Author's Note: This story contains m/m slash, drug use, mentions of abuse, and incest. Don't like it, don't read it.

There are over 6 billion people living in the world. Out of those 6 billion, you'd assume that at least half of them are nice, decent people. You could maybe go as far as to say that a fourth of them are wonderful people. That makes for a whole lot of good people in the world. And me, I'd like to think that out of all those people there are at least a hundred, maybe even a thousand that I could really be friends with. Maybe even more than friends. It's a nice thought, and I don't see any reason to believe it's not true. I'm a pretty nice guy. I'm not too hard to please. I get along with people pretty easily. So why on earth do I have so much trouble with this?

I don't believe in soul mates. I never have. It just seems stupid that with all those people out there, only one of them is right for you. I mean, what if your soul mate lived halfway across the world from you and you never got to meet them? Or what if they died in some freak accident when you were both kids? Would you just be lonely for the rest of your life? Somehow I don't believe that's true. I'm sure that there are tons of people somewhere in the world that I could really hit it off with. Maybe fall in love with, but... where the hell are they?

So far I've only met one. That's kind of a limited selection, and considering the circumstances surrounding this person, well... let's just say I'm pretty sure it wouldn't work out very well.

I mean, it's not that it's weird or wrong or anything... okay, well it kind of is, but... you know what, fuck this, I'm just trying to get around it. Kenneth, my psychologist, has told me that I have trouble accepting the things that I can't change. It's not that I'm having trouble accepting it. I just don't understand why. Why, out of all those 6 BILLION people in this enormous world, why the fuck did I have to fall in love with my own brother???

Kenneth would probably say that it's just some sort of confused attachment thing. That's what he would probably say. I don't even want to find out for sure though. I haven't told Kenneth. I haven't told anyone. And I don't plan to.

But in theory, what Kenneth would probably say is probably close to being right. Taylor was born exactly 8 minutes and 28 seconds before me. We've lived together since then. We've never been apart for more than a few days. It seems like it would be normal for twins, or siblings, or best friends even, to have some kind of separation-anxiety-bordering-on-possessive-obsession... okay, well when you put it that way, maybe not. I've met other people with twins. Somehow they manage to control any sort of lustful urges they feel for their counterparts. So I'm just weird.