Blood Brothers
Title: Blood Brothers
Word Count: 938
Pairings: SURPRISE!
Summary: They were blood brothers, forever
Disclaimer: I don't own A THING. And I never would have posted this if not for Candy-chan
Dedication: To Candy-chan
“-Aniki Gin! Aniki Gin!” Vodka said, his voice near-cracking and tears streaming downwards across his cheeks. “Don’t die! Don’t die! Aniki Gin, Aniki Gin!”
Gin looked up at the broken man hovering over him with hazy, half-lidded eyes. There was blood everywhere, and he could feel as more and more of the life-giving liquid left his body. Dimly he felt one of Vodka’s tears land on his cheek, and in spite of what he knew was happening to him, in spite of how upset Vodka was, he smiled. It was a sad but at the same time happy, reminiscent smile.
“Stop,” Gin said weakly.
“A-aniki Gin?”
“Stop it. That’s not my name. Gin is not my name. Vodka…no, Momorou, Gin is not my name.”
Vodka stared, shocked. He hadn’t heard Gin use his real name in…in…he didn’t know how long. He’d nearly forgotten what it sounded like coming from him. “A-aniki Soujiro…?”
“Yes…yes, Momorou. Soujiro. I’d nearly forgotten. Soujiro is my name.” He gave a sort of half-choked laugh, “But, I could never forget yours. Not yours, not my brothers.” He smiled more, thinking of his brothers coat slowly becoming ruined with his blood, and then pushed the thought aside, to think of something else. “I remember…” he said slowly, “I remember the day we became brothers. You were crying then, too, remember, Momorou?”
Vodka nodded, “I remember, Aniki Soujiro. I remember. It was the day my parents died.”
Gin nodded, slowly. “Killed, you mean. The day your parents were killed. The sky was so blue…so wrong. It was the beginning of summer; we’d just gotten off of school, and…” his voice faded for a moment, before he swallowed and continued. “I was sitting under a tree…”
--------
Soujiro sighed pleasantly, leaning back against a huge, towering tree. He tossed his blonde head once, to get the hair out of his eyes, and was just beginning to relax when a cry broke through the warm summer silence.
“Soujiro!!!” It was Momorou, come to ruin the moment as always. Soujiro sat up, rolling his eyes slightly, so as to properly receive and talk to the other boy, but something was wrong. Tears were rolling down the even then box-cut boy’s cheeks, and showed no signs of stopping; his cheeks were flushed and red, and his eyes aggravated by the salt in the tears.
Soujiro was instantly worried; Momorou had never been very much of the tough guy that he was, but still he was no pushover. It took a lot to even get him upset, let alone enough to cry. “Momorou,” he said, working hard to keep the worry from his voice, “Momorou,” he said again as the larger 10-year-old fell to his knees in front of him, “What is it? What’s wrong; what happened?”
For a moment all he could do was cry, as the 14-year-old squirmed near him with discomfort and worry. “The-they’re dead!” He cried at last, “They’re dead, Soujiro! My parents! They’re dead, they’re dead and I’m all alone now! I don’t have anyone! I don’t have anyone to take care of me, or any family left! They’re gone! And they left me all alone!”
All Soujiro could do was stare for a moment at his sometimes-best-friend-sometimes-not in shock. He knew what it was like to be alone; he’d been an orphan sense he was born, but he had no idea what it must be like to have parents one minute, and then suddenly to just not the next. He knew something about loneliness, and more-so he knew how to combat it.
“You’re not alone,” he declared suddenly, “You have me! And I have you! We’re better than family-We’re Blood Brothers!”
Momorou sniffed and looked at the teen, “B-blood brothers?”
“Exactly!” he pulled a switchblade from his pocket and flicked it open, as he began to explain about being Blood Brothers. “Now,” he said, “give me your hand,”
Momorou obeyed, flinching when the blonde cut a single, smooth line across his palm and mirrored the action on his own left. They clasped their hands together and bleed into one another, then drew back and pressed their shallow cuts onto their jeans.
“There,” Soujiro said, “Now I have you and you have me.”
“A-aniki Soujiro?” the younger asked, partially testing out the new name.
“Hmm?”
“We’ll always be together, right?”
“Of course!”
------------
Despite himself, Vodka smiled. “I remember, Aniki Soujiro. I remember.”
“Good. And don’t you forget it,” he said softly, and clasped his scarred hand with Vodka’s own, and held a weary hand up to the younger cheek. With the last of his energy he forced himself to sit up briefly, barely enough time to run his lips against Vodka’s slightly chapped ones before falling back to the rough cement. “I-I-” he tried hard to get out, but his last breaths were fading, leaving him.
“I love you,” he whispered, but didn’t think he had heard him; his voice was too weak, his words too breathy. His world faded to black, closing the curtain on his life with one final thought.
‘I love you, Momorou,’
A lone, painful howl cut through the pitch-black night,
“Aniki!!!!!”
-Owari-
-Omake-
Conan stared at the gun shaking in his hands in shock. He hadn’t-he hadn’t just-had he? The thought was too terrifying to contemplate, even as he watched the two men in front of him carry out a whispered conversation, even as the blood of one of his most hated enemies worked its way to his sneakers, staining the red material a true crimson.
He, Edogawa Conan, Kudou Shinichi, had just killed someone.
*Stare* It's actually Gin/Vodka.
Word Count: 938
Pairings: SURPRISE!
Summary: They were blood brothers, forever
Disclaimer: I don't own A THING. And I never would have posted this if not for Candy-chan
Dedication: To Candy-chan
“-Aniki Gin! Aniki Gin!” Vodka said, his voice near-cracking and tears streaming downwards across his cheeks. “Don’t die! Don’t die! Aniki Gin, Aniki Gin!”
Gin looked up at the broken man hovering over him with hazy, half-lidded eyes. There was blood everywhere, and he could feel as more and more of the life-giving liquid left his body. Dimly he felt one of Vodka’s tears land on his cheek, and in spite of what he knew was happening to him, in spite of how upset Vodka was, he smiled. It was a sad but at the same time happy, reminiscent smile.
“Stop,” Gin said weakly.
“A-aniki Gin?”
“Stop it. That’s not my name. Gin is not my name. Vodka…no, Momorou, Gin is not my name.”
Vodka stared, shocked. He hadn’t heard Gin use his real name in…in…he didn’t know how long. He’d nearly forgotten what it sounded like coming from him. “A-aniki Soujiro…?”
“Yes…yes, Momorou. Soujiro. I’d nearly forgotten. Soujiro is my name.” He gave a sort of half-choked laugh, “But, I could never forget yours. Not yours, not my brothers.” He smiled more, thinking of his brothers coat slowly becoming ruined with his blood, and then pushed the thought aside, to think of something else. “I remember…” he said slowly, “I remember the day we became brothers. You were crying then, too, remember, Momorou?”
Vodka nodded, “I remember, Aniki Soujiro. I remember. It was the day my parents died.”
Gin nodded, slowly. “Killed, you mean. The day your parents were killed. The sky was so blue…so wrong. It was the beginning of summer; we’d just gotten off of school, and…” his voice faded for a moment, before he swallowed and continued. “I was sitting under a tree…”
--------
Soujiro sighed pleasantly, leaning back against a huge, towering tree. He tossed his blonde head once, to get the hair out of his eyes, and was just beginning to relax when a cry broke through the warm summer silence.
“Soujiro!!!” It was Momorou, come to ruin the moment as always. Soujiro sat up, rolling his eyes slightly, so as to properly receive and talk to the other boy, but something was wrong. Tears were rolling down the even then box-cut boy’s cheeks, and showed no signs of stopping; his cheeks were flushed and red, and his eyes aggravated by the salt in the tears.
Soujiro was instantly worried; Momorou had never been very much of the tough guy that he was, but still he was no pushover. It took a lot to even get him upset, let alone enough to cry. “Momorou,” he said, working hard to keep the worry from his voice, “Momorou,” he said again as the larger 10-year-old fell to his knees in front of him, “What is it? What’s wrong; what happened?”
For a moment all he could do was cry, as the 14-year-old squirmed near him with discomfort and worry. “The-they’re dead!” He cried at last, “They’re dead, Soujiro! My parents! They’re dead, they’re dead and I’m all alone now! I don’t have anyone! I don’t have anyone to take care of me, or any family left! They’re gone! And they left me all alone!”
All Soujiro could do was stare for a moment at his sometimes-best-friend-sometimes-not in shock. He knew what it was like to be alone; he’d been an orphan sense he was born, but he had no idea what it must be like to have parents one minute, and then suddenly to just not the next. He knew something about loneliness, and more-so he knew how to combat it.
“You’re not alone,” he declared suddenly, “You have me! And I have you! We’re better than family-We’re Blood Brothers!”
Momorou sniffed and looked at the teen, “B-blood brothers?”
“Exactly!” he pulled a switchblade from his pocket and flicked it open, as he began to explain about being Blood Brothers. “Now,” he said, “give me your hand,”
Momorou obeyed, flinching when the blonde cut a single, smooth line across his palm and mirrored the action on his own left. They clasped their hands together and bleed into one another, then drew back and pressed their shallow cuts onto their jeans.
“There,” Soujiro said, “Now I have you and you have me.”
“A-aniki Soujiro?” the younger asked, partially testing out the new name.
“Hmm?”
“We’ll always be together, right?”
“Of course!”
------------
Despite himself, Vodka smiled. “I remember, Aniki Soujiro. I remember.”
“Good. And don’t you forget it,” he said softly, and clasped his scarred hand with Vodka’s own, and held a weary hand up to the younger cheek. With the last of his energy he forced himself to sit up briefly, barely enough time to run his lips against Vodka’s slightly chapped ones before falling back to the rough cement. “I-I-” he tried hard to get out, but his last breaths were fading, leaving him.
“I love you,” he whispered, but didn’t think he had heard him; his voice was too weak, his words too breathy. His world faded to black, closing the curtain on his life with one final thought.
‘I love you, Momorou,’
A lone, painful howl cut through the pitch-black night,
“Aniki!!!!!”
-Owari-
-Omake-
Conan stared at the gun shaking in his hands in shock. He hadn’t-he hadn’t just-had he? The thought was too terrifying to contemplate, even as he watched the two men in front of him carry out a whispered conversation, even as the blood of one of his most hated enemies worked its way to his sneakers, staining the red material a true crimson.
He, Edogawa Conan, Kudou Shinichi, had just killed someone.
*Stare* It's actually Gin/Vodka.