Shatter
Title: Shatter
Pairing: Yesung/Ryeowook
Rating: R
Word count: 7,133
Summary: Jongwoon hates his new half-brother that his father springs on him suddenly, the result of a long-term affair. But he has to battle with his conscience when he falls in love with him.
WARNINGS: Incest, character death
Written for emilycullenx , based on her prompt. I hope this doesn’t let you down, bb.
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Jongwoon thought his world had come crashing down the day his father came home, a stoop in his shoulders and a grey cast to his skin, sat him and his mother down in the kitchen, and confessed that he’d been having an affair with another woman for almost 20 years and they had a son who was already 17 years old.
Jongwoon didn’t believe him at first, and neither did his mother. In fact, his mother started laughing, and Jongwoon tried to ignore the tiny note of hysteria in her laughter, slightly higher-pitched than normal, as well as his father’s face, drawn and haggard and his eyes tired and fearful.
They both didn’t really know what to say or how to react - Jongwoon remained silent, and his mother slapped his father lightly on the arm while still laughing - until his father got up with a sigh and left the house to go out to his car, coming in with someone that neither of them had noticed sitting in the car before this. The sound of Jongwoon’s mother laughing became shaky, then uncertain, and then trailed off into nothing as her hand found Jongwoon’s under the kitchen table and gripped it almost instinctively, hard enough for her nails to dig into his skin, and he would have flinched if he wasn’t too confused and preoccupied with the person his father just came in with.
It was a young teenage boy, small and slender, hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket and keeping his head bowed. Jongwoon didn’t miss the way his father’s arm was tucked protectively around the boy’s shoulders. His face was pale, and his eyes were red-rimmed with dark shadows under them, as if he’d been crying for days.
“This is Ryeowook,” Jongwoon’s father said, voice shaking slightly. For a moment, Jongwoon’s eyes locked with his, before he turned away and continued hesitantly. “He’ll be living with us from now on, because his mother - his mother passed away, and I have to look after him.”
“Why?” Jongwoon’s mother said, and Jongwoon started; she’d finally stopped laughing, but there was a coldness and stillness to her voice that scared him, and he turned to look at her. Her face was oddly expressionless as she stared at the boy - Ryeowook - but her eyes were hard and glittery and furious, and Jongwoon shivered because he’d never seen his affable, smiley, cheerful mother this way before.
Jongwoon’s father swallowed. “Ryeowook - he’s my son,” he said hoarsely, and then, as if to preempt his wife’s reaction, he looked towards Jongwoon, a desperate, pleading look on his face. “He’s your - your brother, Jongwoon. Your half-brother.”
Jongwoon’s mother began to scream - long, piercing, wordless wails, her hands rising to her face and clamping over her mouth, the thin sounds issuing from between her fingers as tears brimmed in her eyes and spilled over.
Jongwoon stared at the boy next to his father, at his delicate face and trembling lips and the tears that were glistening in his eyes and threatening to spill over onto his cheeks, and decided that he hated him for doing this to his family.
__________________________________________________________________________
“I’m sorry,” Jongwoon’s father said for what seemed like the umpteenth time.
Jongwoon had heard the soft knock on his bedroom door, had turned away to face the wall as the door opened despite the fact that he didn’t say to come in, had heard his father shuffle in and sit gingerly on the edge of his bed. But he kept his eyes determinedly shut and his body resolutely turned away.
He was exhausted. They’d had to practically sedate his mother with sleeping pills so she could calm down and be put to bed, while Jongwoon held her in his arms and fought it out with his father. He was 20 years old, yet he felt as if he’d aged decades in the space of a few seconds as he carried his mother to her room and tucked her in, wiping the tear tracks off her face. But he didn’t cry himself. He couldn’t. His mother needed him to be strong for her now, after this bombshell his father dropped on them out of the blue.
His father had gone to clean out the spare bedroom next to Jongwoon’s for Ryeowook to use right after his mother had fallen asleep. It disgusted Jongwoon. After all, the family hadn’t even begun to absorb the blow, and there he was doing everything he could to ensure that his illegitimate child was comfortable. And the thought that this boy, the one who basically walked into their lives and tore their family apart, would be living under the same roof, using the same things, sleeping right next to him and separated by just a wall, made him feel ill.
He would have walked right out and left his father to clean up the mess he’d made, but he had his mother to think about.
And now Jongwoon’s father was here, in his room, ostensibly after already putting Ryeowook in his room next door, making the same tired excuses and apologies that Jongwoon was already sick of after listening to them for the last few hours. He tried to tune him out, biting his lip, squeezing his eyes shut tighter.
“It’s not really Ryeowook’s fault, you know,” his father was saying. “He’s lost his mother, and he has no one else but me, and I - I have to be responsible for my mistakes, Jongwoon. I’m sorry, I really am. Please, don’t blame Ryeowook for this, he’s innocent. He didn’t ask to be born.”
Yes, but you could have prevented him from ever being born, Jongwoon thought bitterly.
“I know I’ve hurt you and your mother, and I’m sorry, but I can’t leave Ryeowook to fend for himself.”
So you decide to dump him on my mother and make us all cater to him?
“He’s your brother, no matter what, Jongwoon. This is a lot to ask of you, especially what I’m putting you through, but please, take care of him. I know I’ve let you and your mother down, but I’ll do my best to put things right.”
He’s not my fucking brother! I don’t have a brother! Get someone else to take care of him!
“Jongwoon-ah…” his father tried again. “I really need you to be with us. We’re a family, Jongwoon, we’ll get through this together, and you and Ryeowook -“
Jongwoon couldn’t take it anymore; he sat up abruptly and twisted around to glare at his father, eyes blazing.
“Family?” he bit out. “The last time I heard that word, it didn’t involve husbands cheating on their wives and bringing their illegitimate sons into their homes where their other children are.”
Disregarding his father’s sharp intake of breath, he swung himself off the bed and made to leave the room, but stopped short. Ryeowook was standing in the open doorway, listening to them, trembling so hard that Jongwoon could see his entire body shaking, his face white and drawn and his eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. He pushed past Ryeowook nevertheless, heading for his mother’s bedroom and locking himself in there.
He ignored the hurt he saw in Ryeowook’s eyes.
____________________________________________________________________________
It surprised Jongwoon that his mother seemed to accept Ryeowook much more easily than she accepted his father’s infidelity.
The atmosphere in the house was in no way settled; his parents were fighting all the time, the days melting into a blur of screaming and shouting, remonstrations and pleas. Jongwoon simply locked himself in his room most of the time, curling up on his bed and pulling his comforter over his head. But nothing could drown out the sounds of quarrelling that seeped in through the thin walls.
Ryeowook was always there, caught somewhere in the midst of the crossfire. He was always quiet; Jongwoon didn’t think he’d ever heard a single word pass his lips the moment he’d stepped into their home. It wasn’t that no one spoke to him. His father did, and so did his mother even. He just never responded except by nodding or shaking his head, melting into the background most of the time, trying to make himself as small and inconspicuous as possible.
Jongwoon’s mother’s maternal instinct seemed to take over her when it came to Ryeowook, however. She made sure he was fed, made sure he had clean clothes and a clean room to come home to from his high school, much the same as she did for Jongwoon himself. It didn’t stop her from fighting with his father, though; Jongwoon knew that she would have walked out if she didn’t have him to think about, much like how he would have left if it wasn’t for her.
“This is between your father and I,” she’d told Jongwoon once when they were in the kitchen, preparing dinner together. It had hurt Jongwoon to see the strain in the lines of her face. “I don’t want you children to be involved.”
“Us children?” Jongwoon had repeated.
His mother had heaved a sigh, then reached out to pat him gently. “It isn’t Ryeowook’s fault, Jongwoon.”
“You sound like Father,” he’d mumbled.
“If there’s one thing he’s right about, it’s that Ryeowook is innocent. I know how you feel, Jongwoon, but the fact is, Ryeowook never wanted any of this either. It’s hard enough for him, losing his mother and being uprooted to another family.”
“You’re much too kind for your own good, Mum.”
“It’s not that. I just imagine the same thing happening to you, and I realize that I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. It’s not his fault your father did such a thing to us, Jongwoon. What your father did isn’t right, but Ryeowook shouldn’t be made to pay for it.”
“But - “
“No buts. Your father and I will arrange things between ourselves. You have to try and get along with Ryeowook. Don’t make matters in this house any worse than they already are.”
_________________________________________________________________________
His mother’s words continued to ring in his ears each time he saw Ryeowook, but he was never able to bring himself to act on them, until one day when he got home from his university and found the house empty. His father was at work, he knew, but it was unlike his mother to go out in the day, and for a moment, he panicked.
“Mum?” he called, dropping his bag and running to her bedroom, flinging the door open and finding it empty; he backtracked to the kitchen, yelling all the while. “Mum! Where are you?”
“She’s out,” a small, soft voice came, and Jongwoon jumped; he swung around to see Ryeowook, sitting at the kitchen table, his fingers twisting nervously against each other. “She - she told me to tell you - she’s out and won’t be back until after 5.”
Jongwoon was caught off guard for a moment. He’d actually forgotten Ryeowook would be in. To be honest, he forgot Ryeowook most of the time, because he was just so colourless and quiet and he’d actually thought Ryeowook was probably mute. He never saw him except during meals anyway - the both of them confined themselves to their respective bedrooms to get away from the atmosphere around their parents, which oscillated between freezing cold to fiery rage.
“Oh,” was all he could think to say right now, as Ryeowook (his brother, his mind whispered at him) stood up and ducked his head, not meeting his eyes.
“I’m just - going to go into my - the room, I was just waiting for you to come back and - and pass the message,” he stammered. Standing up, Jongwoon realized that Ryeowook was shaking again, and he saw how fearful he was, how small and thin and pale he looked, and his mother’s words rose unbidden in his mind.
“Well,” he said awkwardly, wondering where to begin. “Uh, have you eaten? Lunch, I mean. Since Mum went out.”
Ryeowook hesitated, then shook his head quickly, still not looking at Jongwoon. “I’m - I’m not hungry.”
“You have to eat, though,” Jongwoon said, feeling relieved now that he knew there was something he could do instead of just standing around and feeling weird about his first ever conversation with his half-brother. “I’m starving myself. Can you cook?”
Ryeowook gave a small nod.
“Let’s try to get some food then,” Jongwoon said, striding to the sink to wash his hands. “I’m not a very good cook, so I’ll need help.”
There was a long silence - so long that Jongwoon, shaking the water off his hands and drying them, thought Ryeowook may have simply gone back into his bedroom - but suddenly a shadow fell across him, and he looked up to see Ryeowook next to him, reaching out to turn the tap on and rinsing his own hands under it.
“Thank you, hyung,” he said, so soft it was barely audible, but Jongwoon caught it and couldn’t help but smile, despite himself.
________________________________________________________________________
That one day was all it took for Ryeowook to latch on to Jongwoon like a lost puppy.
It was then that Jongwoon understood how truly alone he must feel, as he trailed after him everywhere he went in the house. He helped Jongwoon and his mother when they were preparing meals, helped Jongwoon in the garden, followed him when he went jogging (though Ryeowook never jogged himself, being a little too thin and frail; he simply tagged along with towels and water bottles for Jongwoon and waited for him).
It was disconcerting for Jongwoon at first, having grown up as an only child, and now to have to adjust to having a younger brother who was attached to him like a shadow. But he thought he understood, after a conversation he had with Ryeowook one day where he asked if Ryeowook had ever known about the double life their father was leading.
“No,” Ryeowook shook his head. He was bolder nowadays with Jongwoon, more relaxed and more talkative. “I didn’t know a thing until the day my mother passed away. He basically took me to his car and told me everything and said he’d bring me to live here. I was in shock.”
“But - for 17 years you never realized your parents weren’t married? That your father never lived with you?”
“They kept everything from me,” Ryeowook’s smile was bitter. “Didn’t want me to know I was a bastard child, I guess. I just thought my father had to travel often for work.”
Jongwoon thought back to the times when his father wouldn’t come home a couple of nights each week, always because he was ‘travelling for work’, and felt his heart seize up with a surge of protectiveness for Ryeowook he never knew he had in him.
“Don’t,” he said roughly, pulling Ryeowook into a hug that surprised even himself, hearing Ryeowook give an astonished little squeak. “Don’t call yourself names like that. I won’t allow it.”
It only took a couple of seconds for Ryeowook to relax and soften into his hug as if he’d been there all his life, and Jongwoon held him tighter, understanding how much he needed someone to know what he was going through and feeling that same need in himself, wondering how their father’s mistake could bring so much grief to two boys who’d never asked to be thrown together like this.
___________________________________________________________________________
The day Jongwoon’s mother informed them that she’d seen a lawyer and was beginning proceedings for a divorce was the first time Jongwoon ever got drunk.
Ryeowook was waiting up for him as he always did, a worried frown on his face, when he finally stumbled in at 2 in the morning, clothes and hair in complete disarray and reeking of alcohol.
“Hyung!” he cried out, his delicate hands clutching at Jongwoon’s shirt as Jongwoon wrapped his arms around him, breathing toxic alcohol fumes in his face and swaying drunkenly. “Hyung, oh my god - why did you - hyung!”
“Head hurts,” was all Jongwoon managed to get out, before Ryeowook tugged him down the hall, his slight frame stumbling under Jongwoon’s weight, and pushed him into the bathroom.
Jongwoon was only half-conscious of Ryeowook’s hands pulling his shirt and jeans off until he felt the cool tiles of the bathroom floor against his skin. He dimly heard Ryeowook moving around, registered the sound of water splashing, but he only managed to pry his eyes open when he felt a wet, damp cloth on his face, traveling down to his neck and chest, and saw Ryeowook hovering above him, sponging him down with ice-cold water.
“Why did you let yourself get like this, hyung?” Ryeowook asked, and Jongwoon closed his eyes again, his head hurting too much to answer.
He felt Ryeowook tugging at him gently when he was done and allowed himself to be lifted to his feet, before he leaned on Ryeowook again, the both of them staggering their way to Jongwoon’s room where Jongwoon collapsed on the bed, wishing the world would stop spinning.
“Are you all right, hyung?” he heard Ryeowook whisper, his hand stroking his damp hair back from his forehead.
Jongwoon didn’t know why he did it. He couldn’t really think at that point, anyway. All he knew was that he wound an arm blindly around Ryeowook and pulled him down and kissed him, kissed him hard and hungrily, kissed him until he was whimpering and breathing hard against Jongwoon’s lips.
“Hyung,” he heard Ryeowook say, the words tasting just as sweet as Ryeowook himself did even though he was pushing at Jongwoon, trying to free himself from his grip. “Hyung, we can’t, you’re drunk, hyung…”
“Stay with me,” he whispered into Ryeowook’s mouth. “Don’t leave, stay with me.”
And just like that, he felt Ryeowook melt into his hold, just like the first time they’d hugged, only now he was kissing back as well and his lips were soft and pliant and warm, like his skin.
Jongwoon had no idea how long he held Ryeowook and kissed him until he drifted off into an alcohol-induced sleep. But when he woke up the next day, his head pounding, Ryeowook was gone.
Jongwoon decided to put the incident out of his mind and chalk it up to a random act of drunkenness, though it had been awkward around Ryeowook for a few days because the simple fact was, he’d kissed his own brother. He had no idea what Ryeowook thought of it, or of him, but by tacit agreement neither of them brought it up, much to his relief, and things soon went back to normal.
But they were only normal during the day.
_______________________________________________________________________
“Ryeowook, that’s it,” Jongwoon gasped, looking down. “More, Ryeowook, fuck.”
Ryeowook looked up at him through long lashes and Jongwoon thought he could faint at the sight of those pretty lips wrapped around him, all the blood in his head rushing downwards.
“Like this, hyung?” Ryeowook breathed, and swirled his tongue once, twice, and Jongwoon felt his knees buckle.
“Ryeowook,” he choked out. “I’m almost there, Ryeowook, fuck - “
Ryeowook sucked in, hard, and Jongwoon felt himself explode into his waiting mouth.
Jongwoon awoke with a jolt, still breathing heavily. The stickiness between his thighs was immediately apparent; he reached down, felt the wetness on his legs and sheets, and groaned aloud.
For the third time that week, he silently gathered his sheets and crept out into the laundry room, tossing them into the washing machine and sitting there waiting for the wash and dry cycle to finish, praying all the while that no one would wake up and question why he was washing his sheets at 4 in the morning. He stared blankly at the machine, his eyes going out of focus as the dirty sheets swirled and spun in front of him.
“This has to stop,” he whispered to himself. “This can’t go on, Jongwoon, he’s your brother, what are you thinking.”
By the time the sheets finished spinning and drying and Jongwoon collected them in his arms and crept back to his bedroom, he’d managed to convince himself that this was yet another one-off, conveniently forgetting the other times it had happened.
It was never a one-off.
_________________________________________________________________________
Jongwoon started getting worried about it when the dreams started happening on a nightly basis, and then he had to face Ryeowook in the daytime, stare into his bright, guileless face and pretend that nothing was wrong and that he hadn’t just been dreaming of them having sex.
He tried to avoid Ryeowook as much as he could, talking to him less and not allowing him to get too close, even if it hurt to see the bewildered pain in Ryeowook’s eyes as he shook him off brusquely. But the problem was that each time Ryeowook touched him, no matter how innocuous it was, his brain immediately flashed back onto his dreams. And he did not want to think about Ryeowook in that way at all.
He couldn’t avoid Ryeowook entirely though, considering that they lived in the same house, and their parents practically ignored them most of the time now, caught up in their own troubles. And he certainly didn’t want to give Ryeowook any inkling that he was a depraved pervert having sick dreams about his own brother. But things came to a head one day when he was washing dishes at the sink, and Ryeowook came up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and leaning into him, and murmured, “Hyung, need help?”, his breath tickling the back of his neck.
He dropped the dish he was holding, tensing up as Ryeowook shifted against him, his cheek against Jongwoon’s shoulderblade. This was nothing different from what Ryeowook usually did, because Ryeowook liked to hug and be hugged, but this time, there was an ache in his groin that he couldn’t shrug off.
“Yes,” he managed. “I need the bathroom, actually. Help me finish up, will you?”
“Okay,” Ryeowook said again, his voice sweet and clear, and pulled away from Jongwoon, his fingertips brushing over his abdomen as he did so; Jongwoon felt a shiver run down his spine at the light touches. He turned and strode off to the bathroom, where he turned on the tap so the water would mask any sounds, grabbed some tissues, and shut his eyes, half-remembered scenes from his dreams playing in his mind and interspersed with the feeling of Ryeowook’s hands on his body and Ryeowook’s body pressed against his and Ryeowook’s sweet, sweet lips that one time they’d kissed.
When he finally released into the wad of tissues, his hands were shaking, but not from the pleasure that was still coursing through his veins. He flushed the soiled tissues down the toilet, and flushed again, pressing the button over and over, trying to erase all evidence of what he’d just done long after they’d disappeared from view, trying to choke down the revulsion he felt at himself because fuck, he was sick, he was depraved, he knew he was.
This would be the first and last time, he swore to himself.
A few days later, as they were eating - alone again, as both their parents were hardly ever in nowadays - Ryeowook placed a hand on his thigh under the table, stroking it absentmindedly as he spoke to him, and Jongwoon almost overturned the table in his haste to get up, ignoring Ryeowook’s look of shock and surprise as he rushed to the bathroom again, his hands trembling as he turned the water on.
By the time he finished, he was shaking as he looked in the mirror, staring at himself as he wondered how he could do such a thing, as if the dreams weren’t bad enough. He hardly recognized the person looking back out from the mirror, because that person wasn’t him anymore, it was someone perverse, someone degenerate, someone who would masturbate to thoughts of his own brother.
He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms and he knew they would leave little bloody crescents, but he didn’t care about the pain; he deserved worse, he was a monster.
He looked at himself again and decided that if he had to stay away from Ryeowook completely to stop this, so be it.
___________________________________________________________________________
This was insane, Jongwoon thought frantically, as he hurriedly smoothed the freshly washed and dried sheets onto his bed. He hadn’t so much as spoken to Ryeowook for a week, choosing to leave the house early and come home as late as he could, and to hell with the lack of sleep. And yet he was still getting the dreams.
He folded himself back into bed, curling up under his blanket and trying to will himself to sleep again. No, he would keep at it. He would stay away from Ryeowook as long as was necessary, until his brain and body stopped reacting to him. He would -
His train of thoughts was interrupted by the sound of his bedroom door opening with a click, unnaturally loud in the still of the night, before it closed again and he heard a soft, “Hyung?”
He stiffened. What was Ryeowook doing coming to his room in the middle of the night? His mind swirled with possibilities. Fuck, could he have made noises in his dream, and Ryeowook had heard him? These walls were thin.
“Hyung, I know you’re not asleep, I heard you come in from the kitchen just now.” The soft words were accompanied by a dip in the bed, indicating that Ryeowook had sat down. “Hyung, are you mad at me?”
“What?” Jongwoon spluttered, sitting up to face Ryeowook, shocked out of his pretend-sleep. “What - no, of course I’m not, why would you think that?”
“Maybe because you haven’t spoken to me for a week?” Ryeowook said, eyes gleaming in the darkness as they searched Jongwoon’s face, and suddenly Jongwoon was aware of how close they were, and the night they’d kissed, and other things which made him turn away and lie back down.
“I’m not mad at you,” he grunted. “I’m just tired because of school, and I’m worried about Mum, and - I just have a lot of things on my mind now.”
He heard Ryeowook sigh behind him, and then his bed dipped again - he thought Ryeowook might have shifted position, or stood up, but then he felt a small warm form moulding itself to his back and slender arms curling around him, and he froze as Ryeowook began stroking his chest, slowly and deliberately, breathing against his shoulder.
“I love you, hyung,” Ryeowook whispered. “I need you. You’re the only person I have.”
Jongwoon tried to speak. “Ryeowook - “ His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “Ryeowook, what are you -“
“I can’t be without you, hyung,” Ryeowook said, his lips now so close he could feel them moving against the sensitive bare skin at the back of his neck. “I love you, hyung, please don’t leave me.”
He sucked lightly at Jongwoon’s neck and Jongwoon gasped, but the next moment Ryeowook’s hand slid down his chest, trailing over his abdomen and dipping into his shorts, and he jerked, flipping around to stare at Ryeowook. “Ryeowook! Fuck, stop it, what the fuck do you think you’re doing!”
“Please, hyung,” Ryeowook whined. “I love you hyung, I love you and need you so much, please hyung…” His fingers closed around Jongwoon as he said it, stroking gently, and Jongwoon opened his mouth to protest but nothing came out before Ryeowook’s lips were on his, as sweet and soft as he remembered.
“Just let me, hyung,” Ryeowook breathed against his lips. “Let me do this for you, I love you.”
“You’re my brother,” Jongwoon gasped, even as Ryeowook began stroking him steadily, feeling himself growing in Ryeowook’s hand. “This is wrong, Ryeowook, you’re my brother, this is wrong.”
“I love you,” Ryeowook said again, firmly, kissing him hungrily, nipping at his lips. “I love you. That’s not wrong.”
“This is - always - fucking wrong,” Jongwoon managed to say with the last of his self-control as Ryeowook’s hand moved skillfully up and down. “We are brothers, Ryeowook, don’t you get it?”
“We love each other, don’t we?” Ryeowook whispered in return, running his thumb over the sensitive head, and Jongwoon choked, his hand coming up to grab Ryeowook’s upper arm, fingers sinking painfully into the skin. “Don’t you love me, hyung?”
He flicked his wrist and Jongwoon choked out, “I do, I love you, Ryeowook”, and felt Ryeowook’s lips curve into a smile.
“That’s all I need to know,” he said softly, and Jongwoon closed his eyes and forced himself to forget about the consequences.
___________________________________________________________________
It became a ritual for the both of them.
Ryeowook would slip into Jongwoon’s room almost every night, when their parents were asleep, and Jongwoon would be wide awake and waiting, his entire body tense until he heard Ryeowook come in and felt him climb into his bed, fingers fiddling familiarly with his clothes, rubbing himself against Jongwoon until Jongwoon came into his hand.
Jongwoon would always be ashamed of himself when it was over, despite Ryeowook’s comforting embraces and soft words. But he could never stop himself either.
The first time he touched Ryeowook, in that same intimate way, a few weeks after Ryeowook first started coming into his bed, he found himself half-repulsed and half-fascinated by the little moans and whimpers Ryeowook made (so perfect, so wrong), the way Ryeowook whispered for more (so good, so wrong), the way Ryeowook looked when he came all over Jongwoon’s hand, hips lifted slightly off the bed as his eyes clamped shut and his lips parted in a low soft moan and his cheeks pink (so beautiful, so wrong, wrong, wrong).
He couldn’t help it. Ryeowook was beautiful and sweet and loving, so perfect in every way. He was the sick one. He was older, and he should be stopping his younger brother from doing such things to him. But he never did. And each time, Ryeowook would tell him he loved him, and he’d say the same to Ryeowook, knowing that no matter how much they loved each other, it wouldn’t change the fact that they were blood brothers and this was wrong.
“We should stop doing this,” he tried telling Ryeowook one night, just as Ryeowook slipped out of his bed, ready to go back to his own room before Jongwoon’s mother woke up and found them.
“Why?” Ryeowook asked.
“Because,” Jongwoon said, trying to find the words. He ran his hand distractedly through his hair, smelling Ryeowook’s scent on it, the smell already engraved in every pore of his skin. “Because - we’re brothers, Ryeowook. We can’t do things like these.”
“But I love you,” Ryeowook stated flatly. It wasn’t even a statement; it was cold hard truth that Jongwoon felt slamming into him, the tone of Ryeowook’s voice different from when he usually said it during their nightly activities, a tone that brooked no argument and contained nothing but fact.
There was a long pause as Jongwoon allowed himself to absorb this.
“Hyung?” Ryeowook said, after a while.
Jongwoon swallowed. “I love you too,” he said, and in that moment, he knew that it was the truth, and even if he wanted to turn back, he wouldn’t. He would never give Ryeowook up.
_______________________________________________________________________
Jongwoon woke up when he heard voices - loud voices - in the living room outside. He recognized them as those of his parents, and sat bolt upright. The clock on his nightstand read 15 minutes past midnight, too early for Ryeowook’s usual visits, and he must have fallen asleep. He got out of bed hurriedly as he heard his mother raise her voice to a shriek.
From what he could hear of their argument, his mother had served the divorce papers to his father today, and his father was refusing to sign them. He dragged a hand down his face, feeling suddenly drained. The house had been quiet for so long, with his parents not fighting anymore but simply barely talking, and he himself had been so wrapped up in Ryeowook that he had hardly noticed them. He’d forgotten how it could be when they fought.
He opened his bedroom door carefully and slipped out. His parents were in the living room, his mother yelling and his father trying to take her by the hands, calm her down, to no avail. They didn’t even notice when he tiptoed past them to Ryeowook’s room, where he let himself in, hoping that Ryeowook wasn’t frightened.
“Ryeowook-ah?” he called softly once he was in, shutting the door behind him, and was answered only by a series of soft sniffles.
“Ryeowook?’ he said again, making his way to the bed where he curled up next to the small shaking body on it, pulling him close and kissing the top of his head. “Are you okay?” The sounds of the quarrel were still clearly audible.
“It’s my fault,” Ryeowook sobbed in his arms, and Jongwoon held him tighter.
“No, of course it isn’t, we told you from the start it isn’t,” he said soothingly, and Ryeowook turned around to face him, tears falling down his cheeks that Jongwoon wiped away with his thumbs before placing gentle kisses on his face.
“It is,” Ryeowook cried, his hands curling into little fists in Jongwoon’s t-shirt. “It’s all because of me, hyung, I’m breaking your family up, you’re going to lose a parent because of me, hyung, I’m sorry, so sorry - “
He choked and Jongwoon pressed his lips to Ryeowook’s quickly. “No, don’t ever blame yourself, it’s not your fault, it’s our father’s.”
Ryeowook sobbed even harder, his tears trickling across their joined lips and tasting salty and bitter on Jongwoon’s tongue. And Jongwoon kissed him harder, pulled him closer, running his hand down Ryeowook’s body in the way he’d grown accustomed to, hoping to shut out the sounds outside for him.
It was risky as hell, with their parents outside, but Jongwoon had to do something, had to get rid of his pent-up worry and frustration, had to calm Ryeowook down somehow and remind him that he loved him. Ryeowook seemed to realize this, because his own hands began tugging at Jongwoon’s clothes, pulling them off him urgently, so they could lie skin to skin, Ryeowook’s body heat delicious against Jongwoon’s body.
Jongwoon had no idea how things got so far, but almost before he knew it he was on top of Ryeowook, two fingers in him and stretching him slowly, shaking slightly because fuck if he knew what to do beyond guesswork and the bits and pieces he’d gleaned from the Internet, but Ryeowook was panting under him and he figured he was doing something right.
The voices outside were growing louder as he pulled his fingers out and positioned himself, pushing in slowly, trying to shut out his father’s shouting, right outside and seemingly so much nearer than it was previously, all his senses heightened by the adrenaline pumping through him. Ryeowook let out a small cry that he stopped by biting down on his own lip, hard enough to draw blood, and Jongwoon bent down and kissed him again, lapping the blood off him, the same blood that they both shared.
He could still hear his parents outside, his senses humming with fear as he pulled out and pushed in again, Ryeowook writhing underneath him. It was insane, he knew they were crazy for doing this now, and the air around them seemed almost too thick and suffocating to breathe, Ryeowook wrapping him in velvet heat and making it hard for him to think as well.
“Faster,” Ryeowook whispered, his eyes blurry with tears, and Jongwoon hesitated, not sure if Ryeowook could take it. But then his mother yelled again, and he shut his eyes and slammed in, hearing Ryeowook’s small moan before he dipped his head again and swallowed the sound.
Their parents were getting louder - Jongwoon could hear almost every word clearly now, his mother screaming about cheating and fathering illegitimate children, screaming about Ryeowook and Jongwoon, and Jongwoon shut his eyes, willing his ears to listen only to the sounds of Ryeowook’s gasps and groans and pleas for Jongwoon to go faster, go harder, more more more, even as the tears spilled out over his cheeks without stopping.
“Hyung, I love you, don’t leave me,” Ryeowook sobbed softly, wrapping his legs around Jongwoon’s waist, pulling him closer and deeper into him.
“I won’t, I promise, I love you,” Jongwoon said as he pushed in one last time and Ryeowook climaxed, clenching tightly around Jongwoon and sending him spilling as well, as the shouting reached a crescendo outside and was punctuated by a loud shattering sound - someone had thrown a glass something or other.
Jongwoon didn’t want to leave Ryeowook that night. He was tired of caring about his parents and what they might think. All he cared about now was the boy in his arms, entwined around his body, and he fell asleep holding him.
________________________________________________________________________
“Get up.”
The words were harsh and loud; Jongwoon felt rough hands pulling him into a sitting position, shaking him awake. The blanket which was covering him slid down to his waist, and beside him he heard a terrified little whimper - Ryeowook. That woke him up more than anything else; his eyes flew open, and he saw his father hovering above him, his face furious and sickened.
“What,” his father hissed, “do the both of you think you’re doing?”
Jongwoon flung his hands off him, wrapping a protective arm around Ryeowook. “Fuck off,” he snarled. “It’s none of your business.”
His father loomed over them, looking utterly nauseated and turning a nasty shade of green. “You sick bastard. Jongwoon, you sick little bastard, that’s your brother.”
“I’m aware of that,” Jongwoon snapped. “You fathered him.”
“And you - oh my god,” his father said, staggering back. “Why are the both of you - oh my god, you’re both sick. You’re depraved. You make me sick, both of you.”
“What’s going on?” Jongwoon’s mother’s voice sounded, and she came into the room, stopping short at the sight of Jongwoon and Ryeowook huddled on the bed, clothes on the floor and the blanket hitched to their shoulders, her husband clutching the desk for support and looking like he was going to throw up.
“Jongwoon? Ryeowook?” she said, her voice rising in pitch. “Ryeowook? What is this?”
“Exactly what it looks like,” Jongwoon said, and beside him Ryeowook let out another whimper. Jongwoon rubbed his arm comfortingly, looking down at him. It’ll be okay, he mouthed.
“No,” his mother said, her eyes widening. “No.”
“The both of you disgust me,” his father growled.
Jongwoon’s mother marched over to the bed - Jongwoon thought she was going to shake him like what his father did, but she did something he didn’t expect. She drew her hand back and slapped Ryeowook across the face, so hard that his head whipped to the side, and a stark red handprint bloomed on his delicate skin.
“You son of a whore,” she whispered. “I took you in even though you were my husband’s bastard. I fed you and housed you, and you repay me by seducing my son. Your own brother. You sick little son of a bitch.”
“It’s as much Jongwoon’s fault as it is Ryeowook’s,” his father snapped, striding over and pulling his wife back. “Don’t put all the blame on Ryeowook. Jongwoon should have known what he was doing!”
“And you’re defending your bastard son again, are you?” Jongwoon’s mother yelled bitterly, and when Jongwoon saw his father open his mouth to retort he decided he’d finally had enough.
He scooped their clothes off the floor and wriggled into them under the blanket, motioning for Ryeowook to do the same, before he got up, pulling Ryeowook by the hand and walking towards the door.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Jongwoon’s mother screamed, pulling at Jongwoon; he pushed her back.
“Away from both of you,” he snarled, and her face darkened.
“You want to leave this house with that piece of garbage?”
“Don’t call Ryeowook - “ Jongwoon began, but Ryeowook had apparently reached his limit; a sob burst out of him, and he tore his hand away from Jongwoon’s, running out of the room and out of the front door, slamming it loudly behind him.
“Ryeowook!” Jongwoon yelled, throwing his mother a furious look as he sprinted after him, flinging the front door open, just in time to see Ryeowook running across the road outside their house, running without looking, running with his head bowed so only Jongwoon saw the van coming, only Jongwoon and not Ryeowook.
When he stumbled over to the bloodied body on the ground and sank to his knees next to it, Ryeowook was already gone.
“I love you,” he could only whisper as he cradled Ryeowook’s limp head in his lap, caressing his beautiful doll-like face, Ryeowook’s blood staining his hands and clothes, the same blood that ran in his veins. “I love you, Ryeowook, and I’ll never leave you. Didn’t you say you wouldn’t leave me too?”
__________________________________________________________________________
Jongwoon was the only one at the simple funeral.
He was the only one at the gravesite when they lowered the coffin into the ground, deep and dark and cold, into a place where Jongwoon could never reach.
He was the only one at the cemetery at night, when the wind howled and the rain fell, but he continued sitting by the grave, leaning against the gravestone as his fingers traced the photograph of Ryeowook embossed into it.
He couldn’t leave. Ryeowook needed him. He’d promised he never would leave.
__________________________________________________________________________
It was only two days later that Jongwoon made his decision.
“I love you,” he whispered over and over as he swallowed pill after pill after pill, medication that he’d procured from a pharmacy when he left Ryeowook earlier that day, just long enough for him to get what he needed. “I love you, Ryeowook, wait for me, all right?”
His head was already spinning and growing heavy; he struggled to keep his eyes open, so he could continue looking at Ryeowook’s photograph, continue taking more pills, until the bottles were all empty. He smiled at him, closing his eyes finally, visualizing Ryeowook in his mind.
“I’m going to you now,” he whispered, holding on to the image of Ryeowook as long as he could, until finally all went black.
Pairing: Yesung/Ryeowook
Rating: R
Word count: 7,133
Summary: Jongwoon hates his new half-brother that his father springs on him suddenly, the result of a long-term affair. But he has to battle with his conscience when he falls in love with him.
WARNINGS: Incest, character death
Written for emilycullenx , based on her prompt. I hope this doesn’t let you down, bb.
___
Jongwoon thought his world had come crashing down the day his father came home, a stoop in his shoulders and a grey cast to his skin, sat him and his mother down in the kitchen, and confessed that he’d been having an affair with another woman for almost 20 years and they had a son who was already 17 years old.
Jongwoon didn’t believe him at first, and neither did his mother. In fact, his mother started laughing, and Jongwoon tried to ignore the tiny note of hysteria in her laughter, slightly higher-pitched than normal, as well as his father’s face, drawn and haggard and his eyes tired and fearful.
They both didn’t really know what to say or how to react - Jongwoon remained silent, and his mother slapped his father lightly on the arm while still laughing - until his father got up with a sigh and left the house to go out to his car, coming in with someone that neither of them had noticed sitting in the car before this. The sound of Jongwoon’s mother laughing became shaky, then uncertain, and then trailed off into nothing as her hand found Jongwoon’s under the kitchen table and gripped it almost instinctively, hard enough for her nails to dig into his skin, and he would have flinched if he wasn’t too confused and preoccupied with the person his father just came in with.
It was a young teenage boy, small and slender, hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket and keeping his head bowed. Jongwoon didn’t miss the way his father’s arm was tucked protectively around the boy’s shoulders. His face was pale, and his eyes were red-rimmed with dark shadows under them, as if he’d been crying for days.
“This is Ryeowook,” Jongwoon’s father said, voice shaking slightly. For a moment, Jongwoon’s eyes locked with his, before he turned away and continued hesitantly. “He’ll be living with us from now on, because his mother - his mother passed away, and I have to look after him.”
“Why?” Jongwoon’s mother said, and Jongwoon started; she’d finally stopped laughing, but there was a coldness and stillness to her voice that scared him, and he turned to look at her. Her face was oddly expressionless as she stared at the boy - Ryeowook - but her eyes were hard and glittery and furious, and Jongwoon shivered because he’d never seen his affable, smiley, cheerful mother this way before.
Jongwoon’s father swallowed. “Ryeowook - he’s my son,” he said hoarsely, and then, as if to preempt his wife’s reaction, he looked towards Jongwoon, a desperate, pleading look on his face. “He’s your - your brother, Jongwoon. Your half-brother.”
Jongwoon’s mother began to scream - long, piercing, wordless wails, her hands rising to her face and clamping over her mouth, the thin sounds issuing from between her fingers as tears brimmed in her eyes and spilled over.
Jongwoon stared at the boy next to his father, at his delicate face and trembling lips and the tears that were glistening in his eyes and threatening to spill over onto his cheeks, and decided that he hated him for doing this to his family.
__________________________________________________________________________
“I’m sorry,” Jongwoon’s father said for what seemed like the umpteenth time.
Jongwoon had heard the soft knock on his bedroom door, had turned away to face the wall as the door opened despite the fact that he didn’t say to come in, had heard his father shuffle in and sit gingerly on the edge of his bed. But he kept his eyes determinedly shut and his body resolutely turned away.
He was exhausted. They’d had to practically sedate his mother with sleeping pills so she could calm down and be put to bed, while Jongwoon held her in his arms and fought it out with his father. He was 20 years old, yet he felt as if he’d aged decades in the space of a few seconds as he carried his mother to her room and tucked her in, wiping the tear tracks off her face. But he didn’t cry himself. He couldn’t. His mother needed him to be strong for her now, after this bombshell his father dropped on them out of the blue.
His father had gone to clean out the spare bedroom next to Jongwoon’s for Ryeowook to use right after his mother had fallen asleep. It disgusted Jongwoon. After all, the family hadn’t even begun to absorb the blow, and there he was doing everything he could to ensure that his illegitimate child was comfortable. And the thought that this boy, the one who basically walked into their lives and tore their family apart, would be living under the same roof, using the same things, sleeping right next to him and separated by just a wall, made him feel ill.
He would have walked right out and left his father to clean up the mess he’d made, but he had his mother to think about.
And now Jongwoon’s father was here, in his room, ostensibly after already putting Ryeowook in his room next door, making the same tired excuses and apologies that Jongwoon was already sick of after listening to them for the last few hours. He tried to tune him out, biting his lip, squeezing his eyes shut tighter.
“It’s not really Ryeowook’s fault, you know,” his father was saying. “He’s lost his mother, and he has no one else but me, and I - I have to be responsible for my mistakes, Jongwoon. I’m sorry, I really am. Please, don’t blame Ryeowook for this, he’s innocent. He didn’t ask to be born.”
Yes, but you could have prevented him from ever being born, Jongwoon thought bitterly.
“I know I’ve hurt you and your mother, and I’m sorry, but I can’t leave Ryeowook to fend for himself.”
So you decide to dump him on my mother and make us all cater to him?
“He’s your brother, no matter what, Jongwoon. This is a lot to ask of you, especially what I’m putting you through, but please, take care of him. I know I’ve let you and your mother down, but I’ll do my best to put things right.”
He’s not my fucking brother! I don’t have a brother! Get someone else to take care of him!
“Jongwoon-ah…” his father tried again. “I really need you to be with us. We’re a family, Jongwoon, we’ll get through this together, and you and Ryeowook -“
Jongwoon couldn’t take it anymore; he sat up abruptly and twisted around to glare at his father, eyes blazing.
“Family?” he bit out. “The last time I heard that word, it didn’t involve husbands cheating on their wives and bringing their illegitimate sons into their homes where their other children are.”
Disregarding his father’s sharp intake of breath, he swung himself off the bed and made to leave the room, but stopped short. Ryeowook was standing in the open doorway, listening to them, trembling so hard that Jongwoon could see his entire body shaking, his face white and drawn and his eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. He pushed past Ryeowook nevertheless, heading for his mother’s bedroom and locking himself in there.
He ignored the hurt he saw in Ryeowook’s eyes.
____________________________________________________________________________
It surprised Jongwoon that his mother seemed to accept Ryeowook much more easily than she accepted his father’s infidelity.
The atmosphere in the house was in no way settled; his parents were fighting all the time, the days melting into a blur of screaming and shouting, remonstrations and pleas. Jongwoon simply locked himself in his room most of the time, curling up on his bed and pulling his comforter over his head. But nothing could drown out the sounds of quarrelling that seeped in through the thin walls.
Ryeowook was always there, caught somewhere in the midst of the crossfire. He was always quiet; Jongwoon didn’t think he’d ever heard a single word pass his lips the moment he’d stepped into their home. It wasn’t that no one spoke to him. His father did, and so did his mother even. He just never responded except by nodding or shaking his head, melting into the background most of the time, trying to make himself as small and inconspicuous as possible.
Jongwoon’s mother’s maternal instinct seemed to take over her when it came to Ryeowook, however. She made sure he was fed, made sure he had clean clothes and a clean room to come home to from his high school, much the same as she did for Jongwoon himself. It didn’t stop her from fighting with his father, though; Jongwoon knew that she would have walked out if she didn’t have him to think about, much like how he would have left if it wasn’t for her.
“This is between your father and I,” she’d told Jongwoon once when they were in the kitchen, preparing dinner together. It had hurt Jongwoon to see the strain in the lines of her face. “I don’t want you children to be involved.”
“Us children?” Jongwoon had repeated.
His mother had heaved a sigh, then reached out to pat him gently. “It isn’t Ryeowook’s fault, Jongwoon.”
“You sound like Father,” he’d mumbled.
“If there’s one thing he’s right about, it’s that Ryeowook is innocent. I know how you feel, Jongwoon, but the fact is, Ryeowook never wanted any of this either. It’s hard enough for him, losing his mother and being uprooted to another family.”
“You’re much too kind for your own good, Mum.”
“It’s not that. I just imagine the same thing happening to you, and I realize that I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. It’s not his fault your father did such a thing to us, Jongwoon. What your father did isn’t right, but Ryeowook shouldn’t be made to pay for it.”
“But - “
“No buts. Your father and I will arrange things between ourselves. You have to try and get along with Ryeowook. Don’t make matters in this house any worse than they already are.”
_________________________________________________________________________
His mother’s words continued to ring in his ears each time he saw Ryeowook, but he was never able to bring himself to act on them, until one day when he got home from his university and found the house empty. His father was at work, he knew, but it was unlike his mother to go out in the day, and for a moment, he panicked.
“Mum?” he called, dropping his bag and running to her bedroom, flinging the door open and finding it empty; he backtracked to the kitchen, yelling all the while. “Mum! Where are you?”
“She’s out,” a small, soft voice came, and Jongwoon jumped; he swung around to see Ryeowook, sitting at the kitchen table, his fingers twisting nervously against each other. “She - she told me to tell you - she’s out and won’t be back until after 5.”
Jongwoon was caught off guard for a moment. He’d actually forgotten Ryeowook would be in. To be honest, he forgot Ryeowook most of the time, because he was just so colourless and quiet and he’d actually thought Ryeowook was probably mute. He never saw him except during meals anyway - the both of them confined themselves to their respective bedrooms to get away from the atmosphere around their parents, which oscillated between freezing cold to fiery rage.
“Oh,” was all he could think to say right now, as Ryeowook (his brother, his mind whispered at him) stood up and ducked his head, not meeting his eyes.
“I’m just - going to go into my - the room, I was just waiting for you to come back and - and pass the message,” he stammered. Standing up, Jongwoon realized that Ryeowook was shaking again, and he saw how fearful he was, how small and thin and pale he looked, and his mother’s words rose unbidden in his mind.
“Well,” he said awkwardly, wondering where to begin. “Uh, have you eaten? Lunch, I mean. Since Mum went out.”
Ryeowook hesitated, then shook his head quickly, still not looking at Jongwoon. “I’m - I’m not hungry.”
“You have to eat, though,” Jongwoon said, feeling relieved now that he knew there was something he could do instead of just standing around and feeling weird about his first ever conversation with his half-brother. “I’m starving myself. Can you cook?”
Ryeowook gave a small nod.
“Let’s try to get some food then,” Jongwoon said, striding to the sink to wash his hands. “I’m not a very good cook, so I’ll need help.”
There was a long silence - so long that Jongwoon, shaking the water off his hands and drying them, thought Ryeowook may have simply gone back into his bedroom - but suddenly a shadow fell across him, and he looked up to see Ryeowook next to him, reaching out to turn the tap on and rinsing his own hands under it.
“Thank you, hyung,” he said, so soft it was barely audible, but Jongwoon caught it and couldn’t help but smile, despite himself.
________________________________________________________________________
That one day was all it took for Ryeowook to latch on to Jongwoon like a lost puppy.
It was then that Jongwoon understood how truly alone he must feel, as he trailed after him everywhere he went in the house. He helped Jongwoon and his mother when they were preparing meals, helped Jongwoon in the garden, followed him when he went jogging (though Ryeowook never jogged himself, being a little too thin and frail; he simply tagged along with towels and water bottles for Jongwoon and waited for him).
It was disconcerting for Jongwoon at first, having grown up as an only child, and now to have to adjust to having a younger brother who was attached to him like a shadow. But he thought he understood, after a conversation he had with Ryeowook one day where he asked if Ryeowook had ever known about the double life their father was leading.
“No,” Ryeowook shook his head. He was bolder nowadays with Jongwoon, more relaxed and more talkative. “I didn’t know a thing until the day my mother passed away. He basically took me to his car and told me everything and said he’d bring me to live here. I was in shock.”
“But - for 17 years you never realized your parents weren’t married? That your father never lived with you?”
“They kept everything from me,” Ryeowook’s smile was bitter. “Didn’t want me to know I was a bastard child, I guess. I just thought my father had to travel often for work.”
Jongwoon thought back to the times when his father wouldn’t come home a couple of nights each week, always because he was ‘travelling for work’, and felt his heart seize up with a surge of protectiveness for Ryeowook he never knew he had in him.
“Don’t,” he said roughly, pulling Ryeowook into a hug that surprised even himself, hearing Ryeowook give an astonished little squeak. “Don’t call yourself names like that. I won’t allow it.”
It only took a couple of seconds for Ryeowook to relax and soften into his hug as if he’d been there all his life, and Jongwoon held him tighter, understanding how much he needed someone to know what he was going through and feeling that same need in himself, wondering how their father’s mistake could bring so much grief to two boys who’d never asked to be thrown together like this.
___________________________________________________________________________
The day Jongwoon’s mother informed them that she’d seen a lawyer and was beginning proceedings for a divorce was the first time Jongwoon ever got drunk.
Ryeowook was waiting up for him as he always did, a worried frown on his face, when he finally stumbled in at 2 in the morning, clothes and hair in complete disarray and reeking of alcohol.
“Hyung!” he cried out, his delicate hands clutching at Jongwoon’s shirt as Jongwoon wrapped his arms around him, breathing toxic alcohol fumes in his face and swaying drunkenly. “Hyung, oh my god - why did you - hyung!”
“Head hurts,” was all Jongwoon managed to get out, before Ryeowook tugged him down the hall, his slight frame stumbling under Jongwoon’s weight, and pushed him into the bathroom.
Jongwoon was only half-conscious of Ryeowook’s hands pulling his shirt and jeans off until he felt the cool tiles of the bathroom floor against his skin. He dimly heard Ryeowook moving around, registered the sound of water splashing, but he only managed to pry his eyes open when he felt a wet, damp cloth on his face, traveling down to his neck and chest, and saw Ryeowook hovering above him, sponging him down with ice-cold water.
“Why did you let yourself get like this, hyung?” Ryeowook asked, and Jongwoon closed his eyes again, his head hurting too much to answer.
He felt Ryeowook tugging at him gently when he was done and allowed himself to be lifted to his feet, before he leaned on Ryeowook again, the both of them staggering their way to Jongwoon’s room where Jongwoon collapsed on the bed, wishing the world would stop spinning.
“Are you all right, hyung?” he heard Ryeowook whisper, his hand stroking his damp hair back from his forehead.
Jongwoon didn’t know why he did it. He couldn’t really think at that point, anyway. All he knew was that he wound an arm blindly around Ryeowook and pulled him down and kissed him, kissed him hard and hungrily, kissed him until he was whimpering and breathing hard against Jongwoon’s lips.
“Hyung,” he heard Ryeowook say, the words tasting just as sweet as Ryeowook himself did even though he was pushing at Jongwoon, trying to free himself from his grip. “Hyung, we can’t, you’re drunk, hyung…”
“Stay with me,” he whispered into Ryeowook’s mouth. “Don’t leave, stay with me.”
And just like that, he felt Ryeowook melt into his hold, just like the first time they’d hugged, only now he was kissing back as well and his lips were soft and pliant and warm, like his skin.
Jongwoon had no idea how long he held Ryeowook and kissed him until he drifted off into an alcohol-induced sleep. But when he woke up the next day, his head pounding, Ryeowook was gone.
Jongwoon decided to put the incident out of his mind and chalk it up to a random act of drunkenness, though it had been awkward around Ryeowook for a few days because the simple fact was, he’d kissed his own brother. He had no idea what Ryeowook thought of it, or of him, but by tacit agreement neither of them brought it up, much to his relief, and things soon went back to normal.
But they were only normal during the day.
_______________________________________________________________________
“Ryeowook, that’s it,” Jongwoon gasped, looking down. “More, Ryeowook, fuck.”
Ryeowook looked up at him through long lashes and Jongwoon thought he could faint at the sight of those pretty lips wrapped around him, all the blood in his head rushing downwards.
“Like this, hyung?” Ryeowook breathed, and swirled his tongue once, twice, and Jongwoon felt his knees buckle.
“Ryeowook,” he choked out. “I’m almost there, Ryeowook, fuck - “
Ryeowook sucked in, hard, and Jongwoon felt himself explode into his waiting mouth.
Jongwoon awoke with a jolt, still breathing heavily. The stickiness between his thighs was immediately apparent; he reached down, felt the wetness on his legs and sheets, and groaned aloud.
For the third time that week, he silently gathered his sheets and crept out into the laundry room, tossing them into the washing machine and sitting there waiting for the wash and dry cycle to finish, praying all the while that no one would wake up and question why he was washing his sheets at 4 in the morning. He stared blankly at the machine, his eyes going out of focus as the dirty sheets swirled and spun in front of him.
“This has to stop,” he whispered to himself. “This can’t go on, Jongwoon, he’s your brother, what are you thinking.”
By the time the sheets finished spinning and drying and Jongwoon collected them in his arms and crept back to his bedroom, he’d managed to convince himself that this was yet another one-off, conveniently forgetting the other times it had happened.
It was never a one-off.
_________________________________________________________________________
Jongwoon started getting worried about it when the dreams started happening on a nightly basis, and then he had to face Ryeowook in the daytime, stare into his bright, guileless face and pretend that nothing was wrong and that he hadn’t just been dreaming of them having sex.
He tried to avoid Ryeowook as much as he could, talking to him less and not allowing him to get too close, even if it hurt to see the bewildered pain in Ryeowook’s eyes as he shook him off brusquely. But the problem was that each time Ryeowook touched him, no matter how innocuous it was, his brain immediately flashed back onto his dreams. And he did not want to think about Ryeowook in that way at all.
He couldn’t avoid Ryeowook entirely though, considering that they lived in the same house, and their parents practically ignored them most of the time now, caught up in their own troubles. And he certainly didn’t want to give Ryeowook any inkling that he was a depraved pervert having sick dreams about his own brother. But things came to a head one day when he was washing dishes at the sink, and Ryeowook came up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and leaning into him, and murmured, “Hyung, need help?”, his breath tickling the back of his neck.
He dropped the dish he was holding, tensing up as Ryeowook shifted against him, his cheek against Jongwoon’s shoulderblade. This was nothing different from what Ryeowook usually did, because Ryeowook liked to hug and be hugged, but this time, there was an ache in his groin that he couldn’t shrug off.
“Yes,” he managed. “I need the bathroom, actually. Help me finish up, will you?”
“Okay,” Ryeowook said again, his voice sweet and clear, and pulled away from Jongwoon, his fingertips brushing over his abdomen as he did so; Jongwoon felt a shiver run down his spine at the light touches. He turned and strode off to the bathroom, where he turned on the tap so the water would mask any sounds, grabbed some tissues, and shut his eyes, half-remembered scenes from his dreams playing in his mind and interspersed with the feeling of Ryeowook’s hands on his body and Ryeowook’s body pressed against his and Ryeowook’s sweet, sweet lips that one time they’d kissed.
When he finally released into the wad of tissues, his hands were shaking, but not from the pleasure that was still coursing through his veins. He flushed the soiled tissues down the toilet, and flushed again, pressing the button over and over, trying to erase all evidence of what he’d just done long after they’d disappeared from view, trying to choke down the revulsion he felt at himself because fuck, he was sick, he was depraved, he knew he was.
This would be the first and last time, he swore to himself.
A few days later, as they were eating - alone again, as both their parents were hardly ever in nowadays - Ryeowook placed a hand on his thigh under the table, stroking it absentmindedly as he spoke to him, and Jongwoon almost overturned the table in his haste to get up, ignoring Ryeowook’s look of shock and surprise as he rushed to the bathroom again, his hands trembling as he turned the water on.
By the time he finished, he was shaking as he looked in the mirror, staring at himself as he wondered how he could do such a thing, as if the dreams weren’t bad enough. He hardly recognized the person looking back out from the mirror, because that person wasn’t him anymore, it was someone perverse, someone degenerate, someone who would masturbate to thoughts of his own brother.
He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms and he knew they would leave little bloody crescents, but he didn’t care about the pain; he deserved worse, he was a monster.
He looked at himself again and decided that if he had to stay away from Ryeowook completely to stop this, so be it.
___________________________________________________________________________
This was insane, Jongwoon thought frantically, as he hurriedly smoothed the freshly washed and dried sheets onto his bed. He hadn’t so much as spoken to Ryeowook for a week, choosing to leave the house early and come home as late as he could, and to hell with the lack of sleep. And yet he was still getting the dreams.
He folded himself back into bed, curling up under his blanket and trying to will himself to sleep again. No, he would keep at it. He would stay away from Ryeowook as long as was necessary, until his brain and body stopped reacting to him. He would -
His train of thoughts was interrupted by the sound of his bedroom door opening with a click, unnaturally loud in the still of the night, before it closed again and he heard a soft, “Hyung?”
He stiffened. What was Ryeowook doing coming to his room in the middle of the night? His mind swirled with possibilities. Fuck, could he have made noises in his dream, and Ryeowook had heard him? These walls were thin.
“Hyung, I know you’re not asleep, I heard you come in from the kitchen just now.” The soft words were accompanied by a dip in the bed, indicating that Ryeowook had sat down. “Hyung, are you mad at me?”
“What?” Jongwoon spluttered, sitting up to face Ryeowook, shocked out of his pretend-sleep. “What - no, of course I’m not, why would you think that?”
“Maybe because you haven’t spoken to me for a week?” Ryeowook said, eyes gleaming in the darkness as they searched Jongwoon’s face, and suddenly Jongwoon was aware of how close they were, and the night they’d kissed, and other things which made him turn away and lie back down.
“I’m not mad at you,” he grunted. “I’m just tired because of school, and I’m worried about Mum, and - I just have a lot of things on my mind now.”
He heard Ryeowook sigh behind him, and then his bed dipped again - he thought Ryeowook might have shifted position, or stood up, but then he felt a small warm form moulding itself to his back and slender arms curling around him, and he froze as Ryeowook began stroking his chest, slowly and deliberately, breathing against his shoulder.
“I love you, hyung,” Ryeowook whispered. “I need you. You’re the only person I have.”
Jongwoon tried to speak. “Ryeowook - “ His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “Ryeowook, what are you -“
“I can’t be without you, hyung,” Ryeowook said, his lips now so close he could feel them moving against the sensitive bare skin at the back of his neck. “I love you, hyung, please don’t leave me.”
He sucked lightly at Jongwoon’s neck and Jongwoon gasped, but the next moment Ryeowook’s hand slid down his chest, trailing over his abdomen and dipping into his shorts, and he jerked, flipping around to stare at Ryeowook. “Ryeowook! Fuck, stop it, what the fuck do you think you’re doing!”
“Please, hyung,” Ryeowook whined. “I love you hyung, I love you and need you so much, please hyung…” His fingers closed around Jongwoon as he said it, stroking gently, and Jongwoon opened his mouth to protest but nothing came out before Ryeowook’s lips were on his, as sweet and soft as he remembered.
“Just let me, hyung,” Ryeowook breathed against his lips. “Let me do this for you, I love you.”
“You’re my brother,” Jongwoon gasped, even as Ryeowook began stroking him steadily, feeling himself growing in Ryeowook’s hand. “This is wrong, Ryeowook, you’re my brother, this is wrong.”
“I love you,” Ryeowook said again, firmly, kissing him hungrily, nipping at his lips. “I love you. That’s not wrong.”
“This is - always - fucking wrong,” Jongwoon managed to say with the last of his self-control as Ryeowook’s hand moved skillfully up and down. “We are brothers, Ryeowook, don’t you get it?”
“We love each other, don’t we?” Ryeowook whispered in return, running his thumb over the sensitive head, and Jongwoon choked, his hand coming up to grab Ryeowook’s upper arm, fingers sinking painfully into the skin. “Don’t you love me, hyung?”
He flicked his wrist and Jongwoon choked out, “I do, I love you, Ryeowook”, and felt Ryeowook’s lips curve into a smile.
“That’s all I need to know,” he said softly, and Jongwoon closed his eyes and forced himself to forget about the consequences.
___________________________________________________________________
It became a ritual for the both of them.
Ryeowook would slip into Jongwoon’s room almost every night, when their parents were asleep, and Jongwoon would be wide awake and waiting, his entire body tense until he heard Ryeowook come in and felt him climb into his bed, fingers fiddling familiarly with his clothes, rubbing himself against Jongwoon until Jongwoon came into his hand.
Jongwoon would always be ashamed of himself when it was over, despite Ryeowook’s comforting embraces and soft words. But he could never stop himself either.
The first time he touched Ryeowook, in that same intimate way, a few weeks after Ryeowook first started coming into his bed, he found himself half-repulsed and half-fascinated by the little moans and whimpers Ryeowook made (so perfect, so wrong), the way Ryeowook whispered for more (so good, so wrong), the way Ryeowook looked when he came all over Jongwoon’s hand, hips lifted slightly off the bed as his eyes clamped shut and his lips parted in a low soft moan and his cheeks pink (so beautiful, so wrong, wrong, wrong).
He couldn’t help it. Ryeowook was beautiful and sweet and loving, so perfect in every way. He was the sick one. He was older, and he should be stopping his younger brother from doing such things to him. But he never did. And each time, Ryeowook would tell him he loved him, and he’d say the same to Ryeowook, knowing that no matter how much they loved each other, it wouldn’t change the fact that they were blood brothers and this was wrong.
“We should stop doing this,” he tried telling Ryeowook one night, just as Ryeowook slipped out of his bed, ready to go back to his own room before Jongwoon’s mother woke up and found them.
“Why?” Ryeowook asked.
“Because,” Jongwoon said, trying to find the words. He ran his hand distractedly through his hair, smelling Ryeowook’s scent on it, the smell already engraved in every pore of his skin. “Because - we’re brothers, Ryeowook. We can’t do things like these.”
“But I love you,” Ryeowook stated flatly. It wasn’t even a statement; it was cold hard truth that Jongwoon felt slamming into him, the tone of Ryeowook’s voice different from when he usually said it during their nightly activities, a tone that brooked no argument and contained nothing but fact.
There was a long pause as Jongwoon allowed himself to absorb this.
“Hyung?” Ryeowook said, after a while.
Jongwoon swallowed. “I love you too,” he said, and in that moment, he knew that it was the truth, and even if he wanted to turn back, he wouldn’t. He would never give Ryeowook up.
_______________________________________________________________________
Jongwoon woke up when he heard voices - loud voices - in the living room outside. He recognized them as those of his parents, and sat bolt upright. The clock on his nightstand read 15 minutes past midnight, too early for Ryeowook’s usual visits, and he must have fallen asleep. He got out of bed hurriedly as he heard his mother raise her voice to a shriek.
From what he could hear of their argument, his mother had served the divorce papers to his father today, and his father was refusing to sign them. He dragged a hand down his face, feeling suddenly drained. The house had been quiet for so long, with his parents not fighting anymore but simply barely talking, and he himself had been so wrapped up in Ryeowook that he had hardly noticed them. He’d forgotten how it could be when they fought.
He opened his bedroom door carefully and slipped out. His parents were in the living room, his mother yelling and his father trying to take her by the hands, calm her down, to no avail. They didn’t even notice when he tiptoed past them to Ryeowook’s room, where he let himself in, hoping that Ryeowook wasn’t frightened.
“Ryeowook-ah?” he called softly once he was in, shutting the door behind him, and was answered only by a series of soft sniffles.
“Ryeowook?’ he said again, making his way to the bed where he curled up next to the small shaking body on it, pulling him close and kissing the top of his head. “Are you okay?” The sounds of the quarrel were still clearly audible.
“It’s my fault,” Ryeowook sobbed in his arms, and Jongwoon held him tighter.
“No, of course it isn’t, we told you from the start it isn’t,” he said soothingly, and Ryeowook turned around to face him, tears falling down his cheeks that Jongwoon wiped away with his thumbs before placing gentle kisses on his face.
“It is,” Ryeowook cried, his hands curling into little fists in Jongwoon’s t-shirt. “It’s all because of me, hyung, I’m breaking your family up, you’re going to lose a parent because of me, hyung, I’m sorry, so sorry - “
He choked and Jongwoon pressed his lips to Ryeowook’s quickly. “No, don’t ever blame yourself, it’s not your fault, it’s our father’s.”
Ryeowook sobbed even harder, his tears trickling across their joined lips and tasting salty and bitter on Jongwoon’s tongue. And Jongwoon kissed him harder, pulled him closer, running his hand down Ryeowook’s body in the way he’d grown accustomed to, hoping to shut out the sounds outside for him.
It was risky as hell, with their parents outside, but Jongwoon had to do something, had to get rid of his pent-up worry and frustration, had to calm Ryeowook down somehow and remind him that he loved him. Ryeowook seemed to realize this, because his own hands began tugging at Jongwoon’s clothes, pulling them off him urgently, so they could lie skin to skin, Ryeowook’s body heat delicious against Jongwoon’s body.
Jongwoon had no idea how things got so far, but almost before he knew it he was on top of Ryeowook, two fingers in him and stretching him slowly, shaking slightly because fuck if he knew what to do beyond guesswork and the bits and pieces he’d gleaned from the Internet, but Ryeowook was panting under him and he figured he was doing something right.
The voices outside were growing louder as he pulled his fingers out and positioned himself, pushing in slowly, trying to shut out his father’s shouting, right outside and seemingly so much nearer than it was previously, all his senses heightened by the adrenaline pumping through him. Ryeowook let out a small cry that he stopped by biting down on his own lip, hard enough to draw blood, and Jongwoon bent down and kissed him again, lapping the blood off him, the same blood that they both shared.
He could still hear his parents outside, his senses humming with fear as he pulled out and pushed in again, Ryeowook writhing underneath him. It was insane, he knew they were crazy for doing this now, and the air around them seemed almost too thick and suffocating to breathe, Ryeowook wrapping him in velvet heat and making it hard for him to think as well.
“Faster,” Ryeowook whispered, his eyes blurry with tears, and Jongwoon hesitated, not sure if Ryeowook could take it. But then his mother yelled again, and he shut his eyes and slammed in, hearing Ryeowook’s small moan before he dipped his head again and swallowed the sound.
Their parents were getting louder - Jongwoon could hear almost every word clearly now, his mother screaming about cheating and fathering illegitimate children, screaming about Ryeowook and Jongwoon, and Jongwoon shut his eyes, willing his ears to listen only to the sounds of Ryeowook’s gasps and groans and pleas for Jongwoon to go faster, go harder, more more more, even as the tears spilled out over his cheeks without stopping.
“Hyung, I love you, don’t leave me,” Ryeowook sobbed softly, wrapping his legs around Jongwoon’s waist, pulling him closer and deeper into him.
“I won’t, I promise, I love you,” Jongwoon said as he pushed in one last time and Ryeowook climaxed, clenching tightly around Jongwoon and sending him spilling as well, as the shouting reached a crescendo outside and was punctuated by a loud shattering sound - someone had thrown a glass something or other.
Jongwoon didn’t want to leave Ryeowook that night. He was tired of caring about his parents and what they might think. All he cared about now was the boy in his arms, entwined around his body, and he fell asleep holding him.
________________________________________________________________________
“Get up.”
The words were harsh and loud; Jongwoon felt rough hands pulling him into a sitting position, shaking him awake. The blanket which was covering him slid down to his waist, and beside him he heard a terrified little whimper - Ryeowook. That woke him up more than anything else; his eyes flew open, and he saw his father hovering above him, his face furious and sickened.
“What,” his father hissed, “do the both of you think you’re doing?”
Jongwoon flung his hands off him, wrapping a protective arm around Ryeowook. “Fuck off,” he snarled. “It’s none of your business.”
His father loomed over them, looking utterly nauseated and turning a nasty shade of green. “You sick bastard. Jongwoon, you sick little bastard, that’s your brother.”
“I’m aware of that,” Jongwoon snapped. “You fathered him.”
“And you - oh my god,” his father said, staggering back. “Why are the both of you - oh my god, you’re both sick. You’re depraved. You make me sick, both of you.”
“What’s going on?” Jongwoon’s mother’s voice sounded, and she came into the room, stopping short at the sight of Jongwoon and Ryeowook huddled on the bed, clothes on the floor and the blanket hitched to their shoulders, her husband clutching the desk for support and looking like he was going to throw up.
“Jongwoon? Ryeowook?” she said, her voice rising in pitch. “Ryeowook? What is this?”
“Exactly what it looks like,” Jongwoon said, and beside him Ryeowook let out another whimper. Jongwoon rubbed his arm comfortingly, looking down at him. It’ll be okay, he mouthed.
“No,” his mother said, her eyes widening. “No.”
“The both of you disgust me,” his father growled.
Jongwoon’s mother marched over to the bed - Jongwoon thought she was going to shake him like what his father did, but she did something he didn’t expect. She drew her hand back and slapped Ryeowook across the face, so hard that his head whipped to the side, and a stark red handprint bloomed on his delicate skin.
“You son of a whore,” she whispered. “I took you in even though you were my husband’s bastard. I fed you and housed you, and you repay me by seducing my son. Your own brother. You sick little son of a bitch.”
“It’s as much Jongwoon’s fault as it is Ryeowook’s,” his father snapped, striding over and pulling his wife back. “Don’t put all the blame on Ryeowook. Jongwoon should have known what he was doing!”
“And you’re defending your bastard son again, are you?” Jongwoon’s mother yelled bitterly, and when Jongwoon saw his father open his mouth to retort he decided he’d finally had enough.
He scooped their clothes off the floor and wriggled into them under the blanket, motioning for Ryeowook to do the same, before he got up, pulling Ryeowook by the hand and walking towards the door.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Jongwoon’s mother screamed, pulling at Jongwoon; he pushed her back.
“Away from both of you,” he snarled, and her face darkened.
“You want to leave this house with that piece of garbage?”
“Don’t call Ryeowook - “ Jongwoon began, but Ryeowook had apparently reached his limit; a sob burst out of him, and he tore his hand away from Jongwoon’s, running out of the room and out of the front door, slamming it loudly behind him.
“Ryeowook!” Jongwoon yelled, throwing his mother a furious look as he sprinted after him, flinging the front door open, just in time to see Ryeowook running across the road outside their house, running without looking, running with his head bowed so only Jongwoon saw the van coming, only Jongwoon and not Ryeowook.
When he stumbled over to the bloodied body on the ground and sank to his knees next to it, Ryeowook was already gone.
“I love you,” he could only whisper as he cradled Ryeowook’s limp head in his lap, caressing his beautiful doll-like face, Ryeowook’s blood staining his hands and clothes, the same blood that ran in his veins. “I love you, Ryeowook, and I’ll never leave you. Didn’t you say you wouldn’t leave me too?”
__________________________________________________________________________
Jongwoon was the only one at the simple funeral.
He was the only one at the gravesite when they lowered the coffin into the ground, deep and dark and cold, into a place where Jongwoon could never reach.
He was the only one at the cemetery at night, when the wind howled and the rain fell, but he continued sitting by the grave, leaning against the gravestone as his fingers traced the photograph of Ryeowook embossed into it.
He couldn’t leave. Ryeowook needed him. He’d promised he never would leave.
__________________________________________________________________________
It was only two days later that Jongwoon made his decision.
“I love you,” he whispered over and over as he swallowed pill after pill after pill, medication that he’d procured from a pharmacy when he left Ryeowook earlier that day, just long enough for him to get what he needed. “I love you, Ryeowook, wait for me, all right?”
His head was already spinning and growing heavy; he struggled to keep his eyes open, so he could continue looking at Ryeowook’s photograph, continue taking more pills, until the bottles were all empty. He smiled at him, closing his eyes finally, visualizing Ryeowook in his mind.
“I’m going to you now,” he whispered, holding on to the image of Ryeowook as long as he could, until finally all went black.