FicWad

Seimei's hands moved over the keyboard, touch-typing a school project. The swift clattering of keystrokes were only broken when he paused to check some detail against a web page. His only show of irritation was his tail, flicking back and forth through the air.

He was so engrossed in completing his project he didn't notice a head poking around the doorframe. Indigo eyes watched, cat ears twitching nervously, waiting for the right moment to -

"Seimei!" came their mother's voice, calling up the stairs. The peeking head pulled back, a second before his elder sibling turned in his seat with a sigh. "Seimei, one of your teachers is on the phone!"

"Hai." The youth stood, saving the project then striding out of his room. He glanced down the corridor to his brother's room, seeing the door ajar. But... his brother was talking - probably on his mobile. It seemed that boy was forever on it, chattering mindlessly to an unending stream of airheads.

His ears flicked back in disgust at the thought, pulling his door shut before going down to take the call.

As soon as Ritsuka heard the distant, "Good morning, Sensei," he stopped talking into his phone, dropping it on his bed and sneaking back to his door. Sure Seimei would be some time talking to his teacher, he crept out, across the corridor and into Seimei's room. It was larger than his, and he had a computer, all to himself. Ritsuka knew it wasn't favouritism; it was that Seimei had bought it himself. It didn't stop him being jealous.

Jealous, and curious. Seimei was secretive - barely speaking at meal times, never to Ritsuka. He never used to be so private. He didn't even let him play computer games when he was out. Well, now he could - at least for a little while. Just while Seimei was talking.

The boy sat in Seimei's chair, feeling a thrill of adrenaline for doing something that was forbidden. Nervously, he put his hand on the mouse, and read a few lines of the project, still on the screen.

--Osman Hamdi Bey is a prominent Turkish artist, with works such as 'The Tortoise Trainer' to his name. This work in particular has quite sadistic innuendo. Another of his works, 'The Weapons Merchant', is--

Ritsuka tilted his head at the essay in confusion, before minimising it. Seimei worked too hard. Looking at the minimal desktop, Ritsuka looked between 'School', 'Wisdom Resurrection' and 'Beloved'.

He hesitated, then clicked 'Beloved'. Maybe Seimei had a girlfriend, and these were photos of them together. Maybe he could use it as blackmail to be able to play on Seimei's games.

Ritsuka frowned when he saw the images. Yes, they were photos, but... it was of a guy. Blonde, slim, with glasses, and... hollow. He didn't have any neko - no ears, no tail... he was an adult. Why did Seimei have an adult friend? Was... was Seimei... gay?

Ritsuka clicked on the next image. The guy had... cuts. On his neck. Fresh and bleeding. They looked deliberate, and painful, but there was no emotion showing through the boys - the man's eyes. No pain, no... anything. He flicked back to the first image. Here, the guy's neck was without mark. Weird. The next image was a close-up on the cuts. It looked really gross. The next photo showed the same close-up, but instead of the cuts just being around the adult's neck, they were dug into his chest, too. 'BE.' The next picture showed more cuts, more letters put next to the first. 'BELOV,' then, 'BELOVED.' Ritsuka's cat ears were flat to his scull, not wanting to understand, like in history lessons, but much, much worse.

He clicked the 'next' button. There were two people, two boys, a short distance from the camera. Ritsuka didn't recognise them. The next picture... they were on the ground. There was blood. Were they...? No. No, they couldn't be dead. That was silly. He had watched too many scary movies. That was it.

The next photo was another pair. A girl and a boy, this time. They were the same distance from the camera as the first pair, standing in the same positions, but the surroundings were different. Ritsuka hesitated, then looked at the next photo. They were on the ground, too. Lying curled up, one was facing the camera. The girl. Blood came from her open mouth, and she looked like she was surprised.

He felt sick. He was shaking. He didn't want to look at any more. He didn't want to see. He didn't want to play games, or find stuff to blackmail his brother with.

He closed the photo file, and stood, turning to flee. And stopped dead.

Seimei lounged in the doorway, the cordless phone held to his human ear. His piercing gaze told Ritsuka he knew what he had been doing. "...I heard you were looking for a test subject for your new drug, Sensei. I have your volunteer. We'll be there in ten." He disconnected, the bleep loud in the quiet. The taller boy pushed off from the door, stalking towards his brother, his gaze hard and cruel, holding him still. "I never liked you, Ritsuka. When mother brought you back from the hospital, I hated you. Loud, dirty, annoying. But... maybe... after today... maybe I'll like you. I might even love you." The youth smiled, and took Ritsuka's wrist, holding hard enough to hurt. "You can either come to school, or you can die. You don't want to die, do you, Ritsuka?" He stroked the inside of Ritsuka's wrist with his thumb. The young boy whimpered. "Good."

Seimei practically dragged Ritsuka out of his room and down the stairs. "Mother, we're going out! We'll be back for dinner."

Ritsuka wanted to shout, to yell, to call to his mother for help, but his throat was too tight. He couldn't get the words out. He felt helpless.

"All right," came the reply from the kitchen.

"Seimei -" Ritsuka managed to whispered, pleading.

The hand squeezed and Seimei's cat ears went back, threateningly. "Shoes, Ritsuka. You don't want dirty feet, now."

One pair of indigo of eyes looked at the other identical set, one pair cruel, the other pair afraid. The younger boy looked away, and slowly, Ritsuka put on his shoes.

As soon as they were on, Seimei was yanking him through the door.