At first, I thought he was dead. Still and pale in the rose light of dusk, not a muscle twitched, all stretched and taut in a fashion that could only be labeled inhumane to someone like me. His breath came in shallow spurts, but even these were so slight and insignificant I failed to notice them initially. It was like some car accident, some grotesque portrait of twisted limbs and scarred flesh that was so unbelievable, so instantaneous as it flashed by that there was only this desensitized fascination rippling in its wake. And I could only stare, stare at the limbs, long and bound and bruised; stare at the scars, slinking up and down his sides like tendrils of a slow, demeaning death.

A death that would be inevitably caused by my blood.

I should have realized that night that the blindness caused by that thick, black cloth wrapped around his eyes was no metaphor like my brother loved to write about. That even when Aiji’s eyes were open, he would never -- no, could never see reality for what it was, even when he described it in such detail. Like he was lost in some waking dream, wading through a dense fog that would never rise, only too happy to imagine what should be around him in its place. I would never have the nerve to ask him about it, even years later, but I was sure that that night, beneath the cloth, he lay with his eyes wide open, staring at where the ceiling would be. I got the feeling as I grew to know him better that every time he kept his eyes open. Waiting. Wanting. But never to have the blindfold removed. And that night I was to become even more like him than I already was.

“Well Kohta? You brought me such a meaningful gift. I hope I don’t disappoint.”

This was because of him. Because of that all encompassing voice, those ever omnipotent eyes, and that ever ominous manipulation that I was just too stupid not to fall for. I felt my fists curl up into balls, an urge to strike Kirito down and hit him until my knuckles shattered rising within me. But I couldn’t take my eyes off him. My friend. How could he do this? How could he do this? I kept asking myself, the voice in my head nervous and frightened. Frightened like I knew I was beneath the anger, so scared that I couldn’t bring myself to move. Just stare.

“Come little brother.”

He lays a hand on my arm. Gently, so gently, like he was leading me to get a sparkler for the New Year’s celebration. Like all of this was normal, and he was just doing his duty to see a little joy in my eyes.

At that point, I didn’t know what I was saying, or that I had been inching backwards until my back bumped against the door. Some word was coming out of my mouth, but Kirito just shook his head, smiling to himself. I didn’t understand why I wasn’t turning around and running out the door. Why I hadn’t turned the lock and freed myself. It wouldn’t be until I had gone home that I would see the small bruises on my arm from Kirito’s fingers holding me in place.

“There’s no need to be scared, Kohta,” he says softly, patiently. “He can’t hear you.”

I’m moving forward, dragged along by his strength alone, because I hadn’t the balls to do anything other than breathe at this point. And even that was becoming increasingly difficult.

When he had drawn me closer, I felt his fingers release me, leaving me to stand on my own accord. It was sad that he knew me so well, never once doubting that I would try and leave him. His confidence was obvious with the way he walked over to the futon, only looking at me once he had kneeled beside his lover.
My breathe quickened as Aiji abruptly struggled against his restraints to sit up, jolting to life as he felt the futon sink beside him.

“Shinya? Shinya is that you?”

His voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t spoken all day. There was a desperate, pleading edge to it I found myself unable to ignore either, no matter how hard I tried. A blush rose on my cheeks.

Kirito had been looking at me as he spoke, his eyes shining strangely in the rapidly fading light. He had been smiling, an inviting look on his face, his lips slightly parted as he began to say something. But the moment his real name left the lips of his lover he looked back to Aiji with the quickness of a snake, icy annoyance flashing across his features before his hair blocked him from my vision.

He reaches a finger out to trace Aiji’s high cheekbones, sliding it down until he comes to his throat. His hand laid across the white skin, he hesitates, turning to look at me again.

“See? He hears what I want him to hear.”

I didn’t, wondering how exactly my brother was performing yet another miraculous and unnatural feat. But in my whirl of emotions I didn’t think of the obvious, watching as he placed his fingers in Aiji’s ear, cautiously pulling something out. I couldn’t see clearly, but it looked like a more molded version of an ear plug.

Kirito leans in close, lips grazing against the curve of our guitarist’s ear.

“What have I told you about calling me that?” he murmurs in a flat voice.

Shivers flitter over Aiji’s abdomen, and I wonder if that is a threat. Aiji seems overly anxious upon hearing this as well, fingers and toes flexing slightly as he licks his lips.

“I’m sorry Kirito, I wasn’t thinking…..”

Soft, humble, so unlike the voice he uses with the band. Gone was his bravado, his cattiness and material superiority. Here he was naked, vulnerable – not just in the physical sense. Here, he was the Aiji I remembered, and it made my heart ache and my stomach turn. Why did he show such a soft face when he was being treated like an animal? Chained (by some bondage means I would learn of later) to my brother’s heavy, archaic futon, blinded, deafened – the only courtesy shown a modest handkerchief laid across his privates. Here, my beloved friend, the only one I trusted as my brother’s caretaker, was transformed into a helpless, defeated plaything, I thought angrily, again wanting to have at my brother. Yet he had protected himself from that outcome too, a subtle mirth in his eyes as he stared at me, knowing that any reaction on my part would just humiliate Aiji further. I had to look away from him, from the steady, labored rise and fall of Aiji’s pale ribcage, away from the red slits carved into his thighs, and the smattering of bruises here and there….

“I know my pet. I know.”

I shut my eyes tightly, sickened by his loving tone of voice. Whatever he had done to bring Aiji to this state was nothing short of monstrous, not loving.

“Wait Kirito, don’t leave me again!” I hear his tinny voice spiral upwards, the urgency clear, “Don’t---”

Something quiets him and I start, worried. But Kirito has only blocked his ear again, his fingers timely shoved in Aiji’s mouth to keep his silent. When he is sure no more will come from his lover, he turns his attention to lighting a few candles by the bed.

It’s too much, I think, too much. These can’t be people I know and trust. This can’t be real.

“But it is, little brother. And he enjoys it.”

I gasp, Kirito beside me again, leaning into me and answering my thoughts, making me wonder if I spoke them aloud.

“Look at his body again, Kohta. Look at how his legs are spread, how useless his arms are bound like that…”

Against my will, and any better judgment that was still with me, my eyes skimmed over Aiji’s body again, shadows from the candles dancing across his face and stomach. He looked so thin, so incredibly long…

“I could never have him this way if it wasn’t of his will, you know. He is eager to submit…”

….his lips full, much like my brother’s, a hint of white teeth peaking from beneath them….his legs so like a woman’s, shapely and smooth…..

“Have you ever had the luxury of a submissive partner, Kohta? One who was willing to do whatever you wanted to please you, to indulge your most intimate fantasies and desires?”

….He looked so powerless, so weak….

I kept staring at his scars, the welts I never knew he had, that he hid so well at practice…wondering how much they pained him, and how they were caused….how he could enjoy it…..how easy it would be to make them again….

“Only a man can truly understand another man’s lust,” he whispered, a hand stroking my back gingerly, “and only another man is capable of truly yielding to the extent needed for satisfaction…”

Aiji was being so degraded, his intimacy so exploited, I thought hazily, not even knowing that another person is watching him beg….how could he let this be done to himself, how could he enjoy it….

“I just want you to touch him brother, and we’ll never speak of it again.”

Touch him? Touch him, while he was being subjected to this humiliation? Touch him and add to it?

“Kirito…”

His name came out of a parched throat, my voice as unsteady as my feet.

“Just once Kohta,” he whispers reassuringly, “and you can leave, I swear.”

I turned my head slowly, looking straight into his eyes. I knew the look on my face, for all my anger, all my disgust, dread, and worry, betrayed my inner instinct. What I always felt when I looked at my brother’s face. I knew I was pleading, silently, begging for a way out, not to be abandoned to some game of sin and self-indulgence, wanting to beg like Aiji had earlier.

“It’s what he wants, Kohta,” my brother says with such earnest that my brain can’t possibly compute it as a lie.

Just once Kohta, and you can leave, I swear.

The words echo in my head alongside my deep breathing. What else could I do? I reasoned with myself, rapidly and foolishly attempting to apply reason to insanity. If I tried leaving, there was a possibility my brother would restrain me, even hate me for rejecting whatever the hell was supposed to be going on here. And if he stopped talking to me, the band would fall apart at this point. He could lie to Aiji, or expose my presence to Aiji before I could stop him, and cause him to resent me forever as well. Or he could hurt Aiji, or exploit him even worse at practice, or….whatever outcome it could be, now was not the time to refuse my brother. I just needed to do what he wanted, leave, and deal with his treatment of Aiji at another time.

Just do it, leave, and it would all be over with.

I felt Kirito push my back ever so slightly as I began walking towards the futon.

Just do it, leave, and it would all be over with.

I kneel beside the bed, my knee hitting the wooden floor hard. Opening my eyes, Aiji’s wiry body filling my vision, his muscles having returned to their previous lifeless state. It was apparent he believed his lover to be gone, having left him to his own devices for who knows how long again. I briefly wonder how long a person can stay like this without sustenance, or how long it takes before cramps and knots begin to form.

Just do it, leave, and it would all be over with.

From where I am, I can only barely touch him if I were to reach out. Hesitantly, I shift closer, placing a small amount of weight on the bedding. Yet Aiji still senses it, his head turning to face me blindly. His breathing changes again, speeding up and calling my gaze to his chest. God he was thin, his every rib outlined by the candle light. It was almost as if his chest would cave in if I pressed hard enough, I think, my hand reaching out to touch him. It never occurred to me that Kirito was watching intently the whole time, or what he could be thinking in his bewildering mind. All that seemed important was placing my fingers on those delicate ribs, testing to see whether they would crumble beneath my touch.

His back arched beneath my fingertips, a moan escaping from his lips. I drew my hand back, startled by his response.

“Please,” he whispered, “please, I’ll behave….”

If I said it was pity I felt at that moment, I would be lying. I had felt pity for Aiji at first, shocked by what I perceived my brother alone had done to him. No, it had sunk in that he wasn’t being held against his will, that I was merely out of my league when it came to what went on in both of their heads at any given time. For a split second, when I heard him beg like that, I almost felt like he was getting what he deserved, although at no other time would I feel that way. My resentment at what I had been suckered into was beginning to manifest itself in strange ways at that point, much like the stages people cycled through when something traumatic happened. Shock, and disbelief initially. Fury that something like this would happen; that Aiji had gotten himself in this position. Fear and sadness for both Aiji, Kirito, and myself. And now acceptance that I had to deal with this perversion. Unfortunately, I didn’t expect that with acceptance, my mind would wander to other, less wholesome things than getting myself out of a bad situation. When I heard him implore me like that, with such raw intensity, with such…lust, it reminded me that I had never had anyone beg me, for anything. That no partner of mine had ever sounded so needy. He honestly sounded like he needed me at that moment, that his whole existence depended on whether or not I would continue to acknowledge him. And while I should have shook my head, should have stood up and walked straight past Kirito to freedom, I didn’t. A surge of something sick, something perverse and exhilarating in a form that only a male could feel, rose within me. Beyond reason, beyond morals, beyond anything in my right mind. A sudden urge to dominate, to control and mold and break apart, stirred within my veins as I looked over my brother’s toy of a lover. The subconscious that caused that daydream, that flung in my face that I wanted all that my brother had, that I wanted everything that was dear to him and to be dear to him, reared it’s ugly head. Unbeknownst to me, the driving force of love and idolization had been causing me to act irrationally -- and would continue to cause me to act so in the future -- and this time was no different.

Have you ever had the luxury of a submissive partner, Kohta?

My fingertips touched him again, trailing down one slim, hard rib, my thumb scraping against a hard nipple. In my daydream it had been the most passionate sex of my life, pure ecstasy to force myself upon his body like I had done to no other before him. In my daydream, if I could not bring Kirito down to my level, get him to act with the rationale and emotions of everyone around him, I would bring myself up to his level. I would have the obedience he had through Aiji. Through me.

Now, I know these abstract thoughts were what drove me to keep touching Aiji. What even began to arouse me as I did so, despite never being sexually attracted to or intimate with a man before. I can’t think of any other reason as to why I acted that way. At that time though, I didn’t understand, and it would haunt me for sometime afterwards. I believed my body was moving with it’s own will and own permission, without my brain’s consent. That it was all part of the nightmare thrust upon me by my brother.

It’s what he wants, Kohta.

I leaned in closer, carefully, so as not to alarm him. His scent, it was something else entirely. I breathed in deeply, everything else falling away. It was a faint, sweet scent, but so natural, so unlike my girlfriends’ had been. There was a vague undertone of something more physical, and I wondered if it was blood from his wounds. I inhaled again, my eyes closed, imagining that this was the scent that Kirito breathed in before sleeping each night.

“Ahhh…..”

My nose had brushed against his ear, my lips centimeters from his neck without my realizing it. In my daydream, I would kiss his neck, and I would mark it, a deep crimson, like I had never done to my girlfriends. He wouldn’t break, I told myself, he would enjoy it, thank me for it, like he must thank my brother for such marks…

…..and with such a notion in my head, I began kissing him.

I sucked at his throat, my hands touching his body, my weight shifting directly beside him. How many times had I seen those shameful marks on his neck at practice, that our makeup artists constantly bitched at him for? He was proud of them; proud of his badges of Kirito’s love. Unlike anyone I knew, he wanted evidence of his lovemaking to be seen and I had secretly envied his openness. Again, coveting what my brother had. I didn’t stop to think that I might smell different from Kirito, or touch differently, or kiss with less skill. He was moaning and I was somewhere else, somewhere in my head where I felt powerful, wanted, and depended on again. All the love I had longed for and regretted losing seemed to be in the lovely sounds of pleasure he made, in the way he strained to rub against my body.

“Do you see Kohta?” a voice whispers into my ear, a hand trailing down my back again. “You can do whatever your heart desires, and he will take it….”

My lips move to Aiji’s parted ones, my tongue filling his empty mouth. It’s strange, the size of his tongue and the way he kisses, passively and yet more forcefully than a female. It’s full, strong, exciting…

I’m on top of him, clutching at his up stretched arms and touching him roughly, thinking of nothing and everything at this point. My blood is pounding, my body agitated, and when I feel a tugging on my shirt it seems natural to take it off. It seems natural as I run my fingers down his skin and bite at his throat to begin pushing myself against him, fitting in-between his spread legs easily. I didn’t think about our anatomy, or how I would get inside him, or that his erection was shoved against my stomach. Nor did I sense the presence hovering behind me, or the occasional kiss on my neck and back. Lust propelled me blindly, had me demanding satisfaction and release.

Instinctively I begin fumbling with my zipper, Aiji moaning louder as my fingers sink into what little flesh there is to grab. When my other hand gropes around on the bed, a small tube is slipped beneath my fingers, my unspoken question answered. All I could hear were those sweet, rapturous noises coming from his throat, making me think I was going to burst any second. I almost had it too, had almost pulled myself out of my boxers and started to smear the lube on, Kirito whispering strange, erotic things in my ears to keep me partially distracted.

But then he said it. Breathlessly.

“Kirito….take me Kirito, please….”

And all of a sudden, it felt like I had been shot in the face.

I can’t entirely remember what happened. Despite what was going on in my subconscious, to actually hear Kirito’s name had slapped me out of my daze and scared the shit out of me. I realized, one hand on my cock, that I was actually about to have sex with Aiji. That somewhere along the line, I had decided to fuck Aiji. Not only a man, but my brother’s boyfriend, with my brother’s blessing and under his watchful eye. Whatever hunger had driven me this far instantaneously vanished, and my insides cringed, a terrifying panic seizing my every nerve. I had delved into madness, my mind screamed as I dropped the tube, grabbed my shirt, and stumbled over my brother to reach the door. I no longer cared if Aiji knew I wasn’t Kirito, or that my pants were undone. I ran out of the apartment as fast as I could, throwing on my clothes as I made my way to my car. My brother may have said something to me, but I was beyond responding to anything. I had to get to my house and take a shower and act like it never happened. My driving was dangerous, going some amount over the speed limit for sure, but I only lived a short ways away. I barely braked for anything, and almost hit someone walking on the street. But I made it home, still running, all the way up the stairs and into my place, not stopping until I was in the restroom, huddled over the toilet hurling my entire dinner up.

Why? Why? my mind sobbed as I wretched, tears falling down my cheeks. I didn’t even know what I was crying about, the inside of my being feeling so rotten and repulsive at the time. Why had I allowed myself to do such a thing? Why would my brother do such a thing to me? What if someone found out? God, how could I even face another woman knowing I did such a thing?

I dragged myself into the shower eventually, after my stomach was painfully empty. I couldn’t even begin to comprehend the enormity of what I had done, or attempted to do. I was going against every moral I’d ever heard of, making myself a demented, sick fuck even by my own standards.

My fist collided with the shower wall painfully.

How could I face Kirito again? Or Aiji? Especially if Aiji didn’t know?

…..How could I even face my own reflection?

I stayed in the shower for hours, huddled in the corner as water fell on my hair and dripped into my eyes, mixing with my tears of dread and self-loathing. I had no where to turn this time, not even to Kirito. If it hadn’t scared me before, knowing that I would have to deal with this alone terrified me. I wanted out of my skin, out of my mind – out of my life. For that moment, I would have traded anything – my fame, my money, my friends – just to be someone else, who wasn’t as atrocious as myself. It only made me wonder if this was why no woman wanted me; if Eiko had seen this filth in me and that’s why she’d taken off. If I had been born with more courage, I probably would have found some way to end it right there and then. Instead, I blearily made my way to bed, praying that I would sleep forever.

And for the first time in a long time, I dreamt of absolute darkness.

~*~

[next chapter]