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One of these days, Ichimatsu would get to him.
His bleeding heart of an older brother. He knew there was something he could do to provoke his ire, get him pushed past the point of reason, and let loose on him. He just wanted to see Karamatsu express something other than that fragile optimism, that ugly confidence, that… that insufferable sanctimonious bullshit attitude. Ichimatsu wanted more than that one dimension. He wanted to see Karamatsu turned inside out with rage. For no real reason other than.. Well. He wanted to see it. He wanted to make it happen. Ichimatsu wanted to be the root cause of Karamatsu effectively losing his shit. He fucking ached for it. Ichimatsu was pretty sure he could convince Karamatsu to stab himself if he worded the request right. It was as infuriating as it was sad.
Little things didn’t work. ‘Shittymatsu’ had turned into more of an expressed monicker than his actual name. Poking fun at his fashion sense had turned into downright insulting it, asking how he could go out of the house looking like a pile of on fire dog shit or that he was going to call the cops for how badly he was murdering fashion. Ichimatsu would interrupt him, talk over him, stand in front of him when he was trying to be noticed.
Little things turned to bigger things; tripping him in the hallway. Knocking his plate of food onto the floor. Deliberately disobeying simple orders like ‘don’t touch that’ or ‘stop doing that’ - which, of course, resulted in Ichi touching or rubbing himself on whatever he was told not to touch and doing whatever it was he was doing louder or more. Ichimatsu was pretty sure he’d even shoved him into oncoming traffic once.
Karamatsu just laughed. He fucking laughed. Gently chastised him like a clumsy child, told him to be careful, or commented on his own grace. Ichimatsu had to physically restrain himself a number of times from punching him in the face - mostly because it wouldn’t be worth it. He’d just laugh or ruffle his hair or do something to make him even more angry while apologizing for being in the way of his fist. God.
Nothing fucking got to this guy. It was maddening.
So he started ignoring him entirely. Just one day. Stopped giving him any attention whatsoever. Ichimatsu ran into him if he was in his direct path. Reached right over him for condiments at the dinner table. Ignored every word he said. He even started talking about his other four brothers. Well, when he talked to people that weren’t them at all. If deliberately bugging him didn’t work, maybe pretending he didn’t exist would.
This whole process went on for about two weeks. It was probably the best two weeks of his miserable life. He hung out a lot with Jyushimatsu, like he usually did. They caught bugs, played video games, laid around with the cats. If there was anything in the world Ichimatsu loved more than shitting on Karamatsu, it was his younger brother. They found an odd peace, an acceptable equilibrium between one another, between the chaos of their lives and the chaos within themselves. It was more than a little obvious his younger brother was more than he let on, but between the two of them, alone, they were both able to rest with themselves.. Sometimes Ichimatsu wondered if he knew just how much he appreciated him, their time together, the way they could actually chill and not worry about anything. Eh. Probably. It seemed like everyone else was fully aware of it, anyway. Jyushimatsu must have known, too.
“Ichimatsu nii-san,” he began suddenly during one of their little hang out sessions. He was laying upside-down off the couch, head next to Ichimatsu’s. He was reading, and they were exchanging conversation casually. He glanced over at his younger brother without moving his head.
“Yeah?” He patiently turned the page of his book, reading it again. Jyushi made a thoughtful gurgling noise, moving closer and snaking his arms around Ichi’s neck. The long sleeves of his hoodie flopped down his torso, and he set his book down to loosely tie them together. This made his brother gasp, laughing in his ear.
“Snake hug,” he whispered, wiggling his fingers against Ichi’s cheeks, “I’ve got youuuu, nii-saaaan.”
“You sure do. What’re you going to do with me? Tie me up? Hang me from the ceiling? Slit my throat and let me bleed out?” Though he grinned lazily with his words. Normally he'd get a look from any of his other brothers, but Jyushimatsu always took his statements like these in stride. Whether or not he meant them had no obvious impact on Jyushimatsu, which was more of a blessing than a curse. His brother giggled again, turning to kiss his cheek.
“Nooooo. They are friendly snakes. They like love. They love you, niisan!” He slid off the couch with his words, landing in a tangled heap next to Ichi; sleeves still tied around his neck. They tugged the older sibling forward, and he made a face, feigned a 'scary' noise, and licked his forehead. Jyushimatsu’s ludic behavior was refreshing by comparison of his other brother’s, so it was really no surprise that Ichimatsu found his sillier side coming out with him. It’d always been this way. He always wanted it to be this way.
Unfortunately, Jyushimatsu had late baseball practice, and Ichimatsu had to untangle him from around his neck. Four messy cheek kisses to Ichi later, Jyshimatsu was scurrying off for his uniform.
Ichimatsu laid back on the floor, staring at the ceiling. ...Ah. That might work.
He continued ignoring Karamatsu, going about his day as usual, until about another week had passed. Osomatsu had cornered him for his opinion on one thing or another that he couldn’t bring himself to care about, but Karamatsu had caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.
“So I really can’t decide between ‘buxom’ or ‘busty’. This chick has really great knockers and I don’t know how to reply to them. And you’re the only person with half a brain, at least, that I can ask. So?” Osomatsu dug in his pocket. “Do you wanna see? A+ set of jugs, man.”
Ichimatsu tried his best to not pay Karamatsu any mind(who was nearby doing whatever), waving his hand at Oso. “No, I’m good. But you’re probably right about asking me, though.” Karamatsu was getting closer.
“Yeah, right?” Oso laughed, “Choromatsu would probably get all weird and start talking about his anime women. God, what a pathetic nerd.”
Karamatsu was close enough for Ichi to smell his cologne. He looked irritated, by a cursory glance. Good, he thought, Keep talking, Oso.
“Who’s a pathetic nerd?” Karamatsu asked, the slight frantic tone in his voice lending Ichimatsu the thought that he was worried they were talking about him. Ichimatsu definitely saw his chance with this. Insulting Karamatsu hadn’t worked, but...
“Oh, Choro. You know, he has all his waifus and shit. He wouldn’t even know what to do with a pair of real tits.” Osomatsu snorted at his own joke, shaking his head. “Totty has all his little cafe girlfriends, and Jyushimatsu - wow, that kid couldn’t tell T from A, probably.”
“Yeah,” Ichimatsu piped impassively, “There’s not a whole lot going on up in that empty head of his. I’d be surprised if he had enough room to think about girls around all that stupid baseball shit.” He.. He didn’t mean that. He obviously knew Jyushimatsu had a thing with a girl before, and that he was more than capable of thinking about her. But Karamatsu seemed bothered they were taking shots at the brothers that weren’t here, so he was going to take advantage of that. “And what is with all that excessive yelling? He’d scare a chick off before he even got within ten feet of her.” He felt his ears get hot, but he had to keep going. He could see Karamatsu’s fists clench out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t know how that one girl tolerated him. It was like she felt sorry for him, or something.”
“Ichimatsu, that’s enough. You take that back about your brother.” Karamatsu’s voice had a definite warning to it, and as calmly as he could, for the first time in weeks, Ichimatsu looked over at him, eyes as bored as ever. He didn’t mean this he didn’t mean this he didn’t mean this -
“Why the fuck does it matter? He’s a retard, he can’t understand a word of what any of this means anyway.”
Two things happened in what Ichimatsu could only describe as ‘half an instant’. One of the things was Karamatsu cracking him across the face with his closed fist. The other one of those things was his opposite hand flying around his neck, slamming him against the wall he stood in front of.
A frightened, desperate ‘niisa-’ was heard before the loud crack his head made. Stars immediately painted Ichimatsu’s vision, feet kicking uselessly a few inches off the ground. His own hands flew to claw at the one around his neck, thin fingers trying to pry off Karamatsu’s powerful ones. Through the racing thud of his heartbeat in his ears, and the sound of blood rushing through them, he heard Osomatsu’s panicked voice; trying to make Kara let go.
Ichimatsu gasped for air, each strangled sound making his older brother’s hand close around him tighter. He could see fire in Karamatsu’s eyes, even as darkness crept in around the edges of his blurred vision. He could see Osomatsu pulling at Kara’s shirt, his arm. Hitting him, punching him. As his vision started to fade he saw Oso finally check him with his shoulder in his ribs, and Ichi crumpled to the floor.
The sickening crack his knees made as he hit the floor was not unlike the one his head made against the wall, and he struggled and gasped for air while trying to scramble to his feet. Dazed, dizzy, terrified - he tore off to the bathroom, shutting the door and locking himself in. His deep, loud breaths echoed in the empty room, and he could hear shouts from the living room behind the closed door.
A hand immediately went to inspect his neck, hot and tender from where Karamatsu had his death grip on him. The other pressed desperately at the crotch of his pants. It was absolutely fucking vile how hard he was right now. Holy shit. Holy shit. Through still-laboured breaths he swallowed dryly, noises of discomfort and anxiety accompanying every breath. He was shaking so badly the cabinets he was leaning on were rattling. This.. This was… A whole new level of sickening. His eyes hurt from the strain. His throat burned. His hands were trembling like pathetic little leaves. God, that had been terrifying. He loved it.
“Karamatsu, Jesus fuck - what the hell is wrong with you?!” Osomatsu’s voice was shrill and loud; Ichi could hear it even over his own heaving breaths as he grunted with the effort of pulling his rock hard cock out of the top of his sweatpants. His arms were weak, and his head was in an incredible space of dizziness and arousal from taking a step into oxygen-deprived unconsciousness and being pulled back so suddenly.
“I - I - You heard what he said!” Karamatsu defended, though his own tone was frightened; audibly shaken. “H-he can’t just-” Ichimatsu jumped as he heard the wall next to him shake with a sharp thud, and he decided it was Karamatsu punching the wall. He whimpered with need, hand lifting from his neck to where a bruise was blossoming on his cheek from the strike he’d gotten, mouth open and panting heavily. “He can’t talk about Jyushimatsu that way! Or anyone!”
Ichimatsu moaned in spite of himself, head rolling against the cabinets as he pumped himself furiously. His tongue lolled out of his mouth; swallowing hurt so he was salivating all over himself, his hoodie, leaning over to soak his hand and dick in saliva. The dry friction was better, but it was still incredible.
“You were choking him!” Osomatsu cried, and Ichimatsu let out an ugly, strained laugh. “God, his eyes rolled back into his head - you were going to fucking kill him!” Fuck. Fuck. The idea of one of his brothers killing him out of anger and pure malice made him keen awkwardly, the sound more of a helpless whimper. He could have died. He knew he really couldn’t, that his body would make him black out before any real damage happened, and he could be revived by one of his brothers. If any of them had felt so inclined.
..What if they’d been alone? Karamatsu would probably have been too freaked out to do anything to help. He may have kneeled over his strangled form, panicking and crying. Christ, his dick fucking hurt just imagining it. Head rolled back against the cabinet, body still trembling. He wanted to cum. He wanted to stay in this post-strangulation high forever. He was conflicted and hot and Karamatsu had been so sexy? The anger, the way his perfectly sculpted brows creased, the way he bared his teeth…
Mouth still open, a truly sinful sound of need leaving him as he lifted his hand and wrapped it around his neck. He couldn't match the strength or intensity, but it was enough - he found just the right place to squeeze and press, the right place to compound his breathing enough to make him wheeze.
“Karamatsu, you fucking made him cry.”
Well, Ichimatsu was crying. There were tears streaming down his very red face, and he was literally choking back sobs. But it wasn’t from terror or being ‘upset’. Miles from that.
“I-Ichimatsu,” he heard Karamatsu call through the door, “please let me in, I’m - I’m sorry.”
“Go th-the fuck - nnnnnghaway, Sh-Shittymatsu,” Ichi managed to moan, squeezing his throat and dick tighter as he pumped it. He couldn’t get to that incredible level of depravity Karamatsu had unknowingly put him in, but he got close enough - he heard Karamatsu punch the wall again, and the frustrated groan from his older brother masked his disgusting, self-indulgent moan of guttural pleasure as he came.
Both his hands fell away and he took in a sweet, cool breath, closing his eyes and leaning back. Fuck. Honestly. What the hell was wrong with him. Rather than enjoying the bittersweet finish and simmer of what was left of the afterglow of his orgasm, he chose to reflect on how he’d gotten to that point. At the expense of Jyushimatsu. What he’d said… He turned, punching the cabinet himself, swallowing thickly and leaning on it sideways.
He stayed there in silence until his breathing returned mostly to normal, wiping his drool off his chin and his spunk off his hoodie. He didn’t even feel satisfied anymore. He just felt sick. With a deep sigh, one that hurt his chest, he laid on the floor; wallowing in the literal and figurative mess he'd made.
Somehow he’d fallen asleep like that, on the floor, and woke up at some asinine hour. He wiped the sleep-drool from the corner of his mouth, blearily looking around the room and letting himself out of the bathroom. No one was around when he left. It was dark outside. He moved to head upstairs to go to bed, but noticed a figure lying down in the living room. It didn’t take many guesses to figure out it was Karamatsu. He looked up the stairs, then at his sleeping brother. His gut clenched, and he headed into the living room.
Sitting at Karamatsu’s head, he watched his brother sleep. He didn’t look peaceful. Rather… Troubled. Ill at ease. He was such a heavy sleeper, Ichimatsu could probably watch him all night and Karamatsu would be none the wiser. ...He could probably do anything to him and he’d be none the wiser. He licked his dry lips, eyes raking over his blanketed form. Karamatsu had probably slept out here because he’d been so upset about what he’d done to his little brother. Didn’t even deserve to sleep on the same futon as him. Something grotesque and noble like that.
Ichi was only one of those things.
He stripped the blanket away carefully, grabbing Karamatsu’s nearest wrist. He kept his eyes on his brother intently, watching for signs of movement, discomfort, consciousness. Once the hand was free, Ichimatsu laid down next to his brother - carefully resting the hand back on his neck again, curling the fingers around his throat slowly. Ugh. He predictably got hard again, closing his eyes and biting his lip. He wasn’t even making him grip tightly, or at all - just the warmth and weight of his hand alone was enough to make Ichimatsu reminisce and palm himself through his pants.
His second wank of the day didn’t last long, Ichimatsu cumming in his sweatpants and putting Kara’s hand back where he’d got it, getting up and rubbing his face with his clean hand. He was deplorable. And he didn’t feel any better about earlier.
Ugh.
He went upstairs. Still in his cum-stained pants, he crawled into bed; curling against Jyushimatsu’s back. He really didn’t feel like he deserved to hug him or anything, but he really wanted to sleep against someone.
The next morning went by like most of them did, but in the early afternoon Ichimatsu went outside to find Jyushimatsu again. He needed to apologize. Or… Or something. Predictably, Jyushi was in the yard, laying in the grass and staring at the clouds. Ichi walked up to him, hands in his pockets, and stared down at his face.
“Broooooother,” Jyushi began, snaking his sleeve-covered hands around his ankles and pulling himself closer along the grass. His head wedged between Ichi’s feet, and he turned to bite at his ankle through his pants gently. Gross.
“Jyuuuuuuuushi,” Ichimatsu cooed softly, sighing shortly after. He felt bad. Like, actually terrible bad. The kind of bad that normal people felt when they did something, blamed someone else, and the other person got in trouble for it. Maybe worse. Ichimatsu may as well have killed a guy and put the knife in Jyushimatsu’s pocket. He’d used his younger brother to piss off his older brother, and then had gotten off to the result. Twice.
“What’s up? Niiiii-san?” Jyushimatsu lifted a foot off the ground, wiggling his toes at Ichimatsu. The elder brother gently batted his foot away, shrugging a shoulder. How did he apologize without coming off as guilty? Jyushimatsu didn’t even know what happened. He didn’t want to incriminate himself, but he needed to do something.
“I… was wondering if you wanted to play baseball.” It was a shitty attempt. He couldn’t just come out and say it though, apologize. But it seemed to work anyway; Jyushimatsu was instantly at his feet (Ichimatsu didn’t even see him move…) flailing around excitedly.
“I’ll get the rope!”
Ichimatsu grabbed the back of his hoodie before he could tear away, and Jyushi turned around to look at him curiously.
“No, no - I mean… like… Actually play. I know you love baseball.” If it was even possible, Jyushimatsu’s eyes got bigger, and he wrapped his long-sleeved arms around Ichi, squeezing him so tight it made him cough.
“I love you too, nii-san. Let’s play!”
It wasn’t much. But it was something.