Title: The Kids Aren't Alright…
Well…I don't often write incest, but there's just something about Yu-Gi-Oh that inspires it. Hides It's a terrible thing to say, but so many of the characters have brother/sister complexes. Anyway; it's a controversial piece of writing and I'm bound to get the 'OMG, ur sic!' reviews, but hey, I like the writing and if you don't like the subject, I'd stop reading. Now. Trust me – save us both the embarrassment of dealing with reviews like that. Heh – controversy, I love it.
Narrow daylight entered my room
Shining hours were brief
Winter is over
Summer is near
Are we stronger than we believe?
Diana Krall 'Narrow Daylight'
He holds her close, finger pressed against her sinfully innocent lips as both of them hold their breath, listening fearfully to the angrily hushed voices on the other side of the door. Neither moves, not caring that her hand is on his hip or that his breath is warming a sensitive part of her neck while she tries not to squirm. They've long since gone past caring unduly that they perhaps stay closer than they should.
"There was a reason I took her away." That was their 'kaa-san and doesn't she sound disgusted? If her voice were a snake, she'd be chock full of venom.
"But you brought her back!" Now that slurring set of dulcet tones was their 'tou-san, pissed and pissed off as always. "You let them see each other again…" The two share a look, her gaze worried, his tight.
A sigh and the sound of a chair scraping on the floor as someone sits down. "She needed the operation and this was the only place to get it."
"It would have been better if she lost her eyes and never saw him again." The sheer viciousness of the comment makes her gasp, ribs tightening in painful anguish as he rubs a silently soothing hand over her stomach. She shifts, trying to escape the words, but he holds her close, intent on listening to parental poison.
Their voices sink into inaudibility, a rumble and murmur that cut holes in their hearts before suddenly rising up into sharp outrage. "They're abominations, that's what they are – our kids are twisted, sick-minded and a crime against nature."
Their 'tou-san is quickly hushed, but the damage is done and the two curl that bit closer around each other, seeking physical comfort to block out the harsh reality lurking on the outside of their frail circle of protection. Feeling her shoulders shaking with a barely restrained wave of desolation, he decides they've heard enough and very firmly starts to chivvy her away from those hurtful voices and even more hurtful comments. It doesn't stop the last comment from floating out towards them…
"Those kids just aren't alright…"
Inside the safety of her room and his arms, the tears finally seep out from underneath those tightly closed lashes, soaking a small salty patch into his shirt as he croons absent comfort-comments into her ear. She's hurting, hurting badly and he can't quite keep a lid on the whisper of that hot-angry-feeling-called-hatred towards the one who caused it.
"We are sick…" she whispers against his skin, breath hitching in her throat, "They're right."
That hot-angry-feeling-called-hatred increases and he shakes his head emphatically, looking down into those tearful eyes of hers. "We're not – don't say that!"
He's always had a simple mind and this love-for-a-sister is akin to love-for-a-woman, but love-for-a-sister and love-for-a-woman aren't supposed to be the same thing.
He doesn't care – he didn't care when he first noticed that her hand was always in his, that her smiling eyes held his adoring ones longer than they should of. According to the rules, brother and sister weren't supposed to cuddle, they weren't supposed to curl up together like kittens in front of the fire. They weren't supposed to play weddings when they were children and they certainly weren't supposed to find that my-lips-on-yours was called a kiss and that your first one shouldn't have been with your sibling.
The rules mean nothing.
As he stands there, his thumb brushing over her impossibly soft skin, feeling her heartbeat mixing with his, he knows there is no way that this isn't right. This is love-for-a-sister AND love-for-a-woman and he treasures it.
"Will she take me away again?" The heartbroken little question pierces his shell and his face crumples into his little boy face as he pulls her close, clinging so hard it hurts them both, but it's a welcome pain.
"No, never, I won't allow it!" The hot-angry-feeling-called-hatred intensifies, burning in his belly and itching in his fists. He wants to yell and shout, to hit and to hurt, to feel the warm blood seeping from ripped and torn skin as bones crack and crush and…he feels her. Close. And the feeling fades because he loves her so much there's no room for anything else in the empty husk that is him. "I won't let her take you away again…"
A sob, gasping and tender in its rawness as she breaks and he holds her together, like always. If loving this girl-child in his arms is wrong, then he'll willingly be struck down in penance just to pay for this one moment when her fingernails dig into his ribs because the pain is love. The blood her nails draw out is love and she's stained with it, tainted.
"I love you…" His voice is as red as his blood; red for love and red for the hot-angry-feeling-called hatred. It's a first for him, the first time he's vocalised what they both know, have always known.
When she answers, it's the answer of a little girl trying to be brave, of an old woman who knows she's dead, of the mixed up person she is. "I know…I feel it, I see it and I know that if you go…" A sob escapes, but she smothers it, choking her own words out in desperate determination. "If you go, there's nothing left of me and I don't want you to…" Her keening voice sinks into stifled sobs, her own blood flowing as she bites her lip savagely in an effort to keep quiet. She can't speak, but he can feel her words in his bones.
I need you.
So he stays and he strokes her hair and he kisses the top of her head, loving every inch of her. He loves her like the sister she is, like the woman she is and he loves her for the mixed up person she is. He loves her even if the blood under her nails and the blood on her sullied lips is the same.
My blood is your blood, brother beloved.