Pairing: Minho & Felix

Genre: Non-Idol AU

!!TW!! : BIOLOGICAL INCEST, NO SMUT, I put it in all caps to make sure everyone sees it, I'm not here for a moral debate so for anyone who's uncomfortable with this kind of stuff please just don't read it thank you, some sexual stuff implied though, lots of angst too, mentioned alcohol, implied drugs, attempted non-con

(requested by @sweetycomfy)

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Minho was three years old when his little brother, Felix, was born. He had been looking forward to becoming a big brother and, the first time he laid eyes on his baby brother, he knew there and then that he would do anything for him.

Some siblings fought, or argued, or didn't get along. Most older siblings Minho knew didn't like hanging out with their younger siblings, calling them annoying and constantly trying to push them away.

Not Minho.

Minho adored Felix. He loved taking care of the younger, loved playing with him, loved spending time with him, loved holding him, loved everything about him. He'd happily ditch his friends playing tag in the park to spend a quiet afternoon simply reading to Felix or making easy puzzles with him.

Minho was also the only person Felix listened to without a fuss. If Minho told him to eat something, he ate him. If Minho told him to go to sleep, he went to sleep. If Minho told him to grab the noodles and throw them at the wall to see if they'd stick, he threw the noodles at the wall, much to their mother's dismay.

Minho adored Felix, but Felix idolized Minho.

He was constantly looking for the older. He always demanded his undivided attention, refused to go to bed unless his brother slept with him, and started throwing tantrums whenever their parents tried to separate them.

It started to actually become a problem, however, when Felix outright refused to make friends beside Minho. And when Minho proved unable to focus in class, going so far as trying to run away from school to go back to Felix.

Minho had developed a pretty bad case of separation anxiety. He worried something would happen to Felix if he wasn't around to take care of him. And Felix, so used to being spoiled with his brother's attention, had grown dependent of him.

They grew out of it, of course. It took some professional intervention, and a fair amount of patience, but the brothers eventually managed to become... well, not entirely separated, but at least able to function on their own. They still spent all of their free time together, they still fell asleep cuddling up on the couch, and they still texted each other during each break between classes to keep tabs on each other, but it was already miles better than how they used to be.

This was how they functioned during their entire high school. While they both had separated groups of friends, all of them knew better than to question or object when either Felix or Minho ditched them to go hang out with each other instead. They were still as inseparable as they were when they were just children, and neither of them had a problem with it.

That is... until the whispers started.

"At their age?"

"It's so weird."

"It's wrong, you mean."

Minho had never questioned his affection for his brother. He loved Felix, probably more than he loved himself, and he had long since come to terms with the fact that he'd die without hesitation if it meant keeping him safe. However, in his last year of high school, he finally started taking notice of the heavy looks and hushed whispers that constantly stuck to them like glue whenever they appeared in public together.

What was wrong with holding hands? What was wrong with hugging each other? What was wrong with kissing each other's cheeks?

Minho started questioning it a little more seriously when their parents began getting involved in it, though.

("Minho, honey... As cute as it is to see you and Lixie get along, you've both become much older now. It's... a little inappropriate. You shouldn't touch each other like that.")

That was when Minho's world was completely flipped over.

It took him months to come to terms with the fact that he didn't just love Felix – he was in love with him. Physical attraction aside – because damn it, Felix was getting prettier every single day – he genuinely enjoyed the other's presence, jokes, smiles, laughter, voice, freckles, cuteness, duality, affection, hugs, pouts—

Oh, yeah. Minho was whipped.

And that thought terrified him.

He'd never felt more disgusted with himself. How could he even think of Felix in such a way? His sweet, adorable brother who trusted him more than anyone else? Now aware of his true feelings, he felt like he was abusing that precious trust, and it pained him greatly.

He swore to himself to forget about it, get over it, move on. But... it was hard to move on, when Felix started showing signs of returning a love that wasn't all platonic on his end, either.

The hugs were tighter. The fleeting touches became much more daring. The kisses on the cheeks started reaching the corners of the mouths. With Felix growing prettier every day, he also grew bolder – contrarily to Minho, he wasn't afraid of owning the feelings he had for his brother, and he showed it every day.

("We can't, Lix," he whispered, his voice breaking.

"Why not? I know you want me," protested the younger.

"Because it's wrong, Lix—"

"What's wrong with two people loving each other?"

"We're brothers! That's what's wrong!")

But Felix was stubborn, used to Minho always giving him what he wanted – and Minho was a weak, weak man, who couldn't always find the strength to deny him.

Their game of faking and lying began and, afraid their parents would eventually find out about the sudden evolvement of their relationship, Minho had jumped on the opportunity his new college life was offering and had suggested for Felix to move into an apartment with him.

Their parents had been surprised, and admittedly a little worried since Felix was only fifteen at the time, but Minho had made good arguments: it was close to the college, where Felix intended to go anyway, and it'd also give their parents a chance to go on that five-years-long trip around the world they'd always dreamt of doing.

(Money had never been an issue for their family, for which Minho was grateful – he wouldn't have to bother with a part-time job while in school, and neither would Felix, a privilege not many had the luxury of enjoying.)

After a few more days of long discussions, it was finally agreed that Felix would move in with Minho during the summer. The boys had been delighted, although Minho was more relieved than anything – before belatedly realizing he'd just opened the door to a new kind of hell altogether.

With their parents practically out of the picture, and the brothers now having an entire space to themselves, Felix threw boundaries out the window. He was shameless in his efforts and attempts to seduce Minho – be it with preparing the morning batch of coffee while only wearing his boxer briefs and a shirt that most definitely belonged to Minho or be it with preparing home cooked meals to which Minho could return to after long, arduous days at school.

(He loved Felix. He loved him so fucking much. He loved how sexy he looked in his clothes but most importantly, he loved all the little attentions Felix constantly delivered, be it in the form of his favorite cake in the fridge, his clothes washed even though it was his turn to do them, or the extra pencils he always found in his desk because he constantly lost them at school.)

They still cuddled. They still somehow ended up sleeping in the same bed most of the time. Sometimes, when Minho was at his weakest, he'd indulge Felix in a heavy make-out session that left them breathless – but he always felt thoroughly disgusted after it, feeling like he was taking advantage of Felix even though it was the younger who thew himself in his arms every single time.

And, after about a year of this constant game of push-and-pull... Minho broke.

He didn't really know what came over him, or what exactly pushed him over the edge. What he did know was that he couldn't endure all of those overwhelming feelings anymore, and he needed out. He needed to get over his disgusting obsession for his own brother and, most importantly, give Felix the chance to get over him – because what did Felix know of love, really? 

As far as Minho could tell, he was just returning Minho's displaced affections because he always trusted him to do what's best for him, and Minho... Minho didn't want to abuse that trust any longer.

That day, returning from school, he'd sternly pushed Felix away and had informed him with the firmest tone he could manage that he had a girlfriend, and that Felix needed to stop his shenanigans and grow up.

Felix's expression had crumbled, and Minho felt even more horrible than before, but he stood his ground, knowing it was what was best for both of them. He didn't move from the couch as Felix ran to his room and slammed the door, the sound of his heavy sobs muffled by the walls, but not entirely silenced.

It was the first time Minho wasn't there when Felix cried, and it only killed them both a little more inside.

The summer following Minho's unexpected announcement, he was still with his girlfriend. He did everything he could to be the best boyfriend possible and, though he did not love her, he convinced himself that he would, one day – as soon as he managed to stop thinking about Felix.

To make that happen, Minho drew clear boundaries: no hugs, no kissing, no cuddling, no teasing slaps on the butt or implying stares from afar. He started making his own food, refusing to eat anything Felix made, and did all of his chores before Felix got the chance to do them for him.

(It hurt him, to see Felix's pained expression every time, but it was for the best. If he stopped relying on Felix, then he would eventually get over him – and, if Felix stopped all of those little attentions that always made Minho's heart flutter, then he would eventually shift his focus into living his own life, instead of being dependent of Minho.)

By the time summer ended, and Felix began his first year of college, their dynamics were at an all-time low. They barely talked anymore, Minho was more often than not at his girlfriend's place, and they simply... drifted apart.

Felix was positively heartbroken.

He'd believed he had a chance. He knew that their feelings were considered wrong by society, that two brothers by blood shouldn't get involved in such a way, but he genuinely loved Minho with all his heart, familial bond be damned. They were closer than anyone else, knew each other better than they knew themselves, completed each other – Felix was convinced Minho needed and wanted him as much as Felix did, and that's why he'd been so bold in his advances thus far.

But then, Minho had dropped that bomb on him.

At first, he thought Minho was only going through a more intense phase of denial, but it had now been over six months since he'd gotten with his girlfriend, and he wasn't showing any sign of dropping her anytime soon. He looked absolutely smitten with her, constantly showering her with attention and affection that used to be his, and his brother was barely home anymore.

He'd tried, of course. He'd tried to bridge the gap, to at least keep their relationship as it used to be before, but Minho... Minho wasn't having any of it. He rejected any sort of physical contact with startling vehemence, kept their conversations short and to the point, and didn't even bother replying when Felix texted him for any other reason than what was practical (like if they'd run out of toilet paper, or needed to pay rent).

What really made Felix realize everything was well and truly over, however, was when Minho returned home late, one day and, without thinking, he'd gone up to him and had hugged him, simply happy to have him home – but Minho had roughly pushed him away, staring at him with blatant horror in his eyes...

Minho had never pushed him away before. Minho had never looked so genuinely disgusted by him before, and that look still haunted Felix to this day.

That's when Felix gave up. That's when... that's when Felix realized that Minho was not only disgusted by him, but most likely hated him, too – because Felix had been too bold, too brash, too arrogant. He'd been so sure of himself, assuming his brother's feelings were the same as his and constantly making him uncomfortable.

Minho had always given him everything he wanted. Now, Felix came to realize he'd also given pieces of himself he did not want to give away, and it made Felix feel positively disgusted with himself, and also absolutely worthless.

If not even Minho could love him, then who would?

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"Minho, I'm serious—"

"I told you, not now, Sung."

"But Felix—"

"No. I'm taking my girlfriend out for dinner tonight for our anniversary, and I don't want any disturbances, got it?"

Jisung didn't even get to reply, Minho was already walking away, determined not to talk or think of his brother in any way, shape, or form.

Jisung was one of Minho's oldest friends. He was his only friend who'd stuck around since primary school, and he was also the only person Minho had ever told of his true feelings for Felix, and what they'd been up to for a little over a year before Minho put an end to it. Jisung wasn't the type to judge, and he'd seen and heard some weirder shit, so he hadn't said much about it.

But just because he kept his mouth shut didn't mean he couldn't see anything.

He saw how much Minho's decision and following treatment affected Felix. He saw how the normally bright and bubbly personality slowly shifted, becoming more closed-off and depressed by the day. He saw the pain in Felix's eyes every time they trailed after Minho from afar, and the way he fought back his tears every time Minho ignored him when they crossed paths in the hallway.

It killed Jisung inside, to see Felix suffering so much – hell, to see both of them suffering so much, when they could just be happy together.

But what really worried him was the crap Felix started getting involved in.

Felix didn't have many friends to begin with and, starting college, he didn't know anyone. In a desperate need to stand out and maybe get his brother's attention back, even if in a bad way, he'd started associating with the general group of misfits and stoners of the campus, skipping classes with them, and even taking a few puffs of some shit that couldn't even classify as pot on the roof of the school.

Jisung saw it all – the sunshine's descent into absolute hell.

He'd tried talking to Felix, of course, but the mere fact that Minho didn't even notice that his grades were dropping and that he was hanging out with some people with a really bad reputation only hurt him even more, and he took Jisung's intervention as a confirmation that Minho really didn't care anymore.

He was getting into some really bad habits already, and Jisung was becoming worried because, as he kept watch from afar, he saw how that one senior guy in the group kept on eyeing Felix – he was obviously interested and, while Jisung couldn't blame the guy, he could tell his intentions weren't exactly pure.

Bang Chan was a known heartbreaker, a real Don Juan. His bad boy image drew in boys and girls alike, and he always targeted the cute, innocent ones – Felix was definitely his type, and the last thing Jisung wanted was for him to get hurt even more by catching feelings for a jerk who only intended on using him and then dumping him like crap.

Which, if his sources were correct, would be happening tonight.

Tonight, Bang Chan was holding one of his special open parties at his place – special, because absolutely everyone was invited, and there would be much more than booze being passed around throughout the evening. Those parties were wild, and Jisung knew for a fact that Chan had personally invited Felix, and he also knew for a fact that Felix had said yes.

This... was a recipe for disaster. He'd tried telling Minho, of course, but that went about as right as any other attempt of talking to him about Felix went before.

God damn it!