Kirito gently hung up the phone and seated himself at his kitchen table in front of a still warm cup of tea. He took a long sip before sighing and placing the cup once more on the table. What was he supposed to do now?

He had told the other members of his intentions for a short break and they had all readily agreed. A bit too enthusiastically, to be truthful. Perhaps he had just been running them too hard for too long. To their credit, they had all attempted to hide their immense relief and elation as they filled him in on their plans for the next month or so.

That had been Jun on the phone just now, letting him know that he was leaving the country and would not be returning for 2 weeks. Kirito half-smiled as he remembered the guitarist’s voice, obviously full of excitement but trying very hard not to brag. He had failed miserably at that though, seeing as he had ended up lavishing the vocalist with detail after detail of his itinerary. He apologetically tried to remedy this by inquiring Kirito’s plans.

“So, what are you gonna do?”

“Oh. . .you know. . .”

Kirito shook his had as he remembered his lame and entirely untruthful response. He had no idea what he was going to do now. He had been able to waste a few days inquiring over everyone else, and making sure their plans were in order. But now that everyone else was taken care of, here he was: drumming his fingers on his mug with an expanse of spare time ahead of him and no idea what to do with it.

He closed his eyes and mentally flipped through his options. He could go vacation, like Jun. God knew how long it had been since he had one of those. He dismissed the idea quickly, however. It was far too complicated what with all the planning, and often ended up causing far more stress than it was worth. Besides, even if he did go somewhere, then what? He was hardly the type to be amused by snapping photos at various tourist attractions or sipping cocktails on the beach in a goofy hat. No, vacationing would only leave him stressed, a little poorer and exactly where he started.

Takeo and Aiji had both gone to visit family. Kirito could always do that. It might be pleasant to see his mother again. It would certainly make her happy. But happiness would quickly turn into nagging and incessant question about every possible detail of his life. Was he eating okay? Would he please cut his hair? When was he planning on getting married? Would it kill him to call once in a while? and nag nag nag. . . Kirito could all too easily visualize their arguments before they even happened. Better to avoid that whole mess altogether and remain on good terms. But, perhaps he’d give her a call. . .

Kohta was. . .well, he hadn’t been very clear about his plans. He had mumbled something about video games and sleep a couple of days ago, and Kirito hadn’t spoken to him since.

Kirito paused his initial train of thought and bit his lip. Perhaps it was good thing that Kohta was planning on spending this break in full hibernation mode. Ever since the somewhat startling and displeasing realization that it was his brother that had been subtly plaguing his thoughts for weeks, he had been confronted with those thoughts all the more clearly and oft. He knew he was just obsessing about it because it was entirely strange and new and highly inappropriate. But the more he tried to avoid the thoughts, the faster and more detailed they became, leaving Kirito very uncomfortable and in an increasing need of distraction. He could only imagine what thoughts would surface if he were to actually see his brother. . .

He placed his fingers to his forehead and shook his head, laughing. He was being silly. What was he going to do, avoid his bandmate, his *brother* for the rest of his life? Of course not. Kirito liked to be in control, especially of himself, which included his thoughts. If he couldn’t control whatever it was that was itching him concerning his brother by sitting alone thinking about it, than perhaps he just wasn’t doing something right. Perhaps seeing Kohta was exactly what he needed to figure out. . .well, whatever it was that needed figured out. And if not, well, at least it was something to do.

Without allowing a second thought on the matter, Kirito grabbed his keys and headed out the door.

****************

It was raining by the time Kirito arrived at his brother’s apartment causing the unrelenting knocks he tapped on the door to resound with a certain annoyance as he stood outside getting wet. After a few minutes, he heard the telltale shuffle of feet and the clicks of the lock as the door finally opened.

“It’s about time,” Kirito snapped as he stepped inside, attempting to shake the excess water from his hair. “I would have drown had you made me wait out there any—“ He stopped abruptly as he glance up and saw the figure that stood before him. Although she was wearing his shirt, that was most definitely not his little brother.

“Who the hell are you?” he barked at the bleary eyed yet obviously intimidated girl standing before him.

“Ah! Uh, Kirito!” Kohta interjected making his was towards them from the bedroom, looking equally ill-awoken. “Uh, this is Katzuki, my uh, girlfriend,” he offered, seeking to demonstrate this by throwing an arm around her neck in a cheesy display of affection.

Kirito glanced solemnly from the girls slightly blushing yet still anxious expression to his brothers waiting smile to where his hand rested on her should.

“Oh,” was all he offered before stepping past them and into the bathroom to grab a towel.

Kirito took a deep breath as he left their line of vision. What the hell was this? Was he Jealous? There was no denying that he had felt a surge of *something*--brotherly over-protectiveness he hoped to god--when Kohta had introduced her. But then, he had always hated his brother’s girlfriends. Granted, he had usually dismissed that to the fact that Kohta had horrible taste in women. But perhaps there was something else, something lurking. . .

He shook his head again, wondering if he shook it enough, if he could shake the very thought from his mind.

As he came back out from the bathroom toweling at his hair, he noted that the girl—he had forgotten her name already—was changed back into her clothes and was standing with Kohta near the door, hopefully saying goodbye. She blushed a little as she saw him and bowed her head slightly as Kohta opened the door for her. Kirito couldn’t decide whether to glare or cheekily wave goodbye. Well, it didn’t matter now; she was gone.

Kohta turned to stare at his brother standing in the middle of his living room, towel slung around his neck. “That was a bit. . .uh, rude, don’t you think, Kirito?” he ventured, a little torn between wanting to speak his mind and fearing to call out his older brother.

Kirito sighed. “Honestly, Kohta,” he purred, slipping quickly into a speaking voice that was both gentle and sincere, but clearly betrayed exactly who held the dominance. It was a voice he had perfected on Kohta over the years. “You’ve always had the absolute worst taste. You can’t expect me to encourage them.”

He chose to ignore the rather offended look on his brother’s face and flopped down on the couch. Now that the girl had left, he was suddenly hyper-aware to the fact that they were alone. The thought vaguely startled him. Was he acting weird? How did he usually act when they were alone together?

His face revealed nothing but a lurking curiosity however, as he studied his brother where he stood. He eyes raked the pajamaed form with well-practiced ease and Kirito recognized the emotions betrayed in the stance. His lips lifted ever so slightly; Kohta had never been very hiding his emotions, especially from Kirito. And now he so clearly portrayed the inner turmoil that seemed to appear whenever he was with his brother: Desire to Challenge vs. Desire to Please.

Kirito raised an eyebrow innocently, willing him to submit. It worked apparently (it always did), as Kohta seemingly made up his mind and walked towards the couch. As Kirito’s eyes followed every step, he was struck by how normal it was for him to follow his brother’s every move with irregular concentration. It had always seemed very important, like Kohta would walk off forever if Kirito wasn’t watching.

He let out an irritated breath. It was annoying this twinge, causing him to overanalyze and question the things that he did, often things he had always done.

Especially when he couldn’t relax, he noted as Kohta sat beside him, causing their knees to rub together. He was reminded strongly of some of the thoughts he had unwillingly entertained lately. Thoughts involving his brother. And rubbing. And various other. . .things. He cringed internally, finding himself once again thinking oh-so-inappropriate things about his brother.

“So. . .what did you want?” Kohta finally asked after flipping on the TV. “I’m sure your cable is as good as mine.”

Kirito took some small amount of pleasure in the fact that at least his brother knew him well enough to tell that, sad as it perhaps was, he wasn’t really the type to pay him social calls.

“Mmm,” he mumbled affirmatively, allowing the fingers which he had kept in check the entire time to gently stroke Kohta’s cheek. “I just wanted to see something.”

Although Kohta looked at him curiously, he offered no further explanation as he stood up and walked straight out the door.

See something he had.

Sometimes if you ignored it, it wouldn’t go away.
Sometimes the best way to relieve an itch was to scratch it