Sorry for being a bit later than I'd originally intended. I had a hard time with this chapter. I had already written it, it was just a matter of typing it, but when I went to do so, it just didn't feel right. So the reason I took so long was because I was brainstorming. Not to mention I would've posted it on Saturday if my freaking computer wasn't from the dinosaur age and I didn't have to await to use the college library computers. *sigh* I want a laptop.

Hope the background story for Robert lives up to your expectations.

I know you guys all hate Daniel. He really doesn't get much better for awhile, sorry. Sometimes, people have to get worse before they can get better. Like an illness. In Daniel's case, an illness affecting his ability to have a healthy relationship with his twin brother…

Anyway, this is kind of like a flashback from Robert's POV. Mostly it's him recounting what's happened in his life so far, and ends at the same spot the last one did.

It's pretty angsty, but that's what makes it fun, right?

So, away we go!


Chapter 5: Pain (Robert)


I have always found schoolwork to be extremely easy. Always have, always will. Some people think it's because I have no social life, so I resort to studying to fill up my time.

They're just jealous.

Others think I'm some sort of genius that will someday win the Nobel or something.

They're just idiots.

In reality, the reason for my ease with schoolwork is my memory. By some quirk of fate, I ended up with photographic memory, while Daniel didn't.

I hate it.

Even though it was the reason I'd had perfect four-point-oh since seventh grade, I still hated it. I know most people would be grateful for something like photographic memory, but I just can't bring myself to be.

Daniel and I only lived with our parents until we were about six, because they were killed in a car accident. We went to live with our aunt and uncle, but though Danny was extremely sad for the longest time, I wasn't particularly broken up about it.

Our father hated Danny and our mother. When we were born, he was disgusted to realize that though I looked eerily like him, Danny looked nothing like either of our parents. Father was convinced that Mother had had some sort of love affair, resulting in Danny's existence, and as a result, shunned both of them.

Instead, he took me under his wing. At age three, he began "training" me, as he put it. I was a very intelligent child, and could already read rather proficiently, but he decided that it wasn't good enough. He began to put me through rigorous academic exercises, forcing me to memorize things in one glance, be extremely observant, and exercise my intellect to its fullest capacity.

Even before then, he hadn't been a particularly affectionate father, but after that, he became even colder. He never acknowledged me unless I did well on the tests he set up, and he certainly never said anything even remotely resembling affectionate.

As a result, I began to push myself more and more, in an attempt to win his love and affection. I almost never saw my mother (Father wouldn't allow it, claiming that she would only sully me--though Daniel and I regularly interacted) so Father was the only person I could turn to for parental love and affection.

Only, it never came.

In those three years under his guidance, I pushed myself harder and harder--various memory exercises making sure I well on my way to developing photographic memory--but he never even smiled at me.

Daniel became the only person I could trust. He was a sweet, kind child, joyfully retelling his adventures with Mother so I could enjoy them as well, and never ridiculing me, or failing to give me a hug when I asked for one. I was aware, even then, that my feelings for him ran deep.

I was always very clingy when it came to him, even when we were very small, but Father claimed it wasn't right. He continuously separated us, and wouldn't allow me to see Daniel for periods of time.

We were a higher-end middle class family, so while our house was by no means a mansion, it certainly wasn't some redneck trailer. We had two floors, and Father took advantage of this, putting up those child-gates in front of the stairs so I couldn't go down to Daniel and he couldn't come up to see me.

It didn't help matters when Daniel went off to kindergarten and I was kept at home for Father's lessons.

After my parents' death, and we began living with our father's brother and his wife who were almost never there, leaving us at the mercy of sitters, I felt a great sense of relief.

Now I didn't have to live up to anyone's expectations. Now I could cling to Daniel as much as I wanted without being ridiculed (the majority of the sitters--brainless females that they were--thought my clinginess was "cute").

I abandoned my father's study schedule to spend more time with Daniel, and my uncle seemed to not care at all--another great relief. I did, however, continue with the memory exercises he devised for me, as I had grown to like them.

They are the reason I have photographic memory now.

A few months after we moved in, we were sent off to first grade (our parents had had their accident in the summer, and that had been deemed sufficient grieving time for us). This was where I had my fears confirmed that there was something wrong with me liking Daniel as much as I did. I had acquired a vague idea of this wrongness under Father's tutelage, but had never before had it confirmed.

During the first month at our aunt and uncle's, I had taken to holding Daniel's hand at every opportunity, and he had not protested, so this carried on and over to school, where we were in the same class and sat next to each other.

One day, at recess, we were holding hands, as usual, when one of the thuggish second-graders had spotted our clasped hands and loudly asked if we were a couple of those "nasty-ass fags." I was understandably confused, having never before experienced public school, but Daniel, being the veteran, had evidently understood.

He immediately shook off my hand and jumped away, exclaiming, "No! He's my brother, dumbass!"

I was hurt and confused when thereafter he refused to hold my hand even at home, and this feeling only turned into a deep sadness when he later explained, "We can't hold hands 'cause people will keep askin' us if we're some of those fags, and fags are gross 'cause they're boys that like other boys. They're nasty Robbie."

You can imagine my bemusement when I realized he was gay.

I decided to find a way around this. What if I pretended I was a girl? (Naturally at this age I knew nothing of sex-changes, or I would've undoubtedly considered it.) Would that be okay?

So I got on the computer and researched it to the best of my ability (another skill given to me by Father), but everything I read said that liking your brother like that, even if you were a girl, was wrong. It was even worse if you were twins.

I was devastated. What was I going to do? I couldn't like Daniel that way, it was wrong. So I did the only thing I felt I could; I gave him the cold shoulder, deciding we'd both be better off if I hid my feelings. That way, Daniel could grow up and like girls like he was supposed to, and I wouldn't be in constant emotional pain from his friendly affectionate behavior, knowing it could never go deeper.

Unfortunately I hadn't realized that every hurt look he would send me after I'd snubbed him yet again, and every time he would touch or smile so happily at someone else, it would be like taking the knife that had been thrust through my chest at the realization that what I felt was wrong, and twisting it violently. I became bitter and closed off, unwilling to be nice to people who weren't Daniel.

In fifth grade, when I realized that a good number of people didn't care if boys liked other boys, I was ecstatic. What if they changed their views on other things as well?

But no, people still felt it was horribly, disgustingly, wrong to love your twin brother, even if you were a girl.

I withdrew further into my shell, hopes thoroughly dashed, and suffered silently as all jealousy of all the people who could interact with Daniel freely, who he sometimes even flirted with, began to eat away at me.

I was even colder than before to him, hoping if I could get him to hate me, my feelings would die with no hope to cling to. That back-fired spectacularly the day I realized with horror that he hated me as much as I hated the rest of the world for making it impossible for us to be together, but I was still as deeply in love with him as before. The day he betrayed me.

Hitting puberty was one of the worst experiences of my life.

It really began to set in when I was about fourteen--not long after I'd realized Daniel was gay--and I began to have the most graphic of wet dreams, aided by my earlier exploration of the online world of gay pornos. (This had been spurned by the idea that maybe if I found myself interested in other men, I could get over my feelings for Daniel. It didn't work.) Thy usually ended with me waking up with sticky boxers and a flushed face, wishing I really could fuck Daniel into the mattress.

I took to gagging myself he wouldn't hear me call his name or something in my sleep, because our rooms were right next to each other. Sadly, I didn't think of this until after he complained of being woken up by loud moans, much to my mortification.

This was also around the time I started to do my own laundry.

Despite all this, and constantly reminding myself that it would never happen, I had still harbored within my heart a small kernel of hope for a future romantic relationship between Daniel and I. Over and over again, I told myself that it would never happen, that Daniel would never see me in that way, but it persisted.

When I saw Danny's cold smile as he let those losers beat me up, my heart shattered in my chest, the little, obstinate kernel completely obliterated. I was so hurt by him, and he didn't even realize it.

I understood why he did--hell, had it been me, I probably would've done something similar--but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. I forgave him to an extent--I was unable to completely forgive him without him sincerely apologizing and at least attempting to rectify himself--but with my heart completely decimated, I wouldn't be able to interact with him again in any way without causing myself extreme emotional pain.

Laying on my bed after we got home from the fight, my body sore and aching, I decided that I was going to work my absolute hardest, and get into a university as far from Daniel's as possible. The thought of never seeing him again pained me, but I had concluded that the best option would be to put much as distance between us as I could.

With this in mind the next day, I refused to acknowledge Daniel, and though the anguish and remorse that flashed across his face cut me to the bone, I stayed resolute.

Never again will I allow him to hurt me in such a manner. I won't last if he does. Hell, it's a surprise I didn't try and off myself after last night. Though, considering the way things have been going my whole life, chances are things aren't going to get much better.


Well, wasn't that just the angstiest thing I've ever written? The original was actually a bit more so, in some ways, but I like this better.

There are still some parts I'm not too sure about, so if anything seems off to you, or just doesn't seem realistic, please let me know and I shall do my best to fix it. Honestly, I never expected the story to get this popular, and find myself upping the quality of the chapters and storyline in general accordingly.

This chapter's title song was Pain by Three Days Grace. Great song, if you didn't know. As I said before, all chapter title songs can be found and listened to following the link provided on my profile.

The next chapter there will be a time skip, and once again from Daniel's POV. This is also when a wrench is thrown in the works, and some things are revealed about the way Daniel feels about Robert.

Sidenote: Thank you, Silver and Sloppy, for your reviews and ratings. And MeWantEatYou thank you as well for taking the time to review and leave your comments. It means alot to me. All other reviewers (AKA reviewers who left signed reviews) I apologize for not replying to your reviews as I usually do, but they really do mean a lot to me. I shall be sure to be more on-top of such things in the future.

As always, review please!

Ciao,

Waffles