Dissonant Notes in Minor Keys (KimMacau, KimChayMacau) 18+

Chapter Two: Progression, Possession

"Yeah, Macau. It's Phi."

Macau's eyes shine, stunning, beautiful, and then tears well up and spill over onto his cheeks, onto the tips of Kim's thumbs as he strokes them beneath Macau's eyes.

"You were gone," Macau says, and he's calm, despite the tears, despite the way his breath smells like liquor and mint. "You were gone for so long, why were you gone? Why did you leave me alone, P'Kim?"

Kim looks into Macau's eyes, and there is nothing he can say. So he stands, takes Macau's hand, and leads him back to the stairs, carries him when he stumbles, and plants him firmly on the ground next to his bike, taking out the spare helmet.

"P'Kim, are you leaving?" Macau says, words slurred just slightly, and when Kim glances at him, he's staring at the ground, fists clenched. "Oh, c'mon Macau, you stupid, you dumb shit," he says, "Why would P'Kim ever- ever stay ? You know you-you're not good enough, why do I keep... keep trying... it's been... so long, so so long you stupid idiot. Who'd care about you... Who'd ever stay... Who'd even want to. Mama didn't stay... P'Kim left me because I- I don't know, I'm gross, I guess, I don't know - Hia doesn't need me 'cause he has P'Pete and I- I'm just in the way. I'm a fucking loser, can't do anything, everybody's gone, always gone or leaving... There's no one for me."

There is an empty space growing in Kim's chest, and it hurts to breathe, hurts to feel his heart beating. It aches in the way that there are words he can't remember to a song whose notes are a love letter written between him and Macau; Macau, who belongs to him.

Kim's ribcage is too small, and he takes Macau in his arms and squeezes him tightly to try to relieve the pressure, the ache, and it does. It does, and so does the fresh wetness on Kim's neck as Macau presses close.

They stay like that, and then Kim pulls away, looking into Macau's heartbroken eyes.

"Macau," he says. "There is me, and you are mine."

Macau's mouth thins out and then opens on a choked-off cry, his eyes squeezing shut as he falls into Kim again.

Kim holds him, closes his eyes and feels Macau's body shake and tremble against him, listens to his breath stutter quiet cries against his shoulder, and sees a child at a grave, weeping, confused and lost, too young to be hopeless but having lost hope anyway.

Kim will give that hope back to him, because it doesn't matter anymore. It doesn't matter if it's wrong, if it's sick, any of it. All that matters is that Macau is lovely when he cries, is lovely in the heat of the night with his shirt half-unbuttoned and the same sweat that has always tempted Kim mixing with the salt of the tears on his face.

Macau is lovely when he cries, and he will be lovely beneath Kim, weeping and overwhelmed and finally knowing that there can be bruises and teeth when Kim cares for someone, when Kim loves someone.

It doesn't matter if it's fucked, it doesn't matter, can't matter anymore, because if Macau believes he is somehow unworthy of affection and care, and if Kim was part of laying that foundation in Macau's mind, he will do everything to break it down. Kim tightens his hold on Macau, and promises to build something new in him, with him, to remake that space they held together as children and share each other in it again.

When Macau calms down, Kim pushes him back slightly and kisses his forehead, his eyes, his cheeks. He moves his lips to Macau's ear, and can't fucking help himself when his teeth find the delicate skin of his earlobe, when his tongue traces the shape of the hoop of his only piercing.

The hitch in Macau's breath and the stifled little moan that follows stoke the coals of Kim's banked need, and this is it.

Macau wants this, and Kim feels the weight of that break everything, relief pounding through him like a drug as he finally gives in.

"Do you know what that means, Macau?" Kim says, the words low, lilting and faint, breathing the music that lies between them. Kim yields to his own need, lets his lips and breath tease at Macau's ear, pleased with Macau's uneven breaths and the way his hands grip tightly at Kim's jacket.

And his little cousin is clearly still drunk, sniffling, still half-slurring his words.

"I... I don't know..."

"If you're mine, then you're mine in every way," Kim says, then takes the shell of Macau's ear in his teeth, nibbles and tugs, lets himself indulge just for a moment. "Do you remember what I said about everything in our world coming at a price? The price of my being there for you, is that you are there for me. You belong to me."

Macau pushes closer, then tilts away, beautiful, runny face focusing blurry eyes on Kim.

"That's all I wanted," Macau says, sniffs again. "All I've ever wanted was you. Why... Why didn't you stay?"

Chay's face bleeds over Macau's, and then fades. Kim bleeds apologies and hopes for forgiveness, knowing that this will break everything, unable to stop it.

He pulls Macau to him and finally, finally lets himself take what has only ever been his to own.

Macau's lips are soft and salty, and Kim feels everything in him release when they hesitantly press back, when Macau leans in so sweet and pliant, when he wraps shy arms around Kim like he might not be allowed it.

Macau's hair is thick and smooth wrapped around Kim's fingers. He pulls and pets and strokes his thumb behind his ear, his other hand slipping along Macau's jaw, gently pressing his mouth open as Kim breathes deeply and takes.

Macau doesn't know how to kiss, and Kim feels the possessive monster within him rise, rise, with every clumsy movement Macau makes. His loose tongue is slick and searching, and Kim brings him in, deeper, deeper, stroking wetly on his lips, biting softly on his tongue and sucking gently to soothe the ache, indulging himself in all the ways he's imagined since he first looked at his cousin with lust.

Macau's soft noises, small whines and little body movements asking to be closer, remind Kim of the languid euphoria of codeine. The sweet syrup sliding down his throat, warming his belly, and then flooding him with satisfaction and pleasure and relaxing into the bad decision of synthetic joy.

But this is real, and there will be a bigger high once he has Macau naked and writhing, coming and overstimulated and flushed, over and over, until it hurts him, makes him ache.

Kim pulls back, and Macau's eyes are glazed and wet, lips swollen, ears red with the pretty blush spreading all the way to the top of his chest.

Kim brushes Macau's hair back from his forehead, looks deeply into his eyes, sweet eyes, still hazy with alcohol.

"We're going now, Macau," Kim says, hand shifting to pull his hair lightly. Macau gasps, a whisper-quiet yielding, but keeps his eyes on Kim's. "I'm taking you, tonight. Do you understand?"

Macau's eyes close briefly, and all of him relaxes.

"P'Kim," he says, giving over, giving in. "Take me."