An Empty Glass

Summary: Kumo drinks to forget, though it doesn't seem to work quite that way.

Disclaimer: FFU is not mine, no matter how much I might wish for it to be.

Warnings: Kumo/Kiri pairing with shounen ai, which means incest. If you have a problem with that, the 'Back' button should be on the top left of your browser.

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Kumo locked the door behind him, the mechanism snapping shut with a near-inaudible 'click'. The filched flasks of liquor had been placed underneath his bed, with several objects placed before them to hide their presence. He very rarely indulged, for he had a low tolerance to alcohol, and not much of a liking for the sensation of being drunk- or of having a hangover- but when the memories swamped him and dragged him down under… He was willing to do nearly anything to ease the pain.

He unstoppered the first flask, and tipped its contents into the cup. Watching the clear liquid splash into the glass.

They lied. Time does nothing to take away the pain, just makes it a little less immediate, a little less close. Whatever it is that does eventually heal a person…I don't have it.

And he tipped back the shot, feeling the alcohol burn all the way down his throat.

And there were memories of before…

Happiness…

Something itched underneath Kumo's cheek. He brushed impatiently at it, but the prickling sensation did not go away. He cracked open the lid of one eye, then groaned at the pale sunlight streaming through the open windows, making his eyes water. Turning his head, he caught a glimpse of several silken crimson hairs caught under his head, pressed against his cheek. Several more strands lay on their flattened pillow.

They were scattered throughout the tousled sheets that were wrapped around him and his brother, a fine tracery of red like veins shot through the whiteness of the sheets. As he sat up and peered over the edge of their shared bed, he smiled to see the smattering of yet more red strands strewn across the floor.

"Kiri…"

Beside him, his brother murmured in his sleep, and nestled closer to him. Hiding a bemused smile behind his hand, he poked his wayward lover lightly in the ribs. Kiri twitched slightly, but otherwise there was no other reaction.

Kumo picked up one of the red strands, and prodded Kiri again. A few moments with no response, but then a single red eye opened to glare sleepily at him. He held out the lock of his hair between his thumb and forefinger and said mildly,

"Nii-sama. You're shedding."

The glare that was leveled at him could have otherwise peeled paint, but early morning grogginess greatly lessened its impact. Kiri swore softly under his breath, and muttered, "You woke me up at this ungodly hour to tell me that?"

Kumo couldn't help but laugh at the utter exasperation in his brother's tone, and leaned down to kiss him fondly on the mouth. Kiri returned and deepened the kiss, and soon enough, they were both gasping for breath, arms clasped tightly around each other.

Time and the threat of suffocation eventually broke them apart, panting. Unwilling to go back to sleep, Kumo watched as his brother grumbled underneath his breath about annoying siblings that disturbed his rest for trivialities as he untangled himself from the sheets and settled back under the covers. Watched, as his lover's eyes closed and he settled into as dreamless slumber with a small smile on his face.

Watched, as Kiri slept in that perfect moment of peace.

He refilled the glass, and tossed it back, feeling his surroundings blur. But the pain was still there.

Kiri putting his arms around him during practice, carefully guiding his movements as he performed an awkward forward lunge. Kiri laughing, as Kumo overbalanced mid-swing, and toppled over. Kiri fixing up his little hurts and injuries as Kumo complained about practice to his ever-understanding older brother.

Not being sure when brotherly love had become something else, or maybe it was always like this, and neither had noticed. But being kissed, for the first time, and the rush of surprise at who being swept away by how the kiss was just right, in every sense of the word. How it was perfect, despite the awkwardness.

And then kisses developing into something a bit deeper. Kumo had done a bit of minor experimentation. Besides finding out that he was, in fact, attracted to both men and women, he had realized that nothing else had quite matched up to that first kiss, and the kisses that had followed that. So they had become lovers, as well as brothers, and for the time they had been together, Kumo had been happy.

Shaking hands poured liquor into the glass a third time, sloshing a bit over the side, but he was past caring.

And then the memories of after…

Sorrow…

The meteors were falling too quickly even for all the warriors to deflect. They had been too weakened by the war with Windaria, their numbers spread too thin. The number of those able to fight had steadily dwindled in the past few months, leaving the rest vulnerable to attack. And attack, Chaos had.

Kiri had been dispatched with the warriors to hold up what sort of defense they could manage, Kumo with the remains of their once-proud civilization, to protect and lead the non-fighters, the elderly, the children into shelters that would hopefully hold through the impending battle.

The brothers had barely had enough time to exchange a hurried kiss on the gray, wasted plane before parting ways, each to do his duty to their people.

And then…

"KIRI!"

Kumo's hope, his love, his future, his life. All vanished in a single moment, as Mystaria crumbled around him and a stray Meteor overtook his desperate leap into the air, slamming him down to the ground.

And there was darkness.

He had spent a few minutes staring numbly at the shattered glass and spilled liquor that littered the floor, but on his second try, Kumo had managed to open up another bottle and hold it steady long enough to fill the cup.

When he had come to, he had been surrounded by empty desolation and crumbling ruins- the remains of his world, with him as its only survivor. Kumo didn't remember much of these first few days, the shock overtaking him and blanking out his mind.

He had wandered, his insides carefully numb and his mind slightly fuzzy around the edges to protect him from the knife-sharp edges of reality. And then, as his mind slowly regained itself and the careful numbness receded to be replaced by a dark void of pain and anger, he had fought. Fought alongside a long-haired brunette and his sister against the creature that had taken his Kiri away from him.

And they had, to some extent, won. But by then, Kumo hadn't cared much about anything at all, even as Bahamut's beam of light blasted through him.

But there'd been the hope. The hope that, now this was over, he'd see Kiri again. And that this time, they could stay…together.

But it had been a false hope after all…

Kumo contemplated the remaining liquid in the bottle, and wondered if it would be too much effort to reach forward and grab the bottle to take a drink. Pouring another cup was out of the question, but…

He made a half-hearted attempt to lean forward on the chair and failed miserably, swaying as he fought to keep from toppling off his seat entirely.

And then there was the present…

Void…

He had returned to the castle, uncaring of who saw him, too tired after one of the Count's wearying missions. Hadn't he come back, like a good little servant, to his master anyway?

Days blended together. There was blood to be shed in the name of Chaos, worlds to be taken over and destroyed, willful subjects to be made examples of, a bratty Earl to appease. And Kumo had done all of those things in the name of espionage, of a revenge that would – hopefully- be more final this time around.

Or so he kept telling himself.

And when the memories grew too much, when the guilt and the hopelessness began to build up and eat at him on the inside, he would seclude himself for as long as he could to keep from giving himself away. The isolation helped him center himself, helped him cling to his goal. Sometimes, that worked.

And sometimes, it didn't.

The now-empty bottle lay on its side, the unsteady glow of the lamp causing the shadows to dance across the table, dim glimmers of light playing over the curve of the glass. He regarded it with half-lidded eyes glazed over with alcohol and memories.

The night sighed and slowly, slowly, Kumo's eyes closed as the light guttered out.

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A/N: Initially going to be Kiri chiding Kumo about the hair, but then I realized that it'd be pretty hard to spot white hairs on a white pillow, or even white sheets, so I switched them around. xD Besides, Kiri's hair is longer.

This was originally going to be about hair, and ended up being centered on alcohol. Go figure. Beta'd by le wonderful Xamaris.

I'm really mean to poor Kumo. Imagine his hangover the next day. But angst is win. And reviews are good.