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It had never been his intention to end up here, sitting in his brother’s room like he was twelve years old again. If anything, he’d wanted to avoid the possibility entirely but that seemed an unlikely outcome now.
“You’re hiding something from me.” Masaki kneels in front of Hiroto, noting the stiff posture and the way he’s sitting on the edge of his bed as though he’s ready to take off.
Hiroto wonders when it became such a hindrance to him, the prospect of sharing with his brother. They are close, of course. Especially since the loss of Takeru, Hiroto is fully aware of the fragility of the lives around him and has no intention of taking those around him for granted. That doesn’t make this conversation any easier than it had been all those years ago when he’d had it with Takeru. Masaki, as usual, was slow to the count, much preferring the ‘he’ll tell me eventually’ method. As usual, this was clearly ineffective.
“Talk to me, Hiroto.” Takeru closes his door gently, walking over to his desk to pull the chair until it is placed in front of the edge of the bed, where Hiroto is currently seated.
“About what?” Hiroto croaks out, now fully aware of how hoarse his voice is. How nervous he is. His hands subconsciously start moving up and down his jeans, an attempt to rid them of the sweat that had formed in what seemed like seconds.
“Whatever it is that’s bothering you.” Takeru replies simply, never one to be quick to agitation, always calm and collected. Sadly, Hiroto couldn’t relate. His heart was racing.
“It’s not-,” he begins, looking up from his hands towards the window, unable to make direct eye contact, “it’s nothing important.” He sees birds flying by the window and is briefly envious. What he’d do to be outside and away from this conversation right now.
“I’m not interrogating you, Hiroto. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Takeru pats his knee gently, affectionately nudging his cheek in a way that was reminiscent of them many years ago, succeeding in making Hiroto feel safer, at least.
“You and Masaki haven’t stopped harassing me since I brought her back.” Hiroto scowls, fully aware of the scrutiny he’d been under since his drunken roll in the sheets with the nameless woman. Hiroto is sure she’d probably told him her name, but in all honesty, his nerves had gotten the best of him. He’d been so sure of himself at the bar and when she’d lead him out by the hand, he’d recalled what Masaki had airily said hundreds of times. ‘You don’t turn down a pretty lady, Hiroto, especially when they’re usually so scared of your scowling face’. Hiroto resented him for saying it, but it was true. He wasn’t good with initiating anything with women.
“This is the first time I’ve spoken to you since the other day, Hiroto.” Takeru teases lightly, chucking under his breath. “Masaki is a different story entirely. You know how he likes to live vicariously.”
Hiroto wishes he had Masaki’s confidence because maybe then he wouldn’t be in this situation. He’d been moping around for days after his encounter, completely confused. He’d heard Masaki gloat plenty of times about his sexual partners, revelling in what he called ‘the best sex ever’, neglecting to mention that he says that after every roll in the sheets.
When he thinks about the night, it wasn’t that it was bad. She was beautiful, he’d noticed as much when she’d approached him. They drank together and she didn’t impose herself on him the way other people often do, with the usual ‘you’re so quiet’, ‘you’re so moody’ that he despised so much. When she’d followed him into his room, he’d felt like a teenager again. Clammy, heart-racing, fingers fumbling. She was patient and sweet with him and he could appreciate how she was definitely one of the most stunning women he’d ever laid his eyes on. Aesthetically, there wasn’t a flaw in his eyes. And yet afterwards, lay in the dark with her sleeping beside him, all bare skin and sweat, he was completely at a loss. Everything had gone so well, she was beautiful, so why didn’t he enjoy it the way everyone speaks about? He thought surely, as he got older, things would change. That he’d no longer be left with that empty feeling after sex that he never heard anybody mention- not a state of euphoria or relaxation, but a void.
His younger years had been the same when he’d tried with men, all too aware of the fact that he could appreciate the beauty of both. He loved kissing them, holding hands with them, being held by them. And then they’d have sex. Although the experience was definitely different between male and female partners, the result was the same.
“Hiroto.” The voice snaps him out of his thoughts, Takeru’s face masked in concern as he squeezes Hiroto’s knee softly. “What is it?”
“I don’t know what it is.” Hiroto snaps, resenting himself for being so confused and causing so much confusion around him.
“Then tell me about it.” Takeru sits beside him on the bed, running his fingers through Hiroto’s hair slowly. Hiroto resists the urge to cry at the affection, always unsure what he’d done to deserve such a loving pair of brothers.
“I didn’t enjoy it.” He murmurs, closing his eyes to avoid the possibility of a negative reaction. He thinks he might as well savour the affection now, because surely Takeru is unlikely to understand. His aniki might be subtler about his love for female attention than Masaki, but Hiroto doesn’t doubt he’s never lay in bed afterwards having an existential crisis.
“Do you know why?” Takeru continues stroking Hiroto’s hair without pausing, not looking directly at him. Hiroto is sure he’s not looking because he wants to make it easier for him to speak and he’s grateful.
“I don’t know. She was beautiful, I just-,” He doesn’t even know how to follow up what he’s saying really, “I just didn’t get anything. I didn’t get anything from it.”
“Has this happened before?” Takeru switches to stroking down his back instead, the movement being soothing and managing to dull some of Hiroto’s nerves.
“I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed it.” Hiroto blurts out, his head reaching the statement before his heart catches up with him. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Hiroto almost jumps from the bed when Takeru grabs both of his shoulders firmly, turning him until he can see Takeru’s determined stare placed right on him.
“Listen to me, Hiroto. There is nothing wrong with you, okay? Nothing. Not everybody wants to have sex with men, not everybody wants to have sex with women. Some people are open to sex with either. Some don’t want sex with either.” He grabs the back of Hiroto’s head and places a kiss on his forehead, keeping one hand on his shoulder.
“But I don’t understand, aniki. I just-,“
“Don’t require a sexual aspect to a relationship. Hiroto, it’s more common than you think. Asexuality doesn’t make you wrong, it doesn’t change who you are, it is who you are. Me and Masaki will love you no matter what.” Takeru lies back on the bed, sighing softly.
“You made me and Masaki worried because we thought you’d gotten her pregnant.”
Hiroto scoffs, outraged at the notion. “I’m not Masaki! I’m careful!” He scowls briefly, before breaking out into laughter at the notion. Here he was, assuming he was going to be rejected in a state of confusion, all the while Takeru and Masaki were attempting to come up with an action plan for the prospect of Hiroto as an unwilling father.
“You know that we’ll never leave you. You’re stuck with us.”
“You do know that aniki told me, don’t you?” Masaki smirks, strutting over to the chair in the corner of the room to sit down.
“Yeah, I figured. That was years ago.” Hiroto replies, shaking his head at Masaki trying to act smug about something that was discussed so many years ago. It did make his heart hurt to think about Takeru, but at the same time he just felt a strong surge of affection for his departed brother. Had he not spoken to him all those years ago, he wouldn’t have had the confidence in himself he does now.
“So. What is it that’s bothering you now?” Masaki whines, glaring at Hiroto as though he’d deliberately decided he wanted to be pushed into Masaki’s room for a heart to heart.
“Nothing is bothering me, I’m just going out.” Hiroto scoffs, standing up and charging towards the door, all too aware that if he stays any longer the truth will be coerced out of him. What bothers him more is that when he reaches the door, Masaki stays seated with a smug look on his face.
“Hmmm. Say hello to Smokey for me.”
Fuck. How hard is it to keep a secret around here?