Hello. My name is Kuruk and I'm new to FictionPress. Pleased to meet you and I do hope to make your acquaintance as you read my story.

I've written on sites like FanFiction before, but since I want to be a writer I figured that I needed to start thinking up my own original plots and characters plus write things that I rather not...

To be frank I felt a bit uncomfortable doing this story... but I hope that you like it, since I need feedback and I would appreciate reviews... So...


So, now that the warning has been delivered to you, I will begin this story. I hope that you enjoy.



People say that you can't control matters of the heart. I never really believed that until I myself started falling in love… with someone that I should never have ever fallen in love with.

It's funny, you know? People say that you can't control who you fall in love with but when you fall in love with someone that doesn't fit their narrow standards; you get discriminated and shunned by everyone else.

Society says that falling in love with the opposite sex is okay, but when you fall in love with the same sex… well, that's a different story. Society says its fine when you fall for someone you hardly know, but when you fall in love with someone that you've known all your life, the person that you shared your earliest home together… they go as far to put you in jail.

Until the day it happened to me, I always agreed with society's views on things. I couldn't understand why a woman would want to be with a woman and a man with a man, I thought that when someone related to you loved you more than they're supposed to was disgusting, wrong.

But, the day it did happen to me, waves of confusion and self-hate erupted from me. How could I love him, I would ask myself. I could never think of him in that way… it was just… disgusting, I'd repeat to myself whenever I was around him, which, coincidently, was a lot. I'm sick, I'd tell myself in disgust when I'd think of him in a way no one should think of someone like him.

I hated myself those days, hated myself so much for betraying his trust in such a way. I thought he'd hate me too if he ever knew, so I hid the feelings so deep inside that I would wake up from nightmares about losing him because of those feelings, of being put to death so frequently that I was becoming an insomniac…

But looking at him… I couldn't deny anything. I loved him; so much more than I was supposed to. I couldn't live without him; if he died I knew that I would die too. Without his smile, I knew that I'd sink deeper into the depression that had already conquered me.

Still back then, when I still believed, I'd pray to God that he would take the feelings away. That he'd spare me; that I wasn't strong enough to pass the test he'd given me… The prayers were never answered, but back then asking a higher power to take control of my life made me have hope that maybe, one day, I might wake up and feel nothing for him; that I could hug him without worrying about kissing him or revealing my feelings, that I could tackle him to the ground and not worry about him knowing.

But the feelings never left, instead, they intensified over the years. I'd get jealous whenever a girl ogled him, I'd just stare at him while he wasn't looking at him, I'd spend almost all of my money on presents for him even though it was Christmas and I had to give presents to everyone…

Being in love with him was hard and torturous… but then, on the sixteenth year of our lives, something happened that would change my outlook on life forever… and for once, if I hadn't been assured by many people that what I was doing was a sin, I might've thought that maybe God really did care; that those feelings were supposed to be returned in His master plan.

Kind of stupid, you'd think I'd have learned by now…

This story is about me; in love with someone I was never supposed to love. About me; hating myself for what I felt and that I could never get what I wanted. About him; his innocent smile and the way he loved me. About him; surprising me with an answer that I never expected on receiving.

This is a story about us, my twin and me, as we make our way through the hardest time in our lives and how, in the end, I learn that maybe life is worth living if he's by my side…

We were born six hours and thirty-two minutes apart.

Really, six hours and thirty-two minutes. Poor mom would always bitch about how she had to get me out first so quickly then wait so long for my little brother to decide that he wanted to come out. My parents like telling us about how when I came out I wouldn't stop screaming my head off, and six torturous hours of labor later how my brother came into the world in the same state; screaming his cute little head off.

But, when they put us in those incubators, side by side, my mom would always smile and tell us about how we'd instantly shut our mouths and had just stared at each other, as if we were the only thing that we knew in life; the only thing that really mattered in the world… So many years later, after learning how to put him after other things, I'd be forced to feel this way again when my world fell apart.

At first, my parents thought that we'd turn out to be identical twins. But, my brother, ever the special one, decided to let his dark brown hair lighten to a beautiful shade of dark blonde, his face turn into a the cutest face you've ever seen with the most sharp pair of eyes that seemed to be a mixture of olive and cerulean.

I stuck to basics, even then looking for the easy way out. I settled on looking like my dad; coming out with short dark brown hair, simple dark eyes and a face that made me look serious all the time whenever I chose to put on a face of no expression, which was a lot.

My parents decided to call my little brother Isaac, which suited him pretty well, I think. They decided to call me Brandon; the darker of the two got the name that meant Little Raven. I think it was fitting.

When my parents brought us home, they would always tell us about how we would never sleep apart; how we'd cry if we were forced apart. We'd do everything together, my brother and me, from being toddlers to being kids. My sister, Ashley, who was two years older than us, would always be contented with us because we would always protest when our mom suggested giving up my sister's room for one of us and giving her the crappy one in the attic.

Yeah, we were pretty close, even when we became teenagers. We never got our own rooms; I stopped protesting splitting us up when I became thirteen, but, Isaac, always wanting to be close to me, which would later make my nights even worse, would always whine and when Ashley would join in his whining my parents would drop the subject in annoyance.

Well, puberty was hard for me. I went through the usual run-of-the-mill changes along with getting acne all over my face. I got moody and rebellious, became the sibling that got punished most for sneaking out and getting in trouble at school.

I couldn't say the same for Isaac, though. Isaac sailed through puberty; he barely went through any changes at all! His voice stayed the same, he continued looking like a cute kid, and his mood stayed cheerful and loving. He did grow a little, but I remained the taller of us both, much to his apparent annoyance.

But… besides being hell on my face and doing wonders on my status with my parents, puberty also brought along the source of my depression, self-hate… I remember the night perfectly. How could I not? It was the turning point in my life; the one that brought it out from the 'normal' path and set it on my self-destructive path…

That night I was still awake, it was the middle of the night and my mind was on something I thought I was important at the time; something stupid. I was still thinking about this thing when I heard the bed springs creak as my brother eased himself down onto my bed carefully, trying to avoid waking me up. "What?" I whispered hoarsely, making him jump and almost fall of my bed.

I turned to face him, saw the sheepish look in the face I'd known all my life; it calmed me, made me dislike myself for talking to him so abruptly. "I-I… had a nightmare…" he whispered, tugging at the hem of his shirt in embarrassment, "I can't get back to sleep…"

I knew what that meant. Isaac was always prone to having nightmares. He had them regularly, three times a week maybe. Each time he woke up in the middle of the night he'd crawl into my bed and snuggle up to me, telling me that I made him feel safe.

Like always, I sighed and patted the bed a little right next to me before lifting the sheets up, my sore eyes looking at his face light up in gratefulness in the pale moonlight. He slid his wiry, pale body under the covers and I turned my back to him, muttering something about how he was such a baby, halfheartedly, though.

That's when it happened.

Like always, he snuggled up to me, resting his head close behind mine so that his breath tickled my neck, sliding his arm over me and holding me close, putting his other arm on my face and running his thumb over my acne-riddled face, handling the skin as if it were the most delicate material in the world.

I never had a problem with this. Sometimes I would face him and ruffle his spikes of blonde hair in the comforting way he loved just to get him to calm down from the memory of whatever nightmare he'd endured. Sometimes I'd hug him close too, let him snuggle up to my chest just to hear his contented sigh. But this time, for some reason, something happened.

I felt awkward, having him hold me this way. He's Isaac, I told myself repeatedly, thinking it was nothing but the sleepiness fogging up my brain, he's my brother, I reminded myself, thinking how stupid my brain was acting to be nervous around the guy I'd shared my mom's stomach for nine months, the same kid whose smile warmed my heart, the same kid that would call me 'big brother' in the most loving way I'd ever heard, the same damn kid that I'd spent the first thirteen years of my life with; the one I couldn't think of living the rest of my life without…

That's when I heard him sigh in that contended way of his, lean closer to my ear, his body pushing up against my back and whispered the words he'd repeat to me every single day about twenty times per hour, "I love you, big brother…"

And then, everything changed. As he settled into blissful sleep, my underwear suddenly became a lot tighter… and my brain could only think one thing.

He's so cute.

When my mind caught up to me, I froze. What had happened? What the hell was I doing?

My mind just about shut down at that moment, and I almost jerked myself out of my little brother's soft hug. I managed to stop myself, and instead I reached for his hands with my hesitant ones. When our skin touched, electricity shot through my body; he just mumbled something in his sleep, grinning a little and moving his head so that it rested in the crook of my neck.

Too quickly I jerked myself out of his hold, jerking him out of his sleep. I shot out of bed, turning my back to him, grateful for the darkness. "B-big brother?" his voice, so sweet and pure came from behind me in concern, "Are you okay?"


"Y-y-yeah…" I managed to get out, my throat almost closing up, "I-I-I have to go to the b-bathroom…"

I heard Isaac sigh in relief, heard the bedsprings make creaking sounds as he snuggled into my pillow. "Okay…" he murmured.

I started making my way to the bathroom, not feeling anything, hearing anything, seeing only darkness before me even though my eyes had already adjusted to the darkness after lying awake in bed for hours. A little voice; Isaac's, filtered itself into my hearing.

"W-what…?" I asked him.

"Could you get me some water, please?" he asked softly, "I'm really thirsty…"

"Okay…" I said, then resumed running to the bathroom, bare feet on the cold tile floor that only made my feet number than they already were. I reached the bathroom through the darkness, closed the door soundlessly then pushed the lock in.

With a trembling hand I flicked the light switch on. The sudden burst of light made me wince and close my eyes but I forced them open, forcing my eyes to look at the person staring back at me in the mirror.

I didn't look the same. There were dark rings under my eyes; the darkest I had ever seen them. My skin, usually much tanner than Isaac's and Brenda's pale skin color, had been reduced to being devoid of any feeling, and color, and my eyes… they seemed empty.

What I saw repulsed me.

I gagged as bile rose in my throat and doubled over, throwing my guts up into the toilet. When I had finished I didn't bother washing my mouth out, letting the horrible taste stay in my mouth.

Then, I soundlessly turned off the light, made my way downstairs, got my little brother a cup of water then went to bed, taking care to stay away from him after he had finished it.

Needless to say that I didn't get any sleep that night…

Well, there you go. I do hope you liked it. Please review, I love reviews!!!

Until next time...