Chapter Text
The year is 2005.
The month is moving through September.
Days of August pass on like dead flies… always waking, always dying.
And it's been almost a full month or two since little AJ and his older brother, Mason, ended up having sex in their backyard tree house.
The ordeal couldn't have been more complicated and confusing for the both of them.
So, let's pick up where we left off, hm?
To say the least, Mason was in full panic the moment he knew his cock wasn't leaving AJ’s insides any mercy. Just as he figured, his brother's stomach bloated far beyond any kind a human conception could hold. The winded, pre-orgasmic shock took him out, made him too tired. Until a crash of euphoria took him back to reality, and as his senses returned.
But instead of a warm, desirable hole he thrust his own ego into, that heat suddenly became freezing cold, and Mason then realized he had to be the bigger person. He was the older brother, after all. A quick calm, then panic, and then acceptance washed over him like the blazing summer sun scorching his skin.
Mason observed the scene of his baby brother, laying there with his cum inside and outside of his body, weak as all the strength in his legs caved in, drowning in a hot aftermath of painful uncoursed lusting. Surprisingly, an odd truth washed over him. Mason knew deep down that AJ was satisfied. For all the wrong reasons.
But Mason couldn't say the same for himself. He worried too much. He never wanted for AJ to feel pain. But this.. this was something strange. A pain so specific that he knew it couldn't be post-orgasmic tension. This was an extraterrestrial pain.
Of course, at that moment Mason was thinking he had gotten his little brother… pregnant. He didn't really know what to call AJ now. But the most unusual part was that AJ didn't seem to think that he'd get anywhere near bearing a child.
In the actual aftermath, they walked back to the house with grief hanging over Mason's back, carrying it with a regretful hatred for even doing this to AJ… For cumming inside the one person that no sibling was meant to ever, ever do to in their lifetime. He tried to balance AJ with an arm over his shoulder, the boy's small flip flops almost falling off as they were practically limping back to the house in the dirty nettle ridden grass. Mason knew they had no other choice but to keep going this way. If he carried his brother on his back, every drop huddled inside that torn womb would spill. It would be painful for AJ. He does not want to hurt him anymore.
Understandably, AJ kept saying he was fine over and over, gradually getting more cross as the pair moved closer to their house. Every moment that came with inching slowly towards the back door, Mason couldn't speak as his breath caught dry bubbles in the back of his throat. He was scared of what would happen if his mother noticed. Noticed him, noticed AJ.
And God, he never prayed, but he had to. This single time. He prayed to the Lord above for protection over AJ, and if they were to be punished, let it be him, not his little brother.
Hear me, please . Mason pleaded in his mind, opening the door as he normally would coming in, instantly looking for his mother.
His father, of course, was still passed out on the couch, and ruffling in the laundry room came from his left. The smell of chili swept up his nose, unable to resonate hard with him as he and AJ stumbled out of the kitchen and hurried to their single bathroom down the right hall.
As soon as he gently passed AJ into the room and switched on the light, the only thing he could recognize as the laundry door closing was its squeaky hinges. Loud, echoing throughout the house.
Mason realized instantly. His mother had seen him. She was going to ask about dinner. Him . AJ . Panic becomes him, he can't even look at AJ, already disoriented to focus. Cold sweat from the outside air stuck to his neck, holding his black hair to his skin.
He needed to take the situation into his own hands.
“H..Hey mom!” He yelled from the other side of the house, his guardian's head perking up from picking up dirty socks on the floor, most likely his. Her messy, white hair was tied into a bun, bouncing with momentum as she looked up at him.
“Yeah, Maysie?” She said back, the crest of her light wrinkles near her blue eyes staring right back into his own.
“ Ah , um ..!”Mason tried to keep his cool the best he could. Fake smiling and all. Toning the treble in his chords lower so he didn't sound so nervous. He shifted his bangs around as his other hand dug into his jacket pocket. Hard. “Just wanted to say that me and A.. AJ’s gonna’ wash up before dinner. That—That's all.”
She gave him a look of curiosity, then looked him up and down. “Oh.. well alrighty then. Don't take too long or your food will get cold.”
From the start, Mason knew she would say something like that and turn a blind eye. He loved his mom, and because he’s always been on good behavior since the first grade, she would never turn down kind requests from him. She was a good mother, yet he was not a good son.
He panicked, got his brother probably pregnant, and lied. But things like that have to be done to survive. He learned that a long time ago.
The acceptance from her words left Mason to rush into the bathroom and close the door fast behind him. A small thanks left his mouth in a breathy, silent whisper. She trusted him with teaching AJ etiquette, but never showering or washing together. Now, he understands why his mom kept them apart from that all these years. It was all because of AJs different genitals.
Taking a look around the bathroom, it seemed so foreign to Mason, while he looked around for cleaning supplies. His brother had crawled his way into the tub. Laying down, chest to the sky. So weak. Heaving quick breaths made of soap and detergent, it looked like he was asking to be cleaned. Right now. “ Just dunk me in the water and drown me”, if his eyes could speak.
The older boy can't imagine doing such a thing. He cares for his little brother far too much. But he did have questions… so many of them to count, and none of them could be answered so simply.
Neither of them spoke a word that evening. Even as AJs cunt was getting rinsed out using Mason's bigger fingers, they stayed silent, aside for quiet breaths and whimpers. That pain seeped back. Soon after, AJs clothes had been stripped from him with the help of the older male, and the aftercare commenced as soon as Mason's hands were free from scrounging through his little brother's crevices.
Running his hands over AJs small frame in a passive manner had kept Mason at peace for as long as it could, guilt hanging like a noose over his neck. If he said or did something wrong, he has no idea what AJ might say. He didn't want to try.
After Mason nearly dodged having a heart attack, dinner came and went. In fact, the afternoon passed by way too fast for his liking. AJ eventually started talking to his mother.. like nothing had ever happened .
Gleeful. Joyous. AJs eyes blazed with triumph like he had just won a battle. Childish in nature, before corruption. Before the incident.
He talked to everyone but Mason. Not even a hello or goodbye.
Nothing.
With the lie to his mother about the supposed “hanging out” he and AJ acted on made Mason want to simply dig a hole in the backyard, just so he could get rid of himself. The older boy felt the guilt hanging, pulling up around his neck for the next week.
Their secret was still a secret. Everything was fine. But after all was said and done, like the home had returned to a normal towny destructive family, Mason could not get the moment out of his sick little head.
That was the thing depressing him the most. For a time, Mason could only describe the feeling as suicidal reality. He wanted to die for hurting his sibling. But not talking to each other would only cause more problems than solve them.
He always comes back to the hole in his head, so existential about it because their situation is strange... No guy fucks his sister or brother and gets away with it. Even at school, Mason can't keep the thoughts at bay. And there's no way he can concentrate with AJ sleeping in the same room as him.
He'll just get more depressed. He won't forget what happened. Everyone is acting like it didn't happen. Even the victim .
The mere thought of someone finding out he diddled AJ is too much for him to bear.
…
It's been a month since Mason's and AJ’s sexual encounter.
The older boy has since moved his belongings to the other side of the house, where the guest bedroom used to sit in solitude. As if they ever had any guests at all.
The bottom mattress of the two person bunk bed doesn't make noises when AJ sleeps on the bottom row.
Sometimes, he can still smell his brother in the blankets he forgot to take with him.
…
Gee. It hurts that you're not here.
The young 12 year old pounders to himself, stuffing his legs together as he sits in front of the small boxed Windows 2000 computer. His eyes scan the screen for entertainment, websites, porn. anything he can get to occupy his measly, boring thoughts.
Even after a month of being fully alone in his room, he feels a bit older. No. Not older. Mature. Something crawls in his skin to control him, calling for his consciousness. Dark. Deathly. His tummy feels.. unharmed.
So why does he feel so… hollow?
Gosh. What is he doing? Clasping a hand to his forehead, he finally turns off the computer, getting up off the chair to go rest for the night. Every time for the past month, he ruts into the other boy's bed, sheets and clothes smelling like their shared childhood.
Huddling down, he curled his body into the blankets like a shell. On the other side of the room, a small dove shaped night light illuminates itself, lighting up the darkness.
Right now, as his eyes close, drifting to sleep slowly, the only thing he can think about is his older brother.
You didn't even take your computer with you. That's kind of stupid.
It's a hot morning deep in late September, as Mason Kristner quietly stepped out of his car, the asphalt beneath his shoes beamed hot on his soles and hotter on his face. Wiping a brow, his arm strutted to the back door, opening it to grab his bag and then closing it.
He gripped the keys in his pocket with a simple button press, and locked the car while he strode away from the parking lot, sights set on the hellhole of a high school he's been attending for four years straight. Thank god this is his last year.
Once inside the brick building, his eyes scanned the crowd behind his sharply tipped black bangs. His eyes always hid from an onlooker's view, adding on to his height, being an inch or two taller than most of the normal boys attending. Little muscle lay behind the black cloth, so Mason felt like a long salmon fish. Sometimes, he wondered if he wasn't so different, the high deliverers would have given him an invitation for the infamous Farz’s Halloween party, some rich kid with his daddy and mommy's money blundering it all on high-school peaking. Mason didn't care to know his first name. The only way he knows the last is because everyone else in the school is talking about it.
Mason didn't care to realize he was thinking about a party he would never go to, and soon kept trugging along the hall. Passing mostly everyone was a breeze for him, and soon the young man was surfing through people to get to class. It's autumn, September. Only a month away. He'll never get to go to that party.
And frankly, Mason was… okay with that.
He had a couple tabs of weed, few but far friends in between, some of those girls that found him in a one spot shop, and a decent life. Once he gets out of high school, he'll have a well paying job, a nice house. His own life to be built off the dream of simple peace and quiet.
Everything aside from his home life was just… fine.
Class began as usual, like every day. A constant loop for Mason, like many other kids. He sat down near the back of the class, a quick yet fading reassurance in his eyes when he saw a familiar face walk into the room just near the doorway.
Curly blonde hair slicked back with gel— two chain necklaces dangling on his collarbone, tank top bound to get wet with sweat during gym and jeans that looked torn through a tornado…
Brodie was a much more energetic player than him, and he was a part of the school's football team. But unlike the big beefy jock dudes, his compassion for others is fair. He's always treated Mason like a fun, distant cousin. In fact, they had a couple things in common– such as smoking pot and driving to the convenience store during lunch.
And Mason, even after all this time, still wonders how they became friends in the first place.
As soon as the slinky blonde caught the other cold boy's eyes staring right at him, he ran over to the side of the classroom, flashing a bright smile. Brushing his lips to snicker, Mason knew he was going to be alright today.
“Hey man, after class, let's go to the bleachers and, y'know,” Brodie's fingers knit together and move back and forth from his mouth, signified in an “o” shape.
Mason comes back from dissociating, the thought of falling asleep tugging him like death does every day. But, he understands fully what Brodie means, voice, though whispered, excited and tempered.
Them two and another of their smoke sesh buddies, Azikel, travel to that specific spot almost every Friday, the place every student aside from seniors think is haunted with the bitter souls of Jeakengill’s dead, about 20 something students. Rumor had it, bodies were stuffed far back there behind in the woods, deep into the forest because of some freak serial killer in the 1800s. Right near the football field bleachers.
Neither of the boys pay any attention to the spooky stuff, because no one goes there, so they don't have anything to worry about. It's a fine time for them most days, so long as they don't get caught by a security officer patrolling the grounds for jackoffs like themselves.
But looking into the manner that his friend signaled time for that evening, a smile formed on Mason's face. This class has been going on for long enough, an hour of fucking calculus is just as boring. He really wanted to leave.
“You tryna give me a blowjob or what?” Mason bends over, quiet enough to see that humorous smile creep on Brodie.
“Oh shut up,” The blonde said quickly, turning his attention to the forwarded note on Mason's desk. “D aaaamn you've got a date man?”
“Mister Kristner.” A boom suddenly comes from the front of the class.
The teacher, Mrs. Garrison, is staring right at the raven haired male. Her keen eyes dart bullets into his person, completely freezing him in place.
The boys’ posture moves back to a calm demeanor, blue eyes showing a truth behind his expression. Mason clasps his hands knuckle to knuckle on the desk carefully. “Yes ma'am.”
Her demeanor is stern, but hinting at a calm inside, childish in nature. “Are you two going to behave, or should I have to call both of your parents again?”
“No ma'am.” Says Mason, followed by Brodie in quick succession.
She claps her hand together. “Great! Then, can you tell me what the solution to this equation is…”
Just then, Mrs. Garrison points the piece of chalk in her hand to the chalkboard, the equation fully formed and written out, and instantly, Mason's chest starts to swell.
Milliseconds passed like hours, and soon everyone in the class turned their backs to the board, looking at him, glares scanning his every move. Their eyes are so open and full of fog, and his… are concealed behind his bangs.
No no no no no no no—
Mason can't move.
Stone cold face freezing up, his heart is now beating faster than it does while under the influence. The equation is just jumbles of incoherent letters, the x’s and y’s a foreign language to his small, sick mind. His heart can’t slow down, his breathing becomes eradicated, and his head feels like exploding—
“47.” Brodie blurts out next to him.
Everyone's attention turns from glares to Mason, to looking gently at his friend.
“... Yes.” Mrs. Garrison curiously nodes. “ Good, thank you, Mr. Codwell.”
As soon as Brodie nods back then, everyone's face turns back, twisted to the woman's teachings. Ruffles of clothes and paper lined sketches fill Mason's ears instead of that deathly silence seconds ago.
Realizing he can breathe now, his chest rises and sinks like a river.
A tap on his shoulder, and Mason turns to his left. “Hey man, are you good?” Brodie asks, concerned, tone down under, brows turned in worry and his hand clasps on Mason’s shoulder. Reassurance. Open air.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah I'm just.. It's just..” He stutters out uncontrollably.
And then, Brodie pauses. His glances drop up and down Mason's person. His friend's hands are closed into fists, one knuckled to his forehead, the other gripping his pencil tight. They can't even meet eye to eye. “Mason, are you doing alright?”
yeah... Yeah . Mason nods. Finally taking in the care, his gentle eyes scan Brodies equally soft moves towards him. At the same time, he pulls his hood down over his bangs. He lets go of the pencil, dropped on the pages.
“I'm here for you man.” Brodie whispers then, hand being removed from Mason's shoulder after a light, positive shake. “And I'm gonna say this as your friend, but you should probably cut down on the energy drinks, just to be sure.”
“Thanks…” Mason can only stifle out in a weak ended response to his friend's genuine worry. He looks down, his hands run over the blank page of his composition notebook, and the pen, clasped in the middle edge. He lifts the front cover, the note still there.
He didn't even notice it in the first place.
That, and… he’d have to tell Brodie and Azikel about something so heinous, so vile, during their regular, to-be-chill lunch time. This town in the middle of forest-fucking nowhere is already messed up, so maybe, just maybe they'll understand.
The heat of the blazing sun scorched the earth and sweat from Mason’s brow. Raven hair stuck to his forehead, his long lanky legs crossed each other out under the bleachers, kicked up with his converse, settled down in the shade, as much as there could be. Brodie, across from him, mansplaining, and Azkiel, a couple feet from them leaned on a tree.
He’d just got done explaining the whole falling out of him and his sibling and the sex corrupting his mind. He only left out the things that seemed unimportant, like AJ’s genitalia, how it even started in that position, among other vile details. The only thing he could expect correctly is their reactions.
“So, that's what happened. Whole fuckin story ‘laid out. Feel free to.. not be my friend anymore when y'all have the chance.” Mason fiddled with the lit cigarette sitting between his fingers, simply letting it blaze, no taken drags to be seen. How could he smoke when everything he's just told his best friends could ruin his down to none reputation?
He didn't want to hear what they had to say, but his life was already going to shit. What's one more if he lost the rest of his social life?
“Fuck me… man.” Brodie held up the can of Redbull on his knee, about to take a sip, but backing out. Probably squeamish from Mason’s stress story that he can’t even take a drink. “You did that to your own brother?”
Mason’s brows furrowed. “I didn’t do anything, it just– well it just happened! Don’t blame me.”
“Shit, dude.” Azikel looks to the ground, posture deepend on the tree he leaned on. His dyed red hair blazes Mason's retinas in the sunlight, while all of them know fully that the color made him look like a redbull can. Haircut the same as Masons, only shorter in length, messes up the emo spray in the wind. “Didn’t know you were gay like that.”
“I'm not gay, either.”
“You still fucked him. Dick in booty and all of that,” Azikel noted. “If you didn't, probably frottage, that's still gay, bro.”
“Gay shit or not…” Brodie finally took a swig of his redbull, then crumpled the empty can in his hand. “Is that why you’re acting so, I don’t know, like a blown out tire about to lose its ruse?”
“You even dyed all of your hair back to black,” Azikel blurted out, choking on his cigarette smoke as he did, “Didn’t personally like the zebra look, to be honest— Hey!” He shouts, putting out his cigarette with his foot before Brodie’s empty can goes flying at his head.
Mason can't help but stifle back a laugh as Brodie gets back at Azikel for the insult, backing up from the tree as the blonde gets himself up to go roughhouse.
“Ha– how would you like it if you were called Red Robin , fucker?” Brodie interrogates, lightly chases after a quick-footed Azikel around the tree, soon the latter running to Mason for help mid-drag, surprising the raven haired to be forced up as a human shield.
Even as they were laughing about like crazed hyenas, Mason couldn't help but be curious as to why they had little to no reaction to his story… if any at all. If they even cared.
The red haired boy hid behind Mason, begging to protect him, but still laughing in the face of danger as Brodie crept up to his frame. The blonde stifles a laugh behind his words. “I jus’ wanna talk, man.”
“Mason—Mason— Mason he’s gonna kill me ohmygod—AHH!” Azikel heaves out his laughter behind Mason, jerking around his movement to hopefully stall Brodie out.
And Mason can't help but laugh along, cigarette locked on his lips but still trying to be the cooling flame after the hot tension.“Hey— Hey! That's enough– you two!” He declares, shielding and stepping foot to foot for Azikel, all jokingly hoping that Brodie would step out.
“Man— quit it! “Was only jokin’!” Azikel pleads with the much more muscular teen, who simply laughed along the whole time.
“I know!” Brodie states, quickly and thoroughly grabbing Azikel’s jacket collar and hoisting him up to eventually fall back to the floor, their backs covered in grass.
The two of them, even in the dirt and mud behind the football field bleachers, continued to laugh the whole ordeal off. It was only when Mason’s awkward chuckle resounded in his ears that reminded Brodie to ask around his suspicion and apologize.
“Alright, that's enough, sorry Masie.” The blonde shrugged it off, letting Azikel back on his feet, dusting off the remainder of dirt still stuck on his pants.
Clearly, the name Masie caught Mason’s attention, shifting his shoulders back to the stand of the bleachers.
“Masie? My mum is the only one who calls me that.” The raven haired speaks, scratching the back of his neck as he suddenly remembers his question gripping him by the collar. “Hey, can I ask you two something..?”
“Shoot,” Brodie says, sitting back near the other end.
“Go ‘head” Azikel murmurs, laying so still on the grass.
“Ah, hm.” Mason takes in a breath of clean air as he leans back, hands balling into fists in his pockets, trying to think of how to put his thoughts into complete words,
“I don't know how to put this right, about my story I mean… what's.. Your guys’ opinion, I guess?”
“What? About you fucking your brother?” Azikel blurts, suddenly stifling a giggle out of Brodie.
“Yeah…” Mason pauses, blush creeping on his face as Azi has no reaction to saying something so crude.
Their faces are oddly… not disgusted.
Just conflicted. They both must be thinking hard.
Instantly, Brodie speaks up, hand held at his hip. “Well… the guys on the football team fuck each other sometimes.”
Azikel waves up a hand. “Gay as hell, man.”
“Sure is.” The blonde solidifies his stance, rocking back and forth on the bleacher stand. “You know dude, they have frat parties with their girlfriends just so they can get drunk and blow another dude’s back out. So, when they wake up in the morning, nobody’ll remember a thing.”
Mason wants to think about the complications arising from that whole ordeal, but he just nods instead, thumb to his chin.
Azikel finally stands up, wobbly, and places his hand over Brodie's shoulder.
“The power… of alcohol.” The redhead states, before moving in between the two to raise his hands on the bleacher seats, swinging back and forth in-between the large space separating the others. “Shit man, even I've gotten into gay situations involving… lockers bathrooms err.. my own arcade ethics..”
Brodie then suddenly bursts into a laugh, “Calling me gay when you were getting shoved into lockers because other dudes were just jealous of your beauty. Hah.” His voice shifts to a jokingly cute tone, “Ohh, it would be a pity if this jock with big, manly muscles shoved me into a locker because I'm a masochistic freak— Ow!”
Brodie retaliates on Azikel hitting him playfully, hiking up his arms for defense. And Mason rolls his eyes, wondering just how long their antics could go on for.
“So… are you two both gay, or what?” The raven haired outright asks, tone shifted irrationally.
And he can't help but feel surprised when Brodie doesn't hesitate to say, “I think I like both guys and girls.”
“F..Fair..” His hand shifts to the back of his neck, and Mason's gaze turns towards the redhead. “Azi?”
“Ah. Uh. Well….” The boy gives a long pause, fingers catching his chin in thought, before coming up with a clear as day answer. “I don't think I like anybody. Like, like like.”
“So, neither guys or girls?” Mason asks, a bit convoluted, prompting Azikel to shake his head.
Mason thinks to himself for a moment, before coming up with another question that should raise some red flags.
“Do you even care that he's my brother? Full blood, and everything else under the sun?!”
Combing back his hair, the blonde speaks first “Listen man,” Brodie says, “There are a lot of things fucked with this bullshit place.”
His eyes pan over to Azikel, who nods at him before continuing. “If a little bit of incest is committed, why the fuck should we care? Our goddamn auntie Betty is getting it on with her cousins. And the cops? Well the cops don't do shit. They're probably banging their own sisters for hell's sake.” He pauses, takes a breather, then places his hands in his pockets. “If anything, and lord have mercy on me if i'm wrong… If both parties are consenting to the act, who gives a shit, really?”
Mason stood back. Surprised, eyes wide, but not angry. He didn't know Brodie had it in him to give a speech like that, and on that specific hardened opinion. For some reason, it was kind of inspiring.
“Yeah… yeah man, I agree.” Azikel nods confidently, “I think if the cops don't give a darn about real crimes goin’ on in this town, who's to say you and your brothet or sister or whoever in your bloodline can't fuck.” His arms lean back on the bleachers, coolly. “Honestly, do what you want, man. S’ long as no ones gettin’ hurt. Be free. This is America.”
Azikel pats Mason on the shoulder. Both of his friends showed support for his strange urge, and in his gut, he agreed as well as this fucked up world would let him.
But, he still needed to talk to AJ after all this time. He didn't like the thought of things going the wrong way. So for now,he shoved the anxiety into the back of his mind, trying to focus on the now.
“I get it…” Mason finally solidified his opinion on the matter. “Thanks guys.” He said, smiling as he pushed the sweat from his brow away. “I really needed that.”
Brodie stepped forward, patting his friend on the arm, “Glad we could help, dude. Don't beat yourself up like this again.”
“Yeah, man!” Azikel jumped in, leaning on Brodie's arm best he could. “If you need help, anytime, anywhere, we have your back. Got that?”
The question of morality hung on Mason's head since that day, a whole month ago. All three of them were silent, but safe where they could discuss anything important or hanging on their shoulders. Mason felt completely comfortable with them now. He nodded, content with his feelings.
But before he could get any more of his questions out, the bell suddenly pierced the eardrums of every person in a four mile radius, signalling for the students to get into the building, lest they be late for class or be locked outside.
Azikel was the last to grab his bag before the other two started running to the school doors like trackstar athletes. As soon as he caught up to their laughter, he huffed out an exhausted:
“They should really make that bell quieter…”