movie night with big bro !!
watching fight club with my big brother for the first time and breathing a bit too heavy whenever i see the guys beating each other up
big brother’s looking at me weird and eventually has to ask me,
and i can’t just tell him i have a raging hard-on while the narrator’s pulling his tooth out and tossing it down the sink so all i can do is give a little nod and turn away from him, praying to god that he doesn’t think i’m acting too weird.
at one point he decides he needs another dr pepper and he gets up, giving me a little punch in the should’ve as he walks past me.
and it is so not my fault that i let out a little moan at that, like, it’s a normal bodily reaction, it happens, fuck.
but he gives me the weirdest look i’ve ever seen on him. and i’m seriously trying to just focus on the movie but he’s staring right at me now, has been for a few seconds now. that’s when the weird look turns into something even weirder somehow: a stupid shit-eating grin. and an incredulous chuckle to accompany it.
“the fuck was that, kiddo?”
and now’s my time to come up with a reasonable explanation so i stutter out,
“i—uh, my, i had- uhm.. yeah, something in my throat. clearing my… throat.”
with some vague motions towards my throat and a glance sideways. if he didn’t think anything was wrong then he totally does now. god, why do i have to be such a terrible liar?
“mmh.. didn’t sound like it. like something in your throat. sounded like something different, lil bro.”
it seems like his dr pepper is completely forgotten now, cause he’s boxing me in against the couch cushion, his arms on either side of my head.
“dude, you’re gross. i saw the way you were watching tyler durden and the narrator when they were fighting.”
he’s smiling again. it’s terrible. i just stare up at him, letting him expose what i barely even understand myself.
“are you into that shit? i wont judge you, you can tell me if you want. i mean, i’ll think you’re weird, but i won’t tell anyone or anything like that.”
i still can’t speak. i blink up at him, cotton-mouthed.
finally i can speak. granted, it’s nothing to help my case, but it’s something.
“like in the movie. hit me. go on, i won’t snitch.”
after a far too long stretch of silence, it’s broken by the sound of my fist hitting him in the stomach. he lets out a little huff of a laugh, barely moving from his position above me.
“do it harder. seriously.”
i pull my fist back again and punch him again, hard this time. his breath hitches and he curls inwards slightly, his hand clutching his midriff.
“yeah, that’s—that’s good. cmon, again.”
i punch him in the face this time, the knuckle of my middle finger meeting his nasal bone and causing him to stumble backwards, his shin knocking against the coffee table and forcing him to awkwardly stumble around it. he’s feeling his nose and sighing in pain now.
“ah, fuck.. fuck… i think i’m bleeding. don’t stop, keep going.”
hes finally further away from me so i can get off the couch and punch him in the stomach and then kick him in the knee. i keep going until he’s on his knees, clutching at my pant leg and smiling up at me. his nose is bleeding into his mouth and he palms the front of my pajama pants but, fuck, i don’t want that right now. maybe another time, but right now i’m focused on something else.
i slap his hand away and grab a fistful of his hair, using it to twist his face to the side so i can punch him in the cheekbone, then the jaw, then kick him in the stomach just because i like the noise he makes when i hit him there. his boner’s way too visible in his sweats and he just keeps fucking moaning and grinning, revealing his bloodied teeth and gums to me, mumbling,
“y-yeah, like that, you’re doing so good, just like that..”
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