My Adopted Brother and I

My Adopted Brother and I

Epigraph:

“When someone loves you, the way they talk about you is different. You feel safe and comfortable.”

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Disclaimer:

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.*

This story may include scenes and language that some readers may find uncomfortable. Reader discretion is advised, especially for young audiences. Welcome to my newly published story.*

Remember, plagiarism is a crime punishable by law.*

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Prologue

I once stumbled upon an article about inc*st. Familiar territory? If not, let me enlighten you.

Inc*st: a taboo subject, shrouded in societal condemnation. It involves s*xual intimacy between individuals so closely related that they are forbidden by law to marry. Our relationship, however, doesn't fit that mold. While we're undeniably close, we're not bound by blood.

Despite my fascination with such themes and my penchant for delving into novels exploring these taboo dynamics, I never imagined I'd find myself living out a similar narrative.

But before delving into that, let me recount how WE came to be. How it all began, or how we crossed paths – whichever you prefer, let's get this story rolling.

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15 Years Ago...

"Are you not going to say hi to your new friend Hiro?" my mother inquired, a hint of expectation in her voice.

He wasn't exactly a friend in the traditional sense, but I played along nonetheless.

"Hi..." I muttered, exhaling a heavy sigh.

"This is Khaelles Kruss, the son of your mother's best friend. He'll be living with us until his parents return from overseas. Be good to him, okay?" my father explained, as I offered a forced smile before approaching 'Khaelles'.

He stood timidly behind my mother, clutching the hem of his clothes with trembling fists.

I still remember the fear etched across his face, the vulnerability in his small hand. Even then, with his cherubic features and cocoa-colored eyes, he tugged at my heartstrings.

I was 8 when our paths first crossed. It took him a whole year to grow accustomed to my presence.

Khaelles Kruss – named after his mother's close friendship with mine, much like how I was dubbed 'Khaelus Cross'. Initially, I found it irksome, this shared nomenclature. But as our bond deepened, I found a certain charm in the coincidence – or perhaps there's a deeper reason that I choose to keep to myself.

My full name? Akhiro Khaelus Cross B. Mexal. 'Hiro' – a truncated version, a nickname that stuck. The 'B' stands for Brin, my mother's maiden name. As for why they settled on 'Hiro', your guess is as good as mine.

Now, back to Khaelles and me. I'm one year – or rather, seven months – considered as his older brother. I tower over him, both in stature and physicality. While our families' wealth may be comparable, our mothers' shared motto – "What's mine is yours" – ensures that material possessions hold little sway in our relationship.

Three months into Khaelles' stay, I anticipated his departure upon his parents' return but fate had other plans. Their journey home ended in tragedy, a plane crash claiming their lives. Khaelles was left orphaned, his parents laid to rest, leaving him adrift in the world.

I witnessed his façade at the funeral – the stoic smile masking inner turmoil, the silent tears shed in solitude. I offered him solace, a shoulder to lean on in his darkest hour. It was this shared grief that cemented our bond, drawing us closer together.

In the aftermath, Khaelles withdrew from the world, retreating into the sanctuary of our home. Social interactions became a burden, replaced by solitary introspection. He became a recluse, finding comfort in solitude rather than the company of peers.

Concerned for his well-being, my parents extended an offer to adopt him – a proposition he accepted with surprising ease. In a whirlwind of paperwork and legalities, he became my brother in name and in spirit.

15 years later...

Caught in a moment of vulnerability, Khaelles stumbled upon my private indulgence. Instead of recoiling in horror, he offered an unexpected proposition.

"Do me instead. I don't mind. You have two choices – either you do me, or I do you," he declared, his tone devoid of shame or hesitation.

Tell me he didn't just say that.

With the specter of our parents' discovery looming overhead, I found myself torn between desire and dread. One thing's for certain – whatever path I choose, consequences are inevitable.