Categories > Anime/Manga > Sorcerer Hunters
Brothers II: Sugar Kisses
2 reviewsMarron contemplating his childhood experiences with his brother. (slight incestuous implications, but when I say slight, I mean slight.)
2Ambiance
He means everything to me. You can't possibly understand this. You will take one look at him and laugh, because he is a fool. I won't say no to that, but I will beg you to take him into consideration again.
If you could only look at his face while he is sleeping. I mean truly sleeping, not that half-sleep he pretends while the women are nearby. His face is soft and cute, lost in dreams that he'll never share with me. He'll never be beautiful, but he can be handsome when he chooses, or perhaps, when he has no other choice.
I remember once, when I was small...
We had been lost for a while in a forest one afternoon. It had, I believe, begun with a simple game of hide-and-seek gone rather wrong. I was growing tired, and very hungry. But my pride was such that I didn't want to stop and rest. So he pretended that he was getting weaker and starving until I agreed to stop and rest, for -his- sake. The tree we stopped under was home to a hive of bees, and when he noticed this, he insisted on getting up and climbing the tree to get some honey. He fell down, of course, but he had a chunk of honeycomb in one fist. We had to get up and run from the angry insects, and had to take turns holding the thing as we ran, but he gave me all the honey. Well, as much as he could, given that we were both nearly covered in it by the time we stopped running. Later, he had to carry me, and by the time we actually made it home, we were a sticky, dirty mess. He put me down on the porch and kissed me on the cheek. He told me that he was going to take all the blame because I was littler and more 'fwagile' than he. I thought about crying, but he reproached me to be brave, and I made it through my dinner, bath, and all the way to bedtime without a tear.
I remembered the feeling of that kiss, no, I still remember it. The sticky love he was showing me, just me, as his brother. He doesn't do so much for the many girls he has wooed.
I wonder, sometimes, whether he does it just to be chivalrous, and not from a genuine interest on his part. Then I remember what an honest ass he is to most women, and I laugh the sentiment off.
You must understand, I am his brother. I cannot afford to care about him as much as I do. But those childhood feelings didn't fade. I feel a...more than a sense of duty, but less than all-consuming passion, a need, under any circumstances, to protect him in the way he did for me when I was small.
I want to keep him near me always, just to be certain. Surely you can understand?
If you could only look at his face while he is sleeping. I mean truly sleeping, not that half-sleep he pretends while the women are nearby. His face is soft and cute, lost in dreams that he'll never share with me. He'll never be beautiful, but he can be handsome when he chooses, or perhaps, when he has no other choice.
I remember once, when I was small...
We had been lost for a while in a forest one afternoon. It had, I believe, begun with a simple game of hide-and-seek gone rather wrong. I was growing tired, and very hungry. But my pride was such that I didn't want to stop and rest. So he pretended that he was getting weaker and starving until I agreed to stop and rest, for -his- sake. The tree we stopped under was home to a hive of bees, and when he noticed this, he insisted on getting up and climbing the tree to get some honey. He fell down, of course, but he had a chunk of honeycomb in one fist. We had to get up and run from the angry insects, and had to take turns holding the thing as we ran, but he gave me all the honey. Well, as much as he could, given that we were both nearly covered in it by the time we stopped running. Later, he had to carry me, and by the time we actually made it home, we were a sticky, dirty mess. He put me down on the porch and kissed me on the cheek. He told me that he was going to take all the blame because I was littler and more 'fwagile' than he. I thought about crying, but he reproached me to be brave, and I made it through my dinner, bath, and all the way to bedtime without a tear.
I remembered the feeling of that kiss, no, I still remember it. The sticky love he was showing me, just me, as his brother. He doesn't do so much for the many girls he has wooed.
I wonder, sometimes, whether he does it just to be chivalrous, and not from a genuine interest on his part. Then I remember what an honest ass he is to most women, and I laugh the sentiment off.
You must understand, I am his brother. I cannot afford to care about him as much as I do. But those childhood feelings didn't fade. I feel a...more than a sense of duty, but less than all-consuming passion, a need, under any circumstances, to protect him in the way he did for me when I was small.
I want to keep him near me always, just to be certain. Surely you can understand?
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