Razors and Dying Roses

Rating : Relatively R

Warnings : Language, Incest, Abuse, Slash, and horrid things your parents wouldn't want you reading.

_

Chapter One

I got out of the cab that had taken me from the Pittsburgh airport to Oakland. Thankfully it wasn't a terribly long drive. I searched my bags for my key. I didn't want to ring the buzzer, I was hoping to surprise Matt. My dad wasn't home, I didn't see his car out in the lot.

I arrived a few hours earlier than I had expected. Quebec was horrible. Not that I didn't like my grandparents, just...

I had a hard time managing with just the few bags I had with me. I forgot to press the button to hold to door open once I got to the sixth floor, and had to wait for the elevator to come back up again. If Matt were with me, he probably would have cracked up.

Miraculously, I was able to drag my bags into the apartment without my brother noticing. The living room (if you could call it that) was filled with the boxes of things I had sent over earlier. "REMI" written on each one in my dad's writing.

I walked in Matt's room to see if he was even there. I was greeted my the Bob Dylan poster on his wall. I looked below it, to see my brother on his stomach, shirtless, and sprawled out on his futon. Just a sight to behold. Normally, I would have let him sleep, but I was starving and wanted him to cook for me. Manners forgotten, I shook him a little. His eyelids fluttered open, and he let out an adorable groan. "Hey," I said.

He looked up at me, "Remi, hey... I missed you," he said pulling me down and hugging me. He reeked of whiskey.

"I missed you, too," I said, hugging him back. "Dude, were you partying last night?"

"Ehh, kinda, we had a gig... afterwards me, Travis and Cameron got completely plastered. Sam drove us home," he said, sounding particularly groggy.

"Well, are you feeling okay?" It was a stupid question, but I didn't know what to say. I never knew my brother drank...

"I'm fine. Just a headache... shit, what time is it?"

"Like, twelve thirty or something," I replied.

"Oh, dad'll be home I think around two or something. Would you be deeply hurt and offended if I took a shower?"

"Actually, I'd be offended if you didn't. You _really_ need one, dude," I chuckled.

"Blah," he said pushing me over. He got up and walked into his bathroom, not even bothering to shut the door. He relieved himself, undressed and got in the shower. Completely unaware that I was staring at him the whole time.