Title: Inamorato
Author: morphinelovexx 
Pairing/Characters: Hints of Stephen/Bloom
Rating: PG-13 for language and hinted incest and hinted pedophilia and angst and sap and me being a romantic. And it's in first person.
Word count: 378 (a ficlet by standards, but it gets the message across)
Summary: Stephen has always had a reason. Always.
Disclaimer: I am not Rian Johnson, even if I wish I was him.
Notes: I can't believe I did this. Seriously, I think someone should lynch me for doing it! Please! Also, napalmiris made me. So lynch her, too. Epic massive ugly Godawful spoilers, too. So if you haven't seen the film yet, I'd suggest avoiding this fic(ish). Otherwise, go hogwild.


I love him. I've always loved him, from the moment I met my little brother to my dying day, I love him.

I loved him when we were bounced from home to home, when no one else in the world seemed to understand. I loved him when he spilled the milk. I loved him when he was purple and bruised and questioned by the cops. I loved him when the misunderstanding with Ethel's cat turned into a nightmare. I loved him when we pulled off our first con.

When we ran, when we made our own life-one not dictated by the state or even federal law-I loved Bloom. When we found a mentor and a warm bed waiting unconditionally for us, I loved Bloom. When I saw the welts on his back and legs and smelled the bastard on him, I loved Bloom. When I jabbed with every last bit of my strength at the man who dared befoul something so precious to the world and dear to me, well, that one is self explanatory.

Because I love him, I pushed women on him. Because I love him, I pushed men on him. Because I love him, I did everything I could to make him fall out of love with me. Because I love him, I wouldn't let myself take advantage of that starry eyed innocent face, the one that begged for the one thing he knew I could never give him. Because I love him, I never fucked him.

In my love for my brother, I pulled the greatest con ever conceived.  From a heart that spared no woman or man-or Bang Bang-save for Bloom, I spun a noose from lies that I used to hang myself.

And while the blood drips from my body, he makes a great escape. I know the blood on his shirt will dry, and he'll know I never lied to him.

The day I con you is the day I die.

While it doesn't make me sad, dying alone, I can only hope for one thing.

That when he realizes what's happened to me, he knows without any hesitation or uncertainty that even though we lived a life built from stories and lies one thing was always true; I love him.