CW: NSFW, violence, mention of self-harm
I wanted to crawl into my hyunge's room through the window. He might not let me hug him, so I'd sleep behind him. After he fell asleep, I'd secretly kiss his lips. Perhaps he would be startled awake and slap me, then pick up some hard object nearby to beat me up with because he was feeling very irritated right now. If hitting me could help him to cool down, I'd let him. After all, coaxing an angry girlfriend to have a change of heart was the duty of a man.
But this floor was too high. I couldn't crawl into his room, yet I also yearned to go in and get a bit of warmth. I remembered that my hyung had said that if I continued to be disobedient, he'd lock me inside a cage. Sure enough, he had kept his word. My hyung had imprisoned me outside his room, the Earth beneath my feet the prison.
I couldn't fall asleep and didn't dare to either. I wanted to go to the kitchen and help my hyung cook a bowl of porridge for breakfast. When I passed by the full-length mirror, I saw my pathetic appearance. The left side of my face was red and swollen, and there were remnants of dried blood on the bruise at the corner of my lips. I suddenly recalled that I had been beaten up by my hyung, thus my body started to faintly ache.
My limited-time summer romance had ended. In the future, perhaps all I could do was helplessly watch as my hyung married a pretty woman, carried a cute child in his arms and held his new brother's hand as they walked into the ceremonial hall. He would become someone else's father, someone else's hyung. When my thoughts reached this point, I felt like a pair of hands was gripping my neck. I couldn't breathe.
At around 4.30 in the morning, the sky started to brighten. The housekeeping lady softly opened the door to come to make breakfast for us. My presence in the kitchen gave her a scare.
I had already cooked a pot of porridge. When I tasted it, I kept feeling like it was somehow unpalatable, so I had the lady cook another pot. I ladled the porridge she had cooked into a bowl and carried it to the table, then ran back to wait outside the room for my hyung to wake up.
As the lady cleaned up the area I had messed up, she chatted idly with me, saying that my hyung's stomach hadn't been well recently because of the last time he drank alcohol. She also said that my hyung had recently been discussing a partnership with a big entrepreneur who had extremely high demands. My hyung was terribly busy now, so it was easy for him to get agitated and she had hence cooked more lightly flavoured food these two days, as well as cooked food that was more to my hyung's taste. Not a single dish indulged my tastes.
I didn't notice any of this, because once a person's line of sight was covered by impatience and resentment, they would become stupid and short-sighted.
Usually, my hyung woke up at around 7.30 am. Recently, because he had to send me to school, he had set his alarm at 5.10 am. My eyes were glued to the clock on the wall. It was 5.10 am, but there wasn't a sound in my hyung's room. It seemed like he had turned off the alarm. I was about to be late, but I didn't feel like going to school. I was afraid that when I returned home after school, the house would be empty and I'd suddenly become an orphan.
Separated by a door, I could hear the sound of his breathing and heartbeat. I could even hear the sound of his scalded arm gradually rotting. He had a pair of slender and exquisite hands. I had imagined countless times cutting off those two hands and keeping them in my arms so that he could caress and embrace me forever. I wished so badly that it was my face instead that was rotting and in pain at this moment.
I finally held out until 7.30 am. My hyung still hadn't moved. I seemed to have been locked in prison starting from last night until now. A burst of fury, ignited by extreme fear, drove me to break out of this prison. I couldn't control myself anymore, kicking the bedroom door open. Bits of wood from the door frame flew everywhere, accompanied by the sound of a loud crash. The room was filled with smoke, the overnight smell of tobacco so strong that I wanted to puke.
My hyung was sitting in front of the full-length window, staring coldly at me. His wrist rested on his knee and his eyes were crawling with blood vessels. Half a cigarette lay clasped between his fingers, and the ashtray in front of him was piled high with cigarette butts. I thought I saw a decadent demon knock into the window frame. My knees went weak and I knelt down.
I crawled towards him without the slightest bit of self-respect. In front of my angry hyung, I didn't have the slightest bit of backbone and dignity, partly because I was afraid of him, and partly because I loved him. We had never had fights that lasted overnight before. My hyung had never been this angry before either. I admitted my mistakes to him, but he remained unmoved.
My hyung indeed held my current actions in contempt. He grabbed my collar to pull me up, scrutinising me imposingly.
He first checked my body, flipping up my sleeves as he interrogated me, Did you get burnt yesterday? I shook my head.
Not at all, because the boiled water had all splashed on his hand.
The heavy curtains made the lighting in the room very dim. My hyung pulled them open. The light hit my body, giving me nowhere to hide.
My hyung's gaze abruptly stopped on my neck. He stared at it for about ten seconds. I saw with my own eyes how his eyes gradually filled with blood, his gaze turning from cold to uncontrollably furious. He toppled me over like a crazed wild wolf and used his red and swollen ointment-covered left hand to forcefully lift my chin, his gaze fixed firmly on my neck.
I hadn't even processed what was going on when he lifted me by the collar and gave me two sharp slaps, thundering, "TAEHYUNG! YOU WANT ME TO DIE, DON'T YOU----?!"
My cheeks burned in pain and my vision went black for a few seconds. He hit even harder than he had the previous night. I didn't understand why he was hitting me again either. When my hyung hit people, it really hurt. With just one hand, he could hit me until I couldn't stand up or fight back.
Of course, I didn't want to fight back either. There was a moment when I thought to myself that it would be great if my hyung beat me to death. On the day of my death, all of my diseases would be cured. From then on, I would become normal and healthy, keeping watch over my hyung from another world and looking forward to him coming to find me a few decades later with an old and ugly face. I wouldn't dislike him; I'd hold his hand.
My blank expression could have made my hyung even angrier. He dragged me to face the mirror, pulling my arms so hard that my joints crackled. He aggressively lifted my head, letting me give my revolting self a good look.
There was a pitiful worm in the mirror, the fingerprints on its cheek distinct. I was astonished to see two exceptionally obvious marks of being strangled on my neck.
I explained to my hyung that last night, there had been someone who wanted to strangle me to death.
"Who? Say it, WHO?!" My hyung forcefully flung my body against the wall. My internal organs were about to be smashed into pieces, pulsing with a dull ache from within my skeleton.
My hyung demanded to know who it was who wanted to strangle me to death. I did my best to recall. Only after a while did I then faintly remember that it was myself.
It was scientifically proven that humans couldn't strangle themselves to death. I had used a lot of strength, but I kept failing. In the end, it developed into me self-harming my neck. Love bites and strangulation marks were both bruises formed from blood rushing into the skin, but love bites were far more romantic. However, at their core, they were the same; they both stemmed from a sort of insane, otherworldly love.
My hyung grabbed the strip desk lamp and yanked the plug out, hitting me with the lamp. His right hand pinned my two wrists down like iron pincers as he forcefully hit my butt, legs and back. Every strike he landed was as heavy as lead and my hyung's crazed shouting was right by my ear.
"You live just to fucking piss me off to death right, little cunt ass bastard? What are you thinking about in that head of yours each day? You're eighteen already, your rebellious phase should be over already, no? Have you ever done anything humane?"
"Fucking cunt, there was a full house of conglomerate directors at last night's meeting. Once I took a call, I set off running; how do you think those bosses thought of your hyung? If I lose my livelihood, what damn kind of house can you live in? What damn kind of school can you go to? JUST GO AND SLEEP IN THE FUCKING STREETS!"
"There's me here to deal with Dad; fuck has it got to do with you whelp? You eat your fill and lose your senses, not studying either, rushing off to that person's house. You've lived enough already, is that it? If it hadn't been for your classmate giving me a call, what were you planning to do? That hot water all over your body can scald you to death, did you know that?"
"You want to die, don't you? Your hyung getting scalded this time in your place isn't enough, right? Are you sick? Are you sick? Today you couldn't strangle yourself to death, so tomorrow you'll slit your wrists, and the day after that you'll jump off the roof. If you're gone, you're letting me live by myself?!"
"You're just a scoundrel, Hyung has raised you for nothing. If I got a chicken to give birth to a kid and teach it, it'd still be better than you."
He stood up and violently stamped on my stomach. I was in so much pain that I arched forward and curled up. I imagined throwing up blood like how they did it in shows, but I didn't. Acute pain as concentrated as raindrops drowned me whole. I rolled about on the floor, struggling to escape, but my hyung still didn't stop. He wanted to beat me to death.
When cornered, a dog would always jump out over the wall. I exerted all my strength to push his hands away, then flipped over and stepped on his shoulders. My hyung staggered back two steps and I took advantage of this to throw myself at him, knocking him over and entangling with him.
The things people said in a fit of anger were too hurtful. I finally understood what my hyung had felt when I said 'you have violent tendencies, you've inherited it from Dad' -- it was like my heart had been frozen stiff, then smashed into pieces by a hammer.
When he had hit me just now, the burnt skin on his left hand had gotten rubbed and broken again, pus and blood mixing together and trickling down to his elbow. It definitely hurt a lot.
I couldn't bear to hit him. I only wanted to kiss him and, like a dog, lick his injury-leaking pus and blood clean.
I knelt on his hip bone, gazing down at him. Today, my hyung looked too haggard, as degraded as the two bouquets of roses that had gone mouldy as I had secretly hidden them under the bed. But he was still as beautiful as before.
My legs were still trembling, but I had to grow up. I wanted to pretend to be like a man, but unexpectedly, when the words left my mouth, they were still feeble.
"Am I not precisely sick?" I asked him seriously, "You often bring me to Namjoon hyung's house; isn't he a psychiatrist? Do I really have a mental disorder?"
My hyung lay on the ground, stiffly lifting the corner of his lips, "Taehyung, no one has ever seen you as a sick person."
It wasn't important if I had an illness or not; I didn't actually care about that. What I cared about most was whether my hyung was still willing to date me.
I asked him this. He laughed, "Taehyung, do you know what we're doing? Getting fucked in the ass by your own hyung, does it feel good?"
I didn't understand what he was trying to say. I only knew that his laughter was pained, and it hurt inside my chest too.
I asked him in a small voice, Then if I had a pussy, you'd be willing to keep fucking me? Is it that you don't like that assholes are dirty?
He was stunned for a while, then pulled me into his arms, hugging me tightly like he wanted to crush me. The bloodied pieces of me would prick into his chest and we would become one.
I didn't understand. He had clearly said before that for people who were the closest to each other, no matter what they did, it was all love. If he didn't want to do me, I could do him. I didn't find it dirty. I didn't know what I could say to placate my broken-down girlfriend, so I could only hug him and let our two trembling hearts press closer together. That way, my hyung could hear that I loved him.
The room was quiet for a long time. Our foreheads pressed together. When the lady had finished making breakfast, she went out to buy groceries. The moment the main door closed shut, we bit onto each other's lips.
He held my waist and flipped us over, pressing down on me. Towering above, he tore at the flesh of the young wolf that had challenged the alpha wolf's authority. My hyung's kisses changed from the tender ones in the past, becoming wild and unrestrained. He bit my tongue until it bled and I bit his lips, making the skin break. We were like two sharks tearing at each other, surrounded by the scent of blood.
He carried me to the dining table to fuck me. The bowls of porridge and dishes were all pushed to the side. I felt a bit sorry for the porridge that the lady had made. If it spilt, my hyung could only eat the porridge that I had made, and the porridge I had made didn't taste good.
My hyung carelessly rubbed lube on his savage purplish red cock a couple of times before plunging it into my entrance. The hardwood table top scraped against my spine and the bruises on my back from my hyung's beatings. I yelped in pain, but my hyung fucked me even harder instead. He asked me breathily by my ear, "Why do I have such a slutty brother? He even gets off on being fucked by his own hyung's cock; isn't he such a whore?"
Hearing him say this, my eyes couldn't help but blur. Men couldn't say that they felt wronged, so I could only say that these tears came from pain. I wasn't slutty, I just wanted to make love with my lover. I wasn't a whore either; once Jungkook said he disliked me, I would leave this home. I realised that I wasn't actually afraid of being an orphan. After all, being an orphan was a sort of normal state. What I was afraid of was my hyung not wanting me anymore.
He hugged me, caressing my cheeks and back as he calmly asked me if I wanted a breakup. He said over the course of one's life, one would have many relationships. If someone clung obstinately to a relationship that wasn't suitable, they would miss out on a better one. I believed that what he said was true because he had given up on the junior he had dated in his second year of university and was now dating me. But I was different; I didn't need something better, I just wanted my hyung.
I bit his neck and clamped my teeth down until he was in so much pain that he inhaled sharply and didn't dare to keep talking nonsense.
He fucked me until I was in a lot of pain, his big cock pounding against my worn-out prostate again and again. I clenched my teeth to tolerate the pain. As long as I was making love with him, I wasn't afraid of anything. I seemed to have passed out for a few minutes in the middle, but I was still conscious. I knew that Jungkook had kissed my eyes. That kiss was very slow, with a bit of grievance in it, full of emotion.
He had hit me, and even fucked me. My whole body was trembling. I had escaped in a circle and ultimately still ran into his arms, wanting him to caress me. Once I felt scared, I couldn't help but dive into his arms. It was the warmest and most secure place.
I would not love my hyung only if he died or I died. If adults had to consider so many boring ethics, I would rather always be childish. I really wanted to grow a pussy for my hyung to fuck so he wouldn't go and think about so much trivial nonsense.
We did it once, and it lasted very long. The two of us were dripping with sweat. He pulled out his cum covered cock from my ass. I immediately curled up into a ball and stopped moving. Blood, cum and lube bubbled out of my wrecked and swollen hole that couldn't close up anymore, dripping down my thighs.
I twitched as I crawled on the ground, wrapping my arms around my spasming body as I hid in a corner. I wanted to recover a bit of strength before I went to take a shower, and I also wanted to move my current marred and filthy body out of my hyung's line of sight. I did some research and it said that after reaching orgasm, it was easy for men to feel sick of their sex partner. I didn't want him to feel like this was very dirty after doing it with me. He definitely felt that way every time. My girlfriend whom I loved dearly was a germaphobe, so I had to accommodate him.
My hyung walked towards me. He wasn't wearing anything and he hadn't wiped off the cum on his cock either. I was the same. We were facing each other with our most original and candid forms. I felt shameful again, using my hands to cover my hole that had been fucked by him until it couldn't close up.
He scooped me up in his arms and tucked me into the soft blankets, lying down to hug me. I trembled in his arms, and he used his intact right hand to wipe my tears.
TaeTae. He hoarsely called out my pet name, saying it a few times. With great difficulty, I hugged his waist. He was trembling too. He did his best to restrain himself for a moment, but he still couldn't help but cup my face and kiss me. Just now, we had made love too intensely and broken a vase, causing the lilies inside to fall to the ground. It gave out a damp smell, similar to the smell of dead leaves and flowers rotting in the soil. It was just like people; some bloomed despite their rottenness.
I lifted my eyelids and asked him, "Hyung, will you make me become an orphan?"
Jungkook frowned. He propped my chin up with his finger, giving me no way of opening my mouth to speak.