Chapter Text
You weren’t sure when you started fucking your brother’s best friend.
So you tried to go back to the start.
One year your senior, Reiner had been coming around your place ever since you were a sophomore in high school. There was a year of awkward smiles and polite ignoring on both ends, as he came around to play football or pick up your brother in his brown pick-up truck. He’d crack open a soda and lazily eye you in the living room, sprawled on the sofa watching television. You’d pretend not to notice his midriff as he yawned mid-sentence, talking to your brother by the staircase. You’d bump into him in the middle of the night on his way to pee. You never spoke much. There was nothing to say.
Reiner had a girlfriend at the time, you remembered. She was tiny and blonde and came round to your place often. Your brother always grumbled when she joined the two boys playing video games. Reiner would stare at her, leaning back against the couch with nothing but fondness in his eyes. You don’t remember what he saw in her. You doubted he did either. He was just the kind of person who fell in love with just about anything. You’d stop by the living room and watch the three of them groan and whoop at the animations on the television, furiously fidgeting with their controllers.
Reiner looked over to greet you. Cordial. Smart. The ideal brother’s best friend.
“Long Day?” says Reiner.
“No,”
“You wanna play?” he said.
“I’ll pass,” you remember saying boredly, heading to the front door.
“Where are you going?” said your brother, with a sudden burst of protectiveness.
“Out,” you replied.
You remember being especially adept at monosyllabic answers at the time.
“Don’t be too late,” he says, swerving back to look at the TV.
Reiner had been watching this exchange, opting to stare at your frame long after you’d shut the door behind you.
You went out to meet some friends by the parking lot, engaging in stupid teen shit. Someone had some weed. Grubby fingers rolled amateur blunts. You puckered your lips and kissed someone. They tasted like flat soda. You made terrible pop culture references and rubbed the heel of your shoes against the rough tar of the road. And then you walked back home, feeling especially proud of yourself for no damn reason.
You snuck in back home, at a weird time that was too early to breach curfew. A sombre 10:50 PM. The kind of timing that meant you missed dinner but more importantly, narrowly missed a lecture from your father.
The living room television was still on, so you sneak in to turn it off. To your surprise, Reiner had taken over the couch, leaning over who you assumed was his girlfriend. He was whispering something in her ear, and she responded in soft melodic giggles. He captured her lips in a kiss that ended with him snagging her bottom lip with a tender nip. You were frozen, embarrassed to have walked in on their tender affair, but relieved they still had their clothes on.
Reiner’s eyes suddenly flicker up to you. Your ears redden. He pecks his girlfriend once and helps her up to her feet.
“Sorry,” he says. “We should be leaving anyway,”
“Um,” you squeak. “Yeah,”
“Tell your brother I said bye, and sorry I couldn’t stay for longer,” he said, brushing past you.
The girlfriend was clinging to his arm, and as she passed you, you smelled the soft lavender scent of her shampoo.
Before you knew it, the sophomore year passed as quickly as it had begun, with no exciting new developments.
You had aced your practice SATs. You now used lavender shampoo.
So yeah, nothing had changed. Nothing at all.
-
You try to think really hard of the exact moment you felt Reiner regard you as something more. You try really hard.
There was that time you were taking a family road trip to the beach. Just the four of you and Reiner packed in a heated car. You didn’t know who to invite from your small group of friends if you could even call them that. Before you knew it, the day of the road trip had arrived and you were met with Reiner and your brother laughing about something, leaning against the car.
“Come on!” said your mother. Your father had already started the engine, aching to pull out of the driveway.
Reiner slides in the car, your brother takes the middle seat and you squish yourself on the other end. The air was hot and sweet, and pulling the window down meant the soft wind would provide some comfort. You shuffled awkwardly. Two large boys in the backseat meant you were fighting for your life on the other end. But you felt sleepy and free, the road nudging you to close your eyes. The wind roamed your scalp freely, offering flight to the soft tendrils at the back of your head.
“Can we stop by a gas station?” you remember your brother saying, leaning forward towards the armrest to talk to your parents. You opened your eyes lazily to regard the conversation, only to find Reiner’s piercing gaze. You remember his eyes, soft and hazel shimmering hesitantly in your direction. You weren’t stunned at his brazenness. He wasn’t either. You rewarded his gaze with your own shameless stare. The salt was burning your lips. The wind was cutting his eyes.
He stretched his lips into a soft smile. A secret smile. Nothing malicious or naughty, just, something private and pure. You blinked your eyes once at him and then turned your gaze back out the window to bathe in the sun. Your brother leaned back and engaged in dumb talk with Reiner. That afternoon you rubbed sunscreen on your legs and read a book. But through the rim of your glasses, you watched the two boys fist a volleyball for hours, hastily looking away when Reiner’s gaze continued to find yours.
But no, maybe- maybe it was the time he’d broken up with his girlfriend and spent a week at your house, crashing in your brother’s room, sleeping on the pullout couch and revelling in the comfort of your parents’ words. Reiner would sneak out at midnight with your brother to drink and throw rocks in the woods or whatever they liked to do instead of talking about their feelings. Sometimes you’d wake up in the middle of the night to pee and bump into him in the hallway, or silently rustle around the kitchen while he made coffee at 4 AM. You didn’t speak. At all.
But you remember the day your brother had left Reiner to go get something from the corner store.
“We’re going to watch every Transformers movie,” he had promised Reiner before leaving. “Eat some popcorn and watch Megan Fox,”
You rolled your eyes, flipping through a book on the couch of the living room.
“Shut up,” sneered your brother.
“Grow up,” you bit back.
“Stay out of our way,” he retorted, childishly.
You slid off the couch and made your way to your room. You remembered feeling frustrated. Reiner and your brother in one house were pissing you off, and what was it with Reiner anyways? Why was he around you constantly and why did his presence make your skin crawl and burn at the same time?
You heard the soft hiss of the shower going off. You sober up, sliding in your bed and pulling the book closer to your face. Maybe the words in front of you would distract you from thinking about your brother’s best friend naked in the room across you, soft droplets of water dribbling down his back...
After what seemed like ages, you heard the water shut off, and the squeaks of the floorboard as Reiner walked back to your brother’s room.
You gave it a few minutes after trying infinitely hard to focus on your novel, before curiously traipsing downstairs. You wanted to see if your brother had returned and the Transformers marathon had ensued. But it was just Reiner, clothed in mismatched sweatpants and a muscle shirt, wet hair dribbling down his back as he stared at a towel in his hands. You hesitantly approach, surprised when you see him softly tearing up.
“Sorry,” you say, under your breath, when he makes eye contact with you.
You half expect him to wipe his tears away and pretend like it didn’t happen. But your heart breaks a little when he gives you a wobbly smile.
“Let me,” you say, with a surge of confidence, tugging the towel into your hands. You place the towel on his head and scrunch it up, attempting to dry his soft hair to the best of your ability. The action shocks you and him both, as you rub his head, squeezing the water out and providing a steady head massage at the same time. You were standing in between his legs, aware of the soft scent of his deodorant. The inside of his thighs burned your legs as you felt him move them closer, effectively trapping you in his hold.
“What’re you doing?” he mumbled.
“Drying- um- drying your hair,” you say, slowing your movements, embarrassment dawning upon you.
“No,” he said, anchoring your hands to the top of his head. “Don’t stop,”
You continue ruffling his hair under your grip, running the towel through his tresses. You shyly reach the front of his hair, forcing his head backwards until you’re making direct eye contact with him. He places his hands on your waist, tentatively, as you wring the water out of his hair.
“What’re you doing?” It’s your turn to tease back, acutely aware of his hands sliding higher until one palm lay flat against your stomach.
“Don’t want you to lose your balance,” he mumbles cheekily. “Mm holding you,”
His tears had long dried and so had his hair. You slowly tug the towel off, letting it fall on the couch next to you. Reiner reached his hand up to gently tug at your own hair, playing with the strands that fell on his cheek. You were leaning down so intensely staring through the curtain of hair obstructing your view which he gently parted.
“Reiner-” you whisper.
“Reiner!” says your brother, slamming the front door shut. “Got the stuff man!”
Reiner instantly releases you from his hold, and you straighten up, blushing furiously. Your brother troops in, throwing Reiner a bag of popcorn that he catches without a sweat. You stand in the living room, feeling foolish.
“I’m going to, yeah,” you say, turning on your heels to whisk yourself up the stairs.
“What’s with her?” asks your brother, clueless as ever.
Reiner dropped the towel in his lap to hide his growing bulge.
“I dunno,” he says lamely.
The rest of the evening he idly watched the franchise with your brother, who whooped every five seconds with wild abandon. Reiner found his mind wandering. Wandering to your thighs, to the soft curve of your hip and your shiny hair.
“Beautiful,” he says, despite himself.
“Dude, she’s so sexy,” chimes your brother.
Reiner snaps back to reality, met with the skimpily clad Megan Fox on the TV in front of him.
“Yeah dude,” he replies. “So sexy,”
-
A line had been crossed.
Both of you knew it.
Reiner was getting bolder with every interaction, slotting himself between the countertops to lazily watch you make coffee. He’d stretch his legs long across the couch to tickle the sides of your thighs.
“What’re you reading?” he said one day, standing behind the couch and leaning forward, resting his chin against the top of your head.
“Mmmm I'm going to lose track of my page,” you say, eyes scanning the words.
“What’s the book called?” he presses, childishly, hopping over to settle down next to you.
“Shush,” you say, squirming when he slots his head on your lap, craning his neck up to read the title.
“Pride and Prejudice,” he sounds.
“Why are you asking? Do you want to borrow it after I’m done?”
“What do you think?” he says, grinning lazily, his hair tickling the tops of your thighs.
“You just wanted to lie down on my lap,” you say, secretly pleased.
“It’s nice here,” he says, staring at the ceiling thoughtfully.
“In my lap?”
“Yes,” he says quickly. “But also in your house. With your parents. And your brother. And you,”
“Yeah my parents love having you around,” you say, slotting a finger to mark your page and setting the book down over his face. “And my brother,”
“What about you?” he says, peeking up from the top of the book.
“What do you think?” you say, sucking in a breath when he turns his head to face your stomach, hot breath tickling your belly.
He brushes his lips unconsciously against the hem of your shirt. When he notices you don’t shove him off your lap, he gently lifts the bottom of your shirt, long fingers grazing your midriff slowly. He pulls it high, too high, meeting the underside of your bare breast.
“Oh,” he says, surprised, dropping your shirt, not expecting you to be braless.
You have half a mind to rip your shirt off, to attach his hand to your chest, to sit on his face and wet the pages of your book with something other than your tears. But he slides off your lap, pink ears and all, and gently deposits the book on your lap. He chuckles when he sees the disappointment on your face.
“Not here,” he says. “Not like this,”
“Okay,” you say, breathlessly.
He reaches forward, waiting for your consent. You readily nod in approval. He tests the weight of your breasts in his hand, holding the softness in his large hand, the clothed barrier driving you wild. He slides one fingertip over your nipple and bites back a sigh when it pebbles to attention beneath his gentle graze. There he was, the untouchable, unshakeable Reiner. The ideal, respectful brother’s best friend. Brazenly groping you in broad daylight in your living room.
“Please,” you say. He releases his hold, opting to slide his hand to nestle against the crook of your jaw.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” he asks.
You shake your head.
“Good,” he says simply, turning on his heels to walk out the room.
-
As soon as you made your way to your room, you were mortified. This feeling lingered. The post-haze of having his hands on you left you annoyed that you were like putty in his hands. You were better than this. You didn’t need him. You avoided his gaze, his teasing, his jokes. You couldn’t believe you were this close to begging him to fuck you on the couch. It should’ve been the other way around.
You had no idea where to store this deep-seated attraction you harboured for him. You were too young to know any better, and not old enough to play the game.
Reiner tried everything to grab your attention, sliding his hand up to slap your ass. You deflected his hand with a smack. He would snuggle up against you on the couch, and you’d wordlessly slip past him to go to your room. Embarrassed by your display of want, of need and desire you overlooked the same urges reflected by him. Besides, there was your brother, the ever-present cockblock.
“When are you going to get back out there?” says your brother one day, deep into a video game with Reiner by his side.
”When I meet someone nice,” he replies.
“Angelique wasn’t nice,” says your brother. “She was just ho-”
“You’re terrible at this game,” interrupts Reiner, laughing at your brother’s consequent meltdown.
You were sitting at the dining room table finishing some homework, unashamedly eavesdropping on them. Reiner leans back far enough to catch your eye.
“What?” you mouth.
He purses his lips. Blows you a childish kiss.
You flick your gaze down to your books, an unmistakable smile blooming on your face.
-
Your first kiss came gentle and unsurprising.
“Good morning,” he said. It was early, too early, and you could hear your brother bustling around getting ready for their football practice.
“Mmmm,” you reply groggily.
“Why are you up?” he says curiously, shucking a box of cereal over his bowl of milk.
“I have a test,” you say. “Need to cram more,”
He smiles fondly at you, clasping your cheek and tilting your head up to look at him. Without a single thought, with no absolute hesitation, Reiner leans in and kisses you on the lips. Feather light. Barely there. A gentle graze like your mouths had kissed a million times before. He brushes your lips once, twice, and laughs when you sleepily loop your arms around his neck and draw him closer, trying to deepen the kiss.
“You’re such a tease,” you say, as he dislodges your arms and turns back to his bowl.
He turns back to you, hoisting you up onto the counter and melting into you. Kisses peppering your jaw. Hands in your hair. Nips everywhere. Eyelashes against skin. Chest against chest.
“You want me to stain the insides of my boxers?” he says. “You want me to do practice drills thinking about you?”
“Yes,” you say. “Yes, yes, please, Reiner,”
You both hear the gentle thuds of your brother walking down the stairs and stop short. You sigh. He drops you to sombrely spoon cereal into his mouth. Your brother walks into the kitchen, whistling lowly. You both look up at him, hoping he can’t see the terror in your eyes. Did he catch on? Did he know?
“Why is there so much tension in here?” he says, and you find your chest constrict.
“You know Reiner,” he says, tapping his friend on his shoulder. “It’s been five years. Don’t you think you should be nicer to my sister by now? It’s like you don’t even pretend she exists. The mood here is terrible. C’mon man,”
He ruffles your hair affectionately. “She’s not that bad,”
You shove him off you, dizzy with the irony of it all.
“I don’t know man,” says Reiner, sucking his teeth. “You’re right. I should try to get to know her better,”
“Yeah!” says your brother, head ducking under a cabinet to find some oatmeal.
“Yeah I should probably hang out with her more,” teases Reiner, edging closer and closer to you.
“I mean, sure, yeah,”
Reiner leans forward, inches away from pressing up against you, but decides last minute to reach for the cabinet behind you.
You slip under him, making your way back to your bedroom, fighting back laughter.
-
The teasing. The want. The need. Like the inexperienced teenagers, you were, the desire to fool around was far too overwhelming for you sometimes.
“Up,” he’d whisper, making you tug your top off right there in the kitchen.
“More,” you’d hush, as he pressed up against you in the dimly lit corridor of your house.
“Is this okay?” he said, the first time he slipped his fingers inside you, the sound of you sucking him in making you both moan in tandem.
“Don’t stop,” you begged as he sucked hard on your clit.
“Oh my God,” he said the first time you hesitantly licked the tip of his cock.
You both knew it was building up to an eventual release. You just didn’t have the time, sneaking around your busy home, avoiding your parents and your brother, and exchanging shy glances at school. Before you knew it, all you had were the odd kisses here and there, that slowly dissolved into awkward hesitancy.
Was the unspoken deal between you two still on? Did he still feel the same way? He got busier with college applications. You got busy with tests. Football took all his time. Eventually, he stopped coming over as much, choosing to go back home to annoy his mother. The few times he was over, your brother spent all his time with him. You didn’t know where you stood. There wasn’t a discussion. No boundaries. Just lust. The lust that you weren’t sure was reciprocated anymore.
“I only have five minutes,” he gasped one night, slipping into your room while you were doing your homework.
“Reiner,” you said, frustratedly.
He cradled your head, kissing every inch.
“Don’t you miss me, baby?”
”We can’t keep doing this,” you said. “You- I don’t even know what I am to you and it’s just way too confusing-”
He stops kissing you.
“You want to date? We can date. I’ll-”
You knew it was coming from a place of carelessness. He wanted you, at that moment, but you had no surety that it would last forever. Besides, you were growing afraid of his interest in you. Was it fleeting because he only wanted your body? Was he turned on by the secrecy of it all? You had wracked your mind about it, sad and forlorn as he ignored you at school and in your own home, only choosing to slip his hands over you whenever it benefited him.
“I’m seeing someone,” you say quietly.
This wasn’t a lie. You were seeing someone. Jean. Jean from your class. Dependable and charming with endless charisma.
“I like your handwriting,” turned into “What’re you doing later today?” and before you knew it you guys were shyly brushing pinkies and then interlocking hands.
Reiner took a step back, fumbling for the handle behind him.
“Right,” he said. “Understood,”
He slipped out, which made you furious. He had the audacity to act hurt and confused when all he had done was spin your head round and round with jealousy and confusion. The thrill, the rush, the longing that had culminated over the year had slowly dissolved into a lukewarm affair. Sure it was exciting when you were fooling around with him. Goosebumps when he’d slip his hand up your shirt. Moaning when he curved his fingers to hit that sweet spot. Bickering and kissing and falling and fighting. But you didn’t know if it was worth the effort. Or the pain. Or the constant confusion.
-
Jean was good to you.
Too good.
You’d lie on his chest, head crooked in his arm, peeking into his cellphone as he watched videos. He’d have one hand propping his phone up and the other in your shirt, idly tweaking your nipples. You’d bundle up in blankets and talk for hours. He was romantic. And sweet. You told him you loved him a month into dating him and you really meant it. His lips curled him in a smile as he said he loved you too.
You lost your virginities to each other, awkwardly fumbling and gasping at the thrills of sexual intercourse. When it was over, you tucked his hair behind his ear and knew at that moment you had endless love for him.
“I’m glad I sat behind you in Chem,” he says, reaching up to kiss you softly.
“Me too,” you mumble.
“Why does,” he starts to say and then stops.
“Hmmm?” you say, falling to his side and smiling when he immediately spoons you.
“Why does Reiner always hang around here?”
“Well,” you begin. “I guess he’s been friends with my brother for so long he’s just part of our family,”
“And is he?”
You flush. “What-”
“He looks at you differently,” says Jean, mumbling against your hair.
“Does he? I guess I never noticed,”
“I didn’t take you for a liar, baby,”
You turn to face Jean.
“I liked him,” you say. “A lot. But it didn’t work out because he’s Reiner,”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning he’s my brother’s best friend before he’s anything,”
“Do you still like him?”
You shyly slide Jean’s hand down your underwear, smiling as he rubs your folds and gauges your wetness.
“I love you,” you say, honestly. “You make me feel like myself, but better,”
And it was true. Reiner made you feel like a version of yourself you hated but secretly wanted to be. You didn’t know if this was a good thing or a bad thing.
“You’re so fucking hot,” says Jean, kissing your neck as you squeal.
-
The last time you saw Reiner was a couple of days before he was leaving for college. Your brother and he had gotten into the same college with full-ride sports scholarships. You were happy for them. Happier that you wouldn’t have to see the lot of them as much.
But the last time you saw Reiner, he was by myself. As were you. He was sitting on the couch in the living room, flicking through the channels. No one was home, you had last heard your brother slamming the door, promising to pick up some pizza.
“Hey,” you say.
“Hi,” he replies, not turning to look at you.
“Are you excited?” you say conversationally, nervously hovering over the edge of the sofa to speak to him.
It was unfair how handsome he was. Sharp lines and soft eyes. Hair that needed a trim and a brush and a kiss. You flush thinking of the time you dried his hair. That seemed so long ago but it was only a few months ago. You draw in a deep breath when he finally turns to look at you.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “Did you need something?”
His intonation wasn’t cold. It wasn’t condescending. It was simply sad. Like the time he cried in front of you. Except for this time, he wasn’t crying. He was begging. With his eyes. Please leave me alone.
You back off, about to spin on your heels and head to the safety of your bedroom when he interjects.
“I didn’t mean to,” he begins. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, or drag it on or make you uncomfortable,”
“I wasn’t uncomfortable,” you reply smoothly. “I just didn’t want to be a secret,”
Reiner opens his mouth and then shuts it.
“I wish it were easier,” he said. “To tell you how I feel,”
You cock your hip to one side, bemused.
“All you wanted was to sleep with me,” you bite. “You never once mentioned a thing about caring about me,”
“But-”
“No!” you say, heatedly. “You do not get to treat me like that and then drop some emotional bomb on me right before you leave forever,”
He’s silent.
“Not when you’re going to leave forever and not when I am finally happy,” you say, sheepishly.
Reiner stands up, dusting his pants off.
“Can I hug you goodbye?” he says. “For old time’s sake?”
You relent, putty in his arms, sighing as he closes the distance.
Reiner’s scent feels like home. His arms feel familiar. His hands are well versed with the dips in your body, his heart matches your rhythm. You hug for what seems like ages before you reluctantly disengage. He holds you, resting his forehead against yours until you gently brush him off.
“Not here,” you say, biting back a sad smile. “Not like this,”
That night, after you hung up on Jean, you laid in your bed and flipped through your copy of Pride and Prejudice. Without thinking, you lifted the pages to your nose and inhaled. It smelled like him.
You cry for what seems like ages until you finally fall asleep.
-