Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ichimatsu hated Karamatsu. He really, really did.

Well really, it wasn’t quite as simple as just hatred. In fact, it would have been easier if he had just hated Karamatsu, like how he hated spicy foods. There was no debate as to whether or not he really hated it, or if he liked it sometimes and hated it other times, or if he claimed to hate it but tried it whenever he got the bloody chance, he just hated it. Simple as that.

But Karamatsu was different. But then again, wasn’t Karamatsu always different?

With Osomatsu, he was annoying as hell, but he was still the eldest, and despite his horribly flippant nature, he was protective. Kind. With Choromatsu, he could sympathize with him, and to be honest, he rather liked him. He wouldn’t hang out with him—that was Jyuushimatsu’s spot, sorry for him—but there was no reason to hate him or even dislike him. With Todomatsu, he was a bratty little bitch, but despite everything, he was still the youngest. The most successful, but also the youngest. Although he liked to treat the rest of his brothers like trash. Well. Ichimatsu was, but his brothers weren’t.

But Karamatsu. Karamatsu he hated. Karamatsu he loathed. But he never really remembered why or when it started.

So he sat down one day, when all of his obnoxious brothers were out of the house, and he thought about him. About Karamatsu. About how he felt for him.

And he realized that he didn’t just hate him; he hated him until he loved him.

He hated how kind Karamatsu was, but he also loved that same attribute, because it was the very reason why, despite Ichimatsu’s cruel behavior towards him, that he never did so much as bat an eyelash. He hated how horribly tacky he looked in that ridiculous leather jacket and those cheap shades, but he always wanted to try it out, just once (not that he ever would). He hated how confident Karamatsu was, but he always was so incredibly jealous that he could face adversity in the face and still smile despite everything. He loved yet hated him at the same time.

But that wasn’t quite it, was it? Karamatsu was everything that he wasn’t, but that wasn’t why he felt like this. Yes, surely, all of those attributes played a part in Ichimatsu’s feelings for Karamatsu, but that wasn’t really why he hated him.

It started when Karamatsu had just graduated from high school. It was six years ago, when they had all faced a rough time in their life. Their parents were having a really bad bump in their relationship; they constantly fought, and although they tried they tried their best to keep it from their sons, it was hard not to hear, since they slept literally a room or two away from them. Their arguments were the loudest and most violent at night, and everyone slowly broke. Jyuushimatsu began to develop nervous habits, eating inedible objects whenever he grew panicked; in fact, there were many times they had to take him to the hospital because he would choke on a piece of metal or a wire or even worse, occasionally on a small screw driver that could have did more damage than it had done. Osomatsu started to sneak out late at night to drown himself in pachinko; Choromatsu had insomnia and couldn’t sleep, so he constantly took pills, but it led to depression, which he tried to hide by burying himself in his studies, and Todomatsu often went to clubs and got himself drunk out of his mind. They had all graduated by the skin of their teeth; their grades were pretty acceptable, Choromatsu’s being the highest because he always studied, but their attendance record was abominable. It was shortly after they passed this phase that Karamatsu had gotten himself a job.

Karamatsu had gone through the same struggles that the other five had, but he was always smiling. He was always trying to be the emotional support of the five of them, and that time was no exception. He had told them—in that horribly cheerful and flamboyant way of his—that the best way to get out of this emotional slump was to get a job. Everyone had whined then, not really wanting to be bothered with doing anything since everything had just returned to normal—including their parents—but Karamatsu, wanting to be the damn role model for his brothers, went out and got himself a job at a supermarket as a cashier. He told them that if he could do it, they could do it. Thinking back about it, maybe it was around this time that they started to ignore him; he kept on mentioning it over and over and god did everyone hate to hear it, his lectures about job hunting. But despite their newborn cold attitude towards him, Karamatsu was never deterred; if anything, he tried even harder to convince them to get a job, to do something with their lives, because if they didn’t, they would become NEETs, and Karamatsu knew that none of them wanted that. But he had mentioned it one too many times, and one day, it backfired, and Choromatsu had snapped.

He had gotten up from the floor and grabbed Karamatsu’s collar and punched him hard in the face to get him to shut up. And then he had yelled at him, saying, “Goddamn it, Karamatsu, you’re so fucking conceited. You think you’re better than us, huh?! Well, you ain’t. You’re a piece of trash like the rest of us, and you’d do better to remember that. A job? You think we want a fucking job, more fucking stress after everything finally got back to normal, huh?! Well, do you? Well let me tell you, we don’t. And you bugging us every five seconds isn’t going to change anything. So quit your yapping and let us decide what we want to do with our fucking lives.”

Ichimatsu had thought that Karamatsu would have said something; after all, Choromatsu had just hit him for no reason—even if Karamatsu was annoying about the whole job situation—but Karamatsu, with his painfully nice self, simply had apologized for his actions. He didn’t argue back, didn’t even get angry, nothing. He simply smiled and told them that he was wrong for pushing them into doing something that they hadn’t wanted, and then he left. Todomatsu had quickly ran off after him, worried about his wellbeing, but that was it. Not only that, but days later, Karamatsu had quit his job as a cashier, claiming that he had “seen the light” and wanted to laze around with them—which was really a guise just to make his brothers happy, for them to forgive him— and Ichimatsu began to hate him. He hated him because he didn’t even stand up for himself. He hated him because he was too damn nice. And it wasn’t like this was a one-time thing. Karamatsu was always being blamed, always the scapegoat for their stupid pranks ever since the six of them were young, and Karamatsu always just took it with a smile. At that time, Ichimatsu didn’t think much of it. But now? He was disgusted. He was disgusted by how selfless Karamatsu was. He was disgusted by hard he tried to make his brothers happy, to put them first. He was disgusted. And soon, that disgust transformed into hatred. Ichimatsu wanted to see how nice Karamatsu really was, how much he would compromise for his brothers.

It started off small. He was cold to him for a while, didn’t greet him, didn’t stay anywhere near him. Karamatsu and Ichimatsu weren’t really the best of brothers, but they had talked a lot, especially when they were in high school. So he knew that Karamatsu noticed the difference in his behavior. But that Karamatsu, that damn Shittymatsu didn’t do anything. He didn’t question, he didn’t get angry; he just took it all with a smile, repeatedly greeting Ichimatsu with a smile like he always did, as if he expected Ichimatsu to smile back and greet him back one day. And that made Ichimatsu hate Karamatsu even more.

Over the past six years, his hatred slowly turned into a twisted sort of love, the type of love that—was definitely not appropriate between brothers (god Ichimatsu was so disgusting)—was obsessive, destructive, almost suffocating. He started becoming increasingly violent towards Karamatsu, wanting to see how much he would take before he finally reacted, yet loving him all the more for not giving in, for being so damn kind, so damn altruistic. It came to a point that he would react badly if Karamatsu even spoke so much as a good word about him (after a while, Karamatsu learned to stay away from Ichimatsu, since he knew how bellicose Ichimatsu was). And it wasn’t like the rest of his brothers were any nicer. They outright ignored Karamatsu a lot of the times, and Choromatsu, although somewhat cordial ever since that incident, didn’t really initiate contact with Karamatsu at all. Karamatsu was just another person to him, albeit a person that he saw every day.

Everything was so messed up. Karamatsu was the kindest out of all of them, yet he was treated the worst. Maybe, just like Ichimatsu, they wanted to see how much Karamatsu would take before he snapped. If he actually snapped.

Until that day, Ichimatsu would continue to do this to Karamatsu. It was repulsive—especially on those days that he imagined what Karamatsu’s expression would be like when he finally crumpled, when Ichimatsu’s dick would all but strain in his pants and he would have to casually leave the common room to beat off in the bathroom—but he wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop, especially since it’s so habitual now, hating Karamatsu and taking out his frustrations on him. And a part of him felt guilty, it really did, but a bigger part of him felt that Karamatsu deserved this, that if he had just stood up for himself just once, this would all stop. But Karamatsu was too nice, too loving. He would never try to put a burden on any of them in any way.

Perhaps that’s what got the both of them into this mess in the first place.

Chapter Text

When all day long, sunrise to sunset, the only sounds heard were the boisterous voices of five people (plus the other two occasionally when they got heated about something), when the house was quiet for once, it was strange. Almost abnormal. But Ichimatsu was everything but social, so the peace and quiet suited him nicely. He was able to lay around in the futon without having to worry about Jyuushimatsu accidently stomping on his back, or Osomatsu playing tricks on him in his sleep, or Todomatsu surreptitiously snapping away on his camera of pictures of Ichimatsu’s sleeping face, or Karamatsu’s ever so dramatic lectures of the joys of this world. He could curl in his futon and regain the sleep that he missed because he was too hot to really sleep, or because he was too bothered by the nightmares that his brain ever so helpfully provided to him on a weekly basis.

He had waited for everyone to leave—Karamatsu and Todomatsu were going to fish again, Osomatsu was going to try his luck with pachinko again (though what good it did him, Ichimatsu would never know), and Choromatsu and Jyuushimatsu followed shortly after Karamatsu and Todomatsu left—and then he tidied up the futons, fluffed up the pillows, and snuck under the covers. He saw one of the cats that he fed on a daily basis slink over to him and rub itself on his torso. Ichimatsu didn’t want to move, but he didn’t want to neglect the cat, either, so he adjusted himself slightly to the left so the cat could snuggle next to his chest. And for a while, Ichimatsu was able to peacefully stay in that position.

And then Osomatsu came back.

“Your favorite brother is back! Did you miss me?”

Ichimatsu replied with a groan and a muffled, “Go away.”

Unfortunately, Osomatsu was not deterred. Then again, when was he? He’s the only one that Ichimatsu knew that could have a crush on someone for ten straight years without any signs of mental fatigue. And no matter how many times Totoko denied him, he always went right back to her and flirted, teased, cajoled, and bothered her until she lost her temper and knocked him out. It was only recently that everyone else started to get into the act.

Osomatsu frowned, but Ichimatsu could see the mirth in his eyes. “Oh, don’t say that! You’ve been laying in the bed like a slug all day. Instead of being a boring old prune, come play pachinko with me! ~”

“No.”

“Oh come on! I’m going to drag you out of bed unless you come with me.”

Irritated, Ichimatsu abruptly got out of the futon, startling the cat that was laying against his torso, stalked across the room, and all but threw his wallet at Osomatsu. He intended on smacking Osomatsu in the face with it, but Osomatsu had annoyingly fast reflexes. He caught it, and when he finally registered what was in his hands, his face lit up. Ichimatsu had to admit, even if Osomatsu irritated the hell out of him, seeing his smile wasn’t half bad. Still. He wanted to sleep, and Osomatsu was currently preventing that from happening.

Ichimatsu walked back to the futon and sat on top of it, covers and all. He nodded his head towards his wallet.

“Take that with you and leave me alone.”

“What, really? You’d do this for your elder brother? You’re so kind, I knew you—”

“Go away,” Ichimatsu hissed again, resettling himself back under the covers. “And if you use up all of my money, I’m going to kill you.”

He didn’t hear an agreement, so he knew that Osomatsu was going to end up using it all anyways. He sighed and ignored his eldest brother as Osomatsu all but skipped out of his room and curled back up in the covers. The grey cat that was startled before—a Scottish Fold, she looked like—hesitantly walked back up to him and sat right in front of his face. He could feel the question in her eyes. 

Readjusting once more, Ichimatsu laid on his side so she could snuggle next to him. And for the next four hours, he could honestly say that he got a healthy, undisturbed nap.

When he woke up at around twelve in the afternoon, he noticed that the cat that was snuggled next to him was gone. He stretched out a bit, cracking his bones a bit before standing up. As if it were a ritual, every day at around twelve thirty in the afternoon, he went to the alley that was a few ways near their house to feed the myriad of kittens that made that particular place their home. There were dozens of cats there, some old, some young, some familiar with that alley, and some that went there for the first time. Ichimatsu always fed them all.

To be honest, he didn’t really feel like taking a shower—he was trash anyways; let the trash smell like trash—so he took off his sweaty undershirt and replaced it with a plain purple shirt and his usual sweater with black sweatpants. It was as sloppy as he could get, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t going out there to impress someone. He was going to meet his friends.

He grabbed the dry sardines in the cabinet and opened it up, checking to make sure that there were still some—he had noticed that they were disappearing of late, and he had a feeling that he knew exactly who it was—and once he saw that there was enough to feed a small army of cats, he grabbed it, slipped on his shoes and headed out the door. The cat that had snuggled itself so closely to him followed him all the way into the alley, and she was the first one that he fed. Once the cats in the area smelled the food, they too surrounded him, crying and begging for food. Ichimatsu smiled a bit; this was one of the few times in life that he truly felt wanted, normal. (Which, that in itself is abnormal, but he tried not to think about that.)

After he was done feeding and petting them, Ichimatsu started to head back home. But no sooner that he stepped through the doors and took off his shoes did his five brothers come stumbling inside of the house, some wet, some irritated, and some excited. Osomatsu in particular radiated happiness as he greeted Ichimatsu with an obnoxious order. As always.

“Great, you’re still home! Change your clothes; we’re going to go for some job interviews.”

“…I’m not interested. You guys go ahead.”

“Oh come on, Ichimatsu, you’ve been coped in the house all day. I know you’re lazy but this is a bit much. Come on, it’ll be fun!”

“Since when were job interviews fun,” Choromatsu snapped, turning towards Osomatsu to glare at him. “You’re just going to play around again, aren’t you? Why did I even apply for the six of us? Ugh, I regret it, I should have just applied for myself like I initially thought.” Osomatsu shrugged his shoulders, feeling a bit guilty but not enough to take back his words, and he turned right back around and headed outside. Choromatsu followed him, grumbling all the while, and then it was just the four of them: Karamatsu, Todomatsu, Jyuushimatsu, and Ichimatsu. They all stood there in silence, both Karamatsu and Todomatsu undecided as to leave Ichimatsu or to convince him to come. Seeing that no one was doing anything, Jyuushimatsu sprang into action.

He giddily skipped over to Ichimatsu and hooked his arm between his, all but humming. “Yep, so that’s the story, Ichimatsu-niisan, so hurry up and get dressed. Come on, come on! You can’t go like that!”

Ichimatsu wanted to argue, wanted to say that he really wasn’t interested in a job—because really, who would take him? It wasn’t like he was good at anything—but Jyuushimatsu was always hard to say no to. Not only that, but Jyuushimatsu was, to be rather blunt, similar to a tick. He clung and clung on for dear life and sucked the energy out of his host, and then when he was satisfied with his results, he finally let go. More than he could count, Ichimatsu suffered the consequences because he didn’t just give in, and he always felt emotionally and mentally drained after Jyuushimatsu finally left him alone. And most times, it wasn’t as if Ichimatsu got his way. He argued and fought and despite that, he still had to do what Jyuushimatsu wanted.

This, above all, was the reason why he didn’t fight after Jyuushimatsu managed to drag him all the way to their room and all but undress and redress him into their standard (abominable) blue semi-casual shirt and pants.

“Don’t you ever get tired of dragging me places?” Jyuushimatsu gave him a wide smile as he adjusted the tie on Ichimatsu’s neck.

“Nope! Why should I? If it means you’ll go out and hang with us once in a while, I’ll drag you as many times as necessary.”

And for some reason, Ichimatsu was touched. Jyuushimatsu was always the one looking out for him, always the one who cared for him. He still remembers when he first masturbated to a BDSM video, and Jyuushimatsu was the one who found him (and who volunteered to help him satisfy that urge). When he had asked him if he was okay with doing something so detestable and obviously abnormal—and freaky and strange and shitty, just like him—Jyuushimatsu had replied that it was perfectly fine, so as long as it helped Ichimatsu. And ever since then, Jyuushimatsu always had a special place in his heart. He wouldn’t admit it—but then again he didn’t really need to with him; it always felt like Jyuushimatsu could hear and understand exactly what Ichimatsu was feeling a good percentage of the times—but he loved Jyuushimatsu a lot. Perhaps even more than was considered normal.

So although he had never actively taken Jyuushimatsu up on his offer to allow Ichimatsu to do as he would with him, Ichimatsu still bent the most to Jyuushimatsu’s will. And although his other brothers didn’t know what precipitated between the two of them, they all knew that if they wanted Ichimatsu to do something, having Jyuushimatsu ask him would be the best option.

Everyone else was waiting for them when Ichimatsu and Jyuushimatsu had finally arrived.

“About time,” Todomatsu mumbled. “What, was Ichimatsu putting up a big fight or something?”

Ichimatsu glared at him, but otherwise didn't say anything. Though he didn’t really have to. They were right at the Department of Labor, and they were ready to take their interviews.

After their interviews were over— or more like after they were kicked out for their nonsensical answers and their immature behavior—Osomatsu announced that the six of them were going to a bar. Though, Ichimatsu thought it very meaningless when none of them didn’t even get a job. Nope, not one. He had figured that Choromatsu, who was the most responsible of them all, would have gotten something, but he had heard that Choromatsu said something that didn’t sit too well with the interviewer and got him kicked out.

Ichimatsu would have left by now but of course Jyuushimatsu dragged him to the bar.

“It’ll be fun,” Jyuushimatsu said with a bright smile. “C’mon Ichimatsu-niisan. Just this one time.”

What Ichimatsu wanted to say was that every single time was ‘just this one time’, but he simply grunted and allowed his younger brother to pull him where he wished. Which happened to be their local bar that they frequented. He could hear the noise of the bar almost fifty feet away and he unconsciously stiffened, but Jyuushimatsu only gripped his arm tighter as they found their way to a seat.

Everyone had sat down by the time that Jyuushimatsu and Ichimatsu came, and seeing that there was no other place to sit but by Karamatsu’s side, he reluctantly sat next to him. He could feel his irritation rising rather rapidly, causing Jyuushimatsu to glance at him to make sure he was okay, but when he leaned back and instead drank a little, he assumed that Ichimatsu would be able to handle himself and turned his attention towards his other brothers. And he was right. Although Ichimatsu hated Karamatsu with a passion—or did he? (He tried not to think about that)—he figured that he could leave once he drank a bit, so everything would be okay.

“Nothing beats a hard day of work,” Osomatsu cackled.

“Actually, none of us worked at all,” Choromatsu corrected pointedly. “We all got kicked out.”

“But it was so much fun,” Todomatsu said with a pleased smile, no doubt looking at the number of some girl he probably picked up from the interview.

“What did you even go there for, Todomatsu?”

“I couldn’t get a laugh,” Jyuushimatsu sighed. He wriggled his arms to demonstrate what he did—and Ichimatsu had to admit, it really wasn’t funny, just strange, but he wouldn’t be the one to burst his younger brother’s bubble—and Choromatsu asked, now a bit impatiently, “What the hell did you even go there for, Jyuushimatsu?”

“Heh.” Next to Ichimatsu, Karamatsu put on those godforsaken sun glasses. “This is what it means to be facing a dark future.”

At his comment, Choromatsu completely lost his temper, at Karamatsu’s seemingly nonchalant attitude that for the umpteenth time, none of them were able to get jobs. He slammed his hands on the table and yelled, “Why were you even born, Karamatsu?!”

And then he froze. He was worried that he went too far, but Karamatsu wouldn’t be the one to tell him that. To tell him that what he said hurt like hell. And Ichimatsu knew that Karamatsu was hurting. Next to him, Karamatsu was smiling like he always was, but his leg was bouncing, almost trembling. He was trying so hard to keep his emotions under control, and that made Ichimatsu horribly irritated. How is it that Karamatsu could shower anyone with praises and defend anyone but himself? Is he that stupid, that selfless?

That’s right, he knew the answer to that. After all, this was why Ichimatsu bullied Karamatsu so badly. Every day, without fail, he did something to hurt Karamatsu, just to see how he would react, if he would just let that selflessness of his go already and say something, even if it was a “that hurt my feelings”, something. If Choromatsu were to have told that to him, he would have slugged him. Well, perhaps not, because he did often wonder why he was born, because of how useless he was, but it was the premise of it. If you don’t get angry at your family when they hurt you, then who will you get mad at?

(And it wasn’t as if history was repeating itself or anything. Didn’t Karamatsu say those exact lines six years ago to Choromatsu and got slugged? When was he going to actually speak up for himself?)

He really wasn’t in the mood to drink anymore, to see Karamatsu’s pathetic face and his annoying smile (which now looked consternated (no doubt he was replaying what Choromatsu said in his head several times)), and he was on the verge of taking it out on Karamatsu, so he got up from the table and announced, “I’m going home.”

“What? Why?”

“Because there’s no point.”

He could hear everyone talking to him, about him, saying how he couldn’t do it, how he couldn’t work, and then Karamatsu, despite just being hurt by Choromatsu no more than two hours ago, spoke up for him. Of course. It just had to be him.

And then he said the words that he hadn’t wanted to hear from anyone, but especially a person like him.

“I believe in you, Ichimatsu.”

He couldn’t take it.

He couldn’t take his kindness.

Why did it have to be him?

Why couldn’t he have minded his business?

Why couldn’t he have used that energy to defend himself?

Why was he defending Ichimatsu in the first place? Didn’t he remember all those times that he beat the crap out of him, all those times that he insulted him, all those times he broke his things and blamed him for things he never did?

He just couldn’t take it.

He grabbed Karamatsu, fully ready to do something—slug him or something, he didn’t know, but whatever he did was definitely going to hurt him, he’d make sure of it, just so that way Karamatsu would finally react, finally say something, even if it meant that Ichimatsu got the brunt of it, at least it would have been Ichimatsu who drew him over the edge—but then his glasses fell off and he saw Karamatsu’s face. His eyes, wet with tears. His mouth, trembling.

And for some reason, he couldn’t look away.

Choromatsu immediately ran to Karamatsu’s side, about to convince Ichimatsu to release him. “Wait, why? He’s the only one who actually backed you up.”

Ichimatsu released him, but he still was staring at Karamatsu. Karamatsu was trying to keep his face hidden, but without his glasses, he was fully exposed. He wondered why Karamatsu kept facing away from Choromatsu. If anything, he should be flinching from Ichimatsu and leaning away from him, not towards him and Choromatsu.  

And then it clicked. Ichimatsu wasn’t the one who made him cry, and it wasn’t Ichimatsu that he was trying to hide his face from. It was Choromatsu. With his horribly cruel comment and his callous behavior towards Karamatsu, Karamatsu was hurt, but he didn’t want Choromatsu to know that he was hurt, probably because he didn’t want to make Choromatsu feel bad. Even now, Karamatsu was putting the feelings of his brothers before his own. Ichimatsu was probably the only one who knew the real reason why he was on the verge of tears.

For some reason, that made Ichimatsu feel good. Dirty, wrong, but ridiculously good.

As they were deciding on what to do, Ichimatsu sat back down next to Karamatsu. He noticed that Karamatsu had put back on his glasses and was smiling as if the last two hours had never happened. He even put his input a few times—although he was harshly ignored, as always—and he looked as good as new. It was then that Ichimatsu realized that it wasn’t that Karamatsu never defended himself, he did. In fact, he always defended himself. His very exterior was his weakness and his strength. It was the very thing that people made fun of, that Ichimatsu himself ridiculed. But it was Karamatsu’s mask.

Ichimatsu wondered if he could be the one to tear that mask away, how much he would have to push before Karamatsu would break down for him.

Oh, how wonderfully sinful that would be when that happens.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t so quiet anymore.

On Mondays, all of his brothers usually went their separate ways, doing what they usually did, leaving Ichimatsu in the house all by himself. Mondays were the best for Ichimatsu, because it was the beginning of the week, and he always felt extra exhausted because of it, despite not doing a damn thing his entire life. He slept more than he usually did, and he occasionally forgot to feed the cats. He always felt guilty after, and the next day he would make sure to bring extra to make up for the day before, much to the pleasure of his alley cats. That was what usually happened.

But today was different.

When he woke up, he could a small, distinct shuffling sound in a few rooms away. At first, Ichimatsu thought it was Jyuushimatsu; after he was done with baseball practice, he would sometimes return home to check on Ichimatsu and make sure everything was alright. (Yeah, that’s how kind he was.) But Jyuushimatsu hadn’t come into this room yet, and he knew that Ichimatsu slept in extra on Mondays. So most likely it wasn’t him.

He slowly got up from his futon, cracking his back a bit more than he probably should, and then slowly slunk his way to the door, sliding it open slightly to get a better feel for who was home. Really, the best thing to do was to greet whoever it was like a normal person—hah, that sure was funny, a normal person, who was he kidding—but Ichimatsu wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. It was too early (even though it was ten in the morning), and it was a Monday. He never talked to anyone on Monday mornings. It was just too much trouble.

From the door, he couldn’t see anyone, but he heard a pattering of feet going back and forth until it finally settled down near the kotatsu. There was a crackle, pop, slurp, and then some sort of tapping noise. Curiosity getting the better of him, Ichimatsu slowly moved towards the opening of their common room and took a peek through the opening. When he saw the dark blue sweater, Ichimatsu immediately knew it was Karamatsu. He slid the door a bit further to see what he was doing, since it was rather rare for Karamatsu to stay home. He then thought about what happened a few days ago—

“Why were you even born, Karamatsu?!”

—and he quickly concluded that that might be the reason why he was home. Perhaps he was still thinking about it? Or maybe it was because of what happened with their mom, who refused to take Karamatsu because of his painfulness? That was pretty bad, too. But he hadn’t known Karamatsu to be so sensitive. He always bounced back, always seemed like he could take it—

That’s right. That was all a façade. He knew that from a few days ago, when he saw his eyes, his tears—

No, no, no. He couldn’t get hard now, not here.

Ichimatsu shifted a bit as he opened it a bit wider and saw Karamatsu hunched over some sort of laptop—since when did he have the resources to buy a laptop of all  things—typing away furiously. He stopped to take a slip of his can of what looked like chilled coffee, and then he returned to typing. He was at it for hours, and Ichimatsu’s curiosity peaked to its height when he finally noticed a stack of paper on the side, along with a brown envelope and three different color highlighters. He looked so serious, so concentrated, almost as if he was actually doing some sort of assignment—

But that’s impossible. All six of them were NEETs, and for the most part, proud ones at that. And although Karamatsu had a job a few years ago, he had quit it a little after Choromatsu blew up at him and slugged him. Did Karamatsu get a job after that? How long has he had this job? And really, what kind of job allowed a person to work from home? Not to mention that he had never seen Karamatsu work at home before, and he was home every single day (after all, where else would he go if not home?)

After what felt like three hours—it probably was, Ichimatsu was a pretty good indicator of time, if nothing else—Karamatsu finally sighed and got up, most likely to use the bathroom. As soon as he did, Ichimatsu glanced around to make sure that Karamatsu wasn’t going to suddenly come back, and then he walked to the computer and leaned over.

It was a document composed of over one-hundred pages, single-spaced, with twelve-sized font. His eyes scanned the page, and then he realized: this was a story. Karamatsu was a writer, and this was his manuscript. For some reason, that didn’t surprise Ichimatsu. Karamatsu was always the most melodramatic out of all of them, so if anything, this occupation suited Karamatsu rather well. But what did surprise him was how well it was written, how much the plot drew him in, how eloquent it all sounded, how captivating it was. He didn’t want to admit it, but Karamatsu was talented, almost painfully so. He had to tear his eyes away to peruse the envelope that was right next to the computer.

There was a smaller one, rectangular in shape with a wool string wrapped around it, and a larger one in the shape of a square. He went to open the smaller one, but he heard Karamatsu’s footsteps coming back. He briskly walked out of the room and walked into their shared bedroom, sliding the door shut behind him and leaning on it, just in case Karamatsu were to stop by the hallway and spot him peeking in like the obsessed stalker he was.

He probably would freak out, Ichimatsu smirked as he thought how pale he would turn, how fearful he would be, realizing that the person who treated him the worst knew his little secret.

But Ichimatsu had no plans on telling anyone; he liked the fact that he was the only one who knew this about Karamatsu. He was fairly sure that the rest of them didn’t know that Karamatsu was a writer, because if they did, they would probably rob him blind, not to mention tease and harass the living daylights out of him. Every time a paycheck would come in for Karamatsu, they would probably be extra nice to him so they could ask him for money. And because Karamatsu was so goddamn selfless, he would do it in a heartbeat, despite everything they have done to him in the past, despite the fact that he was the one who earned it, not them, and he would do it with a smile on his face.

Thinking about it now, Osomatsu often complained that Karamatsu had so much money in his wallet when he used Karamatsu’s wallet to play pachinko on a weekly basis.

Ichimatsu remembered how much of a pathetic brother he had in that moment, how horribly kind he was, and he hated him even more than he did before. He allowed his brothers—Osomatsu in particular—to use his money without a word of complaint. And even if Karamatsu was a best-selling author—he could very well be for how talented he was—even best-selling authors run out of money eventually. Not to mention that he has never seen Karamatsu buy anything for himself except for those gaudy shirts and those cheap sunglasses.

God, he was so angry. He just wanted to reach out and hurt him, just a bit. Just so that way he could feel pain, so that way he could feel like he did something wrong and blame himself like the pathetic brother he was. Just so that way he could feel bad about himself because he should, what he was doing was completely wrong and—

Wait. Why did Ichimatsu even care?

He hated Karamatsu, so he should be glad that this is happening to him. It was his fault that this was happening. He was too nice, he was too kind. He shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t care.

But damn it all, he did.

Although he hated him, he couldn’t help but care enough to worry about him, to tell him off, to treat him a bit more badly than normal, with the hopes that maybe it would all become too much. He felt guilty, he really did, but he was sure that there would be one day that Karamatsu would give in and either get angry, or give in and completely break down. Either way, it was going to be completely enjoyable and satisfying for Ichimatsu (god, he was such trash. Why couldn’t he be more humane and actually help out his brother like he wanted to?). And wasn’t that why he was doing this in the first place? To see how far he would go until he broke? Would knowing that his brothers periodically steal hard-earned money from him break his resolve?

…

It shouldn’t.

It really shouldn’t.

It probably did.

It definitely did, damn it.

But he wasn’t going to do a damn thing to help him out.

He decided to ignore Karamatsu for the rest of the day. He crawled under the futon, fully prepared to sleep—he was too lazy to eat or take a shower, and why should he? It’s not like the cats were getting fed, either, so he had no inclination to eat—but he couldn’t quite get there because of the incessant typing noise a few rooms down. He wanted to feel irritated, wanted to storm into the common room and yell at Karamatsu to “stop that horrid noise or else I’ll shove that laptop so far down your throat you’ll choke on it,” but knowing that he was working on a manuscript that was most likely due sometime soon made him think twice about it. He instead got up from the futon and made his way to his cabinet where the dry sardines was held. Grabbing a box of tissues and ripping them into two chunks, he stuck a crumpled piece in each ear and returned back to the futon. The typing was soft enough to be soothing enough to lull him to sleep.

“…like a baby.”

“…get how he could…so much.”

As Ichimatsu started to stir in his sleep, he could hear the voices of about three different people surrounding him. He knew that one of them was Osomatsu—that annoying voice just had to be him—and one of them was Todomatsu, because he was the only one of the six of them that sounded so incredibly conceited that he raised it to an art form. But that third voice was rather unfamiliar to him.

He felt someone nudge him gently on the shoulder, not wanting to really startle him out of his sleep. His touch felt nice, cool enough to soothe him but warm enough not to startle him out of his half-conscious state.

“You can’t do it like that, Karamatsu-niisan. You gotta do it like this.”

“No, wait, Todomatsu—”

And then he felt a sharp pain on his butt.

He all but yelped, jumping out of the futon and scratching whatever was closest to him, which, unfortunately for Karamatsu, was his face. Karamatsu yelped himself as Ichimatsu’s nails sunk into the side of his cheek and left a series of lines—similar to a cat, actually—and backed away, holding a hand to his bleeding face. Osomatsu blatantly laughed at the two of them, and Todomatsu had an expression of horror and amusement as he took in the results of his actions.

“Looks like it worked, huh?”

Ichimatsu glared at Todomatsu, snapping, “Was that really necessary?”

“You wouldn’t wake up no matter what we did,” he retorted back with an easy going smile. As if everything was alright. Ichimatsu was going to get his revenge back on him in spades, and Todomatsu would regret doing that to him.

“We woke you up to eat. You haven’t eaten all day, right? Stop sulking and come join us.” Osomatsu was still laughing as he said this, waving a hand in front of his face as if to dispel some of his laughter in the air.

“I’m not sulking.”

“Sure you aren’t,” Todomatsu giggled as he followed Osomatsu. “Karamatsu-niisan, you’re not coming?”

Karamatsu had those abominable sunglasses on his face with a bright smile on his face despite the swollen and bloody scratch marks that were evident on his face. He waved his hand in a declining gesture and then gestured towards Ichimatsu.

“I’m going to take care of Ichimatsu, my dear brother. He’s probably still groggy from being awoken so drastically, and as his older brother I have no choice but to—”

“Oh, okay,” Todomatsu interrupted. “Well, see you then.”

When it was just the two of them, Ichimatsu glanced at Karamatsu again. Karamatsu was still smiling, of course, but he could tell it was strained. He must have scratched Karamatsu harder than he thought.

“…you’re not going to take care of that?”

“Take care of what, my dear brother? Oh, this? No, this is nothing more than a scratch. It can wait. What’s more important is that you get prepared to eat with us, and I’ll be honored to help you every step of the way.”

“I don’t need your shitty help.” Ichimatsu moved past him to find a plain purple t-shirt in his drawer. He shuffled through for a bit, not finding what he was looking for but continuing to search anyhow. Damn it, Jyuushimatsu must have moved his clothes to his drawer again.

“Are you sure? You know, I’d be happy to help you, Ichimatsu. I know the struggles of being startled out of your sleep and ending up with a headache, so should you need anything—”

Feeling his irritation at its peak, Ichimatsu took the nearest object—oh, Choromatsu’s dictionary—and flung it towards Karamatsu as hard as he could. Unlike Osomatsu, Karamatsu didn’t have fast reflexes, and the book smacked him hard in the face.

“I said, I don’t need your help,” Ichimatsu hissed. “I know you’re painful, but don’t tell me you’ve lost a few more brain cells in the last few minutes that you can’t understand that no means no, Shittymatsu.”

Karamatsu was smiling, still smiling damn it, like he wasn’t fazed by what just happened. No, this was normal, Ichimatsu knew that this would happen. After all, he had been like this for years and he had never gave in. Why would give in now, and for something so trivial? But that was all a part of the fun, wasn’t it? To see how much he could take until he broke.

Ichimatsu grabbed something else and held it up, fully prepared to throw it in Karamatsu’s direction. “Well, what did I say? I don’t want you here, so get the fuck out before I chuck this at you.”

“Ah, you shouldn’t be so testy, Ichimatsu. Alright, alright, I’ll be out of your way.” He finally exited the room, but not without putting his first two fingers to his head and giving a small, side-ways salute to Ichimatsu, still smiling. Once he was gone, Ichimatsu felt some of the irritation slip from his shoulders, and then he looked down at his hands, the hands that still had bits of Karamatsu’s skin and blood smeared on it. He felt something akin to heat pool in his stomach, and he brought his hands close to his face and licked the bits of skin and blood under it.

It tasted bittersweet.

When Ichimatsu finally joined his other five brothers in the common room, he had noticed that they had already started eating. As usual, there was an open spot next to Karamatsu. He had a feeling that there wasn’t an open spot there because of courtesy; it was there because no one wanted to sit next to Karamatsu. Somehow, that made Ichimatsu feel a bit of pity for him. But it was short lived when he remembered that Karamatsu chose to be this selfless, chose to accept the treatment that his family gave to him so callously.

He sat in the seat next to him, as it was the only spot available. Karamatsu’s face had a small bandage on it, but he otherwise looked the same as always.

“What took you so long?”

“I couldn’t find my clothes,” Ichimatsu replied, taking up his chop sticks and breaking off a piece of mackerel. “Because someone moved them into his drawer.”

Jyuushimatsu laughed, not even trying to hide that he was the culprit. “Ah, sorry about that, Ichimatsu-niisan. If it makes you feel better, you can have my clothes!”

“I don’t even like yellow,” Ichimatsu muttered. “It’s too…bright.”

“Everything is too bright for you,” Todomatsu teased, pointing his chopsticks at Ichimatsu. “If there was an award for Japan’s gloomiest adult, I’m sure you’d win fair and square.”

Oh. That’s right, he owed Todomatsu, didn’t he? He slapped him on the ass to wake him up, and he didn’t think there were going to be any repercussions? (Never mind the fact that he liked it, who was he to do something like that to him?)

“And if there was an award for the bitchiest man alive, I’m sure you’d win, hands down.”

“Break it up, you two,” Choromatsu sighed. “And Todomatsu, don’t you have something to say to Ichimatsu?”

“Eh? Like what?” Todomatsu blinked his eyes several times, trying—but failing—to act cute. Instead, he just irritated Ichimatsu even more. He glanced at Todomatsu’s bowl, looking to see if there was anything of interest. Oh, he had a few pickled radishes. Those were really good, and Todomatsu loved them a lot when he was younger. But hey, tastes change, and he may not like it anymore. No, what was the best to attack at a time like this was…

“Ah, hey! That was my mackerel! You had your own, Ichimatsu-niisan!”

Ichimatsu smirked as he chewed the rest of Todomatsu’s mackerel. Man, food just tasted so much better when it was seasoned with revenge. “Oops, I guess I took from the wrong bowl. Sucks to be you, eh, Todomatsu?” He swallowed and finished eating his rice, feeling all the more smug when Todomatsu’s eyes shot to his bowl to look for something to attack and finding nothing.

“You guys are ridiculous…”

Seeing that everyone was involved with their argument, Karamatsu stopped eating for a moment and cheerfully added, “This is truly a battle field of wits between two men. Marvelous indeed!”

Everyone was silent. Then, “You guys really need to stop this childishness. If you had just apologized…”

“It was Ichimatsu-niisan’s fault for not waking up on time!”

“Hah?! How does my sleeping patterns affect you? You guys ate without me anyhow; you could have left me to sleep. Enough, I’m done eating.” Ichimatsu finished the rest of his food and then he gathered his plates, preparing to put them into the kitchen. He spared a glance at Karamatsu, who everyone had just ignored moments earlier. He was still smiling, but as always, his knee was trembling. Most likely, he was trying to keep it together again. He never learned, did he?

Well, that’s why Ichimatsu was here, wasn’t it?

He took one of the small bowls that was on the top of the pile in his hand, and making sure there was no food stuck on it anywhere, he chucked it at Karamatsu’s head. As he predicted, the bowl not only smashed Karamatsu in the side of his head, but it shattered, leaving some of the glass stuck in his hair. Everyone sprang into action, all of them turning towards Ichimatsu and then Karamatsu, who was bleeding from the top of his head.

“What the heck?!”

“Ichimatsu, what the hell was that for?!”

“Karamatsu-niisan, are you okay?” Todomatsu all but ran over to him and pressed a delicate hand to the side of Karamatsu’s head, trying to gently pry some of the glass out of his hair. Karamatsu winced, but otherwise he laughed it off.

“Ah, Todomatsu, it’s not that bad, don’t worry don’t worry. It’s just Ichimatsu letting off steam. He was pretty angry about what you did. I told you that you woke him up pretty drastically.” He smiled and took Todomatsu’s hand in his own, slowly lowering it so he wouldn’t get cut by the glass that was still matted in his hair. Even after that, he was still thinking about the safety of his brothers first. Really, he should getting angry at Ichimatsu, but instead he was trying to calm them down.

Seriously, was he some sort of saint?

“Ichimatsu, apologize for what you did. Karamatsu didn’t deserve that at all.”

He snorted. “Why should I? We all know he’s painful, so why not inflict some pain on him?”

“That doesn’t give you the right to lash out at him for no reason!”

“Its fine Choromatsu, I’m okay—”

“This has nothing to do with you. Ichimatsu’s being immature and violent and he needs to cut it out. Todomatsu, can you take Karamatsu to the bathroom so he can wash off his cuts?”

They completely ignored Karamatsu’s complaints and his flowery talk, all but dragging him into the bathroom. On one hand, Ichimatsu was pleased that they finally paid attention to Karamatsu—wow, all it took was throwing a ceramic bowl at him; he should have thought about that sooner—but on another, it irritated him that they weren’t paying attention to him because he was hurt, but rather because they perceived Ichimatsu’s behavior to be erratic, and Karamatsu’s wounds were a result of that. That’s right, they were used to treating him badly. They witnessed as Ichimatsu threw, chucked, and slammed objects on or at Karamatsu, so his injuries were nothing new. It was only because he had initially lashed out at Todomatsu—who had woken him up rather painfully, he had to admit—that they took notice of Karamatsu.

What horrible brothers they were.

(But what did that make him, the instigator of violence?)

He half-tuned out the riot act that Choromatsu gave him, and he ignored Osomatsu’s questioning gaze on his face. The more he thought about how messed up this situation was, the more he wanted to dissociate from everything. He even began to wonder if treating Karamatsu like this was the right thing to do. (Since was it ever the right thing to do?) Maybe, instead of getting Karamatsu to break—which didn’t seem like it was happening any day now—he should concentrate on getting the other brothers to notice Karamatsu. But then again, unless under circumstances similar to the one that just happened, they wouldn’t pay attention to him. Hell, even when Karamatsu said something useful, maybe even something normal, they still tuned him out.

No, Karamatsu would have to change after all. But perhaps violence wasn’t the answer.

But if he wouldn’t break from being hurt, what could break him?

What could make Karamatsu break down into tears like he saw a few days ago?

The five of them were sleeping, but Ichimatsu couldn’t sleep.

After everything calmed down and Karamatsu was bandaged—being checked once by Todomatsu, then another two times by Osomatsu—they had quickly fell asleep. None of them had really offered apologies to Karamatsu, but Osomatsu and Todomatsu in particular were mildly concerned about his injuries. It took more than a few words of reassurance to deter them, but once they were reassured that he was fine, they ignored him the same as always. Ichimatsu wasn’t sure what pissed him off more: his attempt to call attention to Karamatsu failing, or Karamatsu taking in their treatment with that same infuriating smile of his. It was these thoughts that kept Ichimatsu up, and doubled with the fact that he couldn’t sleep anyways because of his nightmares, he was tossing and turning for hours.

Ichimatsu stared at Karamatsu’s back, at the bandages on his head. He wondered if they were starting to heal yet, if the blood clotted, how much damage it did to his head, if he would have to go to the hospital later. He wanted to feel guilty, but he couldn’t. He kept telling himself that it was Karamatsu’s fault, that if he had just shown a moment of weakness, that they would like him for once, that he himself would stop being so violent towards him. But he knew that wasn’t true. He wanted Karamatsu to break, because he knew that they would treat him better if he stood up for himself for once. If he wanted to be flamboyant, let him be flamboyant. Todomatsu was flamboyant for days. Just look at that brown and pink hat he’s always sprouting. And those sandals! He was flamboyant in his own right, but the difference between him and Karamatsu is that while Karamatsu accepted the treatment his brothers fed to him in a dog’s bowl, Todomatsu would not only smash the bowl into bits, he would feed the leftovers of that bowl to his brothers. That kind of confidence is what Ichimatsu wanted Karamatsu to have.

But to tell the truth, Ichimatsu most likely wouldn’t stop being so harsh with Karamatsu even if he did gain that confidence—or weakness, either way—not unless he forced him. It was so habitual to get so angry with him, so even when he got the satisfaction of seeing him cry, he probably would still push his buttons. Just because he could.

Just because it pleased him. Because that’s how selfish he was.

Just thinking about it made Ichimatsu squirm a bit. He could see it now, Karamatsu crying because he was hurt, cradling his face because of the damage that Ichimatsu did to him. How wonderful would it be to see Karamatsu clinging to Ichimatsu’s arm, begging him to stop? It would be absolute bliss, to be the one to break Karamatsu, to be the one in control of Karamatsu, whose default expression was one of a gentle smile...to instill so much fear in him that he flinches away at just the sight of him, like he was some sort of disease, some sort of contagious creature. That was great.

He placed a palm on the front of his pants, feeling the strain of his dick underneath. He bit his lip, not really wanting to make any noise or motion with his brothers sleeping right next to him, but then Karamatsu shifted in his sleep and he faced him. And god, just looking at that face just reminded him of that face that he saw at the bar, broken, hurt, and fearful—

He couldn’t help himself.

Ichimatsu shifted a bit closer, moving in time with Karamatsu’s breath, and then he slowly pulled out his dick, holding it hard at the base with his left hand as he shifted even closer to Karamatsu, his lips almost touching his elder brother’s. He felt a wave of excitement wash over him when he realized how close he was—he didn’t even want to question why he was so damn excited about that, it would lead to a train of thought that he really didn’t want to think about—but he swallowed it in lieu of giving away his control and squirming all too much. He started off slow, moving up and down at a leisurely pace, still gripping it hard, feeling a sick sort of pleasure from the pain, and then he fingered the slit at the top, feeling pre-come slowly ooze from it. He gathered enough in his hand to use as a healthy dose of lubricant, and then he resumed his fast pace on his dick. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to be this close to him, to have his lips this close to his, to feel Karamatsu’s body heat on his own.

Ichimatsu bent just a bit closer and breathed in the scent of Karamatsu’s clothes.

Ah, yes. That’s what he needed. This was perfect.

He was a messed up motherfucker for getting off on his brother’s scent, but god it smelled so good. He hadn’t taken a shower from before, so he could still smell the rubbing alcohol that Todomatsu most likely baptized Karamatsu’s head in, but there was something else, too. He faintly smelled like the coffee he drank that morning, but he also smelled like cigarettes and spices. It was so wonderful, and Ichimatsu couldn’t get enough of it.

But underneath it all was Karamatsu’s musk, and that was what Ichimatsu needed the most.

He moved his hand faster, feeling himself getting close, and then with a sick sense of something akin to possession, he slipped a finger in Karamatsu’s pajama pants and held it open, waiting for Karamatsu’s smell to take him over the edge. After a good five seconds, it did, and he jammed his dick inside of Karamatsu’s pants and released his index finger, feeling multiple waves of euphoria slam him in the chest as he came. He could feel the throb of his dick as it spat out string after string of come, and feeling bold, Ichimatsu smeared his come into Karamatsu’s groin.

Once he finally finished, he wiped his dick on Karamatsu’s shirt—how disgusting he was, to masturbate to his brother, on his brother, and then to clean his dick with his brother—and then turned over, feeling a wave of something akin to shame as he realized the ramifications of what he had just done.

He had been trying so hard all of these years to hold back from doing this, and it all amounted to this.

“I’m such a sick piece of trash,” Ichimatsu mumbled as he turned the other way. He thought about maybe cleaning up after Karamatsu, since he was going to get the shock of his life in the morning, but then he thought about his expression, how humiliated he would be and, well, he decided against it—

Wait. Humiliation?

Ichimatsu’s eyes widened. He had never thought about that before.

Well, now he knew what he was going to try with Karamatsu, whether he liked it or not. He just had to find the right moment for it.

Chapter Text

In middle school, the six of them were simply trying to have fun.

They didn’t really think about individuality, or, contrarily, about fitting in, or about preparing for the future. Life at that time consisted of playing pranks—Karamatsu taking the blame for it, of course—and generally living life to the fullest. Karamatsu hated that his brothers used to pin all of their dirty tricks on him, but when Osomatsu or Choromatsu came back to him after and offered him a peace offering, like some ice cream, a few extra hundred yen that he could spend, or even just hanging out with him, he felt that they actually cared about him, and after sulking for a few minutes, he forgave their transgressions.

In high school, things changed a bit.

A good portion of the times, people confused him with Ichimatsu—he didn’t understand how, Ichimatsu looked different from him, if his perpetually fatigued expression was any indication—and Osomatsu was often confused with Todomatsu. For their high school debut, the six of them vowed to become different, to be individuals so that way they could be viewed as a person, as an individual, not as six clones. Osomatsu started to wear red sweaters, Todomatsu wore knitted pink hats with short denim pants, Jyuushimatsu wore long-sleeved yellow sweaters, and Ichimatsu had made it a habit to wear facemasks with his outfits. Out of all of them, Karamatsu was the one who dressed the most flamboyantly, wearing sunglasses that he got from his local corner store and a leather jacket that he had liked from a punk store.

Of course, Karamatsu’s sense of style was the only one that they would ridicule. Of course.

“Woah, what’s with that jacket?!” Osomatsu had marveled at Karamatsu one day as Karamatsu was returning home from the bookstore.

“Ah, are you jealous, my brother? I got it from the punk store across the street. They had it on sale for 1,500 yen.”

“What?! That much? Pfft, Karamatsu, you got ripped off. That jacket looks like it was ran over by a thousand horses in an abandoned haystack.”

It had been the first time that Karamatsu had ever established his sense of self, and it was trampled on by the brother that he arguably admired the most. He didn’t know how to feel, but believing that Osomatsu was probably correct—he was the eldest, after all, and although Osomatsu could be a jerk at times, he usually was never wrong about this kind of stuff—he put it in the back of his closet for a few months. During that time period, he tried to find another sense of style to distinguish himself from his brothers. He worse shiny pants, neat, button-up shirts, but no matter what he did, his brothers always ridiculed him. It had started off with Osomatsu, then Todomatsu, who constantly pointed out his horrible way of style, and then Choromatsu, who said it was “oh so painful. Change, please,” and then…and then…

Well. Ichimatsu never really gave a damn one way or another, and Jyuushimatsu never really paid attention to him, so those two didn’t count. But it wasn’t as if they told Karamatsu that he looked nice, either. They just took him as he was, clothes and all. And at the time, Karamatsu had supposed that was fine, that perhaps his way of style (his identity that the rest of his brothers mocked and threw away like a dirty rag) was accepted by his two younger brothers, but it wasn’t that at all. They just didn’t care one way or another. He found that out later.

As a result, their lives in high school—and Karamatsu’s in particular—had changed a bit more than he would have liked. When they were in school, the six of them talked when they had the chance. They were brothers, after all. But outside of the classroom setting and outside of their house, Karamatsu was, a lot of the times, scorned. He was sure that it wasn’t on purpose—or maybe that was just his optimism kicking in, who knew—but every time that he saw one of his brothers with some of their friends (he didn’t have any friends except for Chibita, who was a little rough around the edges and constantly busy because of his own childhood life, his alcoholic of a father and his workaholic of a mother), they always said: “Oh, him? That’s Karamatsu. He looks so dorky, doesn’t he? I’ve told him several times about how he dresses and he just doesn’t listen to me. Yeah, I know, don’t worry about him, he doesn’t have to come with us.”

Lies, lies, lies. He had always asked them if what he liked was what they liked, and they had always just laughed it off or gave him a pitying pat, not an encouraging tip, nothing. At most, they would tell him to take off certain articles of clothing, and when they saw what was underneath, they laughed even harder than they originally had. It hurt, to the point that Karamatsu would become self-conscious when he went out. When people would look at him, he would see the curiosity in their eyes, the mirth, and he would become even more upset, feeling as if he was some sort of circus animal. To deflect it all, he began to imagine in his mind that the people who he bumped into, the people who he talked to, and the people who laughed at him all admired him, even though he knew in his hearts of hearts that it was all dirty lies. But at least he could live, at least he could breathe in this fantasy of his, not having to worry about living up to people’s standards of style and identity.

At least people loved him.

But half-way through high school, in his second to last year, it all fell apart. His identity, his pseudo-confidence, everything. When his brothers finally became interested in Totoko—and he had to admit, he loved her too; there was just something about that honesty of hers that he hadn’t seen anywhere else—they had immediately told Karamatsu that Totoko was too high of a league for him.

“What, is she going to fall in love with some romantic that doesn’t even know how to dress himself properly?” Osomatsu had laughed, slapping a hand on Karamatsu’s back, as if that was the most humorous joke that he had ever said. “You’re funny, Karamatsu. She’s way out of your league. How about you go with Reika or something? She has a bit of a chubby body, but she’s perfect for someone like you.”

“Heh, you think I’ll give up just because you told me to, Osomatsu-niisan?” Karamatsu had shoved a shaky smirk on his face, desperately trying to block out that ‘someone like you’ that kept ringing in his head over and over again. “I’ll prove it to you. I’ll prove that I can be with someone like Totoko. I’ll capture her heart and treat her like the heavenly maiden she is.”

“Blegh. Well, when you fail, I’ll just tell you that ‘I told you so.’”

So he had tried. After school, in the backyard, with cherry blossoms surrounding them—a scenery that he had thought to be perfect for a confession—he had told her that he loved her.

But she rejected him. And she rejected him harshly.

To make things worse, his brothers were there the entire time. Todomatsu was filming the entire thing, and Osomatsu was cackling so loud that Karamatsu didn’t even have to turn around to know they were all there, laughing at his failure (again). It was at that point that the depression smacked him in the face. He didn’t have any friends, wasn’t cool or good enough to show his brothers that he could have something that they all wanted, and he was still scorned. Still a laughing stock. And for what? Because he dressed a bit differently? Because he talked a bit strangely? Was that it?

Did that warrant Todomatsu posting his confession on social media?

Did that warrant Choromatsu berating him for confessing to Totoko when she was “clearly out of your league”?

Did that warrant Ichimatsu smirking at him every five seconds for confessing and failing?

Did that warrant Jyuushimatsu’s comments about how he failed at everything he did?

Did that warrant Osomatsu laughing at him and treating him like some sort of circus freak?

Was that really necessary?

It wasn’t. But he had been so fed up with the last year that he didn’t care about anything. He didn’t have the confidence to pretend to be in a fantasy world, so why try? They didn’t like what he wore, so why ask? They weren’t going to say anything nice to him, so why bother?

But the most unfortunate part about all of it was that they didn’t even notice that he was creating a shell for himself. They still teased him, still mocked him when they saw him, still brought up the same old mistakes from months ago over and over like a broken record. And Karamatsu couldn’t take it.

So he began to cut. Little by little, he started cutting himself. It started off small, with the cuts not even breaching the second layer of skin. But over time, as he became increasingly depressed, as he began to wonder what was the worth in himself, why was he even alive when he was nothing but a failure,  he cut harder and deeper, until one day, he bled. He found that the pain felt good, not in the sense that he liked the pain, but that the pain distracted him. He didn’t feel angry when he bled; it was like all of his emotions exited from his blood, and it felt good.

(Because see, he couldn’t quite get angry at his brothers. From young, he was always blamed for everything, so he had always felt like he was wrong, even when he wasn’t. And when he started to have his own identity, his own way of being, when his brothers ridiculed it, he had thought that they were right, that maybe he was a loser, a failure. And that only made him more desperate to please them, until it reached this point.)

After a few more nasty incidences in high school of their last year, when his parents argued day in and day out, leaving the brothers to literally go insane, Karamatsu felt himself slipping, too. Between the treatment that his brothers gave him, his parents constant screaming, and his own lack of self-esteem and worth, he felt like he was breaking, atom by atom. And it hurt so badly, but he didn’t know how to stop it. Cutting didn’t help anymore. Banging his head on the wall only gave him headaches. And although he tried so hard to tune everything out, it just didn’t work.

One day, it became all too much.

Standing on top of a fifty-story building, he jumped.

But even with death did he fail, because apparently Chibita saw him just in time and told the manager of the building about it, who managed to get an inflatable bed to cushion his fall.

And after, Chibita had slapped him until his face was red, yelling, “The hell! You idjit! You could’ve died! What the hell were you thinking?! Don’t tell me you were actually thinking of offing yourself? Oh hell no, you ain’t dying on my watch, you hear me?!”

But Karamatsu couldn’t hear him, couldn’t hear anything. All he could hear was that he failed again, that he couldn’t even be successful in death, and he had gritted his teeth, shaking his friend.

“Why didn’t you leave me to die, damn it, Chibita?! Do you think that I would accidently fall from a hotel building on accident? You should have left me to die!”

“And what self-respecting friend would see that his childhood friend is about to off themselves and ignore it?! I don’t care what your other friends are like, I’m not like that, and you should know that, damn it!” He had smacked away Karamatsu’s hands from his shoulders and glared at him.

“And while we’re on the topic, why did you want to kill yourself? You have five brothers at home who are probably worried sick about you! A reasonable father and mother who doesn’t beat up on you and molest you…damn it, Karamatsu. You’ve got it good, no matter what you say. But…but I don’t. I have to live with my father, who drinks all day and uses me as his personal chew toy, and my mother, who doesn’t care about anything that happens in that house. I don’t have brothers to confide in, I have nothing but you! And you’re trying to kill yourself? Are you serious?!”

Karamatsu was speechless. He had never thought about Chibita, not once since all of the drama happened. The two of them didn’t see each other often because of the fact that they had different classes and the fact that Chibita worked, not to mention his inhabitable living environment. Whenever Chibita saw him, he was always smiling, always glad to see Karamatsu, so Karamatsu had thought that there was nothing wrong with him, and reasonably so.

“So? What made you lose so much hope that you felt your only option was to kill yourself?”

Karamatsu didn’t say anything for a long while, and Chibita gave up. Instead, he had sighed and leaned back, putting his hand on Karamatsu’s back. “Alright, listen up, idjit, because I ain’t saying this more than once. If…if you feel like you got to kill yourself, and you don’t think your family can help you, come to my shop. I have an apartment that I’m slowly moving all of my things into, so I can take you there whenever you want.”

Karamatsu had glanced at Chibita, surprise evident in his gaze. “Are…are you serious?”

“Does it look like I’m joking? What, you don’t want the offer? If that’s the case—”

“No, no, no, that’s completely fine, more than fine,” Karamatsu had rushed to reassure. “But then…what about you?”

“What about me?”

“…If I’m upset, then what about you?”

“I don’t need comforting, Karamatsu. I’m going to change my lifestyle, and I’m doing it slowly. Little by little. Soon, I won’t be living in the same house as that bastard and his wife. I’ll be on my own, tending to my oden shop, just like I always wanted to.”

Karamatsu could only stare in wonder at Chibita. Here he was, ready to give up because his brothers didn’t treat him fairly, and Chibita was smiling, acting the same as always, despite his father being so cruel to him, despite living in a toxic place like that. Not only that, but he was trying to change himself. He was trying to have a better life for himself. He never gave up.

He was a success, even if he wasn’t successful in the eyes of others.

After that, Chibita had become Karamatsu’s closest friend. For a little while, perhaps a few weeks or so, Karamatsu had stayed with Chibita. But after the fifth week, when he finally gained back his confidence, he had told Chibita that he was going back home. Chibita had checked and double-checked and triple-checked that he was okay to be by himself, and Karamatsu had told him that he was…and also told him that if anything was wrong, he was free to call Karamatsu over, especially since he was so good to him. At this, Chibita had blushed, but he had begrudgingly taken the offer.

When Karamatsu had returned back home, all of his brothers were worried sick about him. They asked him where he had called from—since he told them that he was going to be away for a bit when he initially left to stay with Chibita but didn’t say where—and if he was okay and a ton of other questions. That moment, more than anything else, burned itself into Karamatsu’s mind, and it was the only thing that gave him strength to smile for years after.

When Karamatsu graduated from high school, he got a scout from a publishing house. During his last year of high school, when he was with Chibita, he had entered his school’s writing competition that was held annually. He had written some nonsense about perseverance, using the example of a girl who wanted to become an actress—similar to him, before his brothers shot that down too—but couldn’t because of the obstacles of life and the bias of people. It turned out that he had not only won the competition; his works were (non-consensually, but he didn’t care at the time) sent to a publishing house, because of the “lesson of life that is explicitly displayed in this story”.

The publishing house sent him a mail package; it was a cordial invitation to become a contracting pre-college author, as he was not attending college. In exchange for writing for them—and only them—for six years, they would pay for not only his expenses into a pool of selected colleges, but they would also give him an extra stipend for every book he published, depending on how much was sold. Karamatsu had been ecstatic; he loved writing almost as much as he loved music and drama, but he thought about his brothers. His brothers were NEETs, similar to him, but they didn’t look to get a job at all. He had figured that before he accepted their invitation, he would try to convince his brothers to get a job, so he wouldn’t feel so bad.

He held off their invitation for almost a half a year, using that time to convince them to get a job and do something with their lives. They were always the ones hell-bent on being cool; did they really think that being a NEET was cool? He had hoped not. It was widely scorned, and if he thought that the scorning they did to him was bad, the scorning that they would get from society would be ten times worse. He didn’t want that for them. He had sincerely wanted them to be happy. After all, they did care for him when he was gone, after all.

But then Choromatsu had got mad at him. He had slugged him and had yelled at him and none of the brothers had did anything to stop him. And for a second, Karamatsu had felt the depression creeping back up his throat, mainly because he knew that just like before, he had been trying to make a fantasy world for himself. That in actuality, they had only cared back then because they didn’t want to be responsible for Karamatsu’s disappearance. But he had held onto that one memory regardless, and he had used it to smile through the pain.

Just like Chibita had.

And for the next six years, despite Ichimatsu’s sudden (and increasing) hostility towards him, despite Osomatsu’s jeers, Choromatsu’s callousness, Jyuushimatsu’s indifference, and Todomatsu’s coldness, he had smiled, even if that smiled cracked a bit, even if his nerves came up to swallow him whole.

Because he knew that crying wouldn’t make a difference.

Because he knew that killing himself would only make Chibita angry at him.

Because he was going to change himself, little by little.

And if deluding himself would become the bridge to that goal, then he would do it.

Until he was the one successful in the end, until he was the one who could grant his brothers’ happiness.

Just like he had always wanted to.

It was late.

Damn it, it was late.

Karamatsu’s manuscript was due in a few days, and he wasn’t even half-way done with it yet. He had been so busy trying to attend his online classes that he completely forgot to write his novel. He had never been late with a manuscript, and he didn’t want this work to be the one that was, especially since this series was such a big hit. At first, his editor was unsure about the idea. It was a science fiction thriller about a dystopian society, and she had thought that the idea of a dystopian world was hackneyed and tasteless. But once she read his idea, her tune changed and she told him to “go on ahead with it” because he apparently had a new and fresh outlook on “not only dystopian societies, but on character interrelationships” that she really liked. How bitter and sweet came from the same mouth, Karamatsu would never know.

But that wasn’t important right now. What was important was that said story was nowhere close to completion. And he was freaking out, because the sales rose each sequel of the series. The first had 500,000 copies sold, definitely not bad at all, but then the second novel had double that amount, and the trilogy had close to two million copies sold. It had gotten to the point that his novel became popular overseas—something that scared the shit out of him, but excited him at the same time—and he became a best-selling novelist. Surprised? He was too, especially when his editor excitedly told him the news. She had asked him if he wanted to reveal his real name, but he had quickly declined, saying that he couldn’t risk all of his “Sasagawa girls and boys” finding out his identity because they would be “oh so disappointed”. She only laughed, getting the message loud and clear and told him that she would definitely keep it a secret.

Still. That really wasn’t the point, although waxing on memories was enjoyable at any time. He really was worried about this deadline; he didn’t want to miss it if he didn’t have to. He knew what it felt like, to want to read the next installation of a story but having to wait for what seems like centuries before it finally came out. He didn’t want to do that to his fans. But at this point, he really might just be late.

And that incident with Ichimatsu didn’t help, either…

He had went to the hospital a day after Ichimatsu decided that he was going to take his frustrations out on being harshly awoken by Todomatsu by throwing a ceramic bowl at Karamatsu’s head. The doctor had reported that everything was okay (but then chastised him for not coming sooner, since he could have had internal bleeding and etc) but told him to rest for a bit. Karamatsu’s version of resting was going outside by the bridge to find some more inspiration for his story. It worked to an extent. He was able to write about fifty pages more off of just listening to the wind and watching nature as it passed him by, but the next day, after completing five hours’ worth of online class material, he realized that he was seriously behind on his story.

Thus, where he was at right now.

He groaned, putting a hand on his head.

“This is getting nowhere…”

He stood up, cracking his back loudly before stretching. He decided to take a break; he was typing for days, and although he did like writing, this was a bit much. Even he needed a break sometimes.

Just as he was going to get himself a drink—a canned coffee, maybe, especially since he loved coffee most of all—he heard the front door slide open. Changing his plans, he saved his work and shut down his computer, walking briskly to the attic to store it in the corner, a few ways away from Jyuushimatsu’s porn collection and his bug dictionary (which still amused him to no end). He left it charging by the outlet that was in the corner, and then he made his way to greet his brothers.

“Oh, my brothers! I haven’t seen you all day! How I miss you,” he greeted with a bright smile. They didn’t do so much as wave at him, and Karamatsu felt a twinge of nervousness float into his system, but he pushed it down, smiling even harder. He shouldn’t be bitter, he really shouldn’t be, this has been happening since forever. Why wasn’t he used to this by now? He wasn’t sure.

He sat down in front of the kotatsu, and Osomatsu finally said to Karamatsu, “Hey, Karamatsu, you need to get up, we’re going to Chibita’s for a bit. We’re going to leave you if you don’t get dressed.”

Feeling lighter than he had in a few hours—because even though he wasn’t expecting to receive anything from his brothers, the little he did receive made him feel so good—he hummed his consent and got up and got dressed. The five of them were talking, and still feeling the wave of happiness in his stomach, he stayed quiet, just taking it all in. The brothers didn’t really pay attention to him, but Karamatsu didn’t need them to. He was fine with them just inviting him.

They all sat down in front of Chibita’s oden shop, Chibita sending a small smirk Karamatsu’s way and Karamatsu doing a small wave in his direction before they all started to eat. And perhaps Karamatsu was drunk on the happiness, because he felt himself getting awfully fatigued after he finished talking—and not getting ignored, hurray—and fell asleep for a few minutes. Luckily, Choromatsu was the one who woke up first, and he woke up everyone else.

“C’mon guys, let’s head out.”

They all started to get up one by one, all still sluggish from fatigue.

“How much is it, Chibit—oh.”

Chibita was tired as well, probably from working so hard every day, as he was out cold on his stool. Osomatsu snickered.

“Great, let’s jet, then!”

Karamatsu wanted to tell them to pay for their debt—he had forgotten his own wallet at home and had nothing in his pockets except for two measly yen, so he couldn’t even pay for them—for once, but they were already starting to run, and not wanting to be left behind by his brothers, started to run along with them. By the time they were a few feet away from the shop, Chibita had woken up and started running after them. He could hear his screams in the distance, although it was abruptly cut. Karamatsu spared a glance back and saw that Chibita had fell face-down in the dirt, and the guilt that he felt was multiplied manifolds. He wanted to run back, to help his best friend off of the dirt, dust him off a bit, maybe even buy him some new clothes later (that he was definitely going to do) but he knew that he would just get left by his brothers. Besides, he would give Chibita a tip big enough to cover for them as well next time he went to see him.

But for now, that guilt was going to settle in his stomach for a while.

Something didn’t feel too right.

For one thing, he was pretty sure that when he fell asleep, his legs hadn’t been together.

For another, he was pretty sure that it was warm when he fell asleep. Ichimatsu did always have that strangely cute habit of cuddling close to him to preserve body heat.

And lastly, he was almost—no, he was absolutely sure—that he didn’t live by the water. So why was he hearing the sounds of waves right next to him?

Slowly, Karamatsu opened his eyes.

And then he freaked out.

He was in the middle of nowhere. All he could see around him for miles was water, and he was impaled on a wooden pole. Should something happen, there would be no way for his to escape.

Great. Just great.

“I see you’re awake, idjit.” Karamatsu immediately darted his head towards Chibita, who had a smug expression on his face. He had a boat that Karamatsu had seen a while ago, a small, yellow, beat-up old thing that Chibita had pulled his expenses to buy way back in high school, with something that suspiciously looked like a cannon in the back seat. He knew that he had given the key for his house to Chibita in case he needed something, but he hadn’t quite expected this. He could only stare in wonder and disbelief as Chibita cackled.

“Soon it’ll be hide tide, and then you’ll be finished.”

The water licked his toes, and Karamatsu shivered. He gave a questioning gaze to Chibita, who was more than proud enough to explain. “You’re my hostage, you idjit. You guys are going to pay off your tab with ransom.”

Immediately, Karamatsu felt a wave of nausea overtake his stomach, not unlike the waters that were swaying beneath him. He knew pretty damn well how this would go, but to be honest, he didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t even want to touch it with a ten foot pole. If he thought about it, all of the hard work that he had done up until now to keep smiling—that happy façade that seemed more like a habit than his actual feelings, because who would care about someone as worthless as him—would fall apart the moment that they denied helping him. And he knew they would. They never thought of him as an equal, not once.

He nervously smiled and asked, “Y-you’re joking, right, Chibita?”

Chibita quickly uncovered the object in his boat—it was a canon, and it looked pretty good at that—and yelled, “I’m dead serious, idjit!”

Trying harder, he stuttered, “Y-you think you’re going to get away with—”

But he couldn’t deter him. Chibita started firing the cannon, and Karamatsu watched as something came flying out. It smacked him right in the eyes and he yelped out in pain. He knew that Chibita would never kill him—he saved his life years ago, what would be the purpose in killing him now—but if he didn’t stop this, he might get some scars. But then a hardboiled egg popped into his mouth, and he found out that while it hurt like hell, it wasn’t so bad. He was getting breakfast for free after all.

After a good while, Chibita finally stopped and glared at him. “I’m calling your folks, and they better hand over that money or else you’re not going back home, damn it.”

“Wait, Chibita,” Karamatsu tried again. “Listen. You know how much I make, right? I can pay for them. What do you say? I’ll give you—”

“Why do you have to pay for them,” his best friend snarled. He raised up the cannon in warning, and Karamatsu flinched. “You’ve been paying for them for the last three years, and don’t tell me that you haven’t, because I know you. You always give me an extra tip behind their backs that oh so happens to be more than enough to cover all of them, and they don’t ever say thank you or anything. Do they even know you’re doing this? They probably don’t, and this is why they’re gonna pay outta their own pockets.”

“They don’t even work like you and me, Chibita!”

“Oh fucking well. Guess they shoulda thought of that before they started running from their tab. Now shut up and let me call them.”

He called them, and Karamatsu’s nausea increased. He first talked to Osomatsu, who denied being his brother, denied even being related to him, saying that it was the wrong bloody number. But Karamatsu expected that. It wasn’t as if Osomatsu actually cared or anything. But then Jyuushimatsu came—and got it horribly confused (he really wasn’t good at Japanese, despite learning it all his life)—and then Choromatsu took the phone from him, and then he heard as Choromatsu ran—most likely into the common room—and told his other brothers. He felt his heart soar, feeling like he was loved, but then when he heard Ichimatsu’s cheer (Ichimatsu always hated him, though, so he shouldn’t be feeling this hurt, he shouldn’t be, damn it) and Osomatsu’s refusal to pay, and then Todomatsu essentially saying how worthless he was, that he didn’t cost that much, and then heard his mother and his cheers and seriously, he lost to pears?!

He…he just couldn’t keep it up anymore. His brothers really didn’t love him at all, did they? They didn’t even like him. They didn’t even treat him like a human being. At least a human being, they would try to negotiate. But Karamatsu was worse than that. He was useless, worthless, trash, lower than his brothers, just like he always thought. And his fantasy world was falling apart right in front of him again, and Karamatsu couldn’t do a damn thing about it. His heart was breaking again, and he was feeling the urge to cut himself. To kill himself. To do something, anything.

Why was he so useless?

Why wasn’t he worth it?

Why was he even alive?

He didn’t know. Damn it all, he just didn’t know…

He could feel Chibita’s eyes on him, the understanding shining through, as if something clicked, and Karamatsu was certain that he just realized why he wanted to kill himself back then, and slowly, Chibita mechanically got out of the boat and untied him, starting from his feet and then his waist. He almost mechanically jerked Karamatsu onto the boat, but his grip was too soft, too caring, and Karamatsu felt like he was breaking apart atom by atom, similar to how he did in high school when it all became too much, and he sat in the boat, leaning forward on Chibita the entire time as he rowed. Chibita let him.

After he dried Karamatsu as best as he could, Chibita silently led him to their local pub. Everyone gave them strange looks, but knowing that the sextuplets were nothing if not strange, they eventually minded their own business. Pulling out the menu, Chibita tried to put on a cheerful face. But he was startled by what happened too, and his cheerful face cracked a bit. If anything, he came out slightly unsure of himself, and considering the circumstances, Karamatsu didn’t blame him. He never told him that his relationship was this bad with his brothers, after all.

“O-order anything you’d like!”

But Karamatsu wasn’t in the mood to eat. He wasn’t in the mood to do anything.

But Chibita was, as always, persistent.  He gestured to the menu, continuing, “Th-the sashimi here is great! Want to get a sashimi boat?”

He didn’t want to talk. He knew Chibita meant well, but couldn’t he just let it be for a bit? Did he have to eat?

Did he have to stay alive?

“Y-you know,” Chibita tried again, “they probably thought it was a prank, not an actual kidnapping. Th-That’s probably why they didn’t come to save you…Oh man, I messed up. I’m such a lousy actor!” He laughed, trying to keep a bright face for Karamatsu, trying desperately to ignore what was actually happening, but he knew what really happened, and so did Karamatsu, and in the end, his pseudo-enthusiasm fell short. After a while, he stopped laughing and sighed, curling in on himself a bit. Maybe he was thinking about what happened in high school, what he had said to him. Maybe he was regretting it a bit. Maybe he was thinking that he should have left Karamatsu to die after all.

Damn it, where was a knife when you needed one…

“What do you want to do? Go home?” Those words startled Karamatsu out of his depressed thoughts, and he gave Chibita a withering gaze, conveying all he could in his eyes. Luckily, Chibita was close enough with him that he already understood without being told a word. “I guess you can’t, huh. It’d be awkward, huh…Ah, but the sashimi really is good here. Aren’t you hungry?”

He didn’t want to eat, damn it. Just…couldn’t he sit there in silence with him?

Apparently, Chibita could not. He got fed up and yelled, “Damn it, this is awkward for me too, you know?! How was I supposed to know that when I kidnapped you, your family wouldn’t care at all?!” The ‘why didn’t you tell me?’ went unsaid, but they could both hear it, and finally, finally, after being confronted with the truth that despite smiling for over six years, despite trying to please his brothers by doing anything they asked, despite giving them the money that he had earned with sleepless nights and tiresome mornings, despite taking all of their abuse, it had amounted to this, he cried.

He cried and cried and cried. And when he let go, Chibita hugged him, muttering “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry” in his ears. He tried to comfort him, tried to soothe him, and eventually he calmed down enough for Chibita to proclaim that they would try again, that this time, they would show them what it feels like to lose your brothers right before your eyes. Karamatsu hadn’t wanted to; he had wanted to rest first, but he knew how Chibita was when he got fired up, so he just let him do what he wanted.

Although, when he was put on top of an open flame, Karamatsu did admit to himself that he really didn’t want to die like this, that he really shouldn’t have signed up for this, but he didn’t have to worry about it. His brothers, who hadn’t cared in the slightest that he was gone, all threw objects at him, Ichimatsu’s metal container being the bulkiest and knocking him out cold. The last thing he could see was Ichimatsu’s lingering gaze and the last thing he could smell was the scent of dry sardines.

When he woke up, he was in the hospital, bandaged and bruised, and very much depressed. Chibita was by his side, consternated, and very much disturbed. Karamatsu’s hand was warm from Chibita’s hand holding his for so long.

“I’ll tell you what,” Chibita finally said. He had held his breath, thinking about something for a bit, and then he shook his head and sighed.

“I want you to live with me for a bit.”

Chapter Text

What a peculiar smell his room had.

When Karamatsu last checked, none of his brothers held such a large amount of isopropyl that he could smell it so clearly. Yeah, Ichimatsu had some stored away in his closet along with a razor that Karamatsu assumed was the residue blood from when he shaved his chin (though he didn’t see any scars on Ichimatsu’s chin. He must have some ointment somewhere as well, although he didn’t see any), and Jyuushimatsu had some in his first aid kit, stored a few ways away from Karamatsu’s drawer, but Karamatsu never smelled it so heavily. Not to mention that incessant sound…was that Todomatsu’s phone? Didn’t he mute it because Choromatsu always complained about it firing off in the middle of the night?

Wait. Something wasn’t right. Last night…

That’s right. His brothers tried to kill him last night and Chibita…Chibita—

“You’re awake, you idjit?”

Karamatsu slowly turned his head towards Chibita, who was staring at him hard. He looked like he wanted to be angry and dejected, but his face couldn’t pick an emotion so it decided to split it even. It wasn’t a very good look on him, especially since Chibita was smiling all the time. Wordlessly, Karamatsu turned back towards the ceiling and nodded.

“You’ve been in and out a few times since you came into the hospital. Do you remember anything that happened?”

The second eldest brother swallowed harshly and nodded his head again, trying hard to keep the tears from falling on his face. How could he forget so easily? If it hadn’t been Chibita who had kidnapped him, if it had been some stranger, then Karamatsu wouldn’t have gotten help for sure. (Though it can be also assumed that he probably wouldn’t be able to have kidnapped him in the first place, since Chibita was the only person outside of his immediate family—he knew who his other brothers talked with, so he was almost certain about this—to have the keys to their house.) He would have been left there to die, without any remorse, his parents not even noticing that he wasn’t around.

To which, an apology and a word of gratitude was in order.

“Ah, speaking of which,” Karamatsu started. “I…I should thank you for saving me.”

Chibita scoffed. “What are ya talking about. I never saved you. If anything, I placed your life in danger by trying to kidnap you. But I never knew that your brothers would do that. You idiot bunch always seemed so close—”

“Yeah, they’re close,” Karamatsu interrupted bitterly. “But not me. Never me. It’s not your fault, though. I never told you.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Silence. A pause, a few deep breaths, and then: “…because if I told you, then that means that I would be admitting that my efforts for the last few years of my life have been a failure and a waste of time.”

It was hard to admit it, but once Karamatsu said it, he knew it was true. He pulled himself into a delusional world for the last six years, maybe even more, replaying that one memory over and over like some broken video cassette—maybe he was, he certainly felt like one—and he believed for every second that it was true, that based on what was false in the first place, they loved him even if it wasn’t the easiest to see; even before that, he had always tried to see the good in his brothers, despite the truth all but bludgeoning him in the head. There was no goodwill in their hearts, and they didn’t love him. It was that simple.

But who would want to face the truth that even his own family hated him? No one would, and that was partially what drove Karamatsu all this time. That, and Chibita’s persistence, his determination to make his dream come true. Just like Chibita was able to fulfil his dream of separating from his parents and having his own oden shop, Karamatsu had thought that one day, he could make his brothers happy (with him), (accept him, and love him). But now he could see that wasn’t possible, and Karamatsu was at a loss as to what to do from here.

He finally looked back at Chibita, who was staring at the ground, his expression pensive, his arms stiffly locked in front of him, and his hands tightened into fists. He looked so distressed that for a moment Karamatsu forgot his own self-pity to attempt to ease Chibita’s guilt.

“My dear friend.” Chibita looked up once, but then back at the floor again. “Chibita, look at me.”

He listened to Karamatsu’s command, tilting his head up just enough that they would have eye-contact, but not enough for Karamatsu to fully meet his gaze. But that was fine. So as long as Chibita could see his eyes, see that he wasn’t in the wrong no matter what he thought, Karamatsu was fine.

“I don’t blame you at all, okay? You tried to help me, and when it failed, you took me to a hospital. Not to mention that you care. Chibita, that’s what is most important to me: you care…even more than my own family. That…nothing you could do at this point could ever upset me. Okay?”

Chibita looked as though he wanted to argue, as if he couldn’t believe his words, and he opened his mouth to say just that, but thinking better of it, nodded and swallowed. He looked even more uncomfortable than ever, and Karamatsu wondered if he had perhaps said the wrong thing.

 Two weeks later found Karamatsu well enough to hobble out of the hospital room and into the waiting area. His head was bandaged, his arm was firmly strapped, and he needed crutches to prevent himself from putting too much pressure on his injured leg, but he was completely healthy otherwise and was allowed to leave. During those two weeks, Chibita visited him every day for three or so hours, talking to him about absolutely nothing but still managing to entertain Karamatsu anyways. After all, since he was hospitalized, none of his family members came to visit him. Did they even know he was alive?

Did they even care?

He knew the answer to that already. He knew it, but he couldn’t believe it. They all but beat the truth into his head, leaving him bloodied and wounded, and he still wanted to believe they loved him. How sick of a person was he, to chase after something that obviously wanted to do nothing with him? Was he that starved for affection that he couldn’t let his brothers go?

He knew the answer to that as well.

He waited on line for a few minutes, but when he finally reached the counter and asked for his papers, he was quickly released without much question or even a fee, which was rather strange to him.

“You’re free to go,” the nurse that was signing his papers informed him. She was chewing a piece of gum rather noisily, and for some reason, it unsettled him. It wasn’t annoying, per se, just…unsettling.

…maybe it was a little annoying. But the sounds of incessant beeping and people talking and children wailing easily overpowered it.

“Don’t I have to pay the hospital bill?” She stopped clicking her gum, giving him a puzzled look, as if he was supposed to know what was happening when he clearly didn’t.

“You’re already paid for. You were paid for when you were admitted here.”

“What?” Karamatsu’s eyes darted to Chibita, who avoided his gaze by focusing on the emergency exit at the very right corner of the room. His face heated up, but he didn’t meet Karamatsu’s probing stare. “How much was it?”

“Would you like a copy of the invoice?”

After Chibita pointedly refused to meet Karamatsu’s stare, Karamatsu sighed and turned back towards the obnoxious nurse. “If you could so kindly do so, it would be greatly appreciated.”

As soon as the two of them walked out of the hospital, Karamatsu stopped. He glanced down at Chibita who stopped right next to him. His face revealed nothing this time.

“You didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t want you to know,” Chibita retorted. He started to walk again, which prompted Karamatsu to quickly catch up to him. “You’ve been through enough; why should you have to pay for the bill as well?”

“But twenty-thousand yen? Don’t you think that’s pushing it a bit?”

Chibita stopped walking and glared at him, crossing his arms and jutting his chin, almost daring Karamatsu to argue with him. “Are you saying that you’re not even worth twenty-thousand measly yen? Because if that’s what you’re saying, I’ll seriously hit you, injured or not, damn it.”

When Karamatsu was silent, Chibita’s patience started to wear thin. “Tell ya what. I’ll meet you back at my apartment. You’ve been there enough times that you should know the way to get there. Get your shit from home and by the time you come to my place, the door’ll be unlocked. Alright?”

“Ah, Chibita—”

But Chibita was already walking away from Karamatsu, all while yelling, “I don’t want to hear it, damn it. Augh, why am I the one angry when you should be—you know what, forget it. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Karamatsu knew not to talk to Chibita when he got like this, so he started to hobble his way home to get his laptop and a change of clothes that could last him a few weeks to months. Because God knows he wasn’t coming back home anytime soon. Not when he would be seeing and sleeping next to the brothers that didn’t think twice about his death. Speaking of which.

There they were. They were all but herding around Ichimatsu a few feet away, some of their hands on the small of Ichimatsu’s back.

Ichimatsu had obviously been crying for whatever reason, and his brothers were all around him, laughing like nothing was wrong in the world, and watching them, Karamatsu felt a part of him break, because what the hell? They hadn’t acted that way when Karamatsu was on the verge of death. They hadn’t acted that way when he was depressed in high school, because of them, no doubt. And all of the disbelief came out into the form of tears as he screamed his frustrations, hoping that at least one of them would turn back and at least glance at him (or was he so worthless that they couldn’t even do that much for someone like him?) but none of them looked back at him, Ichimatsu too engrossed in his own problems and his other brothers just not caring, and that was the last string for him. He quickly hailed a taxi and grabbed his things from home—his laptop, a few set of clothes, his favorite glasses and jacket, and his mirror that he always used to check to make sure he was smiling properly so they would never get suspicious—and jumped back into the same taxi to meet up with Chibita.

 When Karamatsu moved in with Chibita, it was slightly awkward for him.

Things weren’t like how they used to be when they were in high school; Chibita’s apartment changed rather radically. Unlike before, when it was barren and empty, with nothing but an empty living room with worn down furniture and slightly peeling wallpaper, now everything was repainted into a warm and colorful shade of light aquamarine, and the furniture was polished and neatened. In six years, Chibita had a wonderful place to call home, and he had a steady income to depend on. Karamatsu made almost five times the amount of money that Chibita made annually, and he didn’t have even a fifth of the furniture that Chibita had, neither did he have anything worth being proud about, except his stories, which no one even knew even belonged to him.

He wondered what that said about him.

But then he shook his head. He didn’t want to think about it. Right now, he needed to figure out what he wanted to do with his life. He was fed up with Ichimatsu and his selfishness and his brother’s apathy towards him, and he was going to act for himself now. Ah, that’s right. Before he thought about himself, he needed to pay back Chibita for his kindness.

“Chibita, when you’re done, do come here for a moment.”

Chibita was in the kitchen, preparing something light for them to eat with some tea. It wasn’t really Chibita’s style to drink tea—especially not in the summer like this—but he was doing it so that Karamatsu would be absolutely comfortable as he recovered, which is something that, although not needed, Karamatsu did appreciate. After all, it wasn’t as if anyone else was going to care enough for him like this, so why not savor it from whoever would give it to him?

“Is there something else ya need?”

“No, I just want to talk to you for a bit.” So after Chibita brought over some light refreshments and a cup of tea, he sat down next to Karamatsu, waiting for him to say something.

“Take this.” Karamatsu shifted through his pockets, and pulling out his wallet, handed Chibita a few folded bills in one hand. But Chibita wouldn’t accept it. He blanched, all but thrusting the money back into Karamatsu’s hand, and quickly jerked away.

“I—I don’t want your money. How many times do I gotta tell you that you’re not paying me back?!”

“I don’t particularly see why you shouldn’t take it. You paid for my hospital bill when you had no reason to, it’s only natural to do this for you.” Again, Chibita looked embarrassed, but he still refused, pushing away the money with shaking hands, unable to even look at his best friend.

“Listen. I said you don’t need to pay me back, so stop trying to force your damn money on me.”

Frowning, Karamatsu finally acquiesced, but his face grew thoughtful, thinking of some other way to pay back Chibita without directly giving him money. He wondered if he should perhaps give Chibita a signed copy of one of his novels. If Chibita sold it, then he would definitely get enough money to pay back for his hospital expenses and then some. Ah, but Chibita was rather sentimental, wasn’t he? He would end up keeping it until it lost value, should it lose value. Then maybe he should raise money for him and then give him the proceeds? Oh, but then it would result in the same thing: Karamatsu giving Chibita raw cash and Chibita turning it away.

That’s right. He could always help him out with his oden stand…but he didn’t know how to make oden, so he couldn’t help him cook it.

Oh.

“If you won’t take my money, then how about you let me help you bring in customers? You’ll get an increase in sales, and I can pay you back without having to give you money so you won’t feel bad. And since you would be doing all the work, there’s nothing to give back to me. What do you think? Nice, right?”

Chibita wanted to argue that Karamatsu still would be working, but when he saw the determination and desperation in his eyes, he sighed and gave in. “All right, all right. But we aren’t doing it anytime this week. Your leg will still need more time to recover, and I’m not gonna suffer from a guilt trip because your self-sacrificing ass decided to do it as soon as possible.”

And during that week, Karamatsu rested his body (although he occasionally got up to cook dinner for the two of them—it was never as good as Chibita’s, but it tasted good enough to make Chibita smile), but when he did get up to do something, it was to finish his manuscript that he was long past the due date. He wondered if his editor already tried to go to his house. He had looked at his phone several times when he was in the hospital, but he never received anything from her at all, and he was wondering if perhaps she forgot (which is unlikely; she was one of the most anal people Karamatsu has ever met) or if someone told her that he was in the hospital. That was impossible though. No one knew about her except Chibita, and Chibita would have told him something if his editor came to see him.

The next week, Karamatsu put his heart into getting customers for Chibita, utilizing the mask that had shattered from his brothers’ callousness a few weeks ago. (It had to have been almost a month now; he was in the hospital for two weeks, and then he rested mentally and physically all of last week.) He knew what his brothers said; this side of him was painful, it was disgusting, and it was cringe-worthy. But really, it was all he was used to doing. For the last six years, he used this same mask to delude his brothers into thinking that he was happy and that he was confident (narcissistic, Todomatsu called it) when that was farther from the truth. And although he was still upset from before, although he was still depressed (although Chibita often visited him and kept him on video chat even when he was working), and although his mask all but dissipated in thin air when he was recovering in the hospital and when he came first out, it was forming again, not because he wanted it to happen or because he was trying to, but because this false identity became his true identity.

And he was quite fine with that.

“Oh, don’t you look lovely today,” Karamatsu cooed as a couple walked by. The girl laughed at his dramatic antics, but the boy simply frowned. That was fine, he was used to this. All he needed was for one of them to like him, and from the looks of it, the girl was going to be the one to cave first. “Say, isn’t it cold tonight? How about you come on this way and eat something warm?”

She giggled, putting her hand to her mouth, obviously thinking that he was flirting. Her boyfriend next to her elbowed her in the side. He looked even more irritated than before, and sensing that he might drag her away, Karamatsu began to work on him. It seemed he had more influence in the relationship anyhow.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to make memories, eating under the moonlight, instead of shivering all the way home? Come, take your girlfriend and come eat at my oden stand for a bit.” He watched as the boy relented, debating in the back of his mind if he should give into this or not. His girlfriend made the choice for him as she lightly tugged on his arm, beckoning him to listen to Karamatsu’s words because “we haven’t eaten yet. It couldn’t hurt, could it?”

He did this all night with different people: women, men, couples, teens, and most of them gave into Karamatsu’s gaudy (yet charming) speeches and ate at Chibita’s oden stand. At the end of the fifth day of doing this, the night of, Chibita was all but beaming from the amount of customers he got. Around a nabe pot, Chibita was excitedly telling Karamatsu about all of the people that he fed and their reactions with his oden. It was the happiest that Karamatsu had ever seen his friend, and putting an elbow on the table and leaning his cheek on his hand, Karamatsu felt a wave of serenity wash over him. He wished that these times would never end.

 Unfortunately, things never stayed gold.

Two months after Karamatsu’s admittance into the hospital (and six weeks of staying in Chibita’s house, which definitely calmed his nerves and made him more stable than he originally was, considering that he was definitely contemplating suicide because of how useless and unwanted he felt), he met with his brothers. All five of them.

It was bound to happen eventually, Karamatsu knew. Their town wasn’t really a big one, and everyone was connected with each other in some way. But to be perfectly honest, Karamatsu wasn’t ready for it. How should he act? Should he tell them how he really feels? Or should he act the way he always did? He didn’t know.

He was ushering some of the people outside of Chibita’s shop, giving them an enthusiastic wave, when he spotted his brothers coming in the opposite direction. They didn’t recognize that it was him yet—he wore a plain black shirt and rugged denim jeans that day, not the fancy wardrobe they were used to seeing—but he recognized them right away and he glanced at Chibita, feeling a sense of panic rise in his stomach. Luckily, Chibita was looking in his direction, and when he saw that his brothers were coming in the opposite direction, he jerked his head over, signaling Karamatsu to stand next to him. Almost immediately, Karamatsu briskly shuffled towards him, keeping his head down the entire time.

“I’m not ready for this,” Karamatsu muttered as he came close to him.

“Just act like yourself,” Chibita replied. He dished out some more food in another customer’s bowl, and then, with the other hand, grabbed Karamatsu’s hand behind the counter and squeezed it. “I’ll be here the entire time to support you, but ya gotta face them eventually. Besides, if you really can’t deal with them and you don’t wanna live on your own, I’ll let you live with me for a while longer.”

Karamatsu squeezed back Chibita’s hand. “Thanks.”

“You should know that’s what friends are for, idjit.”

When they separated a bit, Osomatsu was the first one to spot the two of them, and he drawled, “Look whose here, guys.”

At once everyone turned their attention to Chibita’s stand, and to Karamatsu in particular. Everyone froze in shock, and Todomatsu was the first one to snap out of it as he ran to the stand.

“Karamatsu-niisan! Where were you all this time? We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” He leaned over, trying to get a good look at Karamatsu’s face, and Karamatsu flinched for a second. Chibita glanced at him quickly before gripping his hand again, and it was all of the standing needed so that Karamatsu could act, just like he always had.

(But why did he need to act? It wasn’t as if they cared. They probably hadn’t even noticed he was gone.)

“Oh, my dear brother,” Karamatsu began, smiling widely at Todomatsu. He used his free hand to brush it through his hair. “Fate has kept me away from you, but fear not, for I am simply recovering and will return back home soon.”

Todomatsu cringed a bit in disgust, but then he schooled his expression again as he began to question him. “But you could have did that when you got home. Do you know how worried everyone was? We looked for you after you and Chibita pulled that prank—” Ah, is that why they found it necessary to beat him within an inch of his life? What a valid and solid reason to assault someone, especially a family member. “—a few nights ago. We thought you were going to go somewhere for a bit and waited for you to come back home, but you never did.”

“I do apologize, but I figured I could use some time to recuperate. Being kidnapped isn’t exactly fun, you know.” He saw their faces twist in something similar to guilt, but he didn’t pay it any mind. Because he knew that they would feel bad now (or pretend to feel bad, he didn’t know or care at this point, because didn’t this happen a few years ago after he tried to commit suicide, and they didn’t do a damn thing then either?) and then they would forget about it later. He didn’t need that type of love. (But if he didn’t need it, then why was he still there? Wasn’t he supposed to do what he wanted now? Why wasn’t he on his own, or even moving in permanently with Chibita? Why was he still thinking about moving back with them?)

(It was because he knew he was going to try to win them over again as soon as he recovered from this slump, because he was so stuck in his ways that this was all he could do at this point.)

“We’re sorry,” Choromatsu said. His face looked a bit pale. He tried his best to keep eye-contact with Karamatsu, but his gaze kept lowering. “We didn’t know it was real. And that night…we thought you were trying to mess with us, so we lashed out and that wasn’t right.”

It wasn’t right, and it wasn’t excusable. But seeing them like this, Karamatsu felt something crack inside of him—what was left to crack?—and he felt himself giving in. They really felt bad, and although he knew that they would forget later on, he would carve this moment into his heart to use for however long he would need it this time.

He was such a horrible person, wasn’t he?

“I forgive you,” Karamatsu smiled. He could feel his lips trembling, but he kept smiling until the mask was fully in place, and after that, things became much easier. He talked in that dramatic way he always did, watching and waiting for their reactions, but although they cringed—Choromatsu all but grimacing—they listened to him and actually had a dialogue with him. The only thing that Karamatsu thought was strange was Ichimatsu.

His eyes were locked onto Karamatsu’s face the entire time, but he didn’t say a word.

But even stranger than him was Chibita. While at first, Chibita was calm—even a bit irritable, if Karamatsu were honest—over time, Chibita grew nervous. And when he did, he kept glancing at Ichimatsu, who would glance back at him and then at Karamatsu. When they finally left at the end of the night (and of course not paying their bill), Chibita closed his shop and leaned against the door. He breathed in and out a few times, and then he turned to him.

“…I have something I want to tell you.”

Karamatsu thumbed through the cash, checking its amount before handing it to Chibita. “…Hmm? What is it?”

Chibita took the money, but then he rested it on the side of his stand instead of putting it in his pocket.  “I—just—augh, forget it.”

“No, tell me. You’ve been acting weird and so has Ichimatsu, come to think of it. Is something wrong?”

Silence, and then another deep breath. “…I. I’ve been lying to you.”

“About what?”

“…can I tell ya when we’re at home?”

So they walked home, side by side, Chibita looking  at anything but Karamatsu and Karamatsu looking at nothing but Chibita, wondering what could possibly be wrong, and if Ichimatsu did something to him. (Karamatsu wasn’t sure what he would do if that were the case. Should he lash out at Ichimatsu? Could he bring himself to? Or did Chibita do something to Ichimatsu? No, that didn’t seem likely at all.)

When Chibita unlocked the door to his apartment and let Karamatsu in, he immediately closed the door behind him and leaned on it. He still looked so incredibly guilty that Karamatsu didn’t push it and instead told him to sit in the dining room and wait for him to cook something up. When Chibita didn’t move, Karamatsu sighed and lightly pushed Chibita to the dining room and pressed on his shoulders until he sat down.

“We can talk about it later,” he said as he made his way out into the kitchen to make something. “Feeling distressed is the easiest way I know of to become sick. And have you not taken care of me these last few months because of my illness?”

“That’s different, and you know it.”

Karamatsu hummed. “No, not at all, my friend. An illness is an illness, so the result is the same. Dinner will be done in a bit; do try to relax if you can.”

The bald man grunted, and then after a moment of silence, noted, “You’ve started that habit again, idjit?”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“That, right there. You haven’t been doing that for almost all of the time that we’ve been living together. Is it because of earlier?”

“I’ve been using it to lure in customers,” Karamatsu replied as he brought out their food. It was spiced soba noodles with small, chopped up grilled meat on the side. It was a dish that he always wanted to try with his brothers, but since he was living with Chibita—and Chibita would actually give a damn that he cooked something in the first place—he was the next (and personally, more favorable) choice. “It’s worked pretty well too, as you should know.”

“Don’t you get tired of doing it?”

“To the contrary, actually. I’ve done it for so long that it’s almost as easy as breathing. Pretending to be happy and flamboyant all of the time should be hard, shouldn’t it? But I’ve been doing this for years, Chibita. Years. Without stopping. They say that it takes twenty-one days to create a habit, and I’ve been doing this for over six years. Now let’s eat; the meat won’t taste as good if it goes cold.”

He picked up his chopsticks and raised it, cueing Chibita to do the same. But Chibita only sat there, looking even guiltier than before.

“You’re not going to eat?”

“Not that, just…you know, your brothers care about you. At least…at least Ichimatsu does.”

Eventually, Chibita picked up his chopsticks and began to eat, but Karamatsu stared at him.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I mean, it’s obvious, right? They searched for you and—”

“No, not that. Why Ichimatsu in particular? If anything, I’d say he hates me the most out of all my brothers. He has always picked on me about everything I’ve done, and he’s always the first one to insult me. Not to mention how violent he is towards me. I can’t possibly fathom that he would think of me as an equal, much less care about me.”

 “…maybe you’re right. After all, you know more than I do about your brothers and how they feel.”

“No, tell me. Why do you think that? Something had to have happened for you to think that. You saw what happened a few months ago; you were the one to kidnap me. So why the change of heart?”

“…will you promise not to hate me?”

“Chibita, no matter what you tell me, I could never dislike—much less hate—you. You’re my best friend, my only friend who likes me despite my flaws. I would never hate you, I promise.”

Breathing in deeply, Chibita slowly placed his chopsticks on the top of his bowl. He clasped his hands together, and then with a burst of courage, blurted, “I wasn’t the one who took you to the hospital. Or registered you. Or paid for you. It was Ichimatsu.”

The chopsticks dropped out of Karamatsu’s hand. “What?”

“I said—”

“No, I heard what you said. Ichimatsu? Ichimatsu of all people? There’s no way he would do that. Maybe you got my brothers mixed up. People do that all the time. Maybe that was Choromatsu or something. Actually, none of my brothers sound like the type to—”

“Just listen to me for a second before you start making assumptions, damn it.”

“But Chibita—”

“No buts, Karamatsu. Just listen to me, damn it. I know it sounds bizarre, but it really was Ichimatsu who did it. That night that they attacked you, I had immediately taken my things and went back and then I was going to come back for you. It was impossible for me to take you on it or else we wouldn’t have went anywhere. That stupid trailer was heavy as it was. So I was coming back for you and then I got a call from you, and when I picked up, the person on the other line was Ichimatsu. He asked me where I was, and I uh, I admit I yelled at him first, telling him that he had no right using your phone after what he did, and then after I was done, he asked me if I was done wasting time, which made me even angrier.

“He told me to meet him at Minamioritade Hospital, which wasn’t too far from your place. When I got there, you were already on a stretcher and Ichimatsu was at the front. He came to me and told me to register under my name, and when I asked him why, since he was the one who took you there, he said that he didn’t want anything to do with you. So I did as he asked, and then he gave me the money needed to pay for your bill. I told him that I would pay for it since it’s under my name anyhow, but he then gave the damn money to the receptionist at the front and told me, ‘You’re right, you should pay for it, since I won’t, cause Shittymatsu isn’t worth a damn penny.’ And then when he took the receipt, your brother threatened me not to tell you or else he would do what he did to you to me. And, well. I know how you feel about your brothers and how they treat you, so I thought this was best. But then I saw him again and I couldn’t hide it anymore. I’m sorry for lying to you, Karamatsu.”

“So I didn’t owe you anything?”

“Didn’t I just say that? Don’t make this more embarrassing than it already is, damn it. Just get it over with.”

At that, Karamatsu finally looked at Chibita properly. He was nervous, scared even, and Karamatsu couldn’t understand why until he replayed though Chibita’s confession in his mind.

Oh. He thought that Karamatsu was going to get mad at him.

“You didn’t deceive me.”

This time, Chibita was the one to freeze. “What are you talking about? Didn’t you just—”

“I heard what you said. But I don’t think so. This whole time, yes, I thought you did this, but at the same time, you never told me that you did it either. I drew my own conclusions based on what I saw, which means you never lied to me. Not to mention that Ichimatsu threatened you into silence. Besides, just you staying by my side was enough for me to forgive you, Chibita. You’re the best friend that I could ever ask for.”

 After that, Karamatsu worked for Chibita for another week, despite Chibita’s complaints. His advertising worked so well that some of the past customers came back just to see him (which, Karamatsu admitted, made him feel pretty damn good) and Chibita’s oden stand became so crowded that every consecutive day, Chibita had to get more and more chairs so that way his customers wouldn’t sit on the floor. When it was all said and done, Karamatsu still gave him twenty-thousand yen, claiming that he still hadn’t paid off his brothers’ debt. Chibita told him to keep it, but Karamatsu didn’t back down, and in the end, Chibita gave in, feeling almost goaded into taking the money.

On the following Sunday, Karamatsu told him that he was ready to return home. Chibita asked him if he was really okay with that, and Karamatsu told him that at the very least, he needed to talk with Ichimatsu. Hearing that, Chibita cheered him on and told him that he could come back if things didn’t work out or if it became too much. Those words were probably more meaningful than even Chibita’s invitation, and Karamatsu gave him the happiest smile Chibita had ever seen.

When Karamatsu got home, no one was there except Ichimatsu.

“You came back.”

Karamatsu gave him a bright smile and opened his arms to give Ichimatsu a hug. It was the boldest and stupidest move he had ever done, but he was curious if Ichimatsu was going to lash out at him after what happened a few months ago, especially considering that he was the one that saved him in the first place, which he still had a hard time believing. “Oh, Ichimatsu, my dear brother! How I missed you! Did you miss me?”

“Not one bit.” Ichimatsu ignored his elder brother’s outstretched arms and turned around back into the house, adding, “It was actually quiet for once.”

“Ah, yes. My brilliance makes any room shine brightly,” Karamatsu deflected as he followed Ichimatsu into the house. “But fear not! For I am back to brighten this damp and desolate house again.”

“Shut up before I hurt you, Shittymatsu.” He waited until Karamatsu passed him to go into their shared bedroom before he followed him, closing the door and sitting on the floor right in front of it. He stared at Karamatsu as he was unpacking his luggage, which wasn’t much. When it came time to pull his computer out of his backpack, he paused, instead moving to unpack his sunglasses and leather jacket.

“Someone came to the house a few weeks ago,” Ichimatsu stated. “She was asking for you, but since none of us knew where you were, we told her that no such person lived here. That was your editor, wasn’t it?”

Karamatsu almost dropped the clothes that were in his hands. So she did come over. But Ichimatsu wasn’t supposed to know that. He never told him about her, and he never told him that he was a writer. No one should know his connection to her except for Chibita, who wouldn’t tell a soul. How did he find out? Did he leave one of his old manuscripts lying around? And the fact that he was asserting that she was his editor meant that without a shadow of a doubt, he knew Karamatsu was a writer.

“Editor? Surely an editor wouldn’t come to our house,” Karamatsu said. “Perhaps she was looking for me because she’s one of the Karamatsu Girls. I knew that one of them would love me so much that they would want to know more about me. But alas, I belong to all of my Karamatsu Girls, not just—”

“How has your story been going anyways? You were working on it a few weeks ago, but you never managed to finish it, did you?” Ichimatsu kept on staring at him, and between his stare and his words, Karamatsu eventually gave in. He sighed and reached inside of his backpack to pull out his laptop. Ichimatsu’s eyes flickered to his laptop before he visibly relaxed and looked elsewhere.

“How did you know?”

“You left your computer on and I happened to pass by. That was a pretty stupid move. Had I been any other brother, I would have either taken the laptop or the money you carelessly left next to your old manuscript.”

Karamatsu wondered why, if Ichimatsu knew that there was money there, why he didn’t take it. He was being awfully nice for someone who constantly bulled him. Karamatsu opened his mouth to ask, but then Ichimatsu got up to leave.

“Wait—”

Ichimatsu turned back to him. “What, you have something else you want to say?”

Karamatsu felt something akin to anxiety flood his stomach and he paused, wondering what he was going to say to him. Should he ask him to keep silent about it? Ah, but he already owed Ichimatsu for the hospital incident, even if he did contribute to his injuries. He should thank him for that too, but he wasn’t sure if now was the right time. He never really even talked to Ichimatsu one on one like this since high school, and those days were long since over, especially since Ichimatsu’s behavior changed erratically. Even Karamatsu talking to him like this without Ichimatsu getting irritated enough to take the nearest object and throw it at him was a miracle.

“Ah, never mind, my brother. Carry on.” He held his hands out in front of him, a sign of acquiesce. Ichimatsu gazed at him a moment longer before he turned and left the room, and Karamatsu breathed out a sigh of relief.

This was probably the first time that Ichimatsu had talked to Karamatsu without lashing out at him.

 That night, his brothers greeted Karamatsu in the common room. It was a strange thing, to socially be a part of his family. He knew it was most likely their guilt. After all, they injured their brother, who was already strapped and held over an open fire, to the point of unconsciousness. After that, they didn’t see their brother for two months, and then a week later, their brother comes back to them. Most likely, the guilt from their behavior was eating at them, but it wouldn’t last long. It never did.

But Ichimatsu was different. He wasn’t as violent towards Karamatsu, but he still ignored and insulted him. It was strange because Karamatsu wasn’t sure if this slight change was because Ichimatsu felt guilty for what happened before or if it was because Ichimatsu actually started to like him. He was more inclined to believe the former, especially since there was no reason for Ichimatsu to suddenly like him. But Ichimatsu had no reason to feel guilty, because he was the one who carried Karamatsu to the hospital and paid that astronomically high bill. He still hasn’t thanked him for that.

As Karamatsu predicted, his brothers’ niceness didn’t last long. It lasted three days before they began to revert to their old habits. Even Ichimatsu had started to become violent towards him again. Because of that, Karamatsu’s mask went back up as well—it wasn’t like there wasn’t a mask before, but a part of him had been exposed—and he felt himself slipping a bit. He tried his best to stay exuberant, but the more he tried was the more they ignored it.

One day, it became all too much. They couldn’t even stay nice to him for a full week despite him being gone for almost five times that amount. A week after they returned to normal, Karamatsu left them and went into their shared bedroom to climb up onto the roof and play his guitar for a bit. But when he walked into his room, Ichimatsu was already in there, petting a grey cat that he had seen wandering around their house for quite some time. Ichimatsu didn’t acknowledge him, but the cat did, pausing mid-purr to stare at him questioningly.

“Ah, my brother. I had thought that everyone was in the common room. Did I disturb you—?”

“Yes, you did.”

“A-ah…I deeply apologize—”

“If you really want to apologize, then get out.”

Karamatsu swallowed and nodded, fully prepared to turn around and leave, but then he heard his brothers noisily chatting in the common room. He glanced back at Ichimatsu, the guitar, and then at the door.

“Well? What are you waiting for?”

“Ah…well, actually, I have something I want to tell you.” At that, Ichimatsu disregarded the cat and gave Karamatsu his full attention. Karamatsu wanted to bite his tongue for speaking so rashly, but seeing that Ichimatsu actually focused his attention on him (the only brother that has done that so far), he stood his ground. Maybe this wasn’t the right time to tell him, but maybe Ichimatsu’s attitude would change. Maybe he would be nicer. Maybe he would even love him, and their brotherly bond would strengthen.

Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

Well. Now that he had his attention, he couldn’t stay silent.

“You saved me a while ago, do you remember, brother?”

After a beat of silence, Ichimatsu looked away and mumbled, “What are you talking about? I didn’t do any such thing.”

“Ah, I know you’ve probably forgotten, my brother. It was a few months ago, after all. You took me to the hospital and paid for me, don’t you remember?”

Immediately, Ichimatsu became irritated, and his grip on the cat on his lap tightened, causing the cat to cease its purring. Instead, it began to cry, and Ichimatsu loosened his grip, temporarily scratching under its neck to soothe it, and it curled back into a ball, fully comfortable again. Once it relaxed, Ichimatsu turned his attention back to Karamatsu.

“I only sent you to the hospital because you were bleeding on the floor and if you died, then our brothers would have been responsible for your pathetic death. Don’t think of it as anything more than that.”

It stung, but Karamatsu knew that he would say something like that, so he simply laughed it off. “Yes, yes I know, my brother. But I was thinking. I haven’t paid you back for your kindness. And even if it was to save yourself, you still saved me. So if you want anything in return, I would be more than happy to grant your wish. I just got paid yesterday, although it’s significantly less than usual. If its money you want, I would be happy to give you as much as you desire.”

“I don’t want anything from you, Shittymatsu. You’ve got nothing I want.”

“Surely that isn’t true, brother. You could get as much cat food as you want if I gave you some of what I had.”

“I said, I don’t want anything from you. Besides, if you haven’t noticed, I have more than enough money to get the cat food I need.”

Karamatsu frowned. “Then is there anything else I could do? Believe it or not, I do want to make you happy, brother.”

Ichimatsu opened his mouth, most likely to reject him, but then his face grew thoughtful.

“You’d do anything I ask?”

“Of course. Anything for my brother.”

Ichimatsu thought for a bit more, and then his lips curved into a small smirk. “If you’ll do anything for me, right here and now, get on your knees and beat off in front of me.”

Karamatsu stiffened. He wasn’t comfortable doing something like that, especially where someone was watching. He never really masturbated often, but when he did, it was usually in the bathroom or in the attic when no one was home. It was always something personal to him, and to have someone watch that would feel embarrassing. There was no way that he could show his dick—much less masturbate—in front of his brother.

“I uh. I’m not too comfortable with that, brother. Couldn’t you ask something else of me?”

“But I thought you would do anything I ask. If you’re really grateful for what I’ve done for you, shouldn’t you be eager to do this for me? It’s not like I’m asking for money from you.” His smirk widened, and Karamatsu shifted uncomfortably.

“Yes, but something like that is personal, and I’ve never done it in front of someone else before—”

Ichimatsu sneered, shifting his body away from Karamatsu and giving his undivided attention to the cat again. “I see. You don’t really want to pay me back then. Don’t waste my time if you’re not going to listen to my request from you, Shittymatsu. You were on your way out, weren’t you?”

Karamatsu paused. He really wasn’t comfortable with this; who masturbated in front of their family member anyhow? That was like masturbating in front of his mom, or in front of Todomatsu—well, perhaps it wasn’t that bad—or in front of Jyuushimatsu—okay, maybe it wasn’t that bad either—and he really didn’t want to do it. But if he stepped out of this room, then perhaps he wouldn’t get another chance to make Ichimatsu happy again. And he did want to make all of his brothers happy in general, he truly, truly did. So even though he wasn’t comfortable…

“Oh my dear brother, who said I wasn’t going to do it? Of course I’ll do it, so as long as it makes you happy.”

Ichimatsu stared at him again. “Well then, what are you waiting for? Get on your knees and show me your dick.”

Feeling the pressure from Ichimatsu’s eyes—an expectation that Karamatsu wasn’t even sure of—he slowly got to his knees in front of him and slowly unzipped his pants. He could still hear his brothers chatting noisily in the next room, which made his movements jerky, but he managed to get his denim jeans and his briefs to his thighs, and he leaned forward to gain balance. He gripped his dick and he gripped it tightly, trying to spur it to life, but it stayed limp in his hand. He felt a sense of embarrassment wash over him.

“You can’t get it up?”

“Ah, I’m afraid so…” Karamatsu tried to pump his dick a bit, but it stayed flaccid in his hands. If anything, it shrunk into itself a bit, and Karamatsu’s face heated with shame. Ichimatsu laughed, picking up the cat and moving it next to him. He opened his legs and bent them a bit, almost in a spread-eagle position, and lewdly rubbed at the evident bulge in the front of his pants.

“Then get your porn collection. You know where to find it, don’t you?”

“Ah, yes…”

“Then what are you waiting for? Unless you changed your mind…”

“No, no I didn’t,” Karamatsu reassured him, waving both of his hands as if to banish the idea. His dick was still hanging out, still pathetically flaccid, and Ichimatsu bit down a cackle looking at how ridiculous he looked. But he waited as Karamatsu zipped back up his pants and briskly walked out of their shared bedroom to go into the attic. It took a minute for Karamatsu to get it and come back, and by the time he did, his dick had finally gained some life. He sat down in front of Ichimatsu again and unzipped his pants, opening up his magazine to a random page of a beautiful voluptuous woman with bright caramel eyes and olive skin. He stared into her eyes, imagining that she was staring at him with love, touching his dick, pumping it in times with his breathing, and he felt himself harden a bit. How he wanted someone as beautiful and perfect as her to love someone as pathetic as him. Actually, if anyone loved him like that, how happy he would be.

“Spread your legs wider.” Karamatsu did so, and he lost balance, using his hands to pad his fall, all but hunching over his magazine. When he went to right himself back up, Ichimatsu took the nearest object—Karamatsu’s leather jacket, unfortunately—and threw it at him with all of his might, watching as Karamatsu flinched from the impact.

“Stay just like that.” He watched as Karamatsu shifted slightly, still over his magazine, now having to keep his head down to keep eye-contact with the model of one of many of his desires. He lightly swiveled his index finger around the tip of his dick, using the precome that freely leaked out to moisten it. Eventually, his dick became wet enough that it became a sloppy, disgusting mess, and Karamatsu cringed as he heard how loud he was being. At any moment in time, someone could come in, and it would be the worst case scenario for Karamatsu: he would be the one viewed as the pervert, as his pants were pooled at his upper thighs, his straining dick in his hands, and Ichimatsu would be viewed as the victim, when really, it was the other way around.

He really just wanted to get it over with.

He gripped his dick harder and pumped it, trying his best to tune out the slapping sounds in the background, spreading his legs wider. Eventually, he didn’t need to look at her anymore; the pleasure alone allowed him to ride through it, and the image he had of the model in his mind melted into the back of his mind. What replaced her was Ichimatsu, smirking in that horribly confident and condescending way he always did, and slowly, Karamatsu realized he was staring at him. He looked back down at his model, who at this point was covered in his precome and was damp and transparent from the moisture. He wanted to wipe it down (he’s had this magazine for years and he always tried his very best to keep it in tact, and now Ichimatsu ruined it), but he knew that pausing to do so would only make Ichimatsu angry, so he shifted the magazine with his knee to the right instead, the precome instead dribbling on the floor.

“Don’t you have any shame?”

“…this is—you asked me to do this for you,” the elder brother retorted bitterly. “How—how can you ask me that now?”

“I’m not the one who’s on all fours like some cheap whore,” Ichimatsu replied calmly, still gripping his dick through his grey sweat pants. “You are.”

He didn’t make any movement to open his pants and masturbate along with Karamatsu, and realizing that Ichimatsu was still fully clothed while he was, at best, half-clothed, made another wave of shame flood through Karamatsu’s body. He forgot why he was on his hands and knees like this, masturbating over his favorite magazine and getting it all messed up, like he was a horny teenager who couldn’t help himself. He forgot why he was doing this in the first place. He just wanted to come already and let it be over with.

He used his other hand to fool with his scrotum, rolling and squeezing them in his hands, but with no hands propping him up, his body tilted, and his cheek smacked the floor. He carried on, regardless of the pain that filled his mouth, jerking his dick harder and faster, squeezing the base of his dick hard, all but scraping his fingernails in, and pinching the top with his two fingers. It felt so good, but he just couldn’t get release from it. Ichimatsu’s face blocked him every step of the way.

Damn it. He just wasn’t used to it. He wasn’t used to being watched like some sort of—some sort of circus freak. He couldn’t do it.

“Lay on your back.”

Karamatsu stopped. “Wh-what?”

“Didn’t you hear me the first time? I said ‘lay on your back’. Do I have to repeat myself? Are you that stupid? Actually, don’t answer that. Just get on your back.”

Feeling offended, Karamatsu hesitated, but upon seeing Ichimatsu’s glare, he listened to him, laying on his back. His dick stood proudly in the air, slightly pulsing, and Ichimatsu stared at it for a good five seconds before getting up and pushing it down with his foot. He slid it up and down once before pressing on it harder, ignoring the muffled cry that escaped Karamatsu’s throat.

“You’re taking too long. If you haven’t noticed, our brothers are right across from us. Wouldn’t it be pretty bad for you if they caught you like this? All I’d have to claim is that you’re the one who did it in a fit of narcissistic righteousness, and no one would ever be the wiser. That is, after all, what they think of you, Shittymatsu. And I don’t blame them.”

He pressed his foot against his dick harder, and against Karamatsu’s wishes, his dick grew even firmer, so much so that he had to bite his lip to keep from groaning. He tried to shift to the left, but Ichimatsu curled his toes around the tip, which rendered his elder brother helpless.

“I’m tired of waiting for you to come on your own, so you’re going to come on my foot like the piece of trash you are. And you’re going to love every second of it.”

“No—wait—”

Ichimatsu grounded his heel into his scrotum, irritation clear on his face. “I hate repeating myself. I said I’m not waiting.”

He moved faster and harder, and eventually, Karamatsu couldn’t keep his eyes open. He arched his back and groaned, trying his best to keep himself under control but failing miserably. But when he was close to the edge, Ichimatsu released him altogether and stepped back a few feet. Karamatsu opened his eyes, a bemused expression on his face.

“What…?”

“I changed my mind. I want you to come on your own.”

Karamatsu sat up a bit, his penis throbbing harshly and his mind still numb from the pleasure. “B-but…you were just about to…”

“I thought this was about what I wanted,” Ichimatsu snapped, folding his arms, daring Karamatsu to argue with him. “And what I want you to do is to come by yourself, for me. Why should I make you come when you’re the one paying me back?”

Feeling a bit irritated himself, Karamatsu swallowed his pride and his anger and gripped his dick again, but embarrassingly enough, it wasn’t as good as Ichimatsu’s foot, not by a longshot. But he remembered the way Ichimatsu’s foot curled into the tip of his penis, and he remembered how he grounded it down and rubbed it up and down, and he felt himself arching again, breathing harshly like before. Long gone was the model that he loved, and disconcertingly enough, it was his brother that was in mind, his voice, his smell, his face. He felt disgusting for more reasons than one now, but it was these disgusting thoughts that pushed him to his climax. As Ichimatsu watched him, his grip tightened on the front of his pants, itching to move his fingers but not wanting to give into the desire to do so. For as long as he was clothed and Karamatsu was not, he would always hold some sort of power over him. And Karamatsu knew this.

“Are you close?”

“Y-yeah…can…can I come?”

“Do it.”

Feeling his eyes on him, Karamatsu let go, and immediately, Ichimatsu bent down on his knees to take Karamatsu’s dick in his mouth, not quite putting his mouth on it, but still managing to get all of his semen on his tongue and on the roof of his mouth. The younger brother swished it in his mouth a bit and grimaced, but he didn’t spit it out.

“Tastes as bad as I thought it would.” After that, he got up and left without a word.

 Since then, Ichimatsu hadn’t said a thing to Karamatsu. For the most part, Karamatsu was happy about this—of course, this meant that the only person that was doing something other than ignoring him was now gone, but it was better than the alternative—but he still wondered from time to time why Ichimatsu had asked what he did. If he knew that Karamatsu was a writer, he must have known that he could have gotten anything he had asked of him: cat food, toys, maybe even build a mini-shelter for all the abandoned alley cats. Yet, he asked Karamatsu to masturbate in front of him. It was strange, and he always wanted to ask him, but to be honest, he felt that if he brought it up, Ichimatsu might not react so well. Not to mention that he wanted it to be in the past and stay in the past. (After all, it was a rather awkward and humiliating situation for him.)

But one day, two weeks after that whole incident happened, after Hatabou’s birthday party, and a little after Karamatsu had found out that Todomatsu too had a job, Ichimatsu came to him. The house was full, but everyone was in the common room. Jyuushimatsu was reading his bug encyclopedia, Choromatsu was reading a book about receiving several qualifications for jobs, Todomatsu was texting, and Osomatsu was reading one of Choromatsu’s old comic books. Karamatsu was the only one in their shared bedroom, but that was because he was about to go to the roof to practice his guitar. It was at that time that Ichimatsu came strolling in, a small tabby with glasses on its face following right behind him, and closed the door. At the time, Karamatsu didn’t think much of it. His brothers had always came and gone as they pleased, and Ichimatsu was no different.

But that changed when he opened up his mouth.

“Hey, Shittymatsu, don’t you still owe me for saving your life?”

Chapter Text

He’ll admit it. He knew that Karamatsu was taken away.

Chibita was kind, but like any man, he had his limits. And it wasn’t as if this was the first time or the second time or even the tenth time that they skipped out on their bill. Years went by, and not once did they properly pay. Osomatsu and Choromatsu may have given a few scraps here and there, but it was just that: scraps. So when Chibita climbed through their window that night, Ichimatsu could have made a fuss about it. He could have threatened him, could have did anything, actually. But he remained perfectly still as Chibita quietly wrapped Karamatsu’s body in a wool sheet and dragged him out the door.

When the news finally came out, he was ecstatic. Perhaps it wasn’t sympathetic or nice of him, but then again, Ichimatsu wasn’t nice. He was the creepy one, the antisocial, socially awkward one, the one that would quicker kill someone in their sleep than talk to a pretty girl. He was the one they had to tip-toe around when he was angry. He wasn’t the nice one. In his mind, Karamatsu’s kidnapping was a good thing. Maybe then things would change. Chibita would never kill Karamatsu because he was one of his best friends, so it was never even a concern as to whether or not he’d live. Ichimatsu was sure he would.

But then Chibita and Karamatsu came back to the house with some lame-ass threat, and everyone lashed out at Karamatsu, even him. To be honest, Ichimatsu was pissed that they woke him up, did he really think that they were fooling anyone? But when Karamatsu collapsed to the floor, barely conscious, he felt a smidgeon guilty. Everyone else went back to sleep, but he tossed and turned. Having an empty space next to you where there used to be someone there wasn’t the most comfortable feeling. So he slipped out of his futon, changed his clothes, lifted his hood, gathered his wallet, and closed the door behind him. He quietly made his way to the front, where his elder brother’s breathing was light and shallow, and he picked him up. If the ambulance came, then there would be questions, questions that Ichimatsu wasn’t willing to answer. He instead hailed a taxi, gave the driver a few measly bills, and then dropped him off at the front.

This is where his kindness stopped.

Of course Chibita was livid. He didn’t blame him; it turned out that Karamatsu had a major concussion with a few broken bones. It wasn’t life-threatening, but it would take some time to heal. If it was anywhere else, with any other family, this situation would have been labelled as abuse. It should have been. But they weren’t others. They were the abnormal sextuplets. This was nothing new to them.

So after paying for the bill, Ichimatsu told him to take care of Karamatsu, along with a few sharp words and minor threats if Chibita ever dared to mention his name. And that night, he left.

But he came back.

Again.

And again.

And again.

No matter how many times he pet his cats, no matter how many times he wandered through alleyways and peered in pet stores, he felt irritated. It felt like there was an incessant buzz in his head, like there was cotton stuffed in his ears. He figured that somewhere in his pathetic heart, he had an inkling of guilt for what he did to his elder brother. So he visited Karamatsu. He waited late at night when the hospital was quiet and the patients were even quieter, and then he would watch him. He never went in; he simply watched the rise and fall of his chest. But seeing him like that made Ichimatsu even more irritated, so after a few minutes, he left.

He became increasingly restless, and Jyuushimatsu took note of that. His efforts to help Ichimatsu paid off after a while, and although it wasn’t perfect, Ichimatsu felt alright.

It didn’t change the fact that everything was alright without Karamatsu, though. The hallways were too quiet. The rooms weren’t as bright. And despite loving dark and small places, it felt off. He never said anything in front of his cat, because he knew that he would tell him how he really felt. What he really wanted. And he didn’t want to hear that. He hated Karamatsu, and it would stay that way for as long as Karamatsu remained selfless like he did. And that would never change.

A few more weeks sluggishly passed by, and a slender woman wearing a suit had come knocking on their door. Karamatsu should have counted his lucky stars that Ichimatsu had happened to be the first one to get the door (although not without much prodding from the eldest and laziness from the rest), because he had a feeling he knew exactly who she was. She gave him a long look before she tentatively asked, “Hi, I’m terribly sorry to bother you. Have you seen your brother?”

Perhaps he should have asked which brother she was looking for, or maybe questioned her about who she really was. But she knew that he knew, even if she didn’t know who he was, and really, he found no reason to hide it.

“He’s sick.”

“How sick?”

“Sick enough to go to the hospital.”

“…Oh.” She had a bunch of paper work in her hands, but she opened her briefcase and tucked it in. “Would you happen to know how long he’ll have to recover?”

Ichimatsu’s eyes bore into her shiny, spanking new, beige colored shoes.

“Probably a few weeks at most.”

“I see. Thank you for your time.” She gave him a small cordial smile with a quick nod and then left.

As soon as she did, Osomatsu wandered over as Ichimatsu closed the front door.

“Who was that?”

Ichimatsu shifted on one foot.

“Just a sales person.”

“Didn’t sound like she was just a sales person to me. She looking for Karamatsu?”

“Probably.”

“Hmm…” After glancing at Ichimatsu’s face, Osomatsu dropped the subject.

When Karamatsu finally came back home from Chibita’s house a good month and a half later, Ichimatsu could honestly say that he felt just a little relief. He wasn’t happy; who would be happy to have a noisy and overbearing person in his life? But he just a little relieved for reasons that he refused to think about.

…and he could also honestly say that Karamatsu was an idiot if he thought that their brothers would treat him better just like that. If he thought that getting hurt was enough to change their minds, their minds would have changed tens of thousands of times over the course of their childhood alone. But then again, wasn’t this what Ichimatsu was here for? Wasn’t this why he did all of this in the first place? Underneath his repulsive need to see his elder brother break was his genuine irritation that Karamatsu allowed his own family to step all over him, himself included.

So when Karamatsu said that he would do anything, anything, to make Ichimatsu happy, it was the perfect opening to what he was going to do anyhow.

“If you’ll do anything for me, right here and now, get on your knees and beat off in front of me.”

Things have changed quite a bit since Ichimatsu and Karamatsu started this thing. Calling it a “relationship” was wrong on so many levels. Someone like Ichimatsu couldn’t get into a relationship, and someone like Karamatsu wouldn’t get into a relationship. But it was different than what they had before. It was too close. Too intimate. Too emotional.

Too filthy.

Unlike before, where Karamatsu would have encouraged Ichimatsu to stay with him for the sake of “bonding, my brother,” now he didn’t approach him. He smiled, the same as usual, and was flamboyant, just as before. He still talked to Ichimatsu, too, but he didn’t approach him unless everyone was together. And even then, it was very, very sparingly. It was a subtle change, but it was a change nevertheless.

Karamatsu, rightly or wrongly, probably figured that Ichimatsu wouldn’t single him out if he was with everyone else. He probably thought that Ichimatsu wouldn’t do anything if Karamatsu didn’t give him the chance. During their meals, instead of sitting next to Todomatsu or Osomatsu, which would then lend itself to Choromatsu sitting on Osomatsu’s side or Jyuushimatsu sitting on Todomatsu’s other side, he sat in between Jyuushimatsu and Todomatsu. And since none of them really had a permanent seating order at the dinner table, none of them really noticed. Unluckily for Karamatsu though, that made little difference to Ichimatsu.

He still singled him out anyways.

Under the table, he kicked, prodded, and scratched Karamatsu with his toes, until Karamatsu hurriedly excused himself first, obviously getting the hint that Ichimatsu wasn’t going to stop until he gave in, and behind a hand, Ichimatsu’s lips curled into a cruel smirk.

By the time Ichimatsu finished his food and sloppily placed his dishes in the sink for his mother to clean just like the lazy piece of trash he was, Karamatsu was already in their shared bedroom, the quivering smile on his face the only indication of the trepidation he felt. His sunglasses hid his eyes well.

“How could I help you today, my brother?”

Ichimatsu walked to the window and leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees.

“I dunno, Shittymatsu. Why don’t you use that useless pile of meat in your skull to figure it out?”

“Ah…I apologize if I—”

“Forget it. Just spread your legs.”

And maybe because it was a bit more than a week since they started this thing, Karamatsu uncrossed his legs and settled on his butt, his feet planted perfectly on the floor so Ichimatsu could have a good view of his crotch—just like Ichimatsu told him to—and unzipped his pants fairly easily. Originally, he was embarrassed; his hands were clammy, his movements were jerky, and humiliation burned clear on his face to the tips of his ears. Ichimatsu was certain that the more he did it was the more that Karamatsu would get used to it, but he figured that Karamatsu had too much pride to adjust that quickly. But from the looks of it now, he seemed to be proving Ichimatsu right.

Which was a damn shame, if he were honest.

Guess he’d have to bump it up a bit.

“We’re gonna do something different today.” If Karamatsu was surprised, he didn’t show it.

“What should I do?”

“Start by taking off your pants.” He could have told him exactly what they were going to do, but seeing his face when they got there would be worth the wait. So he patiently waited for Karamatsu to settle on his back, lift his ass just a little, and pull his pants all the way down to the ankles of his feet.

“Your underwear, too.”

This time he looked a lot more hesitant. Ichimatsu leaned forward a bit more. Ever so casually, he asked,

“What’s wrong? Change your mind?” At his silence, he added, “You’re free to back out of this any time you want, you know. I’m not forcing you.”

Karamatsu was the only one that Ichimatsu knew that would believe anything anyone said at face value like that. He gave his brightest smile that Ichimatsu was one-thousand percent sure was painfully forced and shook his head emphatically.

“Of course not, brother! I owe you for everything you’ve done for me. It’s only natural that I do as you wish until your heart is satisfied.”

He really shouldn’t say things like that.

In the first place, what did Ichimatsu even do for him? Nothing, besides do the slightly humane thing to do and clean up after his own mess. After all, Karamatsu wouldn’t have went to the hospital if they hadn’t attacked him in the first place. Does he realize that? He probably doesn’t.

Or maybe he does. Maybe he’s just that kind. Maybe he’s just that willing.

What a fucking pushover.

“Is that so. Then hurry up and take it off. We don’t have all day.”

Karamatsu quickly rubbed his hands on the side of his bare thighs before peeling off his underwear, leaving him completely exposed in front of his younger brother. The way that Ichimatsu stared at him without a word probably wasn’t helping either, if Karamatsu’s expression was anything to go by.

“Now do what you usually do.”

Ichimatsu watched as he gripped his dry, flaccid dick in his hand, coaxing it to life. He leaned back, knowing that Ichimatsu hated it when he couldn’t see his face, and spread his legs just a bit wider. His thumb swept over the opening of his urethra, and he tightened his fist at the base. Slowly, he began to pump his cock, his thumb still circling over his opening, just the right speed to give a show, but stagnant enough that it wouldn’t rile either of them up too much. Karamatsu tried to give him a seductive smile, probably trying to appease to whatever he thought Ichimatsu wanted from him, but it faltered when Ichimatsu’s face didn’t change in the slightest.

Now that was much better.

Ichimatsu leaned forward a bit more, his eyes drinking in Karamatsu’s nervousness: the twitching of his left hand against his thigh, the curling of his toes. He may have tried to put on a front, but Ichimatsu didn’t need to be a genius to know that Karamatsu was still very much uncomfortable with this situation, even if it wasn’t as visible as before. And while seeing his brother jacking off was good—it fed some sort of sick craving somewhere in the hallow cavity of his chest—knowing that he was the one causing his older brother to look like this was a much better drug than anything could ever be.

“Faster.”

His older brother complied, pumping faster, his hand staying on the top of his cock, and he bit the inside of his cheek to muffle a groan. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard his other brothers moving about, clearly done eating, but one glare from Ichimatsu had him shakily resuming, albeit a tad more desperate than before. He tried to give another smile, but a crash from the room next door melted it right back off his face. Ichimatsu couldn’t hold back a smirk even if he tried.

Once Karamatsu had accumulated enough slick on his fingers, Ichimatsu nodded.

“Now stick one in.”

Karamatsu paused.

“My apologies, but stick what in?”

“What do you think?”

Karamatsu frowned for a long while, and then it clicked. For the first time since the two of them started this, his face became incredibly pale.

“Y-you don’t mean—”

“You should probably hurry if you don’t want to be caught by our brothers.”

And here was another moment that Karamatsu could have said no if he wanted to. He wanted to say no, Ichimatsu could see it as plain as day. But even more than his own preservation of dignity was, yet again, his desire to please Ichimatsu, to pay back a nonexistent debt. So even though Karamatsu’s eyebrows furrowed, and his hand slowly stopped jerking, and his mouth thinned into a small frown, he acquiesced to this also.

And if the power trip didn’t get Ichimatsu enough, seeing his pathetically prideful brother wiggle inside of his ass with one pre-cum soaked hand and rub his dick with the other was more than enough reason to grip his already tented pants and give it a bruising squeeze. Karamatsu was squirming, unused to doing this to himself, but he carried on, his legs spreading out just a bit more for that perfect view of his manicured finger sliding in and out of his entrance, and before he knew it, Ichimatsu was walking towards Karamatsu and bending down for a closer look, for just a single touch. Biting his bottom lip, Karamatsu’s legs closed just a little bit, but Ichimatsu wouldn’t have his brother shy away now. Not when he was right in front of him. He was going to see everything whether Karamatsu liked it or not.

He pushed Karamatsu back with his foot.

“What do you think you’re doing? I never told you to close your legs. Open ‘em.”

Now slightly red-faced, Karamatsu complied, but with how Ichimatsu’s foot was planted right in the center of his chest, his finger kept slipping out. He tried to push it back in, but the angle was awkward and cumbersome.

“Ichimatsu, I can’t do it like this.” He shivered when he heard Jyuushimatsu’s voice echo frighteningly close to the door he was barely four feet away from. “Just let me—”

“Shut it.” He pushed Karamatsu on his back, ignoring the grunt of pain that escaped Karamatsu’s lips when his neck scratched one of the worn-out parts of the tatami flooring, and shoved his index and middle finger in his elder brother’s mouth and probed around without even asking him. Once he was satisfied with how wet they were, Ichimatsu knelt down and pressed a finger to the tip of Karamatsu’s asshole. He tried not to stare too much in fascination. Instead, he brought his vision back to Karamatsu’s face, which, besides being considerably pale, had begun to sweat. The only thing that stood in Ichimatsu’s way from seeing Karamatsu’s expression was his abhorrent, painful, painful sunglasses.

With one fluid motion, he bent down, took the sunglasses off of the bridge of Karamatsu’s nose with his teeth, and shoved in both of his fingers, curling his fingertips up.

And fuck if his stupid elder brother wasn’t hot as hell.

Silently gasping, Karamatsu came undone, his hips jutting upwards, come shooting from his cock and hitting Ichimatsu’s cheek. He tried to stutter out an apology as Ichimatsu moved back, his face visibly repulsed, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even do as much as catch his breath, and because of that, in lieu of that of the disgust, Ichimatsu felt satisfaction. Not even thinking about it, he sucked off the drops of come that landed on his cheek with the hand that he just stuck an inch and a half into Karamatsu’s ass, and he grimaced.

“Disgusting.”

Ichimatsu moved back and stood up, and without another word, he walked past Karamatsu to finish his own problem—he was at his limit when he saw Karamatsu’s face when he came, and the tightness around his fingers when he thrusted in didn’t help much either—but then Karamatsu spoke up.

“Are…are you satisfied now?”

He didn’t turn around to see what his elder brother’s face looked like.

“No.”

But he didn’t have to. He already knew that Karamatsu was smiling like he always was, maybe a little exhausted but no less pleasant, like none of this affected him, like he wasn’t just squirming uncomfortably, like he wasn’t pale and sweating and maybe even borderline panicking just a few minutes ago. His voice didn’t waver in the slightest, and his tone held no malice. It should have, though. He should have been angry. He should have been revolted. His creepy younger brother just stuck his fingers in him without even asking; he should have done more than just smile like that, like all was right as rain.

“That’s fine. I’m willing to go along with your desires until you’re happy. Your happiness is my happiness, brother.”

Ichimatsu wasn’t surprised in the slightest, but he was still annoyed. He opened the door with a bit more force than needed.

“Go die, Shittymatsu.”

Twelve days passed, and nothing changed.

It wasn’t like he expected any less, he really didn’t, but Ichimatsu was still getting impatient. Just a tad. It wasn’t as if he had all the patience in the world when it came to Karamatsu to begin with, but even he had to admit that he thought his older brother would have crumbled a little by now, considering that he asked him to humiliate himself on a daily basis. So he decided to step things up a bit more.

The six of them shared one computer, which proved to be a bit more than challenging when Ichimatsu wanted absolute privacy, and when the other five were there, even facing them, his back towards the wall, the computer at zero percent brightness, it was still pretty bad, even though most of the times they were too preoccupied with their own activities to bug him about his. There was always a chance that one of his brothers would turn his attention to Ichimatsu, and if that ever happened, he’d never be able to move fast enough to delete everything he wanted to. He had to use the incognito browser, and even then, he still had to check and double check that everything was deleted. He already had second-hand humiliation through Choromatsu about what would happen if he didn’t check, and he didn’t need that. So he chose a day that everyone was bound to be out of the house, put the browser in an incognito tab, and stayed in the bedroom so he would have enough time to hide the evidence.

That day, he got Karamatsu a small, purple, bullet-shaped, body-safe silicone vibrator.

Three days later, it came in as first-class mail, and before anyone else could get to it, Ichimatsu was already there, picking up the package from the ground that he made the good effort not to get signed—because he could always play it off if someone else got a hold of it first, say that it was probably a mistake, as he paid an extra fortune to deliberately make sure his name or address was nowhere visible—and pocketing the box, he casually made his way into the bedroom, where he told Karamatsu to wait for him. And true to his word, his older brother was waiting for him next to the window, mirror in hand. When he heard the door open, he placed his mirror carefully on the side.

He gave a dazzling smile to Ichimatsu.

“How can I help you today, brother?”

Ichimatsu pulled the box out of his pocket.

“You’re going to wear this for the next four hours.”

“What is it?”

He tossed it the box to Karamatsu, and he caught it clumsily.

“Why don’t you look for yourself?”

Karamatsu frowned at Ichimatsu.

“Is it something dangerous?”

“Would it matter if it was? You said you’d do anything I ask, didn’t you?”

“I certainly did, but…” The elder brother stared at the nondescript package cautiously. And then, after a moment of very painful deliberation, he seemed to decide to trust Ichimatsu and began to open it carefully. Ichimatsu felt a wave of irritation smack him in the face for what seemed like the umpteenth time, because obviously he shouldn’t trust him—

But he supposed seeing Karamatsu’s priceless expression made up for it.

“W-what is this?”

Ichimatsu bit back a smirk, but his voice still carried a tilt of amusement in it. “What do you think it is?”

“I’m afraid I’m not quite sure. I’ve never seen anything like…it…” He squeezed the bullet, and when he saw that, no, it wasn’t a miniature pump, understanding dawned into his eyes. And like before, he seemed very, very hesitant, his complexion slowly turning pale, but he hid it by pushing his glasses further on the bridge of his nose. It did nothing to hide the sweat that began to pool on his forehead, though.

“Ahaha…Ah, am I to insert this…?”

“In your ass,” Ichimatsu finished. “Do I have to spell everything out for you?”

“I—” He swallowed once, twice, took a deep breath in, and gently placed the vibrator down, afterwards rubbing a hand on his face. When he looked back up, all traces of anxiety and sweat were gone, and he seemed as suave and confident as ever. His smile wavered a bit, but otherwise he looked unaffected. As always. But after watching him like a hawk for almost a full month, day in and day out, Ichimatsu knew where the fissures in his mask laid, and he saw it as plain as day. Finally, Ichimatsu could honestly say that this was a bit closer than he was to breaking this ridiculous front Karamatsu had.

But it wasn’t enough.

“If this is what will make you happy, then of course I’m willing to do this,” he finally replied, and he took the vibrator back in hand, fiddling with the remote. “I only hope that I’m satisfactory enough for you.”

Karamatsu was about to get up to get batteries, but Ichimatsu tossed him the two that were in his back pocket along with a small complimentary pack of semi-organic lubricant, mainly due to the benzyl alcohol was the last on the very small list of ingredients.

“Use these. Don’t bother getting up until you’re done putting it in.” He leaned back, despondently observing as Karamatsu unbuttoned and slid his pants down, revealing his light blue underwear that had sparkles on the corners with his face in the center—god, so painful—and slid one part of his underwear to the side. Ichimatsu was going to complain but when he saw how his elder brother had to spread his legs a little wider because of it, well, he decided that it would just be better to let him keep going.

Karamatsu glanced at him for a moment, wordlessly seeking his permission, and then he ripped open the pack of lubricant with his teeth—

Why did that turn him on as much as it did?

—and then he released the packet between his forefingers, squeezing it hard enough to have them completely soaked. He circled around his entrance before he inserted his index finger in, wincing a little. After a few moments, he inserted his middle finger, breathing for a moment before he started to scissor his entrance open. He felt around for the bullet before he pushed that in too, just barely beyond the muscle of his asshole.

“Is this good enough?”

“Put it in a bit more. A bit more than that. More. More. Alright, that’s good.”

Ichimatsu knelt beside him to grab the remote, taking one last look at his older brother’s twitching hole before leaving the room altogether.

“Meet us outside when you’re done.”

Five minutes later, when Ichimatsu was lounging around with the rest of his brothers in the common room, Karamatsu walked in with a flamboyant greeting that everyone ignored, calm and collected as ever. For a moment, Ichimatsu thought Karamatsu may have taken out the vibrator when his back was turned—might have applauded him for actually disobeying him too—but as soon as he sat down in front of the kotatsu, he shifted uncomfortably. Well. He supposed he should have expected that. Ichimatsu decided to ignore Karamatsu until Osomatsu was good and ready to leave.

Which was now, actually.

“Karamatsu, we’re going to get some drinks. You coming?”

For a moment, Karamatsu looked taken aback. He glanced at Ichimatsu, who was petting one of his favorite strays, and then back at Osomatsu, who was expectantly waiting for a response. And if Ichimatsu thought that his foolish older brother would have declined out of shame, well, he was wrong.

“Of course, brother! I wouldn’t miss this celebratory excursion for the world. We shall drink under the moonlight and the stars, making new memories and—”

“That’s great! Then as long as you’re ready, we could leave right now.”

Choromatsu looked less than impressed, about to lecture his older brother about spending their allowance on beer again, but when Osomatsu gave him a big grin and draped his arm on his shoulder, he reluctantly swallowed his words.

“Fine, fine, but you have to promise me that you’ll at least try to find a job tomorrow at Hello Work.”

“Whaat? No way, I don’t want to. We tried that last week and it was awful. Come on, let’s just drink for fun. Sometimes, you just gotta let loose and enjoy yourself.”

“I hope you realize that you do that almost every day, Osomatsu-niisan.”

“Oh. Do I?”

Sighing, Choromatsu shrugged off Osomatsu’s arm.

“Let’s hurry up and go so we can come back at a reasonable time.”

Osomatsu and Choromatsu were the first to leave, with Jyuushimatsu heavily leaning on Todomatsu not too far behind them. But then Jyuushimatsu turned his head, expecting Ichimatsu to follow.

“You’re not coming, Ichimatsu-niisan?”

Ichimatsu glanced at Karamatsu, who was still posed the same way he was five minutes ago. Who on earth was he even trying to show off for? There was only the four of them here, and none of them were exactly interested in knowing what he was doing. How painful he was, really.

“Yeah.” He left his older brother alone in the common room, not even bothering to even glimpse his way. It wasn’t like this wasn’t how it was going to be after this anyhow. By the end of tonight for sure, Karamatsu would definitely hate him and get angry and cry bitterly like the piece of trash he was.

They all reached their usual restaurant, and Karamatsu sat next to Osomatsu and Todomatsu, and although he usually didn’t do this, Ichimatsu sat across from Karamatsu.

Two hours later, when were all good and drunk, Ichimatsu slid his hand into his pocket, his index finger hovering over the remote. He drank a little less and a little slower than everyone so he could still be in control of his faculties. It wouldn’t have boded well if he was so drunk and ended up unintentionally revealing what he was doing to them. Karamatsu, though, he didn’t do the same. Karamatsu himself looked a lot relaxed than before, smiling to himself like an idiot, obviously forgetting what Ichimatsu had him do. Which was fine, as far as he was concerned. It’d be much more enjoyable that way. He waited until Karamatsu took another sip of the remaining beer in his jug before he pressed on the power button once, glancing once at Karamatsu’s expression.

Ah—he was just as flustered as he thought he would have been.

The beer already did no favors for Karamatsu’s complexion, which was already as red as Osomatsu’s sweater, but on top of that, that was still in him, pulsing away probably pretty close to his prostate—which was by design—and his face became more flushed. He slammed the jug down, catching the attention of the rest of his brothers, and then he leaned forward a little and placed his elbows on the table, furtively glancing at Ichimatsu from the corner of his eyes, silently pleading for him to stop. In response, Ichimatsu increased the intensity by two more degrees.

Osomatsu frowned at him, narrowing his eyes as if he couldn’t see properly. Chances are, with how much he drank, he probably couldn’t see that well.

“The hell’s wrong with you, Karamatsu?”

“W-what? Nuthing’s wr—augh—” He tried to smile at his older brother, his lips trembling and his eyes tearing, but what came out instead was a groan and a little saliva at the corner of his mouth that he quickly wiped away with his napkin. He attempted to sit up straight, to collect himself, but Ichimatsu wouldn’t let him. He increased the intensity by two more degrees, staring at Karamatsu’s expression as he fell apart. Like this, drunk and very much exposed, it was unlikely that he would have the composure to do his usual routine, but even if he did, Ichimatsu wouldn’t give him the chance. When Karamatsu nudged his foot against Ichimatsu’s own under the table, he pushed his own foot past his leg and to Karamatsu’s crotch, which not only had a tent, but a wet spot in the top. He wanted to get under the table and see it for himself, but for now, this would have to suffice. Ichimatsu gave one harsh kick, and Karamatsu was done. He gave one long, strangled, low-pitch moan in the back of his throat and slumped forward, his forehead hitting the table with a loud smack. Everyone at the table went quiet.

Pandemonium hit the table when Osomatsu leaned back a bit, staring under the table, and guffawed.

“I—I can’t believe you, Karamatsu! You just came in your pants like a virgin!” He smacked on his leg like it was the funniest thing in the world, which prompted the rest of his brothers to do the same. It was Ichimatsu, who was just itching to see what he had done, and then Todomatsu, and then Jyuushimatsu, and then, reluctantly, Choromatsu. With the exception of Ichimatsu, who, besides the leer and satisfied grin, was pretty quiet, and Choromatsu, whose sympathy was written all over his face, everyone broke out into obnoxious laughter, pointing at the second eldest. And that got everyone else’s attention at the restaurant. Soon, it wasn’t just the other five brothers looking at them; it was everyone. Couples stopped eating to see what the racket was about, parents peered over at their table and covered the ears of their children, and the waiters and waitresses stared with a mix of shock and repulsion.

And Karamatsu? He was sober, and above all, he was beyond humiliated. He didn’t look anyone in the eye as he quickly got up and quietly announced that he was going home to clean up after himself. Good. Ichimatsu was sure that Karamatsu would definitely hate him and break down now. His precious image was shattered in front of dozens of people, and that was what he prided most, wasn’t it? Now every time that Karamatsu so much as heard Ichimatsu’s name, he would remember how much his younger brother humiliated him in public. Maybe he might even lash out if Ichimatsu was lucky.

Overall, Ichimatsu felt pretty satisfied with himself.

For a good ten minutes after, Osomatsu bent over, laughing drunkenly, before Choromatsu reached across the table and pinched his brother on the arm.

“Don’t you think that was awful of you?”

“B-but ya gotta admit, that was hilarious. Didn’t think Karamatsu was that wild,” Osomatsu snickered, taking another messy swig of the remaining of his beer.

“That doesn’t give you the right to laugh at him…”

“He’ll get over it. He always does.” He finished the rest of his beer. He made sure that everyone was done eating before he fumbled in his pocket for his wallet. “Y’all ready to head back?”

A chorus of agreement filled the table before Osomatsu yelled for the check, which a waiter was all too willing to give to him. Once they left the restaurant, Ichimatsu took a short-cut back home. He went through three back alleys, the last one which was connected to a bar the rest of his brothers used to frequent. The barista didn’t even look twice as he slipped past him and through the back door.

When he was home, Karamatsu was in the common bedroom, in his pajamas, staring at his reflection wordlessly in the mirror he prided so much. As soon as Ichimatsu opened the door, Karamatsu’s neutral expression yielded into a happier one. Even now, even after that, Karamatsu still had no intentions of getting mad at Ichimatsu. He didn’t even have a trace of anger in his eyes, and all of the humiliation on his face was wiped clean.

“Did I satisfy you today, Ichimatsu?”

Did he satisfy him? Did he satisfy him?

“…are you serious?”

“I am always serious, my wonderful brother—”

He just couldn’t have the patience with his stupid elder brother anymore. He just couldn’t deal with how low he’d sink. Did he expect to be applauded? Did he want validation? Was that it? Well, in Ichimatsu’s mind, he wasn’t good enough to get it. Someone who was too pathetic to even defend his own pride wasn’t worth getting validation or applause. Stalking across the room, he grabbed Karamatsu by his collar and pulled him practically inches away from his own face. Something flashed in Karamatsu’s eyes—fear, maybe—but it was gone in the next minute.

“W-what’s the problem brother? Did I not do everything you asked me to do?”

“You’re the problem,” Ichimatsu replied with a hiss, and then he released him, breathing slowly through his nostrils. Even though he wanted Karamatsu to become scared—displaying fear was the first step to breaking this stupid front his brother put up for their “good”—actually seeing it in his eyes was a different story. He felt guilt travel up his throat like bile, and he sighed, sitting down next to his brother, facing the wall.

“…why.”

After Karamatsu adjusted his collar, he hummed.

“Why what?”

“Why aren’t you angry?”

Karamatsu laid down in his spot, taking in a very deep breath.

“You know, I was really grateful. When you saved me. You didn’t have to, but you did. And no matter what I do, I know that I can never repay back your kindness. That’s why. If this is the sort of thing you’re into, and you feel you can’t turn to anyone else for help, and you want to use me to…test your sexual explorations on, then I’m more than happy to oblige. I’ll admit that I wasn’t comfortable today, but…I’m willing to do whatever you want until you’re fully satisfied.”

God. Karamatsu was too nice for his own good, wasn’t he? Ichimatsu just—he just couldn’t compete.

Ichimatsu laid next to Karamatsu without another word. Right now, he couldn’t deal with his kindness. He’d try again later, when he had the mental fortitude to deal with his altruism. But not now. Now, he just needed to rest for a little.

Minutes after, Ichimatsu fell asleep to the sound of his older brother’s breathe in his ears.