Latest Blog Post

white shirt and a tie.

---

Kieran entered the room, the smell of burnt cigarettes, sweat, and lust welcoming him. Two young men lay asleep, abandoned to exhaustion with their bodies entwined on the bed, while Kurt sat on the side of the mattress.

His brother, despite having a life many would consider tragic and perhaps comical, always seemed exactly where he wanted to be, even if it was in the abyss. He drew slowly on his cigarette, the smoke rising in slow spirals, and when he looked up, it was with that insolent, cruel smile that had always been his trademark.

"The crown prince barges into my room unannounced." His husky voice trailed off with a short laugh. "It's not like you, brother." Irony had always been his way of speaking, while Kieran wore his composure like a second skin. When they were facing each other, he seemed a cleaner, more diplomatic version of his brother raw self.

He closed the door behind him, ignoring the boys in bed.

"I need to talk to you."

Kurt smirked, took a deep drag, and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. He stood up calmly, walking over to his brother.

"You always do, don't you?" His brother's proximity revealed that cynical glint in his eyes. It hadn't been that long since they'd seen each other, maybe a few months, but Kurt always seemed worse than before.

"Maybe you never should have given up."

For a moment, the silence between them was absolute. Kurt tilted his head, as if savoring the confession, and a short laugh escaped his lips. He felt his brother's warm hand on his shoulder.

"I would have been a tyrant, Kieran." He said as venomously as possible. "But come on, tell me. What does the perfect successor need his decadent brother to solve for him this time?"

Kieran was, once again, surrendering himself to the only man who had always known how to support him, the only man he could trust to do the possible and the impossible for him.

---