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Jiro liked to think of himself as the kind of guy who lived in the present.
Please watch your step when entering the observation deck—
Besides, things changed; that was just a part of life. Dwelling on how things used to be won’t bring those days back. So honestly, it was best to just not think about it.
“Hurry up, Jiro. I don’t want to miss the elevator because of you.”
Yet, there were times when the memories would come of their own accord. He always recalled them fondly, those days he had spent together with Saburo at the orphanage, back when they had been inseparable, yet the memories always came with a bittersweet feeling that would sometimes take days to fade.
“Okay, grab onto my arms, you two. Make sure not to get separated.”
And today, on the night of the Autumn Moon festival, that feeling cut into him even deeper than usual.
“...woah…”
The word escaped of its own accord from Jiro’s lips as he stared wide eyed at the moon looming just beyond the glass. It seemed so close here at the top of Tokyo Tower that Jiro felt as if he could reach through the window and touch it. It was a beautiful sight, one that hundreds of people had gathered on this particular night to see, but there was something that outshone even this, something only Jiro knew.
Jiro turned his head slightly to catch a glimpse of Saburo’s expression. His brother was staring up at the night sky the way he always did on these nights, the same gleam, the same admiration twinkling in his eyes. He remembered them clearly: the nights that Saburo would beg Jiro to stay up with him so they could sneak onto the roof together and look at the moon. He remembered the way Saburo would gaze up at it, his face seeming to glow in the moonlight. He remembered always wishing those eyes would look at him that way.
He remembered one particular night, when Saburo had turned to him with a smile that put even the full moon to shame.
“When the moon is tinted gold like this,” he had said dreamily, “it reminds me of you.” Jiro remembered his surprise as Saburo pointed to his amber-colored eye, smiling up at him lovingly. Jiro remembered wishing he’d look at him that way forever.
A curt ‘what?’ snapped Jiro from his reminiscing. He looked at Saburo—the present Saburo—and noted the irritated expression on his face, the way he looked at Jiro as if he were nothing more than an inconvenience.
“Sorry,” Jiro mumbled, embarrassed, “spaced out for a sec.”
“It never ceases to amaze me how you can still function considering how little brain activity is going on up there.”
Jiro aimed his eyes back up at the moon, trying not to let the words get to him. Besides, it was better this way.
This was how brothers were supposed to be. What Jiro felt towards Saburo was something else , and while he couldn’t quite explain it in words, he knew it was wrong, something he couldn’t mention aloud. When they fought like this, he could play along and behave like a brother should. In the end, it was better this way.
...Or, it would have been, if things had stayed like that. However, as time passed, Saburo’s attitude only seemed to get colder and harsher as time went on. At first, Jiro suspected it was all in his head, that it seemed that way only because he missed the way things used to be. If he stopped thinking about it, everything would be fine.
Yet, he couldn’t ignore the way Saburo would make that scornful expression, dusting off his clothes as if he had touched something filthy any time they so much as brushed shoulders in the hallway. Sure, they didn’t exactly get along before, but even when their fights got heated, even when they were practically at each other’s throats, there had been a certain brotherly feel to it.
Now, though, Saburo refused to even touch him. No punches or prods, no fist bumps or high fives, not even reluctantly. When Jiro lost his temper and grabbed his little brother by the collar, rather than his usual shit-eating grin, he would find himself greeted by a look of disgust, the sort you would make towards your shoes after stepping in a pile of dog shit.
As much as he hated it, this wasn’t unusual for siblings, right? Besides, Saburo was about to start high school already. Was this just the normal progression of things?
Yet, when Saburo approached Ichiro with an odd request, Jiro had a feeling that whatever this was ran deeper than that.
"I want to go to a different high school from Jiro," Saburo said, his voice deceptively indifferent.
“What for,” Ichiro asked, his brow, at first raised in surprise, now furrowed in confusion, “Is something wrong?”
“I just think it would be best to keep the two of us separated,” he said simply.
The words stung, but Jiro did his best to not let it show. If it had been a typical insult, Jiro might have answered with his own, but this was different. The eyes that looked at him now were cold and unfeeling, chilling that part of him that still longed for the days when those same eyes would look up at him endearingly.
“Saburo,” Ichiro said, his words gentle, but lined with concern, “the next closest school is at least two stations away—”
“I know,” Saburo cut in, his frigidity overflowing even into the words he spoke to his beloved eldest brother, “I can get up early to catch the train and pay the fare myself, that won’t be a problem.” Again those eyes turned to Jiro, sending a shiver down his spine.
“But I don’t think I could bear being in the same vicinity as him any more than I’m already forced to.”
“You know, Jiro’s still your older brother,” Ichiro said in an almost scolding manner. A scowl briefly crossed Saburo’s face.
“It’s fine, Nii-chan,” Jiro cut in before things could escalate, forcing a smile even as the weight of Saburo’s gaze made his stomach curdle, “It’d probably be better for both of us that way.” Ichiro frowned at the response, but didn’t argue. In the end, Saburo got what he wanted.
Back in his room, Jiro lay on his bed, thinking. He racked his brain for some kind of explanation for Saburo’s open hostility, but once again, he came up with nothing. Whatever the reason, this was their reality now. How could he expect himself to fix this when he didn’t even know what was broken? Besides, if not even Ichiro could get through to their little brother, then Jiro had absolutely no chance at all.
When Saburo started high school, the rift between them only seemed to widen. Even at home, Saburo distanced himself even more, refusing to even exist in the same room as Jiro unless absolutely necessary.
As much as it stung, maybe it was better this way. Admittedly, the less he saw Saburo, the more he felt as if something was missing, but it wasn’t like it mattered; he already knew it was something he couldn’t have. No matter how he felt, he had to behave like a proper older brother. He needed to get it into his head that, whether they were together or apart, it did not change the fact that Saburo was not going to fall in love with him.
As the year wore on, Jiro was forced to think about what he would do after he graduated. He had always assumed that he would stay in Ikebukuro and help Ichiro with the family business, but now he wondered if it would be better to keep his distance.
One day, after school, Jiro approached Ichiro in the office and brought up the possibility of going to college. Ichiro was happy and supportive, but even from across the room, Jiro could hear Saburo’s sneer.
“What’s an idiot like you going to do in college?” His voice was heavy with derision. “Don’t even bother. You’ll just end up wasting Ichi-nii’s money.”
“Saburo,” Ichiro said in his warning voice.
“In fact, can you even get into college?” Saburo continued, undeterred, “You may as well stay here. Not like you’re particularly useful here either, but at least we won’t have to worry about you fucking something up on the other side of Tokyo.”
Ichiro was about to say something, but Jiro stopped him, shaking his head. There was no point. He didn’t want a rift to form between Ichiro and Saburo, too. He especially didn’t want it to be over his sake.
Dropping the topic altogether, Jiro went up to his room distraught. Saburo had a point. He almost always did. How was he going to get into college with his grades being as shit as they were? He had spent so much time going with the flow, allowing himself to rely on Ichiro—and Saburo, too, back when they were on speaking terms—that he wasn’t sure if he could make it out there on his own.
On the other hand, he wouldn’t know unless he tried. Yet, motivation alone isn’t always enough. Years of simply not taking school seriously had brought Jiro to a place where he didn’t even know how to study.
When his scores came in, it was just as Saburo had predicted. As he shamefully shared his abysmal scores with Ichiro, who comforted him, Saburo only wore a triumphant expression.
“What did I say?” he said, staring down his nose at Jiro, “Don’t waste your time.”
Jiro agonized over what he should do. The thought that he shouldn’t stay here clashed with the thought that there was nothing he could do. It didn’t help that a part of him was still so eager to give in, eager to simply stay here where Saburo was in arms’ reach even though he knew nothing good would come of it. Jiro clung to the part of him that was still reasonable, the part of him that didn’t want to hurt Saburo, that wanted to be a good older brother even if it was at his expense.
What right did he have to indulge his wants, anyways? He was wrong for even having them. Perhaps Saburo’s treatment of him was the universe's way of meting out a punishment.
No matter what kinds of backwards excuses his brain attempted to convince him with, Jiro needed to remind himself that there was nothing to gain by staying here. That being said, where the hell could he even go? And what would stop him from coming back? Maybe he needed to leave not just this apartment, but Tokyo entirely. Did he even know anyone outside of Tokyo?
A familiar name popped up in his head. Not exactly a friend, but someone he knew well enough to rely on, if only for a bit. Jiro crossed his fingers and picked up his phone.
Before long, it was graduation. During the ceremony, he had managed to pick out Ichiro from the crowd, but seeing Saburo next to him, a scowl on his face, made him wonder whether or not he was glad he came. Perhaps he would have been, if there had been any chance that he came here of his own volition.
When the ceremony was finally over, Jiro tentatively approached his brothers. Despite the tension that was clearly hanging over all three of them, Ichiro insisted that they go to a family restaurant to celebrate. Though Ichiro said ‘celebrate’, even with the chatter inside the restaurant constantly fading in and out in the background, the silence between the three brothers rang especially loud in their ears today.
“So,” Ichiro finally said, his voice shattering the silence in a way that seemed to make even him uncomfortable, “what do you plan on doing now, Jiro?”
Jiro looked up at his older brother. He had expected this question—had been waiting for it, even—but now that it actually hung in the air between them, Jiro felt his throat go completely dry.
“I was thinking,” he began slowly, staring down at the tabletop as he concentrated on keeping his voice from shaking, “that maybe it’d be best if I moved away for a bit.”
A loud clattering forced Jiro to look up. Ichiro was looking down at him with a sort of sad understanding; he had expected as much. Looking to his side, however, he was surprised to see that Saburo was staring hard at him, his expression indignant, his fork on the table where he had dropped.
“Why?” The question hit like a slap to the face. Saburo was livid.
“I mean,” Jiro began, confused by Saburo’s reaction, “I just thought maybe me leaving Ikebukuro would be best for both of us—”
Saburo slammed his hand on the table. Jiro noticed in the corner of his eye that several people had turned to look at them.
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Saburo seethed, “What’s the real reason?”
“Why do you seem to care so much all of a sudden?” The words flew out of Jiro’s mouth before he could stop them. “Besides, aren’t you the one that’s been trying to drive me away all this time?” The moment he made the accusation, he regretted it. He didn’t want to fight. Not with Saburo. Not like this.
For a moment, Saburo seemed startled. He wore a puzzled expression, as if he was trying to figure out the answer himself, but all too soon his indignant expression returned.
“Fine. If that’s how you feel, go ahead and fuck off.”
“ Saburo .” It was Ichiro’s voice, but to Jiro’s surprise, Saburo didn’t even turn to look at him.
“I’m heading home.”
Jiro could do nothing but watch as Saburo stalked off, disappearing in the direction of the exit. Then again, even if he could bring himself to say something, even if he did call out after Saburo’s receding form, what would he say? What could he say?
“Sorry, Jiro,” Ichiro said, his voice demure, “I wish I knew what he was thinking.”
“It’s fine, Nii-chan,” Jiro insisted, but the defeated tone of his voice betrayed him, “I don’t get why he’s so against it. Isn’t he the one that can’t stand being around me? Can I really not win no matter what I do?”
“Well, what do you want to do?”
The question caught Jiro off guard. He knew that Ichiro had only good intentions in asking him, but it only seemed to worsen the guilt collecting in his stomach.
“I don’t know,” he lied. It was a dangerous question. What he wanted was unthinkable, he reminded himself. What he wanted was simply not an option. “But I think it’d be best if I leave after all.”
Jiro didn’t want to leave. Wherever his brothers were was where he wanted to be, but it was because he wanted it so much that Jiro knew he needed to go. In fact, he needed to go as soon as possible, before his brain found a way to twist things around and change his mind.
Coming to his final decision, Jiro swung his legs over the side of his bed, hunching over his phone as he sent a text to Jyushi. The fact that they were part of rival divisions meant he couldn’t quite call him a ‘friend’, but after Jiro had subbed in for his band’s guitarist, who somehow managed to break his arm a week before a concert, Jyushi was eager to return the favor.
A few minutes later, his phone pinged, and Jiro chuckled softly at the other boy’s eager response. Laying down, he tried to tell himself this was a good thing, this was the first thing that was going right in a while, but as he struggled to fall asleep, he found himself filled with unease.
When morning came, he would be leaving once and for all.
“Are you sure about this,” Ichiro whispered.
“I’m sorry, Nii-chan,” Jiro whispered back as the two stood on the sidewalk in front of what would soon be ‘their apartment’ rather than ‘our apartment’.
“Saburo’s probably going to flip out when he wakes up,” Jiro continued with a forced laugh, “but honestly, I think it’ll be better this way. For both of us.”
“I’m sure you’re right. I know you put a lot of thought into this,” Ichiro said, his voice straining, “But you’re still my cute little brother, you know? I’m gonna miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too. Nii-chan.”
Ichiro took a step forward, throwing his arms around Jiro and pulling him into a crushing embrace.
“If you need anything, call me. We’re still family, even when we’re apart, got it? And when things settle down and get sorted out, I hope you’ll come back so we can be together as the three Yamada bros again.”
Resting his chin on his brother’s shoulder, Jiro couldn’t bring himself to tell him that that probably wouldn’t be happening.
Maybe it was because he felt he owed Saburo an explanation. Maybe this was his way of starting on a clean slate. Maybe it was just an instance of self-sabotage. Whatever the reason, Jiro had made sure to wake up early, slipping a note under Saburo’s door before he left.
He had no idea how his little brother would react, but by then he would be long gone. Jiro wasn’t sure if it was better this way, but if it hurt this much to be kept at arms distance, to see himself become as good as dead in Saburo’s eyes would be nothing less than torture.
With his guitar strapped across his back and a small suitcase in tow, Jiro made his way to the station. It was early enough that rush hour hadn’t quite started yet, and the otherwise familiar streets seemed almost desolate in the cold morning light. With each step, the reality embedded itself deeper and deeper in his chest.
He was leaving.
When he got to the platform, Jiro shrugged his guitar off his shoulder and leaned up against one of the pillars. Now was not the time to be having second thoughts. He forced himself to concentrate on the clattering of the tracks, the train announcements, anything that could distract him, until at last he heard the sound of his train pulling into the station.
Jiro breathed a small sigh of relief as he boarded the train. This was it. Once the doors closed behind him, he’d be leaving Ikebukuro. He shook off the sting of regret that came with the thought. After all, it was better this way.
Wasn’t it?
“Jiro!”
At the sound of his name echoing across the platform, Jiro felt his heart skip a beat.
Just as he was about to turn around, he stopped himself. No, he couldn’t be having second thoughts now. With his back to the open door, Jiro stood unmoving, his eyes trained on the floor in front of him. Behind him, Saburo’s voice was growing louder, clearer, but just as panic was about to set in, Jiro heard the jingle signaling that the doors were closing.
For a split second, he relaxed. He was able to follow through with his decision in the end.
But then, Jiro heard rapid footsteps, followed by the sound of the doors finally sliding closed. Jiro turned around slowly, almost afraid to look. When wide eyes took in the sight of Saburo, doubled over in the center of the train car, struggling to catch his breath, it was as if all the air had been forced from his lungs. For a moment, all Jiro could do was gape.
“Why did you follow me,” he finally managed to ask.
Once he was able to catch his breath, Saburo straightened up, his shoulders still heaving with each inhale.
“I—,” he struggled to say between pants, “I’m not—letting you leave.”
“Why,” Jiro asked, shock finally beginning to give way to frustration, “Why are you making this so much harder than it needs to be?”
“ You’re the one making things difficult!”
At that moment, the train pulled into the next station, and before Jiro could respond, Saburo took hold of his arm and dragged him out onto the platform.
Jiro struggled to free himself as Saburo continued to lead him towards the trains on the opposite side.
“Let go!” While he was still straining against his grip, Saburo whirled around to grab Jiro by the collar instead, smoldering eyes boring into him from mere inches away.
“I don’t get it,” he growled, “Why are you trying so hard to leave?”
Jiro’s hands flew to Saburo's, trying desperately to pry away the fingers curled in his shirt.
“Why are you trying so hard to make me stay,” Jiro shot back, “Aren’t you the one always saying I’m such a shitty brother?”
“That’s not—”
For a moment Saburo faltered, though his grip on Jiro’s collar didn’t.
“You even said ‘go ahead and fuck off if you feel that way’ just yesterday.”
“I-I never—I wasn’t—!”
Jiro stared hard at Saburo while he struggled for words, as if daring him to deny it. Even as tears began to blur Jiro’s vision, he didn’t dare look away.
“I—,” Saburo began again, his voice much lower now, his words barely making it past his lips, “I didn’t mean it.”
Jiro felt something in his chest beginning to cave. As Saburo broke his gaze to stare down at the ground between them, Jiro felt the fingers curled in his shirt loosen their hold. A part of him was yelling at him to turn around and leave, to get away while he had the chance, before his resolve gave out, yet his feet remained rooted to the spot.
“Even if you say that,” Jiro said, voice straining as he resisted the urge to give in to
Saburo’s demands, the same way he always did, “you read the note, didn’t you?”
“I did, but—”
“Then you should understand why I need to leave,” Jiro began to shout, the tears he had been holding back finally breaking free, “I don’t blame you if you want to disown me as a brother after reading that. In fact,” he continued, struggling to speak under the weight of his own shame, “I expected you to, that’s why I can’t understand why the hell you came after me. If anything, you should be running in the opposite direction!”
“But I’m not,” Saburo cut in, “Do you want me to?”
“You should.”
“But do you want me to,” Saburo repeated, “Do you want me to hate you? Do you want to leave?”
“Of course I don’t want—”
“Then why?” Saburo’s voice broke as the frustration seemed to force itself out all at once, “Why are you trying so hard to leave when you don’t want to and I’m telling you not to? What the hell are you trying to accomplish? Tell me!”
For a moment, both simply stood and stared at each other. Jiro could see Saburo was quivering, though whether it was with rage or something else, he couldn’t tell.
“I’ll listen to whatever you have to say,” he continued, his voice now impossibly small compared to seconds before, “so don’t go. Not without telling me why this is the only way.”
At last, Jiro’s resolve crumbled, and he gave in to Saburo’s request. With the furtive glances aimed in their direction becoming impossible to ignore, the two brothers sought a place they could talk without bringing attention to themselves. Walking further into the station, they found a small bakery with a little seating area, still empty this early in the morning.
Jiro sat at one of the tables nestled in the back corner, wiping at his eyes with his palm while Saburo ordered something for both of them at the front.
Jiro’s head jerked up as a pastry was placed on the table in front of him. Jiro mumbled a quiet ‘thanks’ as he waited for Saburo to take the seat across from him—but, to his surprise, he felt him take the seat beside him instead.
Jiro watched as Saburo uncrumpled the note that had been clutched in his hand this entire time.
“Please don’t,” Jiro said quietly”
“‘I want you to know,’” Saburo began reading aloud, ignoring Jiro’s discomfort, “‘that I don’t hate you. In fact, I love you. I’m in love with you. I love you in a way different from how a brother should. That’s why I need to leave.’”
When Jiro felt his brother’s gaze turn towards him, he immediately faced away, not wanting to see the expression on his face.
“I don’t understand,” Saburo said flatly.
“What’s there to understand,” Jiro muttered, still refusing to look him in the eye.
“All of this,” Saburo hissed, glancing at the front to make sure he couldn’t be heard, “I don’t get any of this! What this means, why it means you have to leave, why you think that’s the only option...”
“Because me staying here is only going to make things worse,” Jiro argued, his shame hanging heavy on his words, “Yeah, I said I don’t want to leave, but it’s for the wrong reasons. It’s...well, you read the note.” Jiro let out an exhausted sigh. “It’s more than just brotherly love. It’s the r-romantic kind, the sort where you want to k-kiss and...do... those sorts of things.”
“...how long has it been like that?”
“Since forever.”
Jiro felt as if he might suffocate in the silence that followed. He didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to acknowledge the fucked up impulses that were there even now, just below the surface. Jiro stared hard at the tabletop, forcing himself to think about something—anything—other than just how close Saburo was sitting to him right now.
“It’s my fault, isn’t it?”
Against his better judgement, Jiro turned to look at Saburo.
“What do you mean?”
“I made things harder for you, didn’t I?” Saburo stared down at his lap, worrying the hem of his hoodie as he spoke. “Things were fine before. You weren’t like this when things were still normal between us.”
“I guess,” Jiro admitted reluctantly, “but it was probably just a matter of time anyways. In the end, it’s my fault for being the fucked up, shitty brother.”
Jiro jumped at the sound of something slamming against the table. He looked up to see teary eyes glaring at him.
“Quit deciding things on your own, stupid,” Saburo growled, “You are not a shitty brother! You never were!”
Jiro could see tears peeking at the corners of Saburo’s eyes even as they glared at him.
“ I am,” Saburo said softly, almost desperately, “I always knew it was me, even if I couldn’t admit it. But that’s why I want to be the one to fix this. You said things were fine before, right? So if we go back to how things were, you won’t have to leave, right?”
“Saburo,” Jiro said sadly, “people don’t change that easily.”
“I know that, but,” Saburo insisted, “let me try. Please. Just let me try and if it’s impossible then we’ll do things your way, but at least let me try.”
Jiro sighed.
“Fine,” he conceded, once again giving in to Saburo’s demands, “I’ll stay for another hour, but that’s it.”
After putting Jiro’s things in a storage locker, the two boys headed out into Mejiro. Jiro noted the way Saburo walked slightly ahead, as if he didn’t want to be directly next to him. He began to doubt that anything was different at all, until Saburo finally spoke.
“You’re always doing that, you know.”
“Doing what?”
“Putting me first,” he explained, “No matter how much I try to push you away. I hate it. You’re always getting hurt trying to protect me and I hate it, but at the same time it’s one of the reasons why I can't hate you. I don’t get it.
“You’re a good older brother, you know? In fact, you’re such a good brother that it hurts and I don’t know why. It doesn’t make sense. Every time you’re nice to me even though I don’t deserve it, it hurts so much that I want to push you away. I wanted you to hate me instead, but at the same time I didn’t.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Jiro said, half-laughing.
“It doesn’t,” Saburo agreed wryly, “and I hate it.”
The two wandered down the main street, walking side-by-side in a way that they hadn’t done in a long time.
“Even now, talking to you like this, it's... embarrassing. Or,” Saburo attempted to explain, aiming his frustrated expression up at the late morning sky, “I don't know. I don't know how to describe this stupid feeling, and it's so much easier to just call you an idiot and tell you to stay away than to deal with it, you know?”
“I kinda get what you mean,” Jiro said, smiling. Without thinking, he reached out to pat Saburo on the head, and to his surprise, his hand didn’t get smacked away like it normally would. “You know, seeing you actually cooperate for once almost feels wrong.”
“Don’t make fun of me,” Saburo grumbled, aiming a punch at Jiro’s side, “I’m only doing this because I don’t want you doing something stupid like leaving for no good reason. I’m putting a lot of effort into this, you know!”
“I get it, I get it,” Jiro said, stopping to muss his brother’s hair in retaliation, “I’m happy.”
Saburo swatted Jiro’s hand away this time, but when he looked up into his older brother’s face, he wore a complex expression. Though he wasn’t sure what it meant, Jiro was reminded of the years before, when Saburo would often look up at him like this.
Suddenly, Jiro felt the urge to lean down and kiss him. He jerked his head away, turning to look down the street instead. Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell Saburo was staring at him.
“So, uh,” he began, grasping for a change of subject, “is there someplace you wanna go?”
For a moment, Saburo simply stared hard at him before answering, “Not really. I don’t know this area.”
“I know there’s a park around here somewhere,” Jiro said, looking everywhere except at Saburo, “I think it’s down this way.”
Jiro was surprised to find out that his memory had actually been on the mark. They strolled through the park gates, aimlessly following the winding path before them.
After months of not talking apart from the occasional fight, Jiro had no idea what to say. After complaining about the humidity and pointing out a turtle swimming in the pond, he had already exhausted all of his conversation points.
When Saburo stopped on the bridge to gaze down at the water running underneath, Jiro hung back, choosing instead to gaze at Saburo. This was no different from usual, was it? Even without the usual hostility, the rift between them was still there. At the same time, having Saburo so close, just within arms’ reach, was tormenting in its own way. Even now, he felt the urge to reach out and take hold of his brother’s unguarded hand, as if this were—
“—a date or something.”
“Huh?” Jiro blinked in confusion as Saburo turned to look at him from over his shoulder.
“I said, this feels almost like a date or something.”
Once again, Jiro turned to look away.
“...don’t mock me.”
“I’m not.”
Jiro still refused to look at his brother, not wanting to make things any worse than they already were. He hated that he couldn’t even be around Saburo like this without making things weird. It was just like he had expected.
As the silence stretched on between them, Jiro wondered what kind of expression Saburo was making right now. He wondered what was going through his head. Maybe now he was starting to get it, the reason why Jiro couldn’t stay here, why he had to put as much distance between them as he could.
“To be honest,” Saburo began tentatively, but he never finished the sentence. Instead, a surprised shout made Jiro turn back around at last, and the scene he was greeted with forced a fit of laughter out of him.
“Don’t laugh!” Saburo whined as he stood, grimacing, hands hovering over his head where a bird had managed to land its shit directly on his hair.
“I can’t—” Jiro struggled to speak as he walked up to tug on Saburo’s sleeve, “sorry, it’s—let’s just—let’s just get it cleaned off—”
Saburo silently fumed as Jiro led him around the park, looking for a restroom. When they finally found one, Saburo grumbled as he leaned up against one of the sinks as Jiro, still chuckling, cleaned the bird shit from his hair.
“You have such amazing luck,” Jiro teased. When there was no response, he glanced down to find Saburo staring up at him with that same strange expression from before. When the urge to kiss his brother once again washed over him, Jiro attempted to back away, but Saburo grabbed onto the front of his shirt.
“Let go,” Jiro said, but the words sounded empty.
“Let go,” he said again, but this time he knew he was lying to himself, “I don’t want to—”
Just as panic was about to set in, a loud ringing sound made them both jump, breaking the tension. Jiro reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, silencing the alarm.
“Time’s up, I guess,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. Now that it was finally time to go, it was as if every cell in Jiro’s body was working against him, refusing to let him leave.
“At least we were able to sort things out before I left,” Jiro said with a forced smile. He tried to make his way towards the exit, but Saburo still had a white-knuckle grip on the front of his shirt.
“Don’t go yet.”
Something in Jiro’s chest lept at the words, but he used what self-restraint he had left to push it back down.
“Saburo—”
“Let me try one last thing first,” Saburo said, looking up at Jiro once again with that unreadable expression, this time with far greater intensity.
“Saburo, there’s no point—”
The rest of Jiro’s sentence was swallowed by something soft being pressed up against his lips. It wasn’t until several uncomprehending seconds later, when Saburo pulled away, that Jiro realized he hadn’t been breathing. As he rushed to fill his lungs with air again, he could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage, reverberating throughout his entire body.
“You’re mocking me again, aren’t you?” As he said the words, tears began falling unexpectedly down his cheeks.
“I’m not!” The franticness of his voice made it seem as if he was startled by his own actions, “I just thought…would you be willing to stay if you were able to kiss me? Because, if I had to choose between kissing you or letting you leave, I’d kiss you a million times.”
Jiro could feel Saburo’s eyes on him as he wiped at his face with his sleeves.
“I don’t want you forcing yourself to do shit like that for my sake.”
“But what if I’m not?”
There was an almost hopeful expression on Saburo’s face now. Jiro couldn’t understand it.
“K-Kissing my brother is supposed to disgust me, right,” Saburo continued quietly, “It’s supposed to feel wrong, right? What does it mean if it doesn’t?”
With each step Saburo took towards him, Jiro responded by taking a step back, until he found himself up against the bathroom wall. Not only was Saburo dangerously close, but the insistent look in his eyes made Jiro’s entire body feel as if it was burning.
“Don’t,” Jiro warned, a slight edge making its way into his voice, “If you—I can’t—we shouldn’t—”
Jiro’s stammering was cut short once again by Saburo’s lips. Trapped against the wall, he couldn’t escape, couldn’t pull away, and as those soft lips moved eagerly against his own, he could feel his will to resist rapidly draining away.
“Wait,” Jiro panted out the moment Saburo broke away to breathe, “We shouldn’t be—”
“Can you just shut up?”
Before he could even think to respond, Jiro found himself being pulled by the front of his shirt again, but this time Saburo shoved him into the nearest stall, where Jiro stumbled back, his ass slamming down hard against the toilet seat.
“What are you—?”
Again, Saburo swallowed his words with a kiss, pressing up against him so Jiro couldn’t move an inch. Something seemed to ripple through every inch of him as the sensation of Saburo’s body against his sent his mind reeling. Arms that had been frozen at his sides now reached up to wrap around his little brother, hands roaming across his back, clutching greedily at him as the kiss they shared only seemed to deepen.
Whatever impulses Jiro had been holding back up until that point were now tearing their way through him, setting him alight. The moment he was presented with an opening, Jiro plunged his tongue into the depths of Saburo’s mouth, taking advantage of his surprise to wrestle back control.
“Jiro,” Saburo gasped as he pulled away, but Jiro wouldn’t let him go far. With his arms still wrapped around his brother’s body, Jiro aimed his gaze lower, leaning in to press his mouth up greedily against the base of Saburo’s neck.
The taste of his skin was intoxicating, his scent like a heady perfume. Jiro tugged at the collar of his hoodie, searching for more of him to worship with his lips, biting, kissing, nipping in whatever way felt right.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against Saburo’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for exactly, but it felt like something he needed to say.
“I’m sorry,” he said again as he slipped his free hand under Saburo’s shirt, searching for more contact, “Saburo, I’m sorry.”
Saburo’s hands must have found their way into Jiro’s hair at some point, though he didn’t notice until they were tugging hard enough to make him wince.
“Stop apologizing, idiot,” Saburo said, his voice breathy in Jiro’s ear. For a moment, Jiro sat still, his head nestled in the crook of his brother’s neck as he savored the feeling of fingers gently combing through his hair.
“You know,” Saburo continued, “I was happy when I read the note at first. I didn’t get it at the time, I didn’t understand what it meant exactly, but it was like….it felt like climbing up into the sky, only to read that you were leaving—that you had left—and be sent plummeting back to earth.
“I still don’t quite get it. I hadn’t been sure if that was the same as how you felt about me, but at that point I knew that I would do anything— anything— to keep you from leaving me.”
“Well,” Jiro said, lifting his head, “how
do you feel right now?”
“...like I want more.”
When he turned to look at Saburo’s face, Jiro saw in his eyes a want that was all too familiar to him.
“Well, fuck,” Jiro said with a small, breathy laugh, “I guess we’re both fucked up, then.”
When Saburo leaned in to bring their lips together yet again, Jiro felt what remained of his guilt begin to dissipate. With the last of his inhibitions gone, Jiro felt the full force of all those years of longing rise up inside of him, overflowing into passionate kisses that he left against Saburo’s lips, along his jawline, his neck, his collarbone, anywhere that he could reach.
Before long, Jiro could feel his cock straining against the confines of his jeans. Impatient, he rolled his hips upwards, searching for sweet, blessed friction, and was surprised to feel the outline of Saburo’s own erection through his pants.
The low whine that escaped from Saburo’s lips was all the encouragement he needed. Jiro’s hands darted down to the front of his pants, frantically unfastening them so he could press his palm up against his brother’s clothed cock.
“Hurry up already,” Saburo panted, reaching down to pull down his underwear, exposing himself completely to Jiro’s hungry eyes.
What exactly Saburo meant by ‘hurry’, Jiro didn’t know and, quite frankly, didn’t care. Giving himself up to his baser instincts, Jiro grabbed Saburo by the waist, forcing him back up on to his feet so he could lean forward and envelop his cock with his mouth.
“Jiro! Fuck!” Jiro could feel fingers tugging at his hair again, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. The moans forcing their way out of his little brother’s throat were as delicious as the taste of Saburo’s sweat on his tongue. “Hey! Stop! I-I’m gonna—I’m gonna cum! Jiro!”
When he felt his throat being coated with something hot, Jiro held Saburo in place as he lapped up every last drop, savoring the whimpers that accompanied every movement of his tongue. Euphoria dulled the bitter taste, and the moment Jiro looked up to take in Saburo’s dazed expression, all thoughts were emptied from his head, replaced by an all-consuming need to claim his little brother’s body as his own.
“Can you turn around?”
Saburo attempted to comply, shifting himself slowly on wobbly legs. In the end, Jiro grabbed hold of him and manhandled him into his lap.
“Sorry, Saburo,” Jiro muttered against the back of his brother’s neck, hips rocking forward to press his cock up against his ass, “I’ve waited so long for this, I don’t think I can stop. I want you now.” As he said the words, he squeezed the tender skin of Saburo’s thighs, eliciting a squeak. “...Can I?”
The only response Jiro got was a breathy ‘please’, and whether that had been permission or not, Jiro couldn’t hold himself back any longer. Reaching up, he forced the fingers of one hand between Saburo’s parted lips to wet them, while the other tugged desperately at Saburo’s pants.
“I’m sorry,” Jiro muttered again as he slid the first finger into Saburo’s ass, forcing a startled gasp out of him. Jiro was restless, and even though he knew he was going way faster than he should be, slowing down simply wasn’t possible at that point.
Jiro slid in a second finger, spreading them inside of Saburo’s ass despite the way he whined in protest. The way he tightened down on his fingers as he moved was downright tantalizing, and before long, impatience got the better of him as he slid in a third finger before Saburo could even acclimate to two.
As he pistoned his fingers in and out as gently as he could in his current state, Saburo let out an endless string of moans, though whether it was from pain or pleasure, Jiro wasn’t sure.
“Be good and hang in there a bit longer for me, okay,” Jiro crooned in his little brother’s ear. Pressed up against Saburo’s lower back, Jiro’s swollen cock twitched impatiently, the head hopelessly soaked in precum.
It wasn’t long until Jiro’s self-restraint hit its limit and he shifted Saburo in his lap so that the tip of his cock pressed up against his entrance. It took every ounce of control to keep himself from plunging into him all at once. He eased himself in as gently as he could, which honestly wasn’t gentle at all. Every time Saburo cried out, Jiro’s movement’s stuttered but didn’t stop. By the time he finally bottomed out, Saburo was quivering, gasping for air.
Finally, the guilt overrode his lust, and Jiro found himself frozen in place.
“Saburo,” he breathed, trailing apologetic kisses along the back of Saburo’s neck, “I’m sorry, are you okay?”
A hand reached back tug weakly at the hem of Jiro’s shirt.
“Please,” Saburo begged in a voice almost too quiet to hear, “don’t stop.”
Something about the way he uttered those words set off something in Jiro’s brain, and suddenly that brief moment of clarity was gone. With his arms wrapped around Saburo’s body, Jiro pulled him slowly off his cock only to ram himself back in, forcing out a pleasured cry loud enough, Jiro was sure, to be heard by anyone who happened to be outside.
His body moved instinctively, disregarding every shred of better judgment left in him until his thoughts lost coherence completely. In his arms, Saburo weakly met each of his movements, moans and mewls tumbling out of his mouth completely unhindered. Meanwhile, Jiro was beyond euphoric, the pleasure washing over his entire body only heightened by the fact that it was Saburo in his arms, his beloved little brother, the one he had longed to touch, to hold, to kiss for years and years. He was finally here in his arms, their bodies as close as physically possible, connected. After all those years of longing and denial, Saburo was finally his.
“Saburo,” Jiro panted against the nape of his neck, “I love you, God, I love you so much.”
As he said the words, Saburo tightened around him, sending him spiralling even further into madness. He pounded into him with reckless abandon, not daring to slow down one bit even as his back screamed in protest, threatening to give out.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” Jiro moaned, “I love you, fuck, I love you, I love you I love you I…”
While Jiro continued babbling, no longer aware of what it was he was saying, Saburo was quivering beneath him, barely able to hold himself up. With one hand up against the stall door and his head lolling forward, he was unable to utter a word or even make a coherent sound even as Jiro quickened his pace, madly chasing release.
Every part of Jiro--his heart, his head, his body--was full of Saburo, and in the heat of that euphoric state, he found himself at the peak. To say he was overwhelmed by the sensation would be an understatement. Jiro clung to Saburo’s battered body, cumming so hard that he could’ve sworn he nearly passed out on the spot.
In the moment, his blissed-out high seemed to last an eternity, yet the moment it passed, it seemed so fleeting that Jiro found himself immediately craving more. Regardless of what he wanted, though, his body was spent. Jiro collapsed against Saburo’s back, who in turn was draped over his own knees like a ragdoll, both boys struggling to catch their breath and regain their senses.
“Hey Jiro,” Saburo panted out weakly once he was able to speak.
“What,” he croaked.
“You’re...you’re not allowed to...leave me...got it?” As he panted out the words, Saburo gave Jiro’s leg a weak squeeze. “Hey...did you… hear me?”
“You know,” Jiro answered with a chuckle, “at this point, I don’t think I could...even if I wanted to.”
Now that Jiro was beginning to regain his lost clarity, there in the first stall of a public park restroom, the reality of the situation finally began to dawn on him. He had woken up that morning intent on leaving Ikebukuro, leaving his brothers, leaving behind that part of himself that he hated, that unnatural, inexplicable love for his younger brother, yet, somehow, he wound up giving into it instead. If he had been messed up before, he was ruined now, and he had ruined Saburo, too in the process.
Yet, as he felt Saburo quietly laugh beneath him, muttering a dazed ‘perfect’, Jiro couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, it was better this way.