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Not my typical fare. Written for the locketpair comm. Warnings for nongraphic underage incest and Death-T spoilers.
No one knows. Mokuba wants to tell Yugi; or, not that he wants to, exactly, but sometimes not telling anyone hurts even more, like holding your breath, like if you keep too many secrets closed in your chest eventually they'll suffocate you. And Yugi, he thinks, would understand. Yugi knows about distance, and how far apart you can be from someone even when they're right beside you. Hanging around your neck, but it's still not enough.
For most people it would be. For most brothers it should be, but most brothers always have each other, most brothers are always able to talk and tease and touch. Most brothers don't have the monster that was Kaiba Gozaburo coming between them, taking Seto away, so far away that finally, no matter how hard Mokuba tried to catch up, he couldn't reach the place where his brother was. Couldn't even imagine that place. Seto could be standing beside him, Seto could open his mouth and speak, Seto could slap his cheek, and they were still so far apart that Mokuba couldn't see or hear or feel his brother anymore.
And Mokuba missed him so badly, because they were brothers, of the same blood, and being without his brother was like being only half himself. That was what he was looking for, that missing piece of himself, when he crawled into his motionless brother's lap as he sat in the wheelchair. When he arranged those flaccid arms in an embrace around himself, when he unbuttoned the silk shirt and nestled his head against his brother's bare chest, listened to the steady slow thump thump thump of his beating heart. But his brother was still too far away; half-alive, he was farther away than if he were dead. The dead at least can be followed. Even when Mokuba put his mouth to his brother's cool soft still lips and they were breathing the same breath, there was still too much space between them.
It's different now that his brother has come back to him. Almost like it was before, like it always should have been. But it wasn't, and that distance forced between them left its mark even if it's now mended. Scarred him where the piece was torn out, and even with it replaced the wound is still ragged and hurting at the edges.
Nighttime is the worst, when he dreams about before and awakes screaming Nii-sama! and Mokuba can't always believe that his brother has come to him, that his brother is there, even when he is. Can't just see him or hear him, needs to feel him, and an embrace is not always enough, not when there's still clothing between them. Even naked there's still skin between them and Mokuba wishes sometimes that he could strip out of his own flesh like he tears off his nightshirt, bare himself so completely that he could crawl inside his brother and they could never ever be separated again.
Please, Nii-sama, he whispers against his brother's mouth as he pushes against him, lying on top of his lean long body in the darkness, with his legs around his brother's waist and his brother's hands knotted in his hair.
No, his brother answers, shuddering, no, Mokuba, we can't, you're too young, not yet.
Not yet means someday. So Mokuba can wait a little longer, has to wait, like he did all those months and years before. Patiently, though there's so much lost time to make up between them. And no one knows how much he misses his brother, every minute of the day, even when he's standing right beside him.
Love to know what you think!
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