aeroport_art | Fic: Breathe Love (8/?)

Title: Breathe Love (8/?)
Pairing: Michael/Lincoln
Author:

aeroport_art
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Up to 2.03 but mild AU throughout
Word Count: 5,412
Disclaimer: Prison Break is not mine, obviously. And I am not making any money from this, obviously.
Notes: This chapter was pretty hard for me to write for some reason :P Therefore I'm kinda iffy on how much I like it so I would really appreciate some constructive criticism or feedback. Don't be shy! Also, I don't mean to keep throwing Mikey through the wringer but I need to advance the plot!! >_< Breathe Love is also on prisonbreakfic.com and is actually the more finalized version (I can't help but keep tweaking things :P) so if you'd rather read it there, sans wonky decimal point chapters, you can find it under the same screen name. On the other hand I'm going to keep posting chapters here first, lol. Anyway hope you all enjoy the chapter!

Summary: Michael has always wanted his brother, and Lincoln has to wrestle with the responsibility of a reciprocated love that can never be... or can it? Spanning two decades, this story attempts to explain Michael/Lincoln within the confines of canon.

Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 1.1
Chapter 1.2
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 4.1
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Carrie was lounging at home, wanting to spend her last week of summer vacation slothfully and wastefully. So she was sitting on the suede couch of her home and watching the Saturday night line-up on the telly when suddenly the doorbell rang. Deeply engrossed in the current program, she was loathe to get up and open the door. Besides, who came around at 9:30 PM without notice?

“Mom!!”

“You get it, I’m in the bathroom!”

Ugh, she thought before pulling herself off the couch and quickly hopping to the door.

With surprise, she was met with a very out of sorts Michael Scofield. He had enormous bags under his eyes and was perspiring as if he had been exercising for the past hour.

“Mike… what are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?”

Carrie opened the door wider to allow him entrance but gasped when she saw his bloodied right knuckle.

“Mike, what the hell happened?”

“I can’t really say right now. But I can’t go home tonight, I was hoping to stay here,” he explained matter-of-factly despite his state of disarray. “Maybe take a shower?”

“Yeah, yeah come in. I’ll just let my dad know, he won’t mind since he knows you.”

“Thanks.”

Michael entered the cozy one-story house and let himself be led to the bathroom. Carrie quickly opened up a closet and handed him a fresh towel, explained the mechanics of the shower, and then headed back to the living room.

The boy methodically turned the hot water on, shed and folded his clothes, and then placed them on the closed toilet seat before getting in beneath the burning spray.

Feeling the first glimmer of relaxation since having found out about Adam and Lincoln (he grimaced at the juxtaposition of their names), Michael slowly sat down in the porcelain tub and let the free-falling water pound onto his back. Feeling the skin scald underneath the assault, he closed his eyes in enjoyment and tucked his knees beneath his chin.

After leaving Paul’s house, he’d basically sprinted towards Lincoln’s workplace, unheeding of the fact that it was nearly twelve miles away. By early evening he’d gotten there, sweat dripping from every pore and completely out of breath. He’d stood in the lot, panting, and looked into the garage. He saw his brother, working behind the hood of a Thunderbird. And then suddenly Michael didn’t know what to do, all he knew was that he couldn’t look at him anymore, he just couldn’t look at Lincoln knowing for certain that his older brother had cheated on him. True, he knew in the back of his mind that along with the drugs and alcohol that Lincoln must have indulged in sexual activities, but he never wanted to know this fact so explicitly. And so the seventeen year old turned right back around and left, defeated. He knew he couldn’t go home, he couldn’t spend the night in their apartment in the same way that he couldn’t face Lincoln, and so he decided on the next best thing and hoped that a friend would put him up for the night.

Thus the late house call. Michael sat in the shower for god knows how long; it could’ve been ten minutes, it could have been an hour. He didn’t really know, his mind had numbed to the point where time was a completely gossamer theory, and the only corporeal thing left to him was the hole in his chest that had never left him since his older brother had stopped holding, stopped kissing, stopped loving him.

A period later, Carrie knocked on the bathroom door.

“Mike, hey you okay in there? It’s been almost an hour.”

The boy registered these words and found it better and more polite to shut the water off and leave the tub, rather than continue moping in the hot droplets as he was wont to do. So he stood up, let his knees pop and pushed the knob back in, mourning the loss of heat. He toweled himself dry and pulled his boxers back on, although leaving his jeans and shirt folded. They were pretty disgusting and he really didn’t feel like putting them back on, so he simply pulled the towel over his hips and tucked the ends into the makeshift waistband.

When the boy opened the door, Carrie was not expecting a half-naked Michael Scofield to be appearing before here. But there he was, his skin pink from the fresh shower, an equally pink towel wrapped around his hips, and clouds of steam billowing out from the bathroom behind him. She felt her heart stop at the magnificent sight.

“I know this is unlikely, but do you happen to have a T-shirt and shorts I can borrow?”

“Umm… yeah actually, I do,” she said, pulling herself away from the view and going into her room to sift out the boy’s mesh shorts she’d bought for jogging and the oversized shirt emblazoned with an Apple logo that her dad had gotten from a recent convention. She went back to the bathroom and handed them over to the boy.

“Thanks,” he said, shutting the door and changing quickly. When he came out again, he sought his friend out in her room where she was flipping through a magazine on the queen-sized bed.

“Hey, my mom said you could sleep here, I’ll just be on the couch.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“So, did you want to tell me what happened?” she asked, gesturing at his right hand which was still swollen but had thankfully stopped bleeding. She scooted over to make room on the bed and Michael sat down, then rolled onto his back and stared up at the clean, white ceiling.

“I guess I sort of owe you an explanation, huh?”

“Yup, you sort of do.”

The boy held the silence for a few moments, gathering his thoughts and attempting to sort out an acceptable explanation for why he had gone barking mad on their friend. But the only thing he could come up with was, “Adam slept with my brother.”

Carrie rolled onto her side and looked at the pensive boy, ignoring her curiosity at how a bloodied knuckle worked into this story and instead wondered if her seemingly ridiculous hunch was about to be validated. “And that bothers you why?”

Another long silence. Michael felt strangely like he was back at his therapist’s office as he replied, “It bothers me because I don’t like mixing home and school. I have things I need to keep to myself, but Adam crossed the line when he went after Lincoln.”

The girl nodded, thinking about the information and was about to continue along her line of questioning when suddenly, Michael’s body was hovering over hers.

“Michael, what are--"

He ducked down and stiffly pressed his lips against hers. Carrie let her eyes close shut as she shut the surprise out and relished the sensation; Michael was the most attractive guy she knew but had long given up on ever pursuing the strange, reticent boy. However he was currently on top of her, kissing her, and she didn’t know quite what to make of it.

Michael, on the other hand, was processing his senses efficiently. He felt in control, stable for the first time since that afternoon and he thought that maybe if he really did this, if he went all the way with Carrie, that he would come out the other end with power, leverage, satisfaction at being equal with his older brother. And so he moved his mouth, discarding the fact that the lips beneath his were too soft, too sticky with strawberry lip gloss, and that she smelled or felt nothing like a twenty-one year old male.

The girl underneath him submitted, wrapping her arms around Michael and sighing contentedly. At this the boy pressed his mouth down harder, letting his body fall down on top of hers. He didn’t know where to put his hands and instead thought back to all the conversations he’d had with Paul; in her hair? On her breast? Her ass? He picked one at random and his left hand fell on her hip as she wiggled beneath him, urging his mouth open with her small tongue. So he kissed her, he put his tongue in her mouth, and he moved his hand over to cup the mound on her chest all while thinking that it needed to be flatter, the body beneath his needed to be harder, that the situation wasn’t nearly as hot without a pulsing erection digging into his own.

Feeling Michael’s robotic movements and duly noting the lack of excitement on his part, she finally unwound her arms and looked into his face.

“Michael…” she said. “You don’t really want this, do you?”

“What do you mean?,” he asked, thinking if he had done anything to betray his feelings. He leaned back down with the intention of resuming their kissing; persistence had always worked with Lincoln when the two were still together.

“No, stop it. Michael, get off of me,” she reluctantly ordered. The notion of sleeping with Michael, as exciting as it was, was simply not enough to beat out the distasteful idea of sleeping with a boy who didn’t even want to be doing it.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Michael… about your brother.”

“What?,” he started, his attention now fully on the brunette. What about Lincoln?

“I… look, I get it, okay?” She looked at the boy’s dark gaze, a hundred more times intense now than when he’d been kissing her, and was now even more convinced that her gut feeling was right. She mustered her courage and hoped to god that her instincts were correct. “It wasn’t about Adam. It’s your brother and the fact that he slept with somebody else. I’m not going to say that I don’t think it’s weird or kind of gross, because I do but… I get it. You guys have things to offer each other that nobody else can.”

Michael stared at her unblinkingly.

“How… Did I say something?”

“No,” she sighed. “It’s kind of obvious once you know what to look for. The way you talk about him, the way you look at him, the way you try to keep him from us, like you’re jealous or something. How you were always trying to touch him last year, at Back to School Night.”

Michael paled at the words. Had he really been that transparent?

Carrie watched the stricken boy with a maternal tug at her heart and rolled him onto his side, then pulled his hand into hers and entwined their fingers.

“It’s okay, Mike,” she said, for lack of anything more creative to say. Nonetheless the reassuring words seemed to work, and Michael closed his eyes. He didn’t feel any better about Adam, he still felt the hurt from being treated like the plague while everybody else was allowed his brother’s warmth but in this moment, the lavender scent of Carrie’s lotion rubbed his weariness away and he allowed himself to relax.

Soon he was lightly snoring and after she was satisfied that he was comfortable and warm enough, Carrie let her own body fall to sleep, curled up and facing his.

-----

Michael woke with a start, something about running away from somebody and falling into blackness, but by the time he was fully conscious he couldn’t remember anything about the dream he just had, only the lingering feelings of anxiety. When he looked at his surroundings, he was hit with another wave of surprise. What was this place, with its Bob Dylan and James Dean posters and corkboard plastered with photos of white teeth and bright colors?

As Michael looked down, everything slowly started to come back. Next to him, his friend Carrie was sound asleep and holding his still-entwined hand close to her chest. He remembered their conversation, how she knew about his feelings towards Lincoln. He remembered how she’d told him it was alright that he was in love with his older brother and he felt himself glow at finally having somebody know about the most important part of him, the most consuming facet of his life. He gently untangled their hands, then pet her hair and whispered so as not to wake her.

“Thanks, Carrie.”

With that, the boy got out of bed, gathered yesterday’s clothes and left the house. He spent the long walk home thinking about what he would say to Lincoln when he saw him, how he would react to any excuses or things the older brother might say to him. Stifling the wave of jealousy that threatened to rise up again (godamnit Adam), Michael instead concentrated on what Carrie had said to him.

You guys have things to offer each other that nobody else can. I get it.

If she could understand it, a girl he’d really only known for half a school year, then why couldn’t Lincoln understand? Why didn’t his older brother get that while their relationship might have been complicated, a little abnormal, true, that in the end they were really only two people who loved and needed each other? Or at least, Michael still loved Lincoln but from the way the older boy had been acting recently, he wasn’t so sure about Lincoln’s feelings anymore. He felt himself grow angry at his older brother’s stubborn ignorance, irritated at how much pain he was putting them both through simply because he couldn’t think outside what society might have expected from him. By the time Michael had reached the street of their apartment, he was downright pissed off at and ready to confront Lincoln about his ridiculous notions of what was best for them, about his disgusting drug and booze habits and especially, especially about his sexual encounters with people other than Michael.

He rounded the façade of the apartment complex, thundered up the stairs and crossed his fingers in the hopes that his brother was home this Sunday. When he roughly unlocked the door and entered the kitchen, he was livid to find a tossed credit card and bits of white powder on their wooden tabletop; the remnants of a line of coke. His brother had never brought his extracurricular activities home before and the thought that he was snorting coke outside of social situations made him sick.

“Linc!” he yelled out, ready to find his older brother and kick his ass, despite the other boy’s seniority.

He burst into their bedroom and found his prey sprawled onto their bed, nursing a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and letting the cocaine high run its course.

“Oh hey, Mikey!” he said upon noticing his little brother in the doorway. What he didn’t notice was the way the boy was clenching his fists in wrath and he certainly wasn’t expecting the teenager to leap up onto him and hit him across the jaw with a bruising crunch.

-----

Michael hissed and instantly cradled his right fist, looking down in dismay at the re-opened wounds on the knuckles. The blood welled to the surface and he licked at the beading while glaring at his brother who had sat up in surprise.

“What the fuck’s the matter with you, Mikey??”

“You! You’re what’s the matter, Linc. You’re drunk on a Sunday afternoon, with a bottle of liquor all to your lonesome. You’re fucked up, you know that??”

“Hey, I’m twenty-one years old and drinking is perfectly legal. Twen-ty-one, count ‘em Mikey. You’re good at math.”

“Yeah, and cocaine is fucking legal too? I saw your shit on the table Linc,” Michael spat as he let the anger froth to the surface.

The worst part, the younger boy decided, wasn’t that his brother was strung out and drunk. The worst part of everything was that through Michael’s haze of fury, he still wanted Lincoln; he was still noticing his brother’s built body, his messy hair and somehow even the drugs worked in his favor; he had sexy dark circles under his eyes and a fiery gaze that betrayed signs of lust as the alcohol removed his brother’s usually impenetrable inhibitions. The younger brother stuffed down the inappropriate feelings and concentrated instead on why he’d been so intent on getting home.

“You know what Linc? You’re sad. You’re sad, and wrong about everything. My friend knows about us,” he ranted, stopping to spitefully savor the look of horror that washed over his brother’s face. “She knows about us and she doesn’t care, she thinks it’s fine. If she can fucking understand it, why can’t you??”

“Slow down--"

“Why do you have to insist on breaking us apart? I need you Linc, I still need you even though you make me sick and I know that you need me too. But instead you’re getting fucked up all the time, screwing every tail in sight, I know about fucking Adam Davidson. You fucked him and he told me it was great, and do you know how that made me feel?? To be told how good having sex with you was by my friend who, I’m sure this is a coincidence, fucking looks just like me??”

“Mikey, I didn’t--"

“I mean why would you fuck him, why would you sleep with him when you could have me?? I’m right here Linc, I am fucking right here and you ignore me, and you push me away, and I don’t know why because I love you so much more than he does! Why him, Linc, why him and not me?”

“Because he’s anybody but you!! Why can’t you understand that it can’t be you, it can never be you, Mikey! Just get over it and have your life, go to college, be a fucking doctor or lawyer and just get the hell away from me!!”

The younger brother recoiled as if slapped, letting the cruel words sink into his eardrums like knives into his heart.

“You’re lying…”

“I’m not lying, Michael. I really wish you would leave me alone,” Lincoln said reluctantly. I don’t want to bring you down with me, I wish you would stop tempting me with those clear blue eyes, just leave, leave and don’t look back.

“You’re lying!!” the younger boy leapt back onto the twenty-one year old, pinning his wrists down with his weight and smashing their lips together so hard that his lip cut on Lincoln’s lower teeth. Michael held the muscled arms down, taking advantage of his older brother’s surprise to worm his knee in between the legs underneath him, crushing their bodies together and licking the taste of whisky from the older boy’s mouth. He removed himself from the aggressive kissing with a loud, wet sound and ground his pelvis down.

“Don’t tell me you don’t love this Linc, don’t tell me this isn’t everything you ever wanted,” he heatedly bit out, shoving the older boy’s shirt up to his chest and thrusting his hand down into the faded jeans as his left hand kept Lincoln’s wrists down.

“Michael, get off of me,” Lincoln objected as the boy’s fingers wrapped around his hardening length. He struggled to get up but the combination of alcohol and Michael’s fervent grip kept him from prying the boy off, so he flopped back down onto the bed.

“I’m not getting off of you until I get you off.”

Somewhere in Michael’s mind he was screaming to let go, step back, knowing it was sick and wrong to assault your older brother when he wasn’t in his right mind. But the louder, more convincing voice told him that it didn’t matter, it felt good and Michael hadn’t felt this good in such a long time and thus he should keep taking, keep tasting, keep touching because he deserved it, he’d tried so hard and gone through so much pain. Lincoln owed him this.

“Michael, I’m serious. Stop it--" Lincoln struggled harder but Michael had him by the balls, literally, and he wasn’t about to make any rash actions while his brother was almost painfully kneading the heavy sac.

“Please, Linc, please, please,” the younger brother ranted, telling himself this was the lowest he was going to go. Even though in his mind Michael knew that he would still give away even more of his dignity if it meant his brother’s acquiescence.

Hearing the desperation and anguish tinting Michael’s pleas, Lincoln’s heart clenched into a knot and he tried to shove the haze away from his clouded mind but all he could feel was Michael’s hands, Michael’s lips, Michael’s rock-hard erection burning into his thigh. The sensations all pointed him to one decision.

Fuck it.

It was just too hard turning down his baby brother’s tearful eyes, his kisses that begged to be returned, and although the back of his mind told him that there was some reason why they couldn’t do this but in the moment, all he wanted was more of that sweet milky scent and trembling body.

“God Mikey, you are a fucking pain in the ass you know that?,” he growled, and he viciously pulled the teenager’s head down and shoved his tongue down his little brother’s throat. Feeling the hotness of the alcohol burning through his veins, he went mad with kissing and sucking, accepting all of Michael’s equally frantic movements as the boy molested him with clutching fingers, hot breaths, violent disrobing. Soon Lincoln was topless and so was his little brother and Gods if he hadn’t missed those pert little nipples so fucking much.

“Linc, Linc, god,” Michael moaned incoherently as his brother reached up and pinched his small, hard nubs, rubbing at the pecs beneath and massaging lower and lower to his abdomen, and still lower. He got to Michael’s mesh shorts and easily yanked them down and the boy’s cock sprang out, taut and pointing towards the sky in quivering excitement.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he said in a low voice, jerking the shorts against Michael’s bent knees to urge his younger brother to lean over and fully kick them off. The younger boy complied and as his dick bobbed in the air from the movements, Lincoln wanted so much to bury his face in that groin, inhale the musk that was so arousing, so heady but the spinning wouldn’t stop long enough for him to flip the boy over onto his back. So he stayed down on his back, drinking in the luscious sight of his naked brother who was currently undoing Lincoln’s pants with enthusiasm. When the closure finally came loose, Michael fished his brother’s straining organ out and nearly moaned aloud at the wonderful nostalgia of having his brother’s cock at face level again. Michael decided to save the dish, opting instead to drag the jeans down over Lincoln’s thighs. He hit the side of his brother’s hip, hard, and the obstructing pelvis finally came up to accommodate the fabric being roughly jerked down his knees, calves, and then plucked off.

Michael’s eyes devoured the sight before him, his brother sitting up at the elbows looking dazed and rumpled, the dusky oval nipples, his smooth muscled torso tapering down to narrowing indents that pointed down like a fucking arrow to the beautiful cock that was tight against his brother’s lower belly.

The boy choked on his own desire, bending down to finally savor the delicacy of Lincoln’s penis. He started slowly, not wanting to gorge himself too quickly, and nestled his face as low as he could while tonguing the loose skin between his brother’s balls. He licked his way up, spending ample time to mouth each of the swollen orbs before reaching the base of Lincoln’s pole. He looked up at his brother, cock rested on his forehead and blocking most of the view, but still caught sight of Lincoln’s ecstasy-laden expression as the older brother’s mind was wiped clean of everything but motion, swirling lights, and the hot mouth sucking his balls.

Feeling powerful, the younger brother dragged his lips up and down the shaft, alternating between hot mouthfuls and blowing out cool air over the wet skin. Lincoln shuddered at the electric sensations and let them contribute to the greatest high of his life which only escalated the longer Michael was down between his legs. His younger brother had now progressed to licking; long swaths of warmth from the root to the tip like the boy was enjoying a popsicle that would drip if the melting cream weren’t cleaned up quickly enough.

“God… Michael…,” Lincoln groaned, helpless underneath the masterful blowjob. Michael only smiled at the animalistic noises he loved to hear and finally added his right hand to the equation. He gripped the root of Lincoln’s throbbing pole and firmly stroked upwards, squeezing out even more precum to join the mess that was already leaking copiously from the slit. He then bent forwards, feeling cozy in between his brother’s strong thighs, and slowly gathered the dripping fluid onto his tongue before withdrawing it back into his mouth where he could smear the liquid over his taste buds.

It was heavenly, it had to be Michael’s favorite flavor, the tang of Lincoln’s sperm. And with that intoxicating drug, the boy’s addiction surged out in full and he suddenly craved every inch of his brother, yearning for Lincoln’s body to invade his flesh as deeply as Lincoln had invaded his soul. The year-long drought of his older brother’s presence had eaten away at him, slowly eroding the hole in his chest until it threatened to break the shell he had carefully constructed for the outside world. But now Lincoln was here, his older brother was beneath him and free for the taking and Michael was going to fill that cavity in his chest, he was going to siphon the love from his brother until the hole was plugged full and he couldn’t breathe anymore from how content he was.

So he sunk his lips over the pulsing cock in front of him and swallowed, swallowed down until his lips were kissing the skin of Lincoln’s balls, until his nose was nestled in his brother’s dark hairs. Struggling to keep his gag reflex from suffocating him, Michael relaxed his gullet, delighting in re-acquainting himself with muscles he hadn’t used in over a year. He kept his mouth stretched out over the organ, cheeks hollowed, and worked his throat muscles to stimulate the head that was buried deep down, so deep he swore it was halfway down his esophagus.

“Nnnngh…” Lincoln groaned deeply, wanting more of that hot wet cavern, wanting to thrust further until he was fucking Michael’s gullet without the teeth and lips in the way, he just wanted more and more of his little brother’s defiled mouth.

After an agonizing amount of time with his face in Lincoln’s groin and drooling over the hard meat, Michael finally moved his mouth upwards with suction and popped off with a loud slurp.

“Fuck!”

Michael smiled with a wicked grin and crawled over Lincoln’s supine body again, pressing their heated chests together and holding him like a life preserver in a tumultuous ocean.

“Gods Linc, I love you so much…” he murmured, snuggling his face into the older boy’s neck and then roaming back up to kiss him languidly, lovingly, passionately. As his older brother kissed back, Michael remembered exactly why he’d gone through such agony and pain just to get this back. It was perfection, the feeling of being united with his brother, moving flesh against flesh in the throes of obsession and devouring each others souls in the knowledge that they would only gain so much more when they were through.

The need in him arose again, and Michael just whispered one word of entreaty to Lincoln’s ear before he gripped the hard organ beneath him, sliding on the slippery spit and trickling precum as he guided the most intimate of his brother’s parts to his own entrance.

Not entirely sure of what was going on, Lincoln remained content to let his brother pet him with beautiful words, feeling the quiet breath against his neck and Michael’s long eyelashes flutter against his jaw. He felt a hand deliberately close around his stiff dick and groaned when he felt something press against the spongy head of his cock.

“Mmm… Michael…” he dazedly groaned. He exulted at the feeling of something tight squeezing over the messy tip, increasing the pleasure tenfold as that gripping channel slowly sank down, and down a little more, until suddenly through Lincoln’s hazy emotions he felt like this wasn’t supposed to be happening.

“Wait, what are--"

“Shhh, just let me do this Linc, I want you so much…”

The bulk of Lincoln’s mind was loving the direction this was taking, imploring him to just grab those thin hips and slam them down, stuffing his younger brother so full of his cock that Michael would never feel whole again without Lincoln’s meat lodged deep inside of his needy body. He knew that if he filled Michael up, if he pumped his hips against his younger brother’s ass and flooded him with his come, that his little brother would truly be unable to ever leave him. But in between the pleasure, in between the muddling effects of the alcohol and drugs, a very insistent and increasingly loud voice was telling him to stop and with a terrible jolt he remembered why. He remembered the reason why he simply couldn’t continue doing this anymore. And while the selfish part of him wanted to just seize Michael for himself, perpetuate his brother’s addiction to himself, a loud and chastising voice broke through.

“Michael-- Michael STOP!” Lincoln shoved the smaller boy off his body and sat up, blinking as he struggled to shut down all the sensitized reactions of his body and cock.

“Michael, I told you, I can’t do this.”

“What is it now,” the boy asked quietly, shaking, as he recovered from being so close to completion only to be roughly shoved off once again.

“We can’t be together because I’m going to be a father.”

The younger boy froze. Out of everything he had calculated that could possibly come from Lincoln’s mouth, he had not expected this one.

“What?”

“I… I’m going to be a father. I can’t fuck this up Mikey, I just can’t.”

The words sank in with agonizing tangibility as Michael realized that this wasn’t some joke, that this wasn’t an excuse for Lincoln to fob him off again.

“You… you knocked up some girl, and you’re keeping the fucking baby?”

“Well… yeah, that’s pretty much it,” he replied, skating his hand behind his head.

If Michael had thought that Adam’s admission was pain, then this was hell. At least Lincoln had not fucking stayed with the other teenager, at least he hadn’t well and truly chosen Adam over Michael. But now, there was some mistake of a growth in some slut’s womb and it was about to steal Lincoln away from him. If Michael had thought that he was the love of Lincoln’s life, reality had just slapped him in the face with the fact that his older brother had chosen an embryo over him.

“Linc, I… I can’t,” the teenager’s voice broke. “I can’t take this anymore. How long are you going to keep hurting me?”

“Michael… god, Michael I’m sorry. I’m so sorry but this is the way it has to be now. When I go, the pain will eventually stop, I promise. You have so much to look forward to, just do it and you’ll be fine someday, I swear.”

When I go.

Michael’s eyes involuntarily overflowed as he registered these sickening words, words that Lincoln had promised, promised he would never say.

“Linc… don’t leave me,” he whispered while hating the way his tears fell like little droplets of weakness. But he couldn’t help it, the keening pain was too much and he couldn’t breathe again but this time it wasn’t because his brother was suffocating him with love, it was because he was strangling him with grief.

All those years, those lies of reassurance, Lincoln had sworn he would never leave Michael but now his brother was saying something to him, he had gotten off the bed, he had left the room, and Michael was alone on the cooling sheets with only the faint smell of sex and stale whisky to keep him company.

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