[ There's a thin sliver in Clive's foundations; thin enough only for the shape of Joshua's flame to flicker through, to run warm and pleasant in Clive's blood. There have been nights since their reunion at Drake's Tail where he'd snapped awake, sweat-drenched, with the sense memory of Joshua's face cradled between his palms, of Joshua's lashes wet with tears, of their breaths mingling.
He can't think of it. He stills the tremor threatening to run down his arm, furling and unfurling the fingers of his right hand with the casual ease of a man uncoiling stiffness from armor-tired limbs. ]
It's my duty, [ he huffs warmly, seeing the slight trepidation in Joshua's expression (why? what for?), wanting to dispel any discomfort. ] And my right, as your brother.
[ He could never hurt Joshua. He would rather die before he gave Joshua a cause to mistrust him, to doubt that he has Joshua's best interests at heart. ]
―Come on, sit. I could bring Torgal if you'd like to lean against him.
[Joshua sits, setting the small package of cookies aside and making himself comfortable. Not wanting to get Clive’s bed dirty, he bends over to take off his boots.]
No need for that, he looked to be having fun out there. When he gets tired, he can come here and I’ll tell him what a good dog he is.
[Joshua has a lot of that to do, because Torgal truly has been the best dog.
He looks at Clive, and says the next with a smile, making it a joke:]
I’d rather lean on you. [The truth, but - too close to that other truth.] You smell better. But judging by that pile of paper on your desk, you’ve got quite a bit of work to do. If there’s anything I can help with, you know I’ll gladly do so.
[Anything too specific, he probably can’t do - but Joshua was learning how to rule when their lives fell apart, and he’s spent the time since learning how to be a decent scholar. Writing diplomatic responses to letters is well within his abilities.]
[ "You smell better". Founder help him. Clive knows, academically and objectively, that Joshua only means to say that Clive smells better than a dog (not actually true on some days), but it still makes his face go slightly hot.
Clearing his throat (and tactically turning away from Joshua, letting his brother see him and his slight flush only in profile), he steps away and towards the desk, which does, in fact, have a stack of missives on it demanding his immediate attention. ]
I'd have you write some of these letters in my stead. You always had better penmanship.
[ Another thing Anabella could needle him about. Joshua took to court-related duties with far more finesse than Clive did at his age; it was often the case that Clive would steal off to the rookery after a particularly harsh reminder of being inept, knees pulled up and Torgal whining at his side.
A sigh, and Clive sits down and picks up a letter. From Martha, judging by the handwriting. ]
[There are few things that Joshua really thinks he's better at than Clive, but he supposes penmanship might be one of them. He always worked hard at the sorts of things he could do, since there was so much he couldn't, or wasn't allowed to. So he isn't going to disagree with Clive, though he does think -]
Your penmanship has always been perfectly fine. If you need any fancy flourishes, though, bring your letters over here.
[And Joshua makes himself comfortable, curling up on Clive's bed, picking up one of the books. It's easy to let it fall open, giving him the appearance of reading, while his thoughts are elsewhere. And they're - all over the place, really.
Was Clive blushing for a moment, there? Or did he imagine it? If he was, what could it mean? Nothing, he's sure. And why was he fool enough to take Clive's bed, when it - it smells like him. It's neat and tidy, of course, Clive's been away for awhile, but the pillow still smells a bit like him. It's distracting.
No matter what direction his thoughts go, it's difficult to focus. His gaze strays to Clive. And why shouldn't it? He hasn't had a moment like this in years, not since he was a little boy slipping away from lessons to watch his older brother practice. He loved doing that, loved seeing how skilled Clive was. He likes this, too - seeing how far his brother has come, this incredible place he's built, all the people who trust and rely on him.
He also just - wants to look at Clive. For a moment, Joshua gives in, lets himself appreciate how handsome Clive is. Lets his thoughts wander down that path, where he knows they shouldn't. How solid Clive felt when they hugged, the warmth of his arms around Joshua. How it might feel to brush his fingers across Clive's skin.
[ The room falls into a pleasant silence, broken only by the rustling of parchment and the gentle scratching of quill against paper. Responding to reports about Akashic sightings in Greensheaves and bandit sightings across the Velkroy are distracting enough that Clive's pulse resumes its more regular rhythm in his chest; he never forgets that Joshua is in the room with him, but it's easier to set you smell better aside with the perils of the world demanding his vigilance again.
It's only after signing a letter to Byron that Clive allows himself to glance up from his desk and towards his brother, and note that he's being watched. His traitorous heart skips a beat in his chest, but he manages not to let his expression move beyond fond neutral. ]
Was I making a strange face?
[ He makes a show of furrowing his brows, the way he sometimes does when he's concentrating especially hard; he relaxes it a second later, and gets up with parchment and quill still in hand. Easy strides take him to the foot of the bed, where he perches on the edge near Joshua's feet.
He really is the most beautiful thing Clive's ever seen. For better or for worse. ]
I just finished writing a letter to our Uncle. I haven't told him that I've found you― I thought it'd be best for him to find out in person.
[Joshua laughs at that face, and the truth almost slips out - I just like looking at you. He catches it just in time. Clive probably wouldn't take it poorly, but Joshua knows it would be an odd thing to say.
He sets the neglected book aside and moves down the bed to Clive, so that he can look at the letter.]
Uncle Byron... I'll be happy to see him again. I've missed him.
[He always had such a boisterous, caring presence. Joshua knows he's alive, but beyond that - and a few bits of information from Cyril, since the Undying keep an eye on anyone connected to the Phoenix - he doesn't know anything about how his uncle's life has been. Joshua has missed so much.
He was doing what he had to, he tells himself, and it was worth it. But that can't erase those years where he didn't know where Clive was, or if he was all right. Almost as bad were the years he did know, and couldn't go to him. He doesn't know, either, how long the Undying knew and chose not to tell him. Or if they could have done anything to spare Clive from the life he'd been forced into.
Perhaps there was nothing to be done. But Joshua will never know for sure.]
I've missed you, too. [And, quietly.] I'm so sorry, Clive.
[ Joshua should never have missed anyone. Joshua, who was burdened by fate from the moment he was born. He should have been protected, and cared for, and loved.
Which is why Clive can feel his entire body reject the sound of that soft apology－ shoulders tensing, breath catching, head shaking. No, he says without words, every inch of him radiating that single statement with obstinate vehemence. ]
You have nothing to apologize for. [ The letter gets set aside on top of the bedside dresser. With his hands now free, Clive presses the flat of his palm against Joshua's face, tilting it so that they're looking eye-to-eye. ] I took eighteen years from you, Joshua. I did.
[ He'd knelt in front of his memory of his younger brother, clung to him and sobbed at his feet for failing him, for lying to himself about the failure for so long. By all rights, Joshua should hate him. Close his eyes and think back, and Clive can still feel feathers caught between Ifrit's fingers, ripped out of the firebird's broken chest.
Clive shudders at the memory of it, and shakes his head again. ]
How you can still stand to look at me－ [ he starts, then stops. No, he thinks. Too self-pitying. He walks it back, brows furrowed but steadier. ] －The fact that you're here with me now is more than I could ever have asked for. You must know that.
[Clive's touch is - a distraction, but one that Joshua doesn't allow himself to give in to. He knows that Clive must have blamed himself for Phoenix Gate, because he knows Clive, his loyal heart and his devotion. But hearing it is something else, and Joshua too feels that immediate disagreement, that desire to reject those awful words.
He reaches up, covers Clive's hand with his own (to keep his attention, that's all, that's surely enough reason). His voice is steady.]
You didn't. You can't be held responsible for something that happened when you had no control of yourself, before you even knew of Ifrit's existence.
[He remembers the shock of it, when Cyril told him that the Undying had reason to believe that Clive held Ifrit, that Clive had been responsible for the damage that Joshua survived only through the Phoenix's power. He remembers too, the moment afterward, when Cyril told him that they intended to send assassins after him. That he was a threat who needed to be eliminated. Joshua hadn't even thought about his response, had only refused, had ordered them not to. He'd used every bit of what authority he had. In the end, he thinks it was only his tears that had convinced Cyril to obey.
He had been acting on instinct, on his bone-deep certainty that Clive would never hurt him. That there must have been something else going on. And everything he's learned since then has only convinced him of that truth.]
I've never blamed you. I wanted to be by your side - I've wanted it all along.
[ The hand over his is a welcome affirmation, but it's wholly unnecessary if its intention is to hold Clive's attention: Joshua will always have it, in every context and for any reason at all. Clive smooths his thumb just under one of Joshua's frost-blue eyes, along his cheekbone and up to his temple, framing that beautiful face with his sword-callused fingers. ]
I hurt you, [ he protests quietly, though he relinquishes that line of thought a moment later. It's not his intention to make his brother defend him, and he doesn't care to make Joshua do such a thing. What he can do, however, is offer the same promise he'd made back in the infirmary: ] Never again.
[ His touch travels to Joshua's perfect ear, and to the matching cuff that sits pretty on it. Clive had fought tooth and nail to keep his, especially when he was a Bearer with no rights to call his own. ]
―If what you want is to be by my side, then we shall face our fates together. You needn't ever ask if you're entitled to me. I was born for you.
[ It matters so little that he came into this world first. Everything he's ever been, it'd always been for Joshua. ]
[It's almost too much, Clive touching him like that. Like he's something precious, something Clive wants to touch. Despite the emotional weight of Clive's words, Joshua still feels a thrill at his touch, still can't control the way he feels. Which is - unfair, especially when Clive is being so kind, so devoted. If he knew, surely he wouldn't say those things.
It's that guilt that forces Joshua's honesty.]
Don't say that. You deserve to have your own life. You - wouldn't say that if you knew the sort of person I can be.
[How could he? Swearing his loyalty while Joshua has these awful thoughts about him, while Joshua looks at him and wants him. His own brother. Touching him so easily, and not knowing the effect of that touch. Joshua might have been lying to himself this whole time, but his lies to Clive have been a thousand times worse.
He regrets saying it once he's said it. He knows Clive will have questions, and he doesn't know if he can be honest. He doesn't want to lose this, doesn't want Clive to look at him with disgust or horror. He just wants to stay by Clive's side, to help him and keep him safe however he can.]
[ Those words feel like a rejection. For a second, Clive stares at Joshua, uncomprehending, before he reasserts his stance on the matter－ that full-bodied no again, head moving from side to side, his shoulders tense. ]
Why... [ "...would you say that", is the rest, which he swallows. ] ...Joshua. None of us have lived these past years without dirtying our hands.
[ Which is what Clive assumes Joshua is talking about, and if so, Clive is the most guilty of killing countless to save a handful. His hands are bloodstained, and yet he still has the audacity to touch his brother with them; worse yet, he wants to touch Joshua with them. ]
Nothing could ever make me want to leave your side. How could you even think it?
[How could Clive not want to leave his side? He would stay, though, because he's vowed to, and the thought of that is more awful than anything. But Joshua's come too far now. He takes a breath, suddenly afraid he might cry. Feeling the pressure behind his eyes, trying to steady himself.]
Now that I've found you, I don't want to lose you again.
[It would be so easy to explain it away. Clive's prepared a ready excuse for him, even. But how could it ring true? Joshua is not so tender-hearted as to feel overly guilty about the lives he's taken, most of them done in defense of his own life. It was never easy, but he doesn't carry them with him, either. And Clive deserves better than a lie.
But how can he even explain this? What can he say?]
I love you dearly, Clive. More than I should. [A correction, because there's no point in not being clear, even if his voice shakes, even if he can't meet Clive's eyes.] More than a brother should.
[ He doesn't understand, he doesn't understand, he doesn't understand―
―until he does, when the weight of the word more settles properly where it's been placed in his metaphorical hands, punctuated by the look on Joshua's face. Immediately, he identifies it as the more haunting his own thoughts; the more that has made Ifrit roil and thrash in Clive's chest ever since it became Risen. The yearning in his heart, given teeth.
He should recoil from it. Not because the thought of being loved by Joshua repulses him, but because it doesn't. Because he has sworn to protect his brother from every evil, including this taboo. Because Clive mirrors the thing he's meant to dissuade.
Still. He can't recoil. He sits in this thing that should have remained unnamed between them, his hand traveling from Joshua's cheek to his jaw and lower still, until his palm is cradling his brother's nape. ]
Joshua. [ Softly, barely more than a murmur. ] Still, I was born for you.
[ Defying his brother's previous assertion that he wouldn't say so if he knew the so-called person that Joshua is. It's the closest thing to an I love you that Clive will allow himself in the moment. ]
[He feared disgust, horror. He feared losing Clive, or knowing that every time he looked at Joshua he was doing so with wariness. That Clive doesn’t move away, that he even remains touching Joshua, that he still insists on devotion, feels impossible.
It’s more than Joshua could have hoped for. It’s such a relief that he nearly does cry, and he has to raise a hand to his eyes to wipe away the wetness there before it’s too obvious.]
I’ll never do anything. I swear it, Clive.
[But he already has, hasn’t he? He looked at Clive and thought about touching him. He thrilled at every affectionate embrace, and he lied to himself about why. But he will keep this vow, he tells himself. Clive doesn’t hate him, a miracle that he can only be thankful for. Clive deserves to feel safe around him, not to always be wondering where his thoughts may lie.]
I want to be by your side. I don’t - need anything else from you.
[Joshua may not be able to control what he wants, who he wants, but he can control his actions. He can do that much, surely. No matter how difficult it may be.]
[ And oh, if you wouldn't say that hurt before, it's nothing compared to I don't need anything else from you. Joshua could drive a knife between his ribs, and Clive thinks it would ache less than his brother promising never to trouble Clive again with his feelings.
Joshua, his brother. That strong little boy who smiled at Clive when no one else would; that formidable young man who left a phoenix feather for Clive to carry when the world came crumbling down around him yet again. Joshua, who bore everything and asked for so little. The thought of becoming yet another thing that his brother will have to tamp down on and endure is unthinkable－ it devastates Clive in ways he could never have imagined.
He's hurting Joshua. With every breath, he's adding to Joshua's pain. Clive fights with the notion, grapples with himself, grits his teeth at the sight of tears on that perfect face. Silence stretches between them, too long and too heavy, before Clive huffs, trembles, and breaks.
His hand travels up again. This time, it sits on Joshua's cheek. Bracing him, tilting him. It's shameful how much his own heart wants this, and so－
－Clive presses their mouths together, gentle and brief. The feeling of it is as perfect as anything could be, and it makes Clive's head spin to realize it. ]
...Blame me, [ he rasps. ] Blame me for this transgression, Joshua.
[ If anyone ever finds out, Clive was responsible. He crossed the line. Joshua will never be held responsible for this; he'll make sure of it. ]
[Joshua goes still. He hadn't even entertained the idea of Clive sharing his feelings. It had simply not been something he'd considered the possibility of. The best he hoped for was that Clive would not hate him, would still care for him, still want to be around him. Just thinking that was the case had been a relief, a sense of release. To have his secret known, and to not lose his brother because of it.
But Clive kissed him. There and gone again, barely more than a moment, but to Joshua it was everything. Unexpected and impossible, but perfect. His heart could stutter to a halt, and he thinks he would hardly notice.
The sudden shock of joy is tempered with reality. Even if their feelings are shared, they are still brothers. Joshua knows it is wrong, and yet Clive is willing to take the sin upon his shoulders. It isn't fair, when he has so much upon them already. It would be kinder to put distance between them, he knows, before Clive is tainted by this. But while Joshua could be noble when he thought his feelings could never be returned, he doesn't have that sort of nobility in him if Clive feels even a fraction of the same thing he does.
In this, he will be selfish.]
The world may rightfully blame both of us, [his voice still shakes a little,] but you will never receive any blame from me.
[He reaches out, catching Clive's other hand, clinging to him with a certain desperation.]
[ It's the reciprocity that frightens Clive the most. The knowledge that, if Joshua shares in this, the only options left to Clive are to embrace their fate and stay together, or to deny it entirely and live the rest of their lives in a lie.
The former is taboo; the latter is torture. Of all the horrific nightmares that Clive has had to endure, losing Joshua was the worst of it. Losing Joshua again, now, would break him.
He thumbs across Joshua's cheek again, breath shuddering at being clung to. It feels like benediction. It feels good. ]
Founder, I keep failing you. [ He should be the one talking Joshua off this ledge. Instead, the mattress creaks under his weight (it sounds miles away), and Clive leans forward, dark hair brushing against Joshua's sun-gold. ] ―I'd deny you nothing.
[ As many times as you want, he mouths. Almost as if he's afraid to say it out loud, even if it's what he wants. It burns him, all this wanting. ]
[He says it with absolute certainty, even a bit of vehemence. He knows what Clive must be thinking, because his thoughts have gone down the same paths - that even if they want each other, they shouldn't do this. That the world, that everyone around them would see it as something horrible. That it could be their ruin, if they aren't careful.
But if there's something wrong with Joshua that caused this, something twisted deep down, it isn't Clive's fault. And Joshua doesn't care what the world might think of him, only what damage it might do to his brother. And even with that fear, he can't stop himself. He can't stop wanting what he wants. And he wants so badly.
His hand comes up, touching Clive's cheek, the stubble there, the scar. As much as Joshua wishes he could have prevented that scar, in the end it only makes Clive more handsome.
Joshua leans in, careful but without hesitation, and presses his lips to Clive's. It's not the brief bright contact from before, but slower, aching, passion tightly leashed. He doesn't know where the boundaries are, but he knows he wants to cross them even now. He feels it through his entire body.]
[ It's likely that the boundaries never existed at all. Clive said born for you, and he'd meant it: Joshua touches him, then kisses him, and all the things he'd kept tightly-coiled in his heart, reinforced by time and propriety, start to unravel.
His palm slides up, fingers tangling in gold hair. He breathes through his nose, and hangs in that moment with his mouth pressed to Joshua's, resisting the urge to part his lips for only a glimmer of a second before he gives in to it. His next exhale is open-mouthed, destroying what little veneer of innocence they could have fallen back on.
Again: it feels good. Like how he'd felt when they were as one, their Eikons merged into one perfect entity, invincible. The way it should always have been, he'd thought.
The bed creaks under their combined weight, this time. Clive's tongue traces Joshua's teeth, and he hums into that contact, lest his brother think himself the only one who's been grappling with this wrongness.
When he comes up for air, all he can think to say is a shaky: ] Fuck.
[That pulls a quiet, surprised laugh from Joshua. Though really, he agrees - as much as he might have looked at Clive and wanted him, the reality is so much more. There may have been some lingering fear in the back of his mind that Clive might have been doing this to placate him, to make him happy, but if there was it's gone now.
Clive kissed him like - like he wanted him, like this was real. Joshua has never been kissed like that before. Or maybe it's just that he's never kissed anyone he wanted so badly before, never kissed someone he believed he could never have. Never kissed Clive. He still feels warm from it, flushed, even a little light-headed.
They probably both need to think about this, about what they're doing. But they've already stepped past the borders of what brothers should do, regardless of what they do from here. Joshua knows it should feel wrong, but he can only be startled by the rightness of it.
He leans in, rests his forehead against Clive's, breathes just for a moment before he speaks again.]
[ Clive feels his face warm, and inwardly kicks himself for the crude nature of his reaction. It wasn't meant to be a regretful fuck― more like a I am overwhelmed kind of fuck. He's quick to correct himself once Joshua offers his response, voice coarse and warm. ]
And neither will I.
[ Again, lest Joshua mistake any of this for some misguided attempt at self-sacrifice or pity. Imperfect being that Clive is, this is yet another choice he's made in defiance of everything; and yet, it doesn't haunt him like some of the others have.
Fingers soothe through Joshua's hair once more, then relent. Clive retracts his touch, retracts from that intimate space, and leans back for a better look at Joshua again from a more polite vantage point. ]
Ever since Phoenix Gate, my heart was always looking for you.
[He looks back at Clive, studying him, really letting himself look for once. Without lying to himself.
Joshua has always known that Clive was handsome. That’s been true since they were both boys, and he’s only grown into it now. They don’t look all that similar, with Joshua’s light hair and thinner frame, and when he was young he wished he looked more like Clive. He doesn’t really anymore - he’d only be a pale imitation of something he hardly wants to look away from.
Clive’s words linger in his mind. I was born for you. He doesn’t want Clive to feel tied to him, but even so the thought of it gives him a selfish, clinging joy. He’s been yearning for Clive all this time, too, wanting so much to be by his side.]
I think perhaps I was born for you, too.
[If it were true, it would only make him happy. If Clive were his other half. He felt it before, in the skies above Twinside, so maybe it is true.]
[ You were always your father's son, Anabella had spat at him. Elwin Rosfield, also bypassed by the Phoenix, who Clive took all of his prominent features from. Now, looking back, it's small wonder why she hated him so vehemently and loved Joshua so ardently.
There's so much more of her, physically, in his brother, but the cosmetic similarities never add up to any sort of resemblance. Joshua wears his gold and grace with the kind of gentle kindness Anabella never possessed; he was, and still is, the most beautiful thing to ever walk this earth. ]
And so, [ he breathes, almost laughing in disbelief. ] Here we are. Together.
[ Crazy. Not a single other soul in the world will celebrate this unholy union between blood, and yet. Now that it's been made manifest through words and touch, Clive has no idea how to put his feelings back into that tightly-packed box again.
So: ]
―Promise me one thing, Joshua.
[ A little thorn, still metaphorically stuck under his skin. ] ...Never tell me that you'll need nothing from me again.
[Joshua’s gaze softens. He wants to reach out, soothe away any pain he might have caused - and he realizes abruptly that he can. That it’s all right if he does, that he doesn’t have to fear his own feelings. For once.
So he takes Clive’s hand, brushing his thumb along the back of it, feeling those sword callouses against his palm.]
I didn’t want you to feel - unsafe with me. [An explanation, but a quiet one, apologetic.] I didn’t think it was fair to want anything from you. I didn’t think it was possible for you to be anything but disgusted with me.
[That he was wrong still feels impossible, like a miracle. Despite everything, Joshua has never really thought of his life as unlucky, cursed - and in this, he feels like he’s received a blessing he could never have hoped for.]
I won’t ever say that again. It was never true anyway. I need you desperately, Clive.
[ Their hands fold together, and Clive feels the same certitude he'd felt on the day Joshua blessed him with the power of the Phoenix. A steady, inextinguishable warmth. ]
Then let me tend to your every need. [ He breathes, squeezing lightly around Joshua's grip. ] We'll need to lie to the world, but we needn't lie to each other.
[ For a given value of lie. Clive, famously bad at not telling the truth, will have to commit to lying by omission; people will see them, presume, and he'll have to stick staunchly to not saying anything at all. It's a terrible thing to have consigned Joshua to, but if anything happens, he'll do exactly as he's already declared: he'll take the blame for everything.
A low exhale later, venting tension, and he tries for something a little lighter. ]
...Though, make no mistake― I'll still insist that you eat your vegetables.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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He can't think of it. He stills the tremor threatening to run down his arm, furling and unfurling the fingers of his right hand with the casual ease of a man uncoiling stiffness from armor-tired limbs. ]
It's my duty, [ he huffs warmly, seeing the slight trepidation in Joshua's expression (why? what for?), wanting to dispel any discomfort. ] And my right, as your brother.
[ He could never hurt Joshua. He would rather die before he gave Joshua a cause to mistrust him, to doubt that he has Joshua's best interests at heart. ]
―Come on, sit. I could bring Torgal if you'd like to lean against him.
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No need for that, he looked to be having fun out there. When he gets tired, he can come here and I’ll tell him what a good dog he is.
[Joshua has a lot of that to do, because Torgal truly has been the best dog.
He looks at Clive, and says the next with a smile, making it a joke:]
I’d rather lean on you. [The truth, but - too close to that other truth.] You smell better. But judging by that pile of paper on your desk, you’ve got quite a bit of work to do. If there’s anything I can help with, you know I’ll gladly do so.
[Anything too specific, he probably can’t do - but Joshua was learning how to rule when their lives fell apart, and he’s spent the time since learning how to be a decent scholar. Writing diplomatic responses to letters is well within his abilities.]
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Clearing his throat (and tactically turning away from Joshua, letting his brother see him and his slight flush only in profile), he steps away and towards the desk, which does, in fact, have a stack of missives on it demanding his immediate attention. ]
I'd have you write some of these letters in my stead. You always had better penmanship.
[ Another thing Anabella could needle him about. Joshua took to court-related duties with far more finesse than Clive did at his age; it was often the case that Clive would steal off to the rookery after a particularly harsh reminder of being inept, knees pulled up and Torgal whining at his side.
A sigh, and Clive sits down and picks up a letter. From Martha, judging by the handwriting. ]
―Don't worry about me. Enjoy your books.
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Your penmanship has always been perfectly fine. If you need any fancy flourishes, though, bring your letters over here.
[And Joshua makes himself comfortable, curling up on Clive's bed, picking up one of the books. It's easy to let it fall open, giving him the appearance of reading, while his thoughts are elsewhere. And they're - all over the place, really.
Was Clive blushing for a moment, there? Or did he imagine it? If he was, what could it mean? Nothing, he's sure. And why was he fool enough to take Clive's bed, when it - it smells like him. It's neat and tidy, of course, Clive's been away for awhile, but the pillow still smells a bit like him. It's distracting.
No matter what direction his thoughts go, it's difficult to focus. His gaze strays to Clive. And why shouldn't it? He hasn't had a moment like this in years, not since he was a little boy slipping away from lessons to watch his older brother practice. He loved doing that, loved seeing how skilled Clive was. He likes this, too - seeing how far his brother has come, this incredible place he's built, all the people who trust and rely on him.
He also just - wants to look at Clive. For a moment, Joshua gives in, lets himself appreciate how handsome Clive is. Lets his thoughts wander down that path, where he knows they shouldn't. How solid Clive felt when they hugged, the warmth of his arms around Joshua. How it might feel to brush his fingers across Clive's skin.
The book goes sorely unread.]
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It's only after signing a letter to Byron that Clive allows himself to glance up from his desk and towards his brother, and note that he's being watched. His traitorous heart skips a beat in his chest, but he manages not to let his expression move beyond fond neutral. ]
Was I making a strange face?
[ He makes a show of furrowing his brows, the way he sometimes does when he's concentrating especially hard; he relaxes it a second later, and gets up with parchment and quill still in hand. Easy strides take him to the foot of the bed, where he perches on the edge near Joshua's feet.
He really is the most beautiful thing Clive's ever seen. For better or for worse. ]
I just finished writing a letter to our Uncle. I haven't told him that I've found you― I thought it'd be best for him to find out in person.
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He sets the neglected book aside and moves down the bed to Clive, so that he can look at the letter.]
Uncle Byron... I'll be happy to see him again. I've missed him.
[He always had such a boisterous, caring presence. Joshua knows he's alive, but beyond that - and a few bits of information from Cyril, since the Undying keep an eye on anyone connected to the Phoenix - he doesn't know anything about how his uncle's life has been. Joshua has missed so much.
He was doing what he had to, he tells himself, and it was worth it. But that can't erase those years where he didn't know where Clive was, or if he was all right. Almost as bad were the years he did know, and couldn't go to him. He doesn't know, either, how long the Undying knew and chose not to tell him. Or if they could have done anything to spare Clive from the life he'd been forced into.
Perhaps there was nothing to be done. But Joshua will never know for sure.]
I've missed you, too. [And, quietly.] I'm so sorry, Clive.
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Which is why Clive can feel his entire body reject the sound of that soft apology－ shoulders tensing, breath catching, head shaking. No, he says without words, every inch of him radiating that single statement with obstinate vehemence. ]
You have nothing to apologize for. [ The letter gets set aside on top of the bedside dresser. With his hands now free, Clive presses the flat of his palm against Joshua's face, tilting it so that they're looking eye-to-eye. ] I took eighteen years from you, Joshua. I did.
[ He'd knelt in front of his memory of his younger brother, clung to him and sobbed at his feet for failing him, for lying to himself about the failure for so long. By all rights, Joshua should hate him. Close his eyes and think back, and Clive can still feel feathers caught between Ifrit's fingers, ripped out of the firebird's broken chest.
Clive shudders at the memory of it, and shakes his head again. ]
How you can still stand to look at me－ [ he starts, then stops. No, he thinks. Too self-pitying. He walks it back, brows furrowed but steadier. ] －The fact that you're here with me now is more than I could ever have asked for. You must know that.
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He reaches up, covers Clive's hand with his own (to keep his attention, that's all, that's surely enough reason). His voice is steady.]
You didn't. You can't be held responsible for something that happened when you had no control of yourself, before you even knew of Ifrit's existence.
[He remembers the shock of it, when Cyril told him that the Undying had reason to believe that Clive held Ifrit, that Clive had been responsible for the damage that Joshua survived only through the Phoenix's power. He remembers too, the moment afterward, when Cyril told him that they intended to send assassins after him. That he was a threat who needed to be eliminated. Joshua hadn't even thought about his response, had only refused, had ordered them not to. He'd used every bit of what authority he had. In the end, he thinks it was only his tears that had convinced Cyril to obey.
He had been acting on instinct, on his bone-deep certainty that Clive would never hurt him. That there must have been something else going on. And everything he's learned since then has only convinced him of that truth.]
I've never blamed you. I wanted to be by your side - I've wanted it all along.
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I hurt you, [ he protests quietly, though he relinquishes that line of thought a moment later. It's not his intention to make his brother defend him, and he doesn't care to make Joshua do such a thing. What he can do, however, is offer the same promise he'd made back in the infirmary: ] Never again.
[ His touch travels to Joshua's perfect ear, and to the matching cuff that sits pretty on it. Clive had fought tooth and nail to keep his, especially when he was a Bearer with no rights to call his own. ]
―If what you want is to be by my side, then we shall face our fates together. You needn't ever ask if you're entitled to me. I was born for you.
[ It matters so little that he came into this world first. Everything he's ever been, it'd always been for Joshua. ]
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It's that guilt that forces Joshua's honesty.]
Don't say that. You deserve to have your own life. You - wouldn't say that if you knew the sort of person I can be.
[How could he? Swearing his loyalty while Joshua has these awful thoughts about him, while Joshua looks at him and wants him. His own brother. Touching him so easily, and not knowing the effect of that touch. Joshua might have been lying to himself this whole time, but his lies to Clive have been a thousand times worse.
He regrets saying it once he's said it. He knows Clive will have questions, and he doesn't know if he can be honest. He doesn't want to lose this, doesn't want Clive to look at him with disgust or horror. He just wants to stay by Clive's side, to help him and keep him safe however he can.]
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Why... [ "...would you say that", is the rest, which he swallows. ] ...Joshua. None of us have lived these past years without dirtying our hands.
[ Which is what Clive assumes Joshua is talking about, and if so, Clive is the most guilty of killing countless to save a handful. His hands are bloodstained, and yet he still has the audacity to touch his brother with them; worse yet, he wants to touch Joshua with them. ]
Nothing could ever make me want to leave your side. How could you even think it?
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Now that I've found you, I don't want to lose you again.
[It would be so easy to explain it away. Clive's prepared a ready excuse for him, even. But how could it ring true? Joshua is not so tender-hearted as to feel overly guilty about the lives he's taken, most of them done in defense of his own life. It was never easy, but he doesn't carry them with him, either. And Clive deserves better than a lie.
But how can he even explain this? What can he say?]
I love you dearly, Clive. More than I should. [A correction, because there's no point in not being clear, even if his voice shakes, even if he can't meet Clive's eyes.] More than a brother should.
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―until he does, when the weight of the word more settles properly where it's been placed in his metaphorical hands, punctuated by the look on Joshua's face. Immediately, he identifies it as the more haunting his own thoughts; the more that has made Ifrit roil and thrash in Clive's chest ever since it became Risen. The yearning in his heart, given teeth.
He should recoil from it. Not because the thought of being loved by Joshua repulses him, but because it doesn't. Because he has sworn to protect his brother from every evil, including this taboo. Because Clive mirrors the thing he's meant to dissuade.
Still. He can't recoil. He sits in this thing that should have remained unnamed between them, his hand traveling from Joshua's cheek to his jaw and lower still, until his palm is cradling his brother's nape. ]
Joshua. [ Softly, barely more than a murmur. ] Still, I was born for you.
[ Defying his brother's previous assertion that he wouldn't say so if he knew the so-called person that Joshua is. It's the closest thing to an I love you that Clive will allow himself in the moment. ]
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It’s more than Joshua could have hoped for. It’s such a relief that he nearly does cry, and he has to raise a hand to his eyes to wipe away the wetness there before it’s too obvious.]
I’ll never do anything. I swear it, Clive.
[But he already has, hasn’t he? He looked at Clive and thought about touching him. He thrilled at every affectionate embrace, and he lied to himself about why. But he will keep this vow, he tells himself. Clive doesn’t hate him, a miracle that he can only be thankful for. Clive deserves to feel safe around him, not to always be wondering where his thoughts may lie.]
I want to be by your side. I don’t - need anything else from you.
[Joshua may not be able to control what he wants, who he wants, but he can control his actions. He can do that much, surely. No matter how difficult it may be.]
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Joshua, his brother. That strong little boy who smiled at Clive when no one else would; that formidable young man who left a phoenix feather for Clive to carry when the world came crumbling down around him yet again. Joshua, who bore everything and asked for so little. The thought of becoming yet another thing that his brother will have to tamp down on and endure is unthinkable－ it devastates Clive in ways he could never have imagined.
He's hurting Joshua. With every breath, he's adding to Joshua's pain. Clive fights with the notion, grapples with himself, grits his teeth at the sight of tears on that perfect face. Silence stretches between them, too long and too heavy, before Clive huffs, trembles, and breaks.
His hand travels up again. This time, it sits on Joshua's cheek. Bracing him, tilting him. It's shameful how much his own heart wants this, and so－
－Clive presses their mouths together, gentle and brief. The feeling of it is as perfect as anything could be, and it makes Clive's head spin to realize it. ]
...Blame me, [ he rasps. ] Blame me for this transgression, Joshua.
[ If anyone ever finds out, Clive was responsible. He crossed the line. Joshua will never be held responsible for this; he'll make sure of it. ]
I won't have you suffer what we both share.
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But Clive kissed him. There and gone again, barely more than a moment, but to Joshua it was everything. Unexpected and impossible, but perfect. His heart could stutter to a halt, and he thinks he would hardly notice.
The sudden shock of joy is tempered with reality. Even if their feelings are shared, they are still brothers. Joshua knows it is wrong, and yet Clive is willing to take the sin upon his shoulders. It isn't fair, when he has so much upon them already. It would be kinder to put distance between them, he knows, before Clive is tainted by this. But while Joshua could be noble when he thought his feelings could never be returned, he doesn't have that sort of nobility in him if Clive feels even a fraction of the same thing he does.
In this, he will be selfish.]
The world may rightfully blame both of us, [his voice still shakes a little,] but you will never receive any blame from me.
[He reaches out, catching Clive's other hand, clinging to him with a certain desperation.]
Let me kiss you again. At least once more.
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The former is taboo; the latter is torture. Of all the horrific nightmares that Clive has had to endure, losing Joshua was the worst of it. Losing Joshua again, now, would break him.
He thumbs across Joshua's cheek again, breath shuddering at being clung to. It feels like benediction. It feels good. ]
Founder, I keep failing you. [ He should be the one talking Joshua off this ledge. Instead, the mattress creaks under his weight (it sounds miles away), and Clive leans forward, dark hair brushing against Joshua's sun-gold. ] ―I'd deny you nothing.
[ As many times as you want, he mouths. Almost as if he's afraid to say it out loud, even if it's what he wants. It burns him, all this wanting. ]
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[He says it with absolute certainty, even a bit of vehemence. He knows what Clive must be thinking, because his thoughts have gone down the same paths - that even if they want each other, they shouldn't do this. That the world, that everyone around them would see it as something horrible. That it could be their ruin, if they aren't careful.
But if there's something wrong with Joshua that caused this, something twisted deep down, it isn't Clive's fault. And Joshua doesn't care what the world might think of him, only what damage it might do to his brother. And even with that fear, he can't stop himself. He can't stop wanting what he wants. And he wants so badly.
His hand comes up, touching Clive's cheek, the stubble there, the scar. As much as Joshua wishes he could have prevented that scar, in the end it only makes Clive more handsome.
Joshua leans in, careful but without hesitation, and presses his lips to Clive's. It's not the brief bright contact from before, but slower, aching, passion tightly leashed. He doesn't know where the boundaries are, but he knows he wants to cross them even now. He feels it through his entire body.]
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His palm slides up, fingers tangling in gold hair. He breathes through his nose, and hangs in that moment with his mouth pressed to Joshua's, resisting the urge to part his lips for only a glimmer of a second before he gives in to it. His next exhale is open-mouthed, destroying what little veneer of innocence they could have fallen back on.
Again: it feels good. Like how he'd felt when they were as one, their Eikons merged into one perfect entity, invincible. The way it should always have been, he'd thought.
The bed creaks under their combined weight, this time. Clive's tongue traces Joshua's teeth, and he hums into that contact, lest his brother think himself the only one who's been grappling with this wrongness.
When he comes up for air, all he can think to say is a shaky: ] Fuck.
[ Very eloquent of him, he knows. ]
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Clive kissed him like - like he wanted him, like this was real. Joshua has never been kissed like that before. Or maybe it's just that he's never kissed anyone he wanted so badly before, never kissed someone he believed he could never have. Never kissed Clive. He still feels warm from it, flushed, even a little light-headed.
They probably both need to think about this, about what they're doing. But they've already stepped past the borders of what brothers should do, regardless of what they do from here. Joshua knows it should feel wrong, but he can only be startled by the rightness of it.
He leans in, rests his forehead against Clive's, breathes just for a moment before he speaks again.]
Whatever comes of this, I will never regret that.
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And neither will I.
[ Again, lest Joshua mistake any of this for some misguided attempt at self-sacrifice or pity. Imperfect being that Clive is, this is yet another choice he's made in defiance of everything; and yet, it doesn't haunt him like some of the others have.
Fingers soothe through Joshua's hair once more, then relent. Clive retracts his touch, retracts from that intimate space, and leans back for a better look at Joshua again from a more polite vantage point. ]
Ever since Phoenix Gate, my heart was always looking for you.
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Joshua has always known that Clive was handsome. That’s been true since they were both boys, and he’s only grown into it now. They don’t look all that similar, with Joshua’s light hair and thinner frame, and when he was young he wished he looked more like Clive. He doesn’t really anymore - he’d only be a pale imitation of something he hardly wants to look away from.
Clive’s words linger in his mind. I was born for you. He doesn’t want Clive to feel tied to him, but even so the thought of it gives him a selfish, clinging joy. He’s been yearning for Clive all this time, too, wanting so much to be by his side.]
I think perhaps I was born for you, too.
[If it were true, it would only make him happy. If Clive were his other half. He felt it before, in the skies above Twinside, so maybe it is true.]
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There's so much more of her, physically, in his brother, but the cosmetic similarities never add up to any sort of resemblance. Joshua wears his gold and grace with the kind of gentle kindness Anabella never possessed; he was, and still is, the most beautiful thing to ever walk this earth. ]
And so, [ he breathes, almost laughing in disbelief. ] Here we are. Together.
[ Crazy. Not a single other soul in the world will celebrate this unholy union between blood, and yet. Now that it's been made manifest through words and touch, Clive has no idea how to put his feelings back into that tightly-packed box again.
So: ]
―Promise me one thing, Joshua.
[ A little thorn, still metaphorically stuck under his skin. ] ...Never tell me that you'll need nothing from me again.
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So he takes Clive’s hand, brushing his thumb along the back of it, feeling those sword callouses against his palm.]
I didn’t want you to feel - unsafe with me. [An explanation, but a quiet one, apologetic.] I didn’t think it was fair to want anything from you. I didn’t think it was possible for you to be anything but disgusted with me.
[That he was wrong still feels impossible, like a miracle. Despite everything, Joshua has never really thought of his life as unlucky, cursed - and in this, he feels like he’s received a blessing he could never have hoped for.]
I won’t ever say that again. It was never true anyway. I need you desperately, Clive.
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Then let me tend to your every need. [ He breathes, squeezing lightly around Joshua's grip. ] We'll need to lie to the world, but we needn't lie to each other.
[ For a given value of lie. Clive, famously bad at not telling the truth, will have to commit to lying by omission; people will see them, presume, and he'll have to stick staunchly to not saying anything at all. It's a terrible thing to have consigned Joshua to, but if anything happens, he'll do exactly as he's already declared: he'll take the blame for everything.
A low exhale later, venting tension, and he tries for something a little lighter. ]
...Though, make no mistake― I'll still insist that you eat your vegetables.
[ Same old Clive. ]
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