trust is a knife at your throat
The tip of the blade and Veli's jugular vein are separated by flesh the thickness of tissue. The slightest amount of pressure, the smallest tremble of Aleksei's hand and Veli's blood would gust out over the clean, white sheets. The rise and fall of Veli's chest is hypnotic in its steadiness; he hasn't flinched once as the knife tip slowly pressed into his skin, Aleksei cutting into him milimeter by excruciating milimeter.
Blood continues to trickle from the wound even as Aleksei holds the knife still. He takes his right hand off Veli's chest where it had nested right over the steady thud of Veli's heart and grabs one of the antibacterial wipes. When he dabs the wet tissue to Veli's throat, it is with the utmost caution. Every movement he makes cannot translate to his left hand, his knife hand. He must stay still. Veli must stay with him.
Aleksei is not the only one who is hypnotized. The dark intensity of Aleksei s eyes and the whiteness of his teeth against his lower lip holds Veli captive, motionless and trusting under his twin's knife and touch. Aleksei s straddling him, his weight on Veli's chest, but all Veli feels is the sharp bite of the blade in his throat and the soft, sure touch of his brother's fingertips.
Neither of them speak. This ritual has been repeated so many times that they know each step perfectly.
Veli exhales as Aleksei exhales. They breathe in together and breathe out together, timing their breaths and holding them fractionally longer as the minutes wear on.
The world narrows to only the two of them; they are frozen in amber, the two wings of a butterfly just beginning to open.