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“Ran,” he whispers. It’s a cold night in Roppongi, quiet by red-light district standards, but only barely quiet enough to hear his own thoughts. Rindou sits leaning against a brick wall in a dark alleyway, looking off to the side where his brother is supposed to be. It’s almost too dark to tell if he’s really there, the only thing betraying Ran’s presence being the dull gleam of moonlight in his eyes.
Rindou’s breath is labored, his lungs feeling all used up from a fight, a fight they’d won but somehow left him feeling defeated.
Maybe it has something to do with the knife wound in his brother’s side.
“Ran,” he tries again, itching for his response.
“What is it?” Ran responds. It’s hard to hear Ran breathe, but Rindou can just barely tell he is over the bustle and incoherent yelling that seems to fill the area. Good, that’s good. He leans closer to hear him better.
“You’re fine, aren’t you?”
“You shouldn’t need to ask. Don’t worry.” Ran’s voice is even and deep, the same comforting tone Rindou’s used to hearing every day. It’s easy to believe whatever Ran says, no matter if Rindou is frustrated or angry or worried. If Ran says not to worry, Rindou won’t worry.
Still, he’s bleeding.
It’s late and they can’t go home—don’t even know if they have a home. Not since their parents disappeared and they decided having each other was all they needed.
“Where?” Rindou asks, and he doesn’t need to specify before Ran grasps his hand, cold dry skin against his own as he pulls it to the spot he bleeds from. The heat bleeds too, staining Rindou’s hand red and warm, staining it with Ran. Ran sucks a breath in at the contact.
He doesn’t know how much Ran can see of him in the twilight, but there’s no doubt he can feel the way Rindou shakes. He wills himself to calm down, Ran is fine, Ran is here, Ran won’t go anywhere, but it doesn’t work.
Fingers nudge at Rindou’s other hand, pressed into the dirty ground. They pry his own fingers apart and slip between them, pressing their palms together. Ran squeezes, and Rindou exhales.
“It’s nothing. Barely a scratch.”
It’s not, it’s not, but Ran doesn’t lie to him, he swore he would never. Adults are the ones who lie, not Ran, who’d always protect him.
“Okay,” Rindou nods. He closes his eyes. All he can feel is the cold air surrounding him and the flame of Ran’s torn shirt and skin.
“Roppongi is ours, Rin.”
He doesn’t know why Ran says it, but he finds himself nodding along. “Ours.”
“My blood is your blood, right? So you’ll kill them. For what they did to your blood.”
“I’ll kill them,” Rindou says, pressing his hand firmly against Ran’s wound. Ran doesn’t so much as flinch. He’s always been strong.
Rindou should be mad about that. He doesn’t want to play second fiddle. The Haitanis are equal forces, equal threats. Nothing Ran said or did ever suggested he felt Rindou was inferior, but the fact stands: Ran is stronger. Ran has always protected them both, but is it wrong for Rindou to want to protect him too?
“You’re thinking too hard,” Ran says, voice coming out closer than it had before. Rindou shifts, and feels the press of Ran’s knee against his shin. Facing each other, Rindou opens his eyes. Ran’s face is much clearer. “What’s wrong?”
There’s nothing particularly wrong, just… a strange feeling. Connected to Ran like this, he finds that the last thing he wants to do is move away. He relishes in the contact, in knowing what pumps through both their veins is one and the same. There’s no one else in the world who could fill that place.
There are only two Haitanis.
“Sometimes, I wish we weren’t brothers.” It comes out hushed, and it feels wrong the second it does. Rindou’s lips take shape around the words but he feels the tension in his own brow, feels the way even thinking it makes his heart constrict.
Ran just smiles, that smile that says he knows more than he’s letting on. He usually does. Rindou wants to know what he knows.
“Is that so?” he asks, gentle and just as quiet. “Will you tell me why?”
Why? Rindou doesn’t know why. What he knows is the feeling of Ran’s blood warm and tacky against his palm, sticking their hands together over the wound. What he knows is the tickle of Ran’s bangs against his own. What he knows is the way Ran breathes, slow but not worryingly so, warm air over Rindou’s face.
What he knows is that the thought of anyone else touching Ran, whether with intent to love or to harm, makes him sick. There wasn’t anything called love elsewhere in the world, only greed and selfishness. The only love he knew was Ran’s, likewise so greedy and selfish, because what benefited Ran benefited Rindou too.
Harm exists in their world, in fact it makes up most of it. But it won’t come for them anymore, Rindou decides, because Ran shouldn’t have to deal with a world that will hurt him. Not if Rindou can help it.
“It’s better that we’re brothers,” Ran murmurs, leaning his forehead against Rindou’s. The soft ends of his braids brush Rindou’s collarbones. “No one else has what we have.”
Rindou swallows. “Yeah?” he asks, shaky.
“Mm, don’t you think?”
“Yes, but there's— ah,” Rindou’s tongue trips on the words. He should hold them back, but, “there’s things that I want…”
“What do you want, Rindou?”
“I— I want…” he trails off, looking into Ran’s eyes so close, so deep yet depthless all at once. The murky violet matches his own, Rindou knows, but he’s never seen himself reflected this closely in them. He doesn’t recognize the expression on his own features.
“You can tell me. As the older brother, it’s my job to give you what you want. To make you happy. Right?”
Ran is a good older brother. He does give Rindou what he wants, even when he’s being bratty and demanding ramen when they have no money. The first time Ran stole was for Rindou. The first time Ran killed was for Rindou.
Even still, Rindou can’t say it. Selfishness was Ran’s gift more than his own.
“Guess, then,” Rindou says, turning his quivering voice into a laugh. “If you’re a good older brother, you should already know.”
He hopes Ran already knows. At the same time, he prays that Ran never finds out.
Ran smiles, indulgent, already forgiving Rindou for being difficult. “Okay,” he says, voice sweet, “then close your eyes.”
Rindou does, obedient as always to Ran, and only Ran. He feels unmoored, the only thing keeping him tethered being their connected hands.
Something soft covers Rindou’s mouth, warm and just slightly wet, a familiar scent surrounding him. It starts out as just pressure, a connection neither pushed nor pulled away. He knows, he knows, his mind chants. Then something wetter prods at the seam of his lips, and the moment Rindou opens his mouth is the moment he stops shaking.
If Ran started it, then it was okay, because Ran always does the right thing.
Ran takes Rindou’s bottom lip between his own, biting down like he’s marking his property. It’s unnecessary; Rindou was always his. He squeezes his hand where it rests on Ran’s side and swallows the groan pressed into his mouth, a chill racing up his spine.
Their tongues meet, hot—almost burning, and Rindou thinks he remembers the taste from their meal, scrounged together hours earlier. It tastes better now than it did then. He chases it like it’s his final supper.
All Rindou knows is heat, taking over the chilly air and numbing the sharp gravel pressing into his legs. It’s all he can do to keep from being devoured as Ran leans into his space so his back meets the wall, but Rindou wants Ran to take whatever he wants from him.
Ran separates from him, and Rindou opens his eyes to watch the string of saliva stretch out between them and snap. “Did I guess right?” Ran asks, licking his lips.
Of course he did, because Ran knows everything about him. There are no secrets to be had when your world consists of only one person.
Ran takes back the hand pressing Rindou’s to his side and lifts it instead to Rindou’s face. Rindou answers by leaning back in.
His brother’s hand guides him where Ran wants him, craning his neck back so he can tower over Rindou even though they’re both sitting. It hurts his neck, but it doesn’t matter, and he raises his own bloody hand to rest on Ran’s cheek.
When Rindou tries to push back, their teeth clack, but Ran lets him. Rindou feels the smile against his mouth and his heart leaps. If doing this makes Ran happy too, then it might happen again. Rindou will never have to ask, because Ran will know.
Rindou squeezes the hand that’s still entangled with Ran’s on the ground. He doesn’t ever want to let go.
Ran’s kisses are demanding. He’s overpowering, but Rindou can match that power because it’s what he does best. Staying in tune with his brother was something he mastered early on.
It’s okay if Rindou dips into his own greed now, so he does, losing himself to feelings he can’t put a name to. Each touch of lips is like a brand, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he was permanently marked by this. It wouldn’t be so bad if the world knew who he belonged to, if their family name wasn’t enough already.
He pulls away on his own this time, reluctant but desperate to see the effect he’s had, if any. Ran was a master at appearing unaffected, but if there’s anyone who could challenge that, it should be Rindou. Ran’s eyes are hazy, and his cheeks are mottled pink. A stark handprint stands out on one side, dry and patchy but clearly stained in the blood from his hand. Rindou feels the tightness of his skin that signals he has a print to match. Just like the tattoo that their bodies divide in half, this too is a matching set.
Ran smiles, calm as always, looking back at him. “It’s perfect, isn’t it?” Being brothers goes unsaid, but Rindou hears it all the same.
He can’t help but agree.