Rating: R for incest, violence, slash, citrus, deathfic, heavy AU. With a cherry on top. (Mmm. Cherry.)
Notes: Okay, this is a fanfic I sort of like and sort of don't. It's from Knives POV as he takes care of his twin, using a different method than I really support. It might have spoilers for Knives/Rem, but I don't know if any slipped in. ^^;
~Tomo, lover of pointy objects dipped in fondu cheese
I remember that. I've always remembered the way you felt curled against me, sweet and relieving, angelic with your soft skin and silky hair. In the cold of the night, you lay open against me, bare skin and hot breath, and I would touch you cautiously, unsure of your response, wanting you to love me as much as I loved you.
I was the first person to make you scream their name. I owned you in that way from that night onwards, and yet you ran from me, turned away when we should have remained together.
He throws his head back, staring with brilliantly wide eyes, throat constricting in terror as cool fingers thread their way down his collarbone, leaving a string of prickling red marks. Blood beads like water on wax, trickling down panes of glassy chest, dipping and pooling in the ragged scars, teeth raking across the hip bone in a delicate skin-to-blood kiss.
Oh, yes. All mine.
Perfection of glass and sand, hair that refracts the sunlight as it runs through my fingers, tendrils tangling about my nails and pulling free as hy hands dance away. I knew, even then, when we were both so young and niave, that I wanted you.
It's not 'want'....it is, and yet it's different. I want YOU. I want to BE you. I want to be devoured by you, to control you, to own you. I want to love you. I want to kill you. I want ever so many things, and you make it so easy, by giving up so prettily...
"Please, Knives, please, you have to stop, please-" flesh ripping open, a tongue lapping at the rent in the body, drinking from his body.
"Does it hurt?"
Eyes closing, fingers tightening against the shoulderblades of the man on top of him, marking the pure whiteness with disgusting black-kissed bruises. "Yes! GOD, yes!"
"Like I've always hurt." Narrow blue orbs, icey and frozen within their own heart-stopping logic. Impossible to argue with a believer, impossible to escape-
"I love you, Vash," punctuated with one of those long, gut-wrenching,
groping, lip-biting kisses that spilt blood down his front and made him
sob against oppressive lips. The other pulls away, licking his mouth
posessively, smiling and staring into the eyes that mirror his own.
"And I will never, never share you."
So I'm jealous. Wouldn't you be, after being given the most precious gift in the universe and having it snatched away by a smiling young woman? When it was meant to be yours, yours alone, to keep and hold and have? For less than a year, the first few months of our lives alone, I was the only one you turned to. I remembered the adoration that has since fled your gaze, you once looked up to me, you once loved me.
If you had never faltered we could have been happy.
Jealousy. I'm jealous of Rem, of the humans, of anyone who you've ever given a piece of your heart to, my brother. Because even the children you wrestle with on the filthy streets get more of your thought than I do. Deny it? I don't believe you. That priest. Those girls. The enemies you buried so neatly and respectfully, tears in your eyes for the life snuffed away as I hunted for you. Did you ever think of me, alone in the dark, rebuilding slowly with nobody but a psychotic telepath for company? Did you dream of those nights together like I always have, waking up in tears, groping weakly in the darkness for a body that refuses to return to your side?
No....of course not. But then, I'm jealous of you, too.
Flesh on flesh, the dirty grinding of hips and hissing words. "You think you're perfect!" Tears falling, unrestrained, from bitter blue eyes, splattering, stinging, salty on open wounds. "You think she's perfect! You think they're perfect! I hate you! Can't you see the perfection in me?"
Shock, aquamarine spilling over into matching droplets. They both cry, curl their fingers together, kiss again and then plead. "So much better, always. Rem's favorite. Everyone's favorite. Why am I so different? My hair and my eyes so much lighter, a washed out version of your almighty perfection? Why can't I be like you? Why couldn't you *make* me like you? Answer me, brother! You left me...alone.... I was never enough for you..."
Blood spilling, more and more, terror and screams and bone-deep bruises.
"But you...you're beautiful, so beautiful," they kiss again, the
one with cropped hair, cupping his twin's chin in his hands, licking the
bloodstains from his face. Vash's eyes are half-lidded, his
mouth opening and closing in silent pants, grasping for elusive air that
refuses to fill his lungs. "And we can be together, now."
You look scared.
Why? Why are your eyes narrow in pain and shock, your fingers groping for some sort of weapon? I love you. There's no better way to die than in the arms of your soul mate, correct? And when you die, I can own your soul, and we can be together. If I take your life, I can breathe it into myself and always, always be a part of you. Wouldn't you like that?
Brother. My brother. My twin.
They tried, very hard, to steal you away, didn't they? She polluted you, battered you with impossible ideals, but I forgive you, I'll allow you to return to me like this. Because you would not be you if you were not taken by such romantic lies! You would be like me, bitter like me, imperfect - slightly so - like me. You're not. You're better than that. You're more than that-
And at this moment, you're not perfect. That's why I must taste you, I must be you. Because together we are one, and apart we are as flawed as they.
I am the darkness. You are the light. I am the reality. You are the dream. Like the suns chase shadows away and the night devours the sun-warmed rocks, we cannot exist at once. When I kill you and part your heart from your body, that barrier will be shattered, at last.
Twins. You try to look as if those scars surprise you when your flesh is borne into the light, as if you don't deserve each one of them for your un-sins. You thought you could be a perfect angel, yet I told you before - we are Gods, but we can only be together for the power to shine. They found us tangled together at birth, we should have stayed that way. Forever.
My skin. Yours. Ours.
"Shh. Don't speak."
There in your own blood - so beautiful, highlighting your cheekbones, staining the perfect curvature of your chin... artistic. Beautiful because of me, because I laid you here, I touched and kissed you here as your breath slips away. Don't cry anymore, you'll never shed tears again, shh...sh....
Close your eyes....yes.....shh, my Vash....
The fingers went limp and slack as the one true hand fell back, the pool of blood rippled and ceased it's mirror reflection. Fingers pressed against the gaping wound, torn open and quivering in the half-light, eploratory, cherishing the hot blood as it stilled within his veins. Knives' eyes softened and a broad smile crossed his face as he leaned in-
Inhale the scent of hope gone astray. Taste it, feel the spirit of one dying gunman.
"I can see your heart beating, Vash."
Don't move, don't speak, let me soak up this precious warmth as it drips away from you, let me twine my fingers with yours and kiss your cooling lips and revel in the afterglow of your perfect features. You're still warm, after all these years....
....and now I am perfect like you...