Please don't leave a review based just on the warning/summary - it'd just be a waste of everyone's time.
For anyone who's interested, there's a new (rather silly) Taito lemon on my site, too. It won't be posted here.
Stupidity was what started it.
I was fifteen then, and trying to use up my lifetime's worth of stupidity all in one go, I guess. Even now after all this time, I still don't know quite why I did what I did. Kissed him, I mean. Probing tongue and all. That shocked the hell out of him, I know - and I wasn't much better off. I can still feel in my muscles an echo of the idiotic grin that my mouth was locked in as most of the others laughed their heads off at the stunned expression on his face.
Daisuke had been the only one thoroughly disgusted with the whole affair, although Iori wasn't too thrilled either, now that I think about it. But Daisuke had started spouting off about how totally gross it was - and somehow that had just made everyone laugh harder. Looking back on it... I wish I'd listened to Daisuke. Or at least thought about what I was doing. Only now it's a little late.
I've always loved my brother. I've made no secret of that fact. The only secret I've kept is how deeply I love him, want him, need him.
Need.
I need him. But now...
He asked me afterwards why I'd done it, and I wasn't able to answer him other than to say it had just been a joke. Just a stupid way to get a laugh out of our friends. I don't think he quite believed me at the time - hell, I didn't believe me. But I didn't want to admit the truth: I'd fallen helplessly, hopelessly in love with my brother.
Why?
Because.
Because of the way he smiled. Because of the way he'd always be able to cheer me up when I was down. Because he would go out of his way to be there for me when I needed him. Because he'd loved me unconditionally for so many years. Because he was beautiful, inside and out. Because I loved him, plain and simple.
I loved my brother, in a not-so-brotherly fashion.
Sickening, isn't it? Just wait - it gets worse.
After that one spur-of-the-moment kiss, I couldn't stop thinking about him. Sure, he'd always been an important part of my life, just like I'd been a part of his; but suddenly it just wasn't enough anymore. I'd never particularly liked the fact that we lived apart, but after that point it truly became agony. I started making up all sorts of excuses to go over to see him, or to get him to stay with me. I was indulged mainly because everyone knew how important our relationship was to each other. If they'd known the truth...
At first, simply being together with him was enough to make me happy, just as it had always been. I would sneak glances at him whenever no one was looking, and admire the fine-boned structure of his hands, the alluring slant of his eyes, the wind-ruffled spikes of his hair...
I wasn't the only one who appreciated his good looks, that's for certain. He always had plenty of girls swooning over him, whom he pretty much ignored. There was one person, however, whose regard for my brother began to concern me.
Okay, fine, I was jealous. Happy?
Anyway. Like I said, there was just this one person who worried me. I caught him looking at my brother occasionally, looking at him the same way I was. I almost didn't believe it at first, because at first glance they seemed the worst possible couple. They would fight frequently and furiously over the stupidest things imaginable; and yet somehow, somewhere along the line, they just clicked together in my mind.
It almost drove me insane. Especially when I realised that my beautiful brother had started watching him with that same look in his eyes...
It was inevitable. It made me sick. My brother and that - soccer freak.
Did I have something against him? Of course I did - he took my brother away from me. But I forgave him for that, because I knew just how attractive my brother could be. Too attractive for me to give up on him, as it turned out.
I remember that day perfectly - far too perfectly. My brother and I had crashed out on the couch watching videos. Mr. Soccer-fanatic was away for the weekend, playing a game in some other city. I forget which; it isn't important. What's important is that he wasn't there, and my brother and I were, we were on the couch together, and he was half-asleep...
He was curled up like a cat. I had my arm around his shoulders, and his head was resting against my chest. I used my other hand to brush his hair out of his eyes, and ended up cupping his cheek with my palm and brushing my thumb over his lips. He lifted his head at that, blinking up at me curiously, and -
I kissed him. Again. S l o w l y.
When I drew back to look into his eyes, I could see he wasn't exactly happy about the situation. That hurt. A lot. So I kissed him again, because when I could taste him and feel him joined with me nothing else mattered. He tried to push me away, but I wouldn't let him go. I just forced him backwards on the couch until I was literally all over him, in every way. He kept calling my name, or trying to. I wouldn't let him talk because I just knew he'd ask me to stop. I kissed him, covered his mouth with my hands, made him gasp for breath, anything and everything to keep him from saying those words that would break my heart.
Somehow, despite all my efforts, he managed to say them.
"Takeru - this is wrong!"
I froze. I don't know for how long. I just stared down into his eyes begging, pleading wordlessly with him - but he wouldn't change his mind.
Neither could I.
I tore his shirt right off his back, sending buttons flying every which way when they popped off. I can't even remember how I got rid of my own. He tried to shove me away from him, but I held onto him as he squirmed in my arms. He may have been three years older than me, but he was tall and slender where I was tall and brawny. I'd just grown taller than him that year, in fact. Eventually he got enough leverage to tip us both off the couch, but his head hit the ground first, rather hard.
While he was still stunned, I took the opportunity to finish undressing us both. By that stage, it was pretty obvious that despite his words, my brother was getting just as aroused as I was. I completely lost it at that point. Holding him naked in my hands, moving with him, against him, our bodies united...
I didn't think. I didn't think at all.
Afterwards, he curled up in a ball on the floor, his breathing somewhat uneven. Not knowing what else to do I just lay there for a bit, my arms still wrapped around him, fingers tangled in his hair. Then I noticed how late it was, got dressed, and left. Just like that. It didn't really sink in until I was halfway home.
I'd just raped my brother.
I've spent a lot of time since that night pondering over just what it is that makes a rapist do what he does. Being one myself, you'd think I should have some sort of insight into the whole thing, wouldn't you?
I don't, not really. All I know is that I wanted my brother in all sorts of ways that I wasn't supposed to - wanted him badly. That little bite I had stolen of him had just made me that much hungrier for more. But I didn't want to hurt him, though I'd already messed that one up rather spectacularly.
A week passed before I was able to make myself confront him, face to face once again. At first I was afraid to look him in the eye, but once I had I found all my fears and guilt and shame washed aside by the flood of emotions welling within me - because in his eyes was forgiveness.
Practically flying into his arms, I whispered two little words in his ear: "I'm sorry." And I was. I really and truly was sorry for forcing myself upon him. I swore I'd never, ever do anything to hurt him, ever again. He'd always done his best to protect me when I was a child, and I'd repaid him horribly. Yet he'd given me another chance to make it all right, and I was very thankful for it. It was almost more than I could have hoped for.
This is where the stupidity factor comes in again. I was happy, truly happy for the first time in the long months since I'd first kissed my brother. So happy, in fact, that I kissed him again.
Real smart move, right?
He jerked away from me and I started tripping over my tongue apologising. There was this sinking feeling in my stomach that kept on telling me that there was no way I'd ever be able to apologise enough to make it better this time. The expression on his face... It was so utterly devoid of anything that I could read that I was dead certain I'd lost him forever.
Then he reached out and touched my cheek.
"Is this really what you want?" he asked softly - before brushing his lips over mine in the gentlest of contacts.
That was the first time I actually made love with my brother. The first time out of many. He was a very obliging lover - especially since we had to keep the new depth of our relationship secret from his boyfriend and my girlfriend.
Didn't I tell you about her? She's Mr. Big-haired-Soccer-brain's - okay, okay, I mean Taichi's little sister, Hikari. Actually, she was more my best friend than girlfriend, but everyone assumed we'd end up together and we sort of just went along with all that. It wouldn't have been all that bad if we had ended up getting married, I think - we weren't in love with each other, but we got along well enough.
Anyway.
The first year was good. The second year was... harder. It was that old problem of too much not being enough again: we spent too much time lying to our friends, and not enough just being together for my liking. We managed, though, and despite the secrecy and constant deception those were two of the best years of my life. Then...
It was my fault, really. I started taking some risks, just to be with him a few minutes longer each day. It worried him, but he was always worrying about something or other so I didn't really pay as much attention as I should have. He always let me have my way in the end; he was willing to do just about anything to make me happy. So when Taichi arrived home early one day and found my brother cum-stained and naked on the bed with the scent of sex still fresh in the air...
It was my fault; but it was my brother whom Taichi took it out on.
I've spent ages thinking about all the what-ifs involved. What if I'd stayed a few minutes longer, and been there when Taichi returned? What if I'd cleaned up before I left? What if I hadn't come that morning?
It's a pointless exercise, really. It won't change what happened.
What did happen? Don't you know already? Of course you do. You just want to hear my version, right?
Whatever.
I'd been home a couple of hours when my brother showed up at my door half-dressed, visibly bruised and bleeding, and crying his eyes out. I didn't bother asking what had happened. I just picked him up carefully and carried him to my bed, holding him close while he sobbed brokenly about Taichi hating him and accusing him of all sorts of things. The worst part was that most of the accusations were true. I remember wondering whether Taichi knew or was just tossing out insults and allegations at random. It didn't really matter, though.
I waited until my brother had cried himself to sleep, then checked him over. He wasn't wearing any underwear, and the rear of his pants was damp with blood. He'd bled more than when I'd raped him, which gave me a pretty good idea of just how rough Taichi had been with him.
Feeling kind of detached, I called a friend of ours, Jyou, who's studying to be a doctor. I told him that it was an emergency, to bring his stuff, and that the key would be under the mat. Then I hung up.
I don't remember making my way over to their place. I do remember the look on Taichi's face when I walked in the door: as blank as I knew my own to be. He was just sitting there in the middle of the room - which looked like a tornado had hit it. That place, their home, it was broken now. As broken as my brother.
And it was all my fault.
"I didn't mean to hurt him."
Those words, that excuse - it sounded all too familiar to me. Only this time I wasn't the one saying it.
Looking into his eyes I knew - I just knew - that my brother would forgive him, just like he'd forgiven me.
I didn't want him to.
I wanted him to hate Taichi for what he'd done, to hate me even, because that's all we deserved. It was all so clear then, that Taichi had to pay for hurting my brother - and so did I. Besides, what would have happened after my brother had forgiven him? Things could never have been the same again, no matter what, and I guess...
I knew I was going to lose my brother. I didn't want to be the only one who...
I don't know. I just don't know.
Leave me alone.
I know the story's not finished, damn it, just leave me alone!
I hit him.
I punched him. With everything that I had.
I was angry, so very, very angry. With him. With me.
No, not my brother. Never my brother.
I hit him. Over and over again. I think he fought back, but I didn't really notice. Too focused on what I was doing to him. Too intent on pounding him into oblivion.
The knife...
I don't know, I must have grabbed it off the counter. From the kitchen. Somewhere. It was just there. In my hand. In him. There was this... sound it made every time I thrust it into him. I think that's what snapped me out of it. Mostly.
I knew he was going to die. I wanted to feel satisfaction at that, I wanted to feel something, but I just felt so...
Empty.
Just like Taichi's eyes, after...
So. There you have it. The murder of Yagami Taichi, as told by his murderer, Takaishi Takeru.
Stupid story, wasn't it? Even stupider, because it's true.
The rest? What 'rest'?
Oh, that. It seemed like a good idea at the time. No, I wasn't really trying to commit suicide. I hadn't realised just how much I would bleed when I cut them off. If you're that interested, go look it up in the medical specimen library. That's right - my incestuous genitals are on display if you care to see them.
My brother? He's married now. To Hikari, of all people. With four kids, last I heard. He writes every so often, since I won't let him see me in person. The oldest would be about your age, now that I think of it - a writer of some kind, I believe... Journalist, maybe? Or novelist, perhaps?
Sure, don't let me keep you.
No, I don't need any payment. What would I spend it on in here? Just... do me a favour?
Tell your uncle -
I still love him.
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