Vincent knew that there had been times when his brother loved him out of his free will but he also knew that those moments were gone now; all it took was a few terrible choices and another golden-haired boy and there he was – shunned from the only sunlight he needed.
There were those mornings when Gilbert woke up in a mess, hating his body and dreams he couldn't forget, then he turned to face Vincent who had crept in to fight off nightmares, and Gilbert wondered how it was humanly possible to feel so humiliated and asked himself, as Vincent looked at him with knowing eyes, when the status quo would break destroying everything in its wake.
That everything was multilateral was a fact known to Vincent ever since he was a child; as he grew up he only concluded that it was indeed true – if anyone would ever peek into his bedroom at times, they would be horrified or outraged, but Vincent only saw Gilbert spread out on the mattress like a gift from heavens or depths of hell; he only saw perfection.
Vincent told him that it was his home now and Gilbert smiled weakly as his mind screamed to run, just run away; he realized it was too late when they were by the river together, Vincent's reflection distorted in the water with words frozen on his lips, mine.
#5 [couldn't be clearer]
It's perfectly possible to fake confusion, laugh it off with embarrassment, as long as it's just pretending; when the door closed with a click and Vincent quietly dropped the key on the silky duvet his intentions couldn't be clearer and Gilbert knew that pretending would end right then, along with what was left of his sanity and self-respect.
#6 [have seen]
Vincent didn't mind the birds watching, even oblivious servants could get away with having caught a glimpse of something not meant for them, but there came a maid whose eyes have seen and understood; two days later Gilbert had his tears kissed away after he had discovered their maid a shade too white; Vincent found her just the right kind of silent.
#7 [his second]
Gilbert would never hate his brother; he knew he was to blame too, and so, he always kept a special place in his heart just for Vincent who was his second skin, half of his sin and all of his responsibility.
Vincent could rest assured – his brother never failed to forgive him in the end; the only thing that tugged at his heart was a question whether he would ever be able to forgive Gilbert for making him second best.
The world was such a curious place, setting its finest tragedies among quiet rural landscapes, leading people like puppets; Vincent was never one for following though – he knew best how to play his own games and how to cage hearts.
However wicked and heartbreaking was the relationship between his brother and him, Gilbert would never completely let go of it; would never leave Vincent to suffer solitude and insanity because he understood how it hurt to never have your feelings reciprocated.
The prompts are last words from every second page in 'Korea's Place in the Sun: Modern History' by Bruce Cumings, chapter 4 ('The Passions 1945-1948'). Uh, the book isn't particularly inspiring in terms of incestuous love but my mind wanders ;o;