Dude, I know this isn't going to go over well, but keep an open mind, hey?

I fell in love with my brother, Adrian.

There were three problems with us being together.

Problem number one: we were brothers, of course. We shared a room. We were best friends, only friends, until the innocent years of puberty. Then, we became more. More…everything. We became closer, too close, and for a time, it was perfect. I was happy, and I could see he was happy, too. Brothers… we were that, once. We became so much more than that. He was the only person I ever trusted.

Problem number two: our father. I drove him off, because he suspected and accused, and I lied about us. I'll be able to tell my father everything, one day. When he gets back, I'll tell him about me, about what I am. I shouldn't be afraid to tell him, now, after thirty-four years of practicing in my mirror, every day. Father, I'm gay, I'll say. Father, I fell in love with Adrian, I'll say. Father, I seduced your perfect, adventurous, actually-goes-outside son, I'll say. And I won't even ask him to love me. I won't even ask him to look me in the eye ever again. But that is for when he comes home. I can do nothing but wait for him until then.

Problem number three: we didn't like to touch. Even if we were forced to, it wasn't… enjoyable. Neither of us saw the attraction of it. It just wasn't fun, not 'erotic'. It did, however, pose as an obstacle in love-making. As it turned out, we both had gift for both voyeurism and exhibitionism. We sat across from each other, seeing everything, every detail, masturbating to the very sight of the other doing the same. That was true eroticism. My beautiful older brother deigned to sit there in the same room with me, and I just loved him so much.

And always, always, there was a perfect look in his eyes.

Years later, he met Trudy, and I saw how he looked at her, too. It made me happy again, to see the love that had disappeared with our father. I knew he was happy, happier than he could have been with me. Trudy was his perfect match, and, since she died, he almost idolized her to the point of sainthood. She will always be perfect to him, now. And I am nothing, just the weird, agoraphobic brother that he doesn't tell people about.

Sometimes, when you have no one, all you have are your memories.

Read and review...I'll even take flames, to know that you've read this.