summary: It's too small, too insignificant, these feelings. They don't matter - until you learn to read the spaces between.
warnings: sex is implied. angst ensues. sort of disconnected, but sort of flowing at the same time. read at your own discretion.
disclaimer
: still don't own anything


The Spaces Between

You were always in his shadow.

You gasp into the pillow, feeling the pain blur into blissful rapture, letting the nameless face take his pleasure from you.
John?
Jack?
George?
Yeah, that's it. George.
George collapses on top of you, but you ignore the heavy weight forcing the life from your lungs. You ignore it when George's body is jerked away and the soft thuds of clothing being thrown around and the harsh, threatening whispers of an overprotective sibling. You ignore it all to savour the last remnants of the high before the ride's over. You ignore everything until you take the first breath of cold air and feel the jarring reality settle in. You shift and wince at the ache. You run a careful eye over your body and catalog the slight discolourations on your body. There will be bruises left this time. You notice that you are alone. Nothing has changed.

Maybe you're a masochist for wanting this.
Maybe he's a masochist for believing you'll stop after catching you for the fourth fifth ninth time.
Maybe it's genetic.
It doesn't matter.
It never mattered.

There is no one.
There is no one that wants you.
There is no one that sees you.
There is no one that wants to see you.
There is no one.

"Who was that guy last night, nii-san?"
"I don't know," you reply honestly, taking a bite out of your burnt piece of toast, face blank and numb from the aspirins. He looks at you knowingly.

Maybe except him. He was always the perfect one. Everyone likes him.
Everyone.
Including you.
You try very hard to resent him, but the problem is that it's impossible when he was so nice, so charismatic, so gentle, so firm, so responsible, so loving, so everything you're not and everything you wish to be. Maybe he should have been the one born first, the one to take the role of the elder twin. Then he'll finally be first in everything. But he'll never hold anything against you. He'll be all nice and charismatic and gentle and-
See the problem?

"Why did you jump in front of me? It was a reckless thing to do. I had everything under control."
You stare at him with scrutiny. That's right. You don't know this new person anymore.
"But regardless, we're both alive, so that's one thing to be thankful, I guess. Here, let me take a look at your hand."

He was always the bigger person.
He always saved the day.
He was always the hero.
It was okay - you didn't mind him hogging the spotlight; but what did that make you? The sidekick?
Or the villain?

"What do you think you'll be able to accomplish? You're just one person, and an injured one at that," he said, closing the door with a resolute frown.
You bristle at his tone, but you pay him no attention as you try to pull some pants on and take off the hospital gown. "I'm trying to fix my mistakes. Now get out of my way."
He gives an unintelligible yell of frustration. "You're hurt, Rin! You'll get yourself killed out there! Don't you get it? You're the only one-" He stops himself abruptly.

Your hands stop.
A hollow chuckle bursts from your lips and suddenly you can't stop laughing. You don't know what the joke is, but you suddenly find this hilarious. This.
(It's mostly just to fill up the silence, so you don't have to feel the full weight of his anger and disappointment in those eyes.)

He slaps you.
It was loud.
(The sound echoes around you, mocking.)
It was harmless.
(A light sting burns your cheek.)
It was degrading.
(You're not even worth the effort to hurt.)

You punch him back.
It was quiet.
(You relish in the dull satisfying thud as your fist meets his face.)
It was painful.
(You watch as the skin turns purple. He had always bruised easily.)
It was to show him that you've grown up.
(But you're still a kid. After all, you're only fourteen.)

He glares at you and growls, "Fine. Do whatever you want. I don't care anymore." The door slams shut behind him.

Your eyes burn at the brightness of his success.
(Or maybe from the loss of his respect? You decide not to dwell on it.)
Maybe that's why you turn to the shadows.
Maybe.

You were always in his shadow, but it doesn't matter –
You belong in the shadows anyways.


a/n: trying something new. don't mind me.