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Jeremiah groaned as Jerome's limbs flung out onto him, his skin burning from the heat- the heat the heat always the heat- from where they touch and the way his tank top clung to his soft middle with sweat. Jerome had forgone a shirt, had nearly forgone his boxers too, and Jeremiah had had to swallow down the fit threatening to rise up in his throat back down because he knew knew Jerome would do it just to spite him; but it had been by some stroke of luck that he hadn't. He had eyed Jeremiah who had been splayed out on their bed, his expression disturbingly thoughtful even as his fingers were in the waistband of his threadbare grey boxers that had maybe- definitely- been white once. He swallowed hard, eyes trailing down Jerome's decidedly fitter body, hard where Jeremiah was soft. There's a lump in his throat, as he looked Jerome over in consideration. His brother was growing broader, becoming a man, a happy trail growing in. Jerome's body was marked by a lifetime lived in fifteen short years. Pale creamy skin covered in scars, only even matched one for one by the faint freckles that dusted every inch of his skin. Only one of the few differences between them. Written in the creases made by his amusement around his taunting, lecherous mouth and of bruises in various degrees of healing. Indentions in his shoulder from a week ago when Jerome had been too rough- always on the verge of agonising- and he'd had to silence himself with a mouthful of flesh. Not that Jerome seemed to mind, no, if anything he had appreciated it. It's enough to make his skin burn and he has to look away to gather his wits. It's just jealousy that makes him feel such a way. Always jealousy.
" 'Miah?"
Jeremiah jerked, and if his face wasn't already flushed red from the humidity and heat of mid-summer then he'd have surely blushed. He hadn't realised Jerome was awake. "Hm?"
Jerome reached out, his eyes half lidded as his hand flew out onto Jeremiah's body, searching and prodding that has him squeaking indignantly. His hand hovers over Jeremiah's junk for half a second, smiling sleepily- cute who had the right to look so goddamned cute always the cuter twin- but before Jeremiah can even make a move to hiss at him or perhaps slap away his roaming hands it moved away, latching onto his wrist and sliding down, intertwining their fingers. His palm is sweaty, left a trail of dampness along the skin of his wrist and ordinarily Jeremiah would've made a fuss over how disgusting it was, but this was anything but ordinary and he was left temporarily speechless, unable to process this new development.
"J-Jerome?" He stuttered out, choking on his words, his expression dubious.
"Y' gonna take me with you?"
For a moment that seemed to last forever Jeremiah's mind raced- take him take him where- and skidded to a halt, snapping back to attention ad Jerome clarified, his tone a little bitter and more than a little morose. "When you leave."
It's something he can't answer, he can't. He can't stand life with Jerome, but in the same vein he can't stand life without him either. His flaws aren't endearing, bordering on infuriating, and more often than not Jeremiah found himself wanting to throttle him so he'll shut his big mouth for just one moment. He thought, sometimes, that their sibling rivalry will end in death, not necessarily their own. It's become something of a fact of life for him, and so he finds the next best thing; the only answer that could possibly make any sense even if it were as much of a non-answer as one could make. "Would you take me with you?"
Jerome huffed a laugh, dry and mirthless. "You and me both know it ain't gonna be me who gets outta here. You'll get a scholarship, go to the top schools, marry some bitch who doesn't know you like I do. Meanwhile I'll be stuck here till I die- or until I kill mom y'know? Think we both know which comes first." Jerome was getting riled up now, he could tell; grinding his teeth and eyes drilling holes in the side of Jeremiah's head like he might like to do the same with an actual drill. It must have been circulating in his mind for a while to get him this worked up- not that it ever took much. Jerome had always been something of a loose cannon, it was one of the many, many reasons he was constantly getting into trouble. Part of him almost wished to rile him up even further, just to see what his reaction would be even though he knew he knew; and as much as he hated that he knew he had to calm him down. It's always a little better, just a little nicer when it's just the two of them. As much as he complained and put on a good show he knew they were mirror images, but no one ever saw them for what they were. They were nothing alike, no not at all. He was good.
He sat up a bit, his upper body slouching against the wall, just enough that Jerome's head fell into his lap without detangling their fingers- it's nice, nice for once even if it won't last. Violence and cruelty, ripping each other's protective skin away had always been more their style- and he runs his free hand through Jerome's hair. An offering of kindness. The kind of kindness that he got from his mother but wishes that he didn't. Gentle. Gentle like he knew Jerome had rarely had- only from him, only ever from him- tracing the line of his face and feeling the faint, cool brush of Jerome's eyelashes against his skin as he circled back to his hair. He smelled like fire and smoke and the nearly obliterated hints of their shampoo- some expensive vanilla scented kind that came in a glass bottle that Jerome had swiped last time they were in Kansas City and they'd been out. Mother only ever had money when it came to her booze.
Jerome settled in, crisis evidently averted but the previous topic still echoed in his mind. It'd crossed his mind a time or two, lying in bed beside his brother in their too small bed, unable to sleep and unable to keep his mind from wandering to such things. Daydreams about where he'd be just five years from now, how much better life would be if he could just escape from the circus, from their drunken whore of a mother- from Jerome. How good it'd feel to have space of his own, something to call his own. Something he didn't have to share. But alternatives came in spades, envisioning what it'd be like to share a bed with Jerome, a real bed with enough room for the both of them and maybe, just maybe they could find a way to be content with what they had because what they had wouldn't be so bad. An apartment to call their own, someone who understood what he saw in the dark, and who loved him in his own sick way- and understood he loved him just the same. He could see Jerome's gleeful face as he sat up on the counter in the morning, hair in disarray- more so than usual- still in his boxers as they made pancakes, and feeling warm even as his thighs twinged and ached from the repetitive up down up down of riding Jerome earlier that morning. He'd been sharing space with Jerome ever since their conception, even in his imagination the space where he'd normally reside it'd feel so empty without him.
The thoughts give him a sick twist of shame in his gut, so intense that it doubled over any other time that had come before. He suspected that they were more fantasy than anything else, that the future for them would entail much darker delights than any rom com thinking could ever fathom. What were the chances he'd attain happiness anyhow, there was no happiness for two abused brothers who took sick pleasure in one another. But still-
Jerome's hand had loosened considerably, he was undoubtedly close to sleep, and the correct response would be to let it lie where it was but it's there, at the front of his mind and he knows he won't be able to sleep otherwise. It was selfish, foolish to even consider waking the beast but his resolve was unbudging.
"Jerome?"
There was no response, no even a murmur, and so he prodded Jerome's face with his pointer finger, needling. Finally Jerome stirred, groaning, then blinking blearily at Jeremiah with something close to irritation. "What?"
"I would." Jeremiah said, rubbing his thumb over Jerome's eyebrow, over the scar just above it from drawing their mother's ire and bites back a smile at the bewildered look on Jerome's face. "Take you with me, I mean."
Jerome giggled, eyes half closed as he gazed up at him with something that might just look like affection to anyone who didn't know how vile Jerome was, squeezing Jeremiah's hand hard enough to make his bones crack and pop before he released it; his upper body visibly tensing as he reached up wrapped his arm around the back Jeremiah's neck, pulling him down. It's an awkward angle, it hurts and aches, but Jerome had to crane his neck up and it's a strain, he could tell, so he counted it as even. It's gentler of a kiss than Jerome's ever given him before, than anyone's ever given him really, even when Jerome bit down on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, and he could feel himself melting, falling into it even though he knew it was mostly for his sake. He tasted like cigarette smoke, like something artificially sweet, something like the burn of vodka- getting drunk off their mother's supply, together forever. He fell back in his lap, a tinge of blood shining on his smiling lips and it went right to his gut, like a punch. He longed to lap it up blood from Jerome's mouth, maybe have a taste of Jerome himself.
"Trick question, 'Miah. You're never getting rid of me. I'd follow you to hell and back if I had to." Jerome paused, then laughed a little, face softening; just a little. "Appreciate the sentiment though."
Anger bubbled in his gut, and he felt intensely irritable for reasons he couldn't quite place. His cheeks burned a little as he responded tersely. "Why'd you ask then?"
Jerome waved his hand dismissively, adding fuel to Jeremiah's fire. "Oh I just wanted to see what you'd say. I just knew you adored me."
Jeremiah squinted suspiciously a Jerome as he sat up abruptly, a devious grin plastered on his face. "What are you-" Before he can manage to even get the words out, Jerome was launching himself at Jeremiah, cackling madly. Their skin stuck together with sweat as they grappled, shoving and rolling, teetering closer and closer to the edge and just an inch closer to falling. Thump after thump, the bedsprings squeaking violently until Jerome was holding him down, legs encasing his body and his hands pressing Jeremiah's wrists into the mattress. They're both panting into each other's faces, he could barely catch his breath as his eyes flickered down to Jerome's lips and he licked his own, laughing breathily when Jerome did- in spite of himself.
"You're going to wake up, mom!"
Jerome made a show of rolling his eyes. "Buzzkill." Then he shifted, rolled his hips back and down, snickering. "Well well well what do we have here. How pervy of you, broski, getting off on an innocent wrestling match with your brother. What would mommy say?"
"Jerome-" Jeremiah warned, wheezing a little, but his serious tone was offset by the way he was still giggling eratically.
He struggled under Jerome, seeing the half lidded way Jerome was watching him.
"Fine, fine." Jerome let go of his wrists and fell onto his back beside Jeremiah with a low grunt of exertion, "But we really need to talk about your aversion to fun."
"I think we having differing idea of what fun is."
Giggling abated, they settled in and Jeremiah was nearly asleep when Jerome's hand crept up his bicep. He murmured into the darkness, close to Jeremiah's ear. "Hey 'Miah?"
"Hmmm?"
"You're the only one I can stand around here. I don't even want to kill you- most of the time. Some of the time. You can be a real bitch, sometimes I'm surprised you don't get periods."
"That was nicer before you kept going." Jeremiah said dryly, already feeling the itch on his skin from the intimacy.
Jerome pressed a smacking kiss to the side of Jeremiah's head. His voice sounds stronger somehow; more convinced, confident. "You and me are gonna get the hell outta dodge. I can see it now." He swung his hand out and gestured mindlessly in the air, and he nodded like he could see what Jerome meant even in the darkness.
Jeremiah couldn't help but humour him. He felt a little warm inside, still feeling the buzz on his skin. "You think? Where are we going to go?"
"I dunno. Gotham?" And Jeremiah shivered, just a little. He'd been making plans to leave for Gotham since his thirteenth birthday, distant dreams of a better life that he had never told anyone, let alone Jerome who would've only heckled him. They were twins, after all, but-
Jerome must have seen the expression on his face, because he snorted and said. "I read your diary."
Jeremiah sat up like a jolt had gone through his body, smacking at Jerome. "You did what- and it's not a diary! It's a journal and it's not for anyone else's eye, much less vermin like you!"
Jerome laughed, loud and abrupt, and shrugged carelessly. He didn't look one bit sorry for violating Jeremiah's privacy. "Wanted to know if you're as obsessed with me as it seems."
"What's to be obsessed with?" Jeremiah sniffed ostentatiously, the words purposely callous but they both knew they were false.
"Well I was right wasn't I?" Jerome leered at him, looking him over, evidently thrilled to have his stalker fantasies validated. He gestured as if he had a pen in hand, narrating in a nasally voice." Dear Diary nasty old Jerome locked me in elephants cage again. Dear Diary Jerome made me suck-" "Enough!" "Didn't seem like you'd had enough when my dick was in your mouth."
Jeremiah's cheeks burned a particular shade of scarlet that not even the blind old bat they didn't call their father but knew anyway could mistake for being merely a product of the heat. "Your disgusting, disease ridden dick you forced in my mouth you mean?" He sneered, remembering the time well. Jerome had fucked his mouth with complete disregard to him, had had him retching and gagging around the dick in his throat; and had held his head down as he came, come dribbling out his nose and the corners of his mouth.
"Oh are you really going to play that again?" Jerome scoffed. "I know you bro, you'd have bit me just like you bit that old perv if you really didn't want it."
"You'd probably enjoy that, the freak you are."
"A freak for you baby." Jerome winked shamelessly.
Jeremiah groaned, exasperatedly running his hand over his face. "How am I related to you? You're a step away from an imbecile."
Jerome cackled, propping up on his elbows "A step away-" He said, faux astonished. "Why 'Miah you flatterer you."
Jerome's laugh was jarring even muffled by the pillow that collided with his face. He hated that laugh- hated that he doesn't- hated how he heard it even in his dreams. He peeked from atop the pillow, and Jeremiah knew without having to see that he was grinning from behind it. He hated that he knew He absolutely despised his menace of a brother- and despised how he knew that it was anything but the truth. He hated how he knew they are one and the same as he had never wanted, two minds connected in the worst ways possible.
Jeremiah huffed, crossing his arms impertinently and eyeing his brother. Jerome scoffed in turn, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. "God, Miah, you big baby! Live a little. You're turning into a senile old geezer right before my eyes. And I tell you it ain't hot."
"Right, because my main purpose in life is to be considered attractive by a psychopath who has to cut whores up to get an erection."
"Oooo," Jerome pressed a hand to his heart, his grin never wavering. "Hit me where it hurts, why don'tcha."
"I can't stand you." Jeremiah said, dead pan as he wiped a trail of sweat off his cheek with the back of his hand.
When he looked up once more, he found Jerome's eyes on him, watching him attentively. He was moving closer, looming ever closer. He felt his gut drop, and he moved instinctively back like it might save him from whatever Jerome had in mind.
"Hold still." He said, as he licked a line of a sweat off Jeremiah's neck; his lips sticking to Jeremiah's skin, just a little.
Jeremiah shrunk back, disgusted. "You're foul!"
Jerome snickered. "Takes one to know one."
"I hate you."
"Yeah." Jerome grinned, chest puffed out confidently.
Jeremiah groaned, loud and drawn out, and turned on his side away from Jerome.
"Hey."
Jeremiah refused to respond in principle.
"Hey." It was closer now, and he could hear Jerome shuffling toward him.
"Hey!" Jerome's firm grip latched onto his shoulder, nails digging in as he shook him with seemingly all the force he could manage.
"What?" Jeremiah said, grudgingly.
"Love ya 'Miah."
"Okay."
"Ouch." Jerome flopped onto his back heavily, nearly sending Jeremiah flying.
Jeremiah rolled his eyes at Jerome's dramatics. "I love you too, you know I do."
"I know." Jeremiah can hear the smile in his voice. "I just like hearing you say it."