Chapter Text
“The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.” - Robert Burns
Sometimes it still hurts a bit
Sometimes I’m so full of shit, but this much is true
I thought that I could stomp you out
Like a fire, like a flame
It’s done but now I’m covered in ashes
And I still feel the same!
I guess if I get rid of every sign of what we ever did
There’d be no one left to blame!
I’m Over You - Verosika “Helluva Boss”
“I need him…” Yoriichi said, drunkly, not realizing the crazy extent of the confession slipping from his lips. Not quite understanding the semi-horrified look his best friend was leveling at him.
Between them were a dozen empty cans of cheap beer. Yoriichi was never a heavy drinker, thanks to having a fairly low tolerance for alcohol. And as he remembered, it was a low tolerance shared by his twin.
His beautiful, seductive twin, who was ruining his life without actually being in it.
“Geez, Yoriichi…” Sumiyoshi said with a bit of a wheeze. “I… uh… did you really fuck your brother????”
Yoriichi’s forehead was pressed against the yellow linoleum top of Sumiyoshi’s retro-style kitchen table, but he nodded the best he could, mumbling out the drunk words, “Best pussy I’ve ever had…”
A sound Yoriichi knew well followed those words. Sumiyoshi was gasping, choking, beyond flustered… yet again… by something he’d said. Vaguely, Yoriichi wondered why this was so surprising? Wasn’t it obvious every single time he saw his brother since that wedding months ago that they’d crossed that forbidden line? Wasn’t it obvious in the way they looked at each other? In the tension between them? How could anyone be in their vicinity and not figure out immediately that they’d fucked each other silly? How could they not see it in the flat (fake) disregard of Michikatsu’s voice, or how Yoriichi couldn’t help but reach out to his twin every single time they were near each other?
Michikatsu thought it was too obvious.
He’d even said so, right before cutting Yoriichi out of his life. Yoriichi still cringed a little at the memory. He’d never had a ‘bad breakup’ with anyone before, but that’s what this felt like. He’d invited Michikatsu out for a beer after he got the confirmation he’d passed his exams and was met with an adorable frown and his brother’s foul mood. Michi showed up at the bar, barely said three words to him, and then dumped a bowl of peanuts over his head when Yoriichi tried asking him about work.
How was Yoriichi supposed to know Michikatsu had just gotten fired? They were twins, but that didn’t mean they were psychic!
His brother had avoided him like the plague since then… around others… but had snuck into Yoriichi’s apartment twice.
The first time, Yoriichi woke up to the most intense blowjob he’d ever had. He remembered nothing of the dream he’d been having right before he snapped his eyes open. Just that there was an ache in his gut. A familiar coil tightening. He’d blinked dizzily for a few minutes before realizing the sensation was compounded upon waking. Hands on his hips. Breath against his skin. There were no words, just the wet sound of Michikatsu’s mouth working him to a frenzy. The heat flickered through his body. Rapidly building… too rapidly. He came hard, spilling into his twin’s warm mouth, moaning at the slight feeling of Michikatsu sucking the cum down.
“How did you get in my apartment?” was the first thing he’d said after coming back to his senses. The wrong thing to say, but to be fair, waking up to this had not been on any list of expectations he’d ever had. Michikatsu wrinkled his nose, didn’t answer, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
The second time was in the middle of the day a week after the blowjob, and Michikatsu tossed his old library card on the kitchen table when he strolled into Yoriichi’s home uninvited. The plastic was a little bent around the edges from having shimmied the lock of Yoriichi’s door open.
“Change your locks. If I can get in without a key, so can everyone else.”
They’d ended up making out, pressed up against Yoriichi’s refrigerator. But his brother had pushed him away before it got any further, grumbling about ‘stupid problems’. Yoriichi had a hunch that Michikatsu was probably having a period, given that hormone replacement had never quite worked out for him. Yoriichi remembered clearly when they were eleven, Michikatsu going on hormone replacement for the first time… it had been a mess. His twin ended up in the hospital several times before being diagnosed with a range of intolerances that made hormone replacement nearly impossible.
He let Michikatsu go, and now he was regretting it.
Sumiyoshi was still losing his mind.
“Pussy? What?! Is Michikatsu trans?!”
Yoriichi blinked, still a little helplessly drunk.
“I… I thought you knew that?”
His best friend looked so shocked it was a wonder he wasn’t having a heart attack. Face all red, his hair messed up with how he was stringing his hands through the shoulder-length auburn strands.
“NO! He’s the kind of guy who radiates Big Dick Energy! How the fuck should I have known?!” He spluttered in the midst of his little meltdown. Yoriichi felt his head spinning. Why were there two of him? Oh, right… the beer. Slowly, he plopped his head back down on the table. “Shit! Yoriichi! What if you had gotten him pregnant?”
Yoriichi just shrugged at that, swallowing back a bit of stomach acid. “I got him Plan B… it’s ok…”
Was it ok though? Was it really? Had Yoriichi screwed up his life? Had he actually fucked himself over by having sex with Michikatsu? Even though his brother wanted it? Even though his brother confessed this sickening desire first? Yoriichi could still remember how he’d looked, dazed and drugged out, touching himself, moaning Yoriichi’s name to help himself along.
At this point, months after he’d last talked to his brother, Yoriichi wasn’t sure if he’d done the right thing. Or even if there was a right thing in this situation.
But he needed to do something…
Swallowing down a rock of emotions, Yoriichi lifted his head from the table, blearily looking at Sumiyoshi. Tears spilled over his lashes, put there by a combination of his emotions and the inhibition of having drunk too much.
“Can… can you help me?”
“You want me to help you get back in your brother’s pants?”
When put that way, it sounded like a ridiculous request, but it also wasn’t exactly what Yoriichi meant. He shook his head negatively… probably a little too long since the feeling of his head swaying side to side was monumentally distracting… he opened and shut his mouth a few times.
“Uh… uh… Yoshi… Uh…”
“Stop shaking your head. You’re going to barf.”
Yoriichi shivered as he slowed down, swallowed a bit of excess saliva, and then spoke. “I need help to talk to him, Yoshi… Please? I… he won’t take my calls. I don’t… I don’t even know where he’s living now.”
Sumiyoshi was frowning. And that made Yoriichi’s heart sink.
“Please?” he begged, clasping his hands in front of him in a childish plea, even though the motion was clumsy.
Sumiyoshi sighed. “Shit… why do I have to talk to your brother? He’s the scariest motherfucker I know.”
“Because you’re his TA?” Yoriichi hiccuped with unfocused eyes. “He’s not that scary…”
“Says you! I dead-ass considered not grading his papers at all and just passing him so he wouldn’t kill me if I caught a spelling mistake!”
“Aniue would never…” Oh, if Yoriichi only understood the intimidation Michikatsu wrought on other people. He might have actually gotten it, had he not been sloshing around in his own drunken thoughts. Caught in the trap of worshiping his own flesh and blood.
“Yeah. Yeah. Whatever, Yoriichi. Fine. I’ll catch him after class, but you owe me.”
*
Michikatsu was picking at his lunch. Inspecting it as if it had been poisoned, even though he was the one who made it.
He was exhausted. Couch hopping from one friend’s home to another was horrible. But he couldn’t go back home…
Overwhelmed. After losing his job at the pharmaceutical plant Muzan’s family owned, he’d decided on a whim to go back to college and finish the degree he’d put on pause when he thought he was going to marry the man. No one told him that returning to school from a break was so damn hard.
Michikatsu sat in the common foyer of the college with his unappetizing meal, wishing that things were different.
He felt sick.
It had been months, and everything had changed… except for this. Michikatsu’s desire to be near Yoriichi was still so strong it made him want to crawl out of his skin. But actually falling into that trap of emotions had been a mistake.
A fat fucking mistake.
Michikatsu stared down into his hastily prepared bento box. The rice looked dry… he grimaced at his shoddy cooking skills. But… but it was all he could afford.
And that too was his fault.
Right before he’d cut Yoriichi out of his life, they’d been sexting a lot. Exploring a new dynamic in their unnatural sibling bond. Hiding it. For Michikatsu, it had been thrilling. Almost like sneaking around to do something not allowed when they were children. There was something intoxicating about his self-destruction. About this forbidden, beautiful mess.
He’d set himself on fire just to stand near Yoriichi, and the desperation was showing.
The sexts were initially rather silly. Brief messages about that night at the wedding, and their brunch the following day.
Ah, did you see the pic Koyuki sent us?
The one from brunch? Yeah, hey… isn’t it funny how you and she have the same fucked-out look on your faces? I wonder what that’s about. *wink*
Michikatsu had sent him a picture of him flipping off the camera.
Yoriichi sent a smoochy face photo as a rebuttal. What a joke.
Fuck off, Yori.
Their texts for the next few days were unremarkable.
Mom wants to know if you’re coming home for dinner Friday night?
Sure, I’ve got time. Does she need me to bring anything?
She said no, but you know how she is…
Rum. Got it.
The next picture Yoriichi sent was a little more racy. Michikatsu could see his brother’s hand casually dipped down into the front of his pants. Hardness only partially hidden by his clothing. Yoriichi probably thought of himself as too classy to send an actual dick pic, but honestly, the hint was hotter. Michikatsu mirrored his brother’s actions and stared at the picture for a long time. Absently sliding his fingers along the surface of his arousal.
There maybe should have been a moment of introspection, of understanding that this was not alright.
But this train wreck was not over.
Yoriichi came over for dinner with rum and roses for their mother. Pretended that everything was exactly as it was the last time they’d had a family dinner, and then conveniently ‘lost’ his car keys.
Since their mother’s home was outside the city and too far away from a station to walk to in the middle of the night, Akeno had fussed over Yoriichi, scolded Michikatsu to be nice to his brother (even though he had done nothing) and rolled out an old futon for Yoriichi to sleep on.
No sleeping happened, and it was probably a miracle that they hadn’t woken their mother with all the noise they’d made. Sharp exhales, moans… curses laden with tears. Michikatsu’s memory of that night was slightly skewed, blurred away by the ragged, unrelenting pleasure Yoriichi gave him.
It was almost as if they weren’t real.
As if none of it was real.
A wet dream he was constantly living in. If only it could continue forever.
And Michikatsu ignored all the warning signs. He ignored it when he found the door to his bedroom unlocked, even though he knew he’d locked it before going to work. He ignored it when his phone went missing for a day only to show up in the garage, where he hadn’t been for almost six weeks.
Michikatsu ignored it when he felt more and more distant from the rest of the world, constantly revolving around Yoriichi as if he were the goddamn sun itself.
He ignored it when their mother commented on how much time they were spending together. Hanging out at the bar, at the movies, at dinners. Michikatsu even started spending the night at Yoriichi’s apartment.
The way Akeno wrung her hands when she muttered, “I know less what to do with you two getting along…” The bottle of rum Yoriichi had bought her was almost gone. He hadn’t seen her so constantly bibulous since they were twelve and she drank herself silly in the hospital parking lot before sobbing and committing herself to the psych ward for a week.
Michikatsu ignored it in a manic haze. Driven forward by the promise of his illicit need to be close to him. Anything for Yoriichi. Fuck drugs, fuck alcohol, porn… there was no vice in the world that could compare.
It probably wasn’t actually possible to be addicted to someone, but… Michikatsu sure pushed that boundary.
It all came to a head one night at the end of the summer.
Michikatsu went to work as he always did. Sent his brother several risky nudes from the staff room and then was called into his boss’s office and promptly fired. The firing had nothing to do with the nudes and everything to do with his focus being destroyed. His obsession with his brother was causing too many mistakes. He knew it. He couldn't stop. Getting fired when he did was just bad timing that made Michikatsu’s heart pound out of his chest in anxiety.
He went home with a severance package, no goals, and several hours to wait until he was supposed to meet up with Yoriichi to celebrate his passing his LICSW exams.
Naturally, the only thing to do was relieve stress. He’d set up his phone to record a video, and grabbed an extra pillow. He was so fucking horny for his brother; he didn’t even think twice about humping the pillow on camera. Naked from the waist down, wearing a t-shirt he’d stolen from his brother. Surrounded by his scent. Moaning Yoriichi’s name, saying stupid sexy shit. Mmm… Yoriichi… this is your pillow. Do you like what I’m doing with it? Do you want my pussy in your face? Next time you’re over… next time…
His breath had stuttered on his obscene words. He’d lifted his hips just enough to catch the sight of his soaking wet orgasm on camera. The wetness smeared across the pillow obscenely. Turning him on more, even though he was already at that high. He hadn’t even caught his breath when he was hit hard in the back of the head.
Michikatsu blacked out and woke up to his drunk mother yanking him out of the house by an ankle. It was an absolutely impressive feat of strength given she was half his size and frail as hell from years of fibromyalgia pain. Screaming at him in a sloshed-out voice. He was fucking naked, bleeding from a piece of glass that was embedded in the back of his neck. From the bottle of rum, he’d find out later as he yanked the glass out of his skin and saw the remnants of the label.
How dare you! Akeno had screamed at him. How dare you! You monster!
It was a messy screaming match on the front porch, witnessed by too many curious neighbors. Akeno accused Michikatsu of taking advantage of her precious son. The boy who could do no wrong. The young man hadn’t even been able to speak for most of his childhood, so of course, it wasn’t Yoriichi’s fault that Michikatsu was a degenerate. It wasn’t his fault, and in fact, Akeno doubted her favorite child knew better than to fuck around with his twin.
Michikatsu snarled at her that neurodivergence didn’t mean Yoriichi was dumb. But… but something squiggled in his gut. He vomited, probably from the concussion, and internally agreed that it was all his idea. The sexts their mother had been keeping track of. Everything.
Degenerate. Predator. Monster. Demon.
He’d rather kill himself than admit it out loud.
Akeno shouted him out of the house and threatened to call the cops on him. Threatened to kill herself for being such a terrible mother. She had to be, right? For this to happen? She had to be the worst mother in the world; nothing short of death was good enough to atone! She went as far as slashing open her wrist with the remnants of the glass bottle she’d broken over Michikatsu’s head. Blood poured down onto the ground, staining all the pale rocks of her carefully kept yard. The cut was so deep, red and angry over all the other pale slash marks on her arms. Ones from before the twins were born, and after.
Michikatsu called an ambulance, panic deleted his entire text thread with Yoriichi, and made up an embarrassing story about how Akeno ‘misunderstood’ his actions, and pointed to his secret OnlyFans account that he’d been using to rake in enough money to get his own place. No one particularly cared for his panicked explanation to offset Akeno’s heated claims of ‘grooming’ and ‘rape’.
He threw up again when they took his mother away via ambulance, hating that because of her mental health history people dismissed all her words. The insane rumblings of a woman with too little control over her emotions and mind. And so fucking relieved that her history was working against her.
Stunned, head throbbing, Michikatsu shaved a slice of hair from the back of his neck, pinched together the broken skin, and kept it shut with superglue and bandaids. Numbly, he freshened up, packed whatever he could fit in his car, and went to meet Yoriichi.
It was all too much.
Overwrought and not wanting to disclose the day’s events, he’d broken things off with his brother right there. Barely able to look the other man in the eye as he stormed out of the bar.
He spent the next week keeping Yoriichi from finding out their mother was being transferred from the inpatient hospital unit to a longer-term care facility. Every single day visiting her. He hissed under his breath, forcing her to promise not to tell Yoriichi about how this all happened. Feeding her the stupid story about OnlyFans, and porn demographics for pseudo-incest, his need to pay bills (the only godforsaken truth in the heap of dog shit he fed her), and gaslighting his own mother into thinking she was more insane than she actually was.
It was stupidly easy.
It made him so fucking sick.
Michikatsu Tsugikuni was experiencing the worst wake-up call of his life.
This drive. His desire to engage in an illegal relationship with his own brother was not only ruining his life. It was ruining his mother’s. He was so, so guilty. Sitting there across from her bedraggled appearance. Nauseous as hell because she seemed so out of it. So fucking drugged out over something he did…
But to protect her… to protect all of them… Michikatsu lied. Their lives depended on it.
He wanted to tell Yoriichi that this couldn’t continue. He wanted to so badly… but he tried to tell him. Twice. But his impulses were out of control. Yoriichi was so adorable. So fucking sexy. He was helpless in the freefall…
And he knew it was a problem.
For the second time in less than a year, Michikatsu abandoned his socials, his phone number, and blocked everyone out of his life. Akeno went back home after a month, over-medicated and drinking down Michikatsu’s lies as if they were part of her daily medicine.
My baby, she’d almost sing when she saw him. Glassy eyed, and distant. Even with the medication, even with the lies, he frequently found her sitting at the kitchen table covered in cuts from a razor. None deeper than that first day. All impossible to heal wounds to his soul.
He refused to cry in front of her, took to making sure he had antibiotic ointment on him at all times, and let himself be consumed by guilt when he took care of her.
Every time Yoriichi called, he grunted out as few words as possible and let Akeno tell him thin lies. He didn’t know if Yoriichi believed them…
It was early fall, and Yoriichi was out of the country, sightseeing in Europe with some friends.
Michikatsu didn’t dare stay at Akeno’s house again and started the cycle of couch-hopping that he was stuck in now.
He took a bite of the undercooked, yet somehow almost burned rice, and then glanced at his phone as it buzzed on the tabletop.
Pink rabbit.
The text was flourished with several rainbow hearts that made Michikatsu curl his lip up in disgust. Quickly, he texted back.
When will you be done? I have a test tomorrow, and I want to get some sleep.
Douma Hyakumeki was the friend he was staying with now. Lucky bastard, he had money, and a big-ass apartment, which was closest to campus. A godsend since Michikatsu was just way too damn tired this winter.
But… the charming fool had a penchant for wild orgies. He always laughed melodiously and said Michikatsu could join in the fun if he wanted. He’d wink, and purse his pretty fucking mouth into a kiss, but the idea of exposing himself like that to an entire group of people who he did not know, and putting faith in strangers to accept his situation was nauseating to Michikatsu.
He wasn’t a fucking unicorn to be sought after because his body differed from his identity. And he didn’t want to fight with people about it either. It was tiresome to think of or confront. And he knew he was absolutely fucking lucky compared to some people who struggled to pass.
Michikatsu supposed that having a twin brother who looked almost exactly like him helped him pass easier. Alone, people might question his delicate face if they didn’t simply think it was a pretty boy Asian thing. But with Yoriichi, it seemed much more probable that he was just blessed with a certain amount of gracefulness.
Thank fucking God he was tall. Thank God he was muscular. All of it hard work at the gym… which was slowly being destroyed during this couch-hopping adventure. He’d realized after leaving his mother’s house that the monthly gym expense and protein regimen he usually did were out of his budget. The moment he gave it up, he’d started packing on pounds. Michikatsu hated it.
Pink rabbit. Douma’s code for holding an orgy... The stupid words floated in his mind, and he grumbled, waiting for Douma’s response, but it never came.
Hunching over his unappetizing food, Michikatsu frowned. All of his stuff was at Douma’s. There was nothing with him. If the stupid bastard had told him before he went to class, he would have just packed up and found someone else to hang out with for the night.
His stomach fluttered oddly from the hunger and anxiety.
But he took another hesitant bite, staring at his phone… trying to decide what to do.
“Uh…” The faltering utterance caught his attention, making him slide his gaze to the right. The young man who was standing near the common room table looked nervous as hell, and familiar. Why? Michikatsu narrowed his eyes.
“Yes?”
“Michikatsu, right?” the young man asked in a tittering, frightened voice. He visibly swallowed his fear, throat constricting, and took the seat next to Michikatsu. “I’m the TA for your molecular biology class! Name’s Sumiyoshi Kamado.”
Sumiyoshi… Michikatsu registered having heard the name before, wondered why for all of two seconds before the young man blabbed it out himself.
“I’m Yoriichi’s friend.”
“Oh,” Michikatsu said and turned back to his rice, shoving another unfortunately flavored bite in his mouth. “That’s nice.”
“Yeah, well, uh. I uh…” he trailed off, and Michikatsu rolled his eyes, ignoring the onslaught of cramps as he swallowed the disgusting rice... Great... I'm probably getting my period.
“You don’t have to talk to me just because I’m his brother.”
“Ah… hahaha…” What a dumb little laugh. Sumiyoshi cleared his throat. “Uh… Yoriichi asked me to talk to you.”
Snapping his full attention toward the young man, Michikatsu finally really looked at him. He was a handsome guy, looked much younger than he probably was… baby-faced as if he was still a budding teenager, though his shoulders were wide like an adult’s. His wide reddish eyes were looking at him oh so earnestly… so… Was he blushing?
Sumiyoshi’s hands were gripping his bookbag so tightly, his knuckles had cast a deathly white. His neck was neon red. Those wide eyes… shit… he was looking everywhere but Michikatsu’s face… especially his chest…
This level of discomfort was not explainable by simple fear alone.
Michikatsu groaned and put his face in his hands.
“The fucking bastard told you everything, didn’t he?” He didn’t bother looking at Sumiyoshi’s reaction. It was all too apparent in the choked-out sound he made in the back of his throat. And really, what did Michikatsu expect? That Yoriichi would keep their fucking tryst a secret? “Oh my God, he’s as stupid as I thought…”
“Uhh… uummm…”
“What did he want you to tell me?” Michikatsu raised his head out of his hands, flushing neon red in embarrassment. Luckily for him, Sumiyoshi was equally flushed and uncomfortable. The man was half shrugging, half playing with his hands, squeaking out a non-response in embarrassed terror. “Ah. Fuck it. Nevermind. I’ll ask him myself.” He whipped out his new phone. Gritting his teeth, he dialed the only phone number he knew by heart. He took a quick glance at Yoriichi’s flustered friend and hissed, “Get lost.”
Sumiyoshi fled as if Michikatsu was going to chase him, and a moment later, he heard his brother’s voice on the line.
“You goddamn prick. Why are you telling your friends about us!” Michikatsu yelled into the phone by way of greeting.
*
Michikatsu wasn’t sure if this was a blessing or a curse.
On the one hand, Douma had texted him in the middle of his one-sided phone call with Yoriichi, excitedly telling him that the intended orgy was going to run all night, and wouldn’t he please consider coming.
Really, Michikatsu, I’d love to see you undressed. 😉🍆💦💦💦
Michikatsu had half a mind to block Douma’s number right then and there. Instead, he asked if he’d put Michikatsu’s overnight bag in the apartment’s foyer, so that he didn’t have to go all the way inside and have a panic attack when Douma’s friends got handsy.
He’d picked up his overnight bag and hauled ass to Yoriichi’s apartment, riling himself up to scream at his brother some more, in person. Where he might throttle him… where he might…
Michikatsu shook his head, trying to free himself of the suppressed feelings he felt for his brother. Fuck, he was so upset, anxious, anticipating. His stomach was killing him. He felt mildly ill, overstimulated, and… and when he saw Yoriichi’s face (bastard was waiting for him in the hallway) unbidden angry tears sprung into his eyes.
Gritting his teeth, Michikatsu pushed past his brother without a single word of greeting. Straight into his apartment. Dropping his bookbag on the ground with a thud. His breath hitched in his throat as he heard the door close behind him. The click of the lock, pressing into place.
Yoriichi’s heavy, warm embrace surrounded him immediately.
Michikatsu felt so tight, so wound up. Shit, why was his stomach hurting so fucking bad? It was probably a combination of emotions running high and probable food poisoning from the rice he’d had earlier.
“Aniue… whatever I did… I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t you. This is my fault. Everything’s my fault. Akeno’s angry shouts followed him like a ghost. I’m a fucking monster.
Michikatsu’s mouth went dry, all the moisture in his body having somehow reconvened in his eyes. Tears stippled his eyelashes.
Yoriichi’s gentle hand slid up to his jaw, pressing against his skin, sliding up to catch tears Michikatsu wasn’t aware he’d shed. Yoriichi quickly wiped them away, and Michikatsu crashed hard.
His brother kissed him, with furious longing. Tongue delving into his mouth. Diving, searching, as if their strained kiss was the only lifeline these two men had left to them.
For all he knew, it really was.
Michikatsu’s stomach squeezed again. This time so intensely his hand raced up in a fist over his belly button.
“Shit…” he muttered, breaking away from his brother’s mouth.
“Are you alright, Michikatsu?” Yoriichi had pulled back, fingers still trailing along Michikatsu’s jawline. Feeling the color drain from his skin, Michikatsu didn’t actually answer. He grunted, made a beeline to the bathroom and barely got the toilet seat up before vomiting so hard he thought his guts were going to explode.
Undigested chunks of the shitty rice spewed out of his mouth, and in the purge, he suddenly felt embarrassingly soggy.
Fuck.
The heaving stopped with him on his knees, jeans soaked, and a puddle between his knees. How horrible, puking so much he pissed himself. He hadn’t even realized that was possible.
“Oh, my God.”
“Aniue?” Yoriichi’s hand was soothing between his shoulder blades.
“I should never be trusted to cook anything ever again…” he groaned horribly as he reached out with shaking hands to flush the toilet.
“Mmm… your cooking’s never been that bad.” Yoriichi rubbed his back, and Michikatsu was more than a little embarrassed to be resting his head on the side of the toilet seat. Stomach aching, piss-drenched and miserable. Why the fuck did it still feel like he was peeing? Did he blow a hole in his bladder when he vomited? “You feel better?” Yoriichi was stringing his hair back gently.
“Nooo…” Michikatsu moaned. And he really didn’t. If anything, the pain was worse. Wracking his body like the worst cramps he’d ever had in his life. He vaguely wondered if he should get on the toilet. Seemed plausible that he might die shitting his brains out… “Ohh nooo…” he hissed out.
“It’s ok. I’ve got you,” Yoriichi said. “What did you eat?”
“Fucking bad rice… it was the only thing I had left.”
Michikatsu vomited again, stomach squeezing so tightly with the action. He wanted to say more, but all he could do was cry. He heard Yoriichi say something, didn’t comprehend what it was, and then almost panicked when his brother left the bathroom.
Why does this hurt so bad?
He stayed, half collapsed against the toilet. Rocking back and forth on his knees, because the motion seemed to help with the pain. Marginally. So… very little.
A moment later, Yoriichi rejoined him.
“Open up,” his brother said, pressing something small against his lips. “It’s anti-nausea medicine. I had some leftover.”
“Leftover?” His words were almost not words. Hissed out in hyperventilation. Good God, something was really wrong.
“Mmm… from my trip with Sumiyoshi. I get horribly airsick.” Yoriichi supplied. Michikatsu took the pill. It dissolved on his tongue, tasting artificially strawberry. He wasn’t sure it helped at all.
He was going out of his mind with pain. Barely able to stand the clenching in his stomach as Yoriichi manhandled him onto his back, pulling off soiled clothing. He really, really hoped he didn’t shit in front of his brother. But that’s what it felt like was going to happen.
Weakly, he kicked out his legs.
“Leave me alone…”
“No.”
“I’m embarrassed!”
“I don’t care. You’re not well.”
His stomach clenched again, almost forcing him into a crunch as Yoriichi tore away his wet jeans. And instantly he knew something was very wrong. Yoriichi’s face paled so suddenly, he looked as if he’d died on his knees.
Mortified, Michikatsu felt a scream ripping through his throat. His sides ached. His stomach burned. He was going to die.
“Aniue…” Yoriichi’s voice sounded so far away. Michikatsu was almost unaware of Yoriichi’s hands on his thighs. “Michikatsu…”
He was shaking his head frantically. Overwhelmed by the horrid feeling of his body turning inside out. Overwhelmed, exhausted, downright wanting death when he felt it. Something… something slipping out from inside of him in one gushing, nauseating push.
Michikatsu could barely recognize his own screams.
The intensity of the moment made black spots dance in front of his eyes. There was an almost instantaneous relief of pressure. Of pain. So dizzying that he blinked in surprise. Eyes unfocused, body collapsing under the very visceral relief and instinctual ‘doneness’ of the situation.
He’d be embarrassed later, he told himself. He’d…
What the hell is that noise?
For Michikatsu, the next moments were like coming back from a near-death experience only to discover that the world was a nightmare he’d never escaped from. His eyes focused first on his brother’s washed-out face. Yoriichi had lifted a hand to cover his mouth. His other arm tucked tightly over his chest. There was blood on his fingertips, staining the side of his cheek in a concerning crimson swirl.
Something other than him held those beautiful hazy maroon eyes’ attention. What is that noise?
Violently, Yoriichi pulled his hand away from his mouth.
“Did you know?” His brother sounded terrible. Almost as terrible as Michikatsu felt. Panicked, upset…
Michikatsu was confused, disoriented, starkly realizing that all he could smell was blood and vomit and something he didn’t even recognize. All his senses clouded.
“Know?” he repeated blearily. Before him, Yoriichi suddenly moved, as if jerked into motion. Into action. “Know what? What the fuck is going on? What’s that noise?”
It sounded like an alarm. A living, breathing… Yoriichi yanked a hand towel off the bathroom wall and returned to him. Reaching… between them. Between Michikatsu’s shaking limbs. Shit, he was shaking so badly his teeth were chattering in his skull. He fell backwards and hit his head on the side of the toilet. Yoriichi pulled him forward again.
And then the world stopped. He caught sight of it and had no idea what to think. No way to process what was happening. Yoriichi picked it up off the ground and gently laid it across Michikatsu’s trembling chest. Warm. Moving…
Michikatsu’s eyes widened, suddenly understanding. Suddenly way more freaked out than he had been just a moment before.
A baby.
He’d just given birth to a baby. In his brother’s apartment. Never having even suspected he was pregnant.
The gravity of the moment slammed into Michikatsu like a train.
He was mute. He was sure Yoriichi was mute. The two of them simply stared at this… this… baby.
It wouldn’t stop crying.
“Oh, my God…” he finally breathed. “Oh, my God.” He broke. Everything broke.
How could he have missed this? How could he not have known? He was no good at being a girl because despite having a uterus; he was not one at all. But shouldn’t he have known? How? He hadn’t… Michikatsu shook his head in disbelief. Sure, he’d gained ten pounds since October, but he’d been pretty sure that was because he was constantly eating fast food. He didn’t look pregnant. Panic swirled up in his stomach. He tore his eyes away from the wiggling baby and looked at Yoriichi. His brother seemed to be lost in whatever fearful emotion he was experiencing, and Michikatsu swallowed down the worst terror he’d ever known. Swearing he’d choke on it. Maybe he’d die from it.
Even the best-laid plans had consequences.
“What do we do now?” Yoriichi blurted out. Eyes ripped away from the baby to look at Michikatsu’s face. He was terribly washed out, the streak of blood on his cheek wildly red compared to his skin. “What do we do? Aniue? What?”
“I didn’t know…” he tripped on his words. Choked on them…
“I know! I know you didn’t know! It’s obvious you didn’t know!” Yoriichi’s voice got higher with every word. He was shaking his head, twisting his fingers in the hem of his shirt, over and over… just like he used to do when they were kids. Like he used to do when they waited in the dark silently, hiding from their father’s drunken fists.
They were a mess. A mess together.
The baby was still crying, and finally some measure of sanity rocked into Michikatsu’s brain.
“Help me get up.”
Yoriichi was still freaking out, but did the best he could. Michikatsu tried standing, and couldn’t, but the force of the attempt made him wish he had something more to puke when the warm fleshy mound of the placenta slipped from his body.
Yoriichi looked like he was going to faint.
“Aniue… hospital?” Shit. He sounded as if he were going to faint.
“Not yet.” Michikatsu hissed, trying to remember fucking stupid stuff from the movies. What was he supposed to do with this? He wrapped the baby up in the soft towel, all but shoving the crying bundle into his brother’s arms. Not yet able to even contemplate holding it. Not able to think that this was a whole new person in their lives, and what a horrible way to meet them… Michikatsu used dental floss to tie off the umbilical cord. He cut through the lifeline that had connected this new person in their lives to him for months without his knowledge or consent.
“It’s… it’s mine… isn’t it?” Yoriichi asked in the resounding echo of the baby’s cries. Michikatsu bit his lip hard and nodded. It had to be. This baby born from the union of twins…
A plethora of swears ripped through his already broken mind. Michikatsu gritted his teeth. He never… he never would have let this happen if he’d known. He would have gotten an abortion. Fuck.
“I haven’t been with anyone else…” Michikatsu confirmed, voice low. “We… we were careful. I took Plan B every time. Even when we’d used condoms…”
“You have a hormone dysregulation… what if it made it ineffective?” Yoriichi blurted out in the same high-pitched panic he’d been wearing since he realized what was happening. “What if you’re too big for Plan B to be effective?”
“Too big?” Michikatsu wanted to rip out his own throat. He knew Yoriichi wasn’t calling him fat. But… he was tall as hell. Taller than most people of his sex. His weight had always been a little high because he worked out so much… Wasn’t there a warning on the box about being over 75kg and lowering effectiveness? He wasn’t much over that, but…
“You haven’t had a period?” Yoriichi questioned, interrupting his downward spiral.
“Yoriichi,” Michikatsu rubbed his temple. “I might have a single period a year… sometimes. I thought I had one back in… July?”
“The last time you came over?”
“Yeah… but it was over really fast. Just blood on toilet paper, not even enough to use anything. I didn’t… I didn’t even consider…”
Yoriichi stood up suddenly and left the bathroom. Left with the newborn. Abandoning Michikatsu in the confusion and darkness. And oh shit… he really probably needed to go to the hospital, didn’t he?
Trembling, Michikatsu did something he hated.
He cried. Sobbed. Broke down like he’d never put himself back together again.
It was hormones; he told himself. Had to be hormones. Stress. Mind numbing terror. What the hell were they going to do? What the hell did this mean for them?
He curled up on his knees, anguished on the bathroom floor for what felt like forever, until his chest hollowed out. Until his eyes were puffy and raw. Yoriichi returned after the space of an eternity… though, Michikatsu was grossly unaware of time. He did not know whether it had been hours or minutes since he had stepped foot in his brother’s apartment.
His brother’s arms wrapped around him. Lifting him effortlessly. Cradling his shaking flesh. His trembling form. It felt so good to be held.
“An ambulance is on the way,” Yoriichi whispered, and sounded remarkably calm. As if stepping out had refreshed him. Though… it was probably the doing of whatever dispatcher he’d talked to when calling the emergency line. Yoriichi was damn good at taking direction. At following orders and putting all of himself behind a cause. Even small ones, like getting his stupid brother to the hospital after a surprise birth on the bathroom floor.
“What are we going to do?” Michikatsu wished he could feel comfort from his cheek on Yoriichi’s collar, but everything… everything was wrong. “We can never tell anyone…”
It wasn’t his imagination that his brother’s fingers tightened on his skin at those words.
“I know…” Yoriichi’s voice sounded hoarse. “I know… but… I’m here for you. No matter what you want to do.”
*
Yoriichi sat cross-legged in the hospital bed, holding the little baby… or not so little baby. The squished-up, chubby face was most definitely a full-term, very well-fed baby. Because Michikatsu never did anything half-assed, including growing a whole human being without either of their knowledge.
“If I hadn’t seen it happen with my own eyes, I never would have guessed you were hiding this little one inside you.” He mumbled, fingers grazing down the soft cheek. Instinctively, the baby turned its head toward the touch, mouth opening and closing as if the little one were still hungry. Not likely. Yoriichi had just fed the kid a bottle, and the nurse who taught him how to do that task enthused about the baby’s good appetite. Yoriichi hummed. “9lbs3oz? Michikatsu, what the hell were you eating?”
His brother grunted, shoving his face full of hospital food as if he hadn’t eaten in years. Though he had confessed to only eating bad rice today… yesterday now… and Yoriichi knew for a fact he’d puked every single grain.
“Fuck off. I had a literal parasite in me… I could eat whatever the hell I wanted.”
Yoriichi chuckled and looked down at the baby. “A cute little parasite. What do you want to name the baby?”
Before him, Michikatsu made a face into his food. It honestly didn’t look that appetizing. Some sort of mystery meat with a fake char-broil pattern, plain mashed potatoes he was unlikely to touch given Michikatsu hated the texture with a passion, and two cups of green jello. “I don’t… I am not going to…” his brother mumbled.
“Michi,” Yoriichi whispered, looking back at their child. The sleeping, adorable, little miracle. His brother had endured nearly unimaginable pain, physical and mental torture giving birth to this child… Yoriichi knew he couldn’t push things. He had to be gentle. He had to… somehow make up for this. “I will not make you do anything you do not want to do. But you already said it’s alright if I adopt the baby. I just want your input.”
Michikatsu grimaced as he looked down at his food. Yoriichi waited patiently. This was a lot to take in. He knew it. He felt it in his bones. And he could only imagine it was far worse for Michikatsu.
Neither of them had expected a child in their lives. They were so stupidly unprepared. So blindsided… in so much trouble that Yoriichi was trying not to let himself sink into worries.
Was the baby going to be alright? So far, it seemed so. The second they’d gotten to the hospital, there were assessments, questions, so many questions. It was all very dizzying. Michikatsu lied and said that the father was a foreign exchange student he’d hooked up with who’d since gone back to his home country. He hadn’t even suspected pregnancy because of his medical history.
The doctors didn’t seem surprised.
“What do you want to name the baby?” his brother threw the question back at him after taking another bite of the mystery meat.
Tilting his head to the side, Yoriichi considered the question. “Toyo?” he asked after a moment. Didn’t Michikatsu like a story with a character by that name? He wasn’t sure. Glancing up, he watched Michikatsu chewing on his food. Eyes unfocused in the distance.
“Toyo the samurai or the empress?”
“Mmm… why don’t we let the little one decide that?”
“Toyo… ok.” Michikatsu hummed. “And yeah… hmm… I don’t think I’ve ever thought about how you’d be as a parent.” He paused, lips parting. “I think you’ll be good at it.”
Yoriichi didn’t think his brother truly understood how much that meant to him. They grew up with an abusive father, with a mentally unstable mother. The insanity of their relationship was tangibly alive in front of them… Michikatsu was probably giving him too much credit right off the bat, but it still warmed his heart.
A short, older man with a balding head interrupted their conversation with a rapid knock at the door.
“Good morning, Mom!”
Michikatsu chucked an open container of cranberry juice at the man.
“I told you not to fucking call me that!”
He did, when they first arrived at the hospital, Yoriichi watched his brother freak out all over again. Losing his mind as he said repeatedly that he didn’t understand. He didn’t know how this could have happened. This older man, Dr. Kobayashi, had gently… but somewhat patronizingly patted Michikatsu on the top of the head and said, ‘The most womanly thing you’ll do in your life is not very ladylike’.
Yoriichi was almost glad that Michikatsu was so weak from giving birth that he couldn’t really get up.
“Ms. Tsugikuni…”
Michikatsu growled.
Dr. Kobayashi ignored him. “I have reviewed your medical files and the results of the ultrasound we ordered when you arrived. You’re very lucky. Perfect health. Though we discovered your uterus is tilted. Likely, that’s why you didn’t display in the typical way.”
“Tilted?” Yoriichi asked, completely clueless what that might mean. The old doctor kept his smile and nodded.
“Sometimes the uterus faces toward the spine. It can be a factor in cryptic pregnancies, as the muscle, especially in strong young women like your sister…”
“Fuck you. You know my preferences!”
Again, ignored. Yoriichi cringed internally, unsure if he should say anything. He rarely encountered this kind of behavior when around Michikatsu. Most people didn’t know. Michikatsu passed so well… and… and Yoriichi half remembered that one time when they were fifteen and Michikatsu bled through his clothes at school. There’d been a girl then who pretended to be Michikatsu’s friend only to turn on him for not being ‘a real man’.
Yoriichi had confronted her, and Michikatsu punched him in the face for it.
“…ultrasound showed the placenta was front-facing. It can be more difficult to detect fetal movement…”
Yoriichi probably should have been listening to the doctor, but he was so zeroed in on Michikatsu’s rising anger. Every single overtly gendered reference had his brother huffing. There were some rambling words Yoriichi barely caught. Something about abstaining from sex for six weeks. Another tidbit about breastfeeding versus bottlefeeding. Follow-up appointments to discuss birth control options that might actually work… Another question about the baby’s father that Michikatsu snorted at in derision.
Finally, the old man left, and Michikatsu shoved his fork into the pile of mashed potatoes on his plate.
“Yoriichi. You think you can order me some takeout? I’m starving, and the food here sucks.”
“Yeah, sure.” Yoriichi adjusted his position, letting Toyo sleep soundly in the crook of his arm while he fished out his phone. He didn’t really bother asking Michikatsu what kind of takeout he wanted. He was pretty sure he knew which ones were his brother’s favorites. Good thing Christmas was almost two weeks behind them. He knew Michikatsu’s favorite was KFC, and it was damn near impossible to get around Christmas… but with any luck… Yoriichi watched the order go through without a hitch, smiling to himself.
Then the little cry Toyo made as the newborn wiggled in his grasp, waking suddenly, caught his attention.
“Hm. Are you hungry again, Toyo? I guess it’s alright if you have Michikatsu’s appetite.” He teased.
“Shut the hell up.” Michikatsu grumbled.
Reaching out, he patted Michikatsu’s shin in silent comfort. His brother said nothing more. Instead, they existed in a quiet peace while a nurse bustled in, helped Yoriichi out with a diaper change and then another bottle. Yoriichi couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread in his gut as he watched the baby’s face. With a little yawn escaping its lips, along with a chirp of contentment… Yoriichi was done for. He couldn’t help but feel an incredible amount of love drowning his heart.
His kid. Michikatsu’s baby. They made this together… It was imperfect and messy, just like they were.
He was about to say something more when the hospital room door opened, and a chipper nurse bounded in with a smile on her face.
“How’s mom and baby doing?!”
Michikatsu glared at the woman, while Yoriichi nervously laughed, not moving from the spot he was perched at. At the end of the bed, Michikatsu’s heels dug into his crossed knees.
“I am certain I’ve already made it clear to the entire ward how much I really, really do not want to be referred to as ‘mom’.” Michikatsu growled. Oh, he had. Very much so made it clear. He’d screamed his head off upon arriving at the hospital, wrathfully demanding they bring him back to the O.R. to rid him of this ‘baby-making monstrosity’ inside his body.
Yoriichi made it a note to make sure Michikatsu could get a hysterectomy in the future if he wanted to. Even if it meant they had to do a destination surgery. But… but the doctors were probably right that he shouldn’t make any big decisions right now. Not when this had all been so unexpected. So… sudden.
The nurse ignored Michikatsu, and clapped her hands together, turning toward Yoriichi.
“You have a visitor! Is it all right if we let her in?”
Yoriichi didn’t understand why he was the one being asked this question. It was Michikatsu’s hospital room. Just because his brother freaked out and wanted to give up parental rights right away doesn’t mean he shouldn’t have a say. Yoriichi blinked slowly and looked down at Toyo.
At least he knew who it was.
“Yeah, it’s ok,” Yoriichi said, and the nurse walked away before Michikatsu kicked him lightly.
“How does anyone even know we are here?” Michikatsu grumbled, shoving another spoonful of green jello into his mouth. His eyebrows knitted together in consternation.
“Ah…” Yoriichi almost bit his lip. “Um… I called Mom right after I got off the phone with emergency medical services.”
It wasn’t his imagination. Michikatsu visibly paled at the news. Sucking in a harsh breath.
“Oh… shit…”
A second later, as Yoriichi wrinkled his brow at his brother’s reaction, Akeno walked into the room. She looked thinner than Yoriichi remembered. Skin sallow. Eyes bulging and bloodshot… She hardly blinked as she locked a gaze with Michikatsu, but her chest was heaving as if she’d run a marathon.
“Did you lie to me?”
Michikatsu damn near squeaked at the tone. Yoriichi flinched. Lie? Lie about what? He knew there was no way Michikatsu knew he was carrying a baby. None. Zero. The stark, unimaginable pain and shock he’d witnessed his brother go through while giving birth unexpectedly, unmedicated, and completely oblivious was a truth no person in the world could act through.
What was Akeno asking him about then? Yoriichi sat in the dark with his child in his arms.
“N…no…” Michikatsu hissed out, scrunching back in the hospital bed. Pushing his heels off Yoriichi’s legs. Acting as if he needed to run. As if the tension in the room were dangerous. Yoriichi could barely breathe as his mother’s gaze turned toward him. Toward the little bundle in his lap.
Hot, angry, shameful tears spilled out of her eyes.
“You did…” she whispered, taking an unsteady step forward. An awkward, stilted step. And then another one. The closer she got, the more Yoriichi worried… was she drunk? Was she ok?
“Yoriichi…” Michikatsu hissed out. Anxiety unconcealed. The sense of something wrong settling in around Yoriichi was rising gooseflesh on his arms. Akeno stumbled forward once again, almost slamming into the side of the hospital bed. Bending awkwardly, she threw her arms around Michikatsu.
It would have looked like a clumsy hug.
It really would have…
But then, Michikatsu screamed.
A fountain of hot red liquid spilled down the front of his hospital gown.
Blood. Too much blood. Too much… Akeno pulled away from her firstborn, the front of her yellow gown blooming with the red flower of Michikatsu’s blood. A steak knife shaking in her hand, ripped out from her son’s skin. The ragged stab wound in Michikatsu's chest bubbled.
Yoriichi tried to move. Tried to reach forward. To grab her before she could stab Michikatsu again, before… before anything else happened. But he was too slow. Everything was murky. Toyo was wailing. He had to be careful not to jostle the baby… careful…
Akeno raised the steak knife, nurses rushing into the room. An alarm ringing so loud that Yoriichi almost shut down from the sheer volume of sound. Chaos. Instability... Their whole lives. Every single aspect of it as tenuous as a fishing boat trying to stay afloat in a typhoon.
But instead of stabbing Michikatsu, their dear, misguided mother took the blade to her own throat, savagely cutting across the flesh. The visceral, rip of the blade through pale skin was never going to leave Yoriichi. Never.
She fell. Because of them. Because of this. Blood everywhere. Someone took Toyo from him. He was ushered to the side of the room as codes were called. He didn't know where to focus. What to do. So Yoriichi simply fell apart... waiting for news. Waiting to hear that Michikatsu had died. Waiting with baited breath. The stink of iron seeped into his very being. As his world swirled into dissociated darkness.
Again, and again.