of the school on past students' files, participating in various kinds of extracurricular activities and promoting inter-school camaraderie. He picked these kinds of traits as he went, although nobody was really sure why he was so distant and polar: You wouldn't have thought to see the most heart-wrenchingly beautiful topaz eyes so blistering. Everywhere he goes, it's like he's saying 'back off' in the most muted voice.
He used to be such a happy child, very vibrant, abnormally active. He loved to tell stories, his parents say. And if nobody would believe him he'd shut himself in his room and stay there.
Occasionally they'd hear sobbing.
Could there be such a disquieting thought to a child as traumatising as making him change into an entirely different person, very unlike whatever else he could have been had it been another problem.
He ignored any and everybody who muster the courage—in his case, work up the nerve—to speak to him. It did little to encourage speech. According to his family, the last they'd seen him ever talk informally had been a time when he actually got along well with them too—an incredible incredulous history. A happy Louie that only belonged in memory, slipping from your mind as soon as you see what became of him, an innocence that ceased to beckoning.
However, there would be one time…Although it turned for the worse rather than the better.
/ . /
He was fifteen when they were going too far.
It was then that he knew he had to put a stop to it.
Louie awoke, something like panic grappling him. He checked the clock, pulling up his covers with a jolt: It was one in the morning. Groaning, he threw the sheets over him and punched his pillow to allow himself a comfortable sleep. His head would never let him conscious enough to go through morning the next day unless he'd bat a lash. This in mind, slumber was that much easier to catch once more, drowsiness casting a spell on him.
There would be a test tomorrow, one he'd studied for the night before, only a few hours ago. He reckoned being brain-dead would waste his effort if he didn't fall into a much-needed slumber right now. Okay, maybe deliberately catching sleep was harder than it seemed. Usually, it catches you when you least expect it: Remember that it isn't the prey, you are. What is sleep, anyway? It's elusive, yet it's insufferably common.
Nightmares always come at night as much as dreams do.
He didn't realise he still wasn't asleep until he heard what he was thinking. Nobody could dream words as fluently as they could images. Words are most fluent in our wake, whereas images are clearest in dreams. Odd how that worked.
Listening to the deadness of the nocturne would be too dull to doze off to, except it was the only thing he had to suffice in order to hike up his grades for tomorrow, which would be soon if he didn't sleep now. He attuned his ears to the night, hoping he'd get drowsy.
There was…something weird about the night.
…It sounded like there's scuffling going on.
At first it wasn't anything of a deal enough to not disregard. However it was becoming louder and less safe to ignore.
Louie couldn't think of anything in the house to make a noise by inanimate objects, if it was by one. It didn't seem like an animal sound he knew.
Just when he was about to tune out his ears from the noises and distract his insomnia with something else, he caught a word in the stillness of the hour. It was among the small waves that rolled the night's surface, just being barely recognised by Louie. He stayed motionless on his bed, hoping that he wasn't hallucinating, and at the same time hoping he was.
A crippling sensation shook his insides.
It couldn't've been…
However curiosity was but an unsettling disturbance you couldn't shake off as easily, and this particular one unnerved him to no bitter end for as long as he could remember in distaste. He should escape no nuisance, not if it determined to pester him the rest of his life. With a trembling hand, he seized his sheets from himself and tossed them at the end of the bed.
It was no wonder to him what was going on now. He's prepared for this.
He's ready to settle this.
She felt strong fingers cover her mouth as she bit her lips, sensation overwhelming her.
"D-don't make a sound…"
Two figures bathed in the heavy moonlight were being poured with a slightest spoon of their doom, beautifully identical. The space in their room seemed so large that the oppressiveness bore down upon them both as they held each other ever ever so lovingly, each sinful misstep as forsaken as the love they're melting into. Everything appeared to be condemning them into isolation, that they were wrong in the smallest things they do, the quietest sound they make.
Rin was quivering underneath Len, legs wrapped around his waist, her shame as exposed as herself. She was clawing his back, deep laboured pants filling the room with noise as loudly as his moans, forcefully stifled in the forboding dangers that the night cloaked onto them. He gripped the sheets at the pain, yet the pleasure undermined Rin's scratching. He was coated with sweat at exerting so much force in pumping himself into her, practically plowing her senseless.
"I'm not, you are."
"Aren't you coy?"
Len shifted his weight, causing some friction down below. Rin shuddered, digging her toes into the sheets, struggling to keep herself quiet, grinding her teeth. She kept up with his pace, barely awake in mindless gratification. Len grunted, pulling up one of her legs and resumed his rough thrusts. Skin slapped against skin, and Rin sank into what felt like a bottomless abyss of pleasure when Len pounded himself deeper into her, moving, intrinsic, at a faster pace.
His legs gave way as he lost his balance, falling to one knee on the bed, Rin slipping from his grasp. Collecting his bearings, he knelt and thus continued, his length sliding up and down inside her. Finally adjusting to their new position, Len dove in and cupped her cheeks with both of his hands and kissed her deeply. Rin in turn responded as blissfully, her tongue moving against his lips. Soon their kissing harmonised with the rhythm of their lovemaking, and at that point they were both close to the end.
She began shaking, losing her grip on him.
Len couldn't agree more—he wanted to prolong this moment as much as they could, but he felt like he was about to explode.
Rin looked up at him with dazed eyes. "Y-you too…?"
He could only nod impatiently before crashing his lips into hers again.
Unbeknownst to them, a guest sat aghast at their forbidden intimacy, eyes wide with shock. The recognition of such a delusional sensation toppled him into reality-derision—the scene before him looked insane. He was losing it. He had to be—
Maybe he was, but they weren't stopping.
Louie's reluctance to believe in his eyes was his last wobble into bewildered insanity: This was impossible.
He slapped himself, pinched his skin—
He didn't know whose voice he was listening to in his head anymore—it was now a mixture of his own diluted more and more with his parents', his friends', theirs'—they made him believe but that he couldn't bring himself to, for everything that said otherwise was so real, and he saw it with his own eyes. He couldn't prove it to them—not because it sounded crazy—no…
…because he loved them.
Then, a voice that beckoned his attention spoke loudest in his mind.
It doesn't have to be possible to be real. It has to be true.
Perhaps it was the part of him that wanted so much to let out whatever he held back too long—at this he realised, in order to convince others, he must convince himself first.
Whether or not it was a figment of his imagination, Louie thought the rightest thing to do was speak up.
And be heard.
What was pulling him back, however, was how his parents must divide them from each other, separate them.
He didn't want that. Yet what they're doing was wrong.
End one, end the other: The guilt was eating him alive—
—but not as much as their sin.
Without another thought, Louie got up and violently pushed the door open.
/ . /
He couldn't live with himself. The vileness he'd done—
He had to.
He was wrong. So wrong.
I'm sorry. Oh God, I'm so sorry—sorry—sorry—
If he should've just—spoke up—shut up—
A coldness pressed against the back of his head as a bead of sweat trickled down his forehead.
Everything rang inside him, an echo of the past he wanted to rid himself of.
There could've been so much he could live for…He was meant to live for so much more.
Louie closed his eyes shut, letting the tears fall.
[ E N D ]
Open ending, anyone? :D It's either he told on them, or chose not to—died, or didn't. I lost what made up the latest chapter of The Mistress, Whose Fanfiction?, Mirage Island Vacation, and The Painting of Len Kagamine. The hard disk of my broken laptop—R.I.P. TERRENCE D;—kind of sunk in too deep underwater. (SCREW YOLANDA!)