Chapter Text
Nikandros
Everybody knew about Auguste's brother. Yet, he was a topic that had been hushed up. Nobody talked about him, except for the occasional speculation that bordered on outrageous. Each person probably had their own reasons for not talking about Laurent Devere.
Nik's reason was that Auguste always looked so incredibly sad when his brother came up in conversation. He couldn't stand the look on his friend's face when the name 'Laurent' left someone's mouth. It resembled a dark cloud covering the sun, depriving them from the light and warmth they otherwise received without even questioning it.
Yes, it was safe to say that Nik avoided the topic of Auguste's little brother out of entirely selfish reasons. He had never been good with seeing other's getting hurt, he felt the pain like his own – his father had called it overemotional, his mother had called it empathetic – but with Auguste the whole thing was on a new level. He would do almost everything to see his friend happy.
As a result, it was understandable that Nik's face got darker and decidedly disapproving when Auguste announced, "You all have heard about my little brother, Laurent, at this point, I'm sure." There were silent murmurs. Usually, when Auguste brought his brother up out of his own volition, it ended with him getting drunk and crying, but now he was smiling and their friends were confused.
"He'll come back home in two weeks and I expect all of you to be on your best behavior."
Dead silence hung over the group. Nik stared at Auguste with something akin to horror. He couldn't imagine how he should ever be able to pick up the pieces if the selfish prick of a little brother ran out on Auguste again. And yet, there he stood, grin bright and wide, wide enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes, blue eyes sparkling with delight, unaware of the danger he just put himself into. Nik felt the urge to punch something. Favorably Lazar's face as he smirked and said, "Oh really? Why would someone of his — caliber come back here?"
Nik felt a hand on his shoulder, holding him back from launching himself over the back of the couch right at his friend.
"Calm down. Your crush is showing," Jord murmured and Nik growled low in his throat. He didn’t even bother to deny it anymore. Jord was a calm fellow but he wasn‘t dense. He was one of the few people who had figured out that Nik wasn‘t just protective of Auguste because they were best friends. He was also the only person who hadn‘t looked at him with pity or sadness when Nik hadn‘t deflected but rather nodded resignedly.
"Shut your trap, Lazar," Auguste calmly said, "Laurent knows he can come home whenever he wants to without me asking questions. He's my brother and he doesn't have to give account for his reasons. I'm just happy that he will come back."
It was such an Auguste thing to say that Nik felt his heart constrict painfully in his chest and Jord's fingers squeezed on his shoulder in comfort. It wasn’t enough. Nik realized that he could have used a Damen-hug. Damen gave the best hugs, but Damen stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, a small smile on his face, completely unbothered by the prospect that Laurent Devere might be coming back and breaking his big brother's heart for good. He probably thought that this was a good thing even. Nik had no idea how he had managed to acquire two best friends who were probably the most optimistic, sunshiny, and naive people on the planet.
"Now, family meeting's over." Auguste clapped his hands and slowly their friends spread out comfortably in the house. Nik couldn't bring himself to move. Either, he would have gone and said something to Auguste that might have hurt him because he didn't think about his own well-being at all, or he would have gone and tackled Damen in a hug which would have meant that he would need to explain himself. Nik couldn't move a muscle. Yet, his need to do something urged him to launch into action. His brain went into overdrive. What should he do?
Jord stayed seated by his side with a sigh. "Nik, it's not your responsibility. Whatever you're thinking about." Sometimes Nik thought that Jord was the only one who really understood him. Which was quite funny as they didn't know each other for that long. He consciously relaxed the muscles in his jaw and nodded slowly. Jord was right and he would do good to remember that. Auguste wasn't his responsibility. Auguste was his friend. Nik closed his eyes. Really, he didn't know why his two best friends were such brilliant but vulnerable men. Having a thing for attracting those kind of people was not as cool as others might think.
To describe Auguste or Damen as brilliant but vulnerable would have made most people laugh probably, but Nik knew them. He knew them better than anyone else did. He knew how Damen would get helplessly angry at injustice to the point where he couldn‘t think clearly anymore. He knew how Auguste could worry about others to the point of sleepless nights. He knew their softness, so close to the surface, that it was almost laughable. Neither of them had the hard, protective shell that most other people had. It made them popular, brilliant and warm, but it was also a vulnerability and nobody seemed to worry about them except Nik. People expected them to get back up after a loss or hurt and just be fine again. As if their light was limitless, their love endless and their character forever giving.
Nik buried his face in his hands. Way to go. His therapist would tell him that he should stop trying to load their happiness onto his shoulder. He knew that. However, he had seen Damen grow up alongside him, he had let Auguste rest against his shoulder after the death anniversary of his parents, he had been there for every single painful moment either of them had lived through after they met and he just couldn't see them getting hurt without feeling the pain like a part of himself.
"Nik, I don't want to interrupt your existential crisis, but could I talk to you?" Auguste's voice ripped him out of the desperate spiral he had succumbed to and Nik couldn't keep his head from snapping up.
Damn him, but Auguste was really attractive. Most of the time, Nik could accept it as a fact, like something normal, like the fact that grass was green or that sunflowers were yellow, but sometimes it hit him right in the gut. It made him want to curl up and hide, because he couldn't have those feelings for his friend.
"Of course," he replied, voice sounding rough even to his own ears. Auguste's eyebrows climbed up his forehead in a silent question, but honestly, what should Nik tell him?
'I'm beyond worried for you because your selfish bastard of a brother is coming back'? Or maybe 'I'm so in love with you sometimes I feel like going mad with it'? Neither of those were great options and he simply stood and followed Auguste out of the room. They ended up in the dark, cramped broom closet and when Auguste switched on the light, Nik felt like breaking out in hysterical laughter.
"Nik, I know you don't like the thought of Laurent coming back home," Auguste held up a hand when Nik opened his mouth in response, "let me finish, please." And what other choice did Nik have in the face of Auguste saying 'please'? None.
"I don't ask you to love him, but I won't tolerate any slight. You don't know him. You don't know anything about his reasons and my own struggle is no reason for you to dislike him." Auguste stared him right in the eyes while he spoke and Nik wanted to give him all that he asked. He just wanted to make him happy, but then, Laurent's return was probably the last thing that would make Auguste happy long-term wise.
"I might have never met him, Auguste, but I have seen what his absence did to you, do you really expect me to welcome him with open arms?"
Auguste sighed. "Laurent is not responsible for how I feel. It was his right to pursue his path without being held back by me. That I miss him and felt alone isn't his problem and I wish you could accept that. I'm my own man. Nik, subordinating your own needs to those of others is not healthy, and I'm glad that Laurent didn't do this."
There was nothing Nik could possibly reply without hurting either himself or Auguste. So, he just kept his mouth shut.
"Nik. Please. You are one of my best friends. Can't you just try and give him a chance?" It was so unfair how August could look so innocent despite his strong jaw, his stubble and the fine lines around his eyes and on his forehead. Frustration wasn‘t strong enough to describe the feeling sweeping through Nik.
"Fine," Nik snapped, sounding more aggressive than he wanted to, "fine, you win. I will give him a fucking chance. But if he pisses off to god-knows-where again, I will never forgive him." He crossed his arms before his chest. A mistake, because now they were touching and Auguste didn't pull back.
"Thank you," the blond man smiled up to him, the two inches of height difference making him tilt his head the slightest bit. Fuck, Nik hated his life sometimes.
Ancel
Ancel observed a woman wobbling her way over the cobblestones in her Louboutins and wanted to weep for the shoes that were so obviously mistreated. What a shame. They would have had a much better life on his feet. With some regret, he watched them wobble away from him.
"You're really going back?" He took a drag of his cigarette.
The deep chuckle at his side made him look over. "Yes."
"But why?" He would never understand what could bring Lau to abandon everything he had known for the past eleven years.
"I'm thirty, Ancel." Ah, yes. Time. For Laurent that had always meant more than for Ancel.
"You look like twenty-five. Tops," Ancel consoled him.
Lau laughed. "I didn't mean that I'm unhappy about being thirty. It just means that I can't continue doing what I have done up to this point. The three at the beginning of a number seems very unsexy in the light of our job."
Ancel sighed. Oh, he knew only too well. He had been luck. Falling in love with Berenger had been a blessing. Berenger didn't care about numbers, at least when they concerned Ancel. Otherwise, his life seemed to rotate around numbers. Ancel was the big exception it seemed. He liked being the exception. However, he despised that his friend would leave him.
"The lifestyle was never the right thing for you anyway," Ancel muttered, as if to console himself. He didn't like how the melancholy washed over him.
"I was the best," Lau remarked, the smirk on his full lips no less attractive than at nineteen.
Ancel wanted to bristle, but then again, Lau was right. He had been the best. "Yes. You were." It still stung. It stung to know that he had always been second place only. Except for Berenger. He thought an awful lot about his lover during the last few weeks. Since Lau had announced his retirement and his wish to go home, to his brother.
"I don't like it," he finally insisted, taking another long drag of his cigarette, "what if your brother is an asshole? You haven't seen him in ten years. He might be a prejudiced snob."
That made Lau laugh and Ancel got reminded again why Lau had always been the best. He was the most beautiful, intriguing person he knew and Ancel knew lots of people.
"My brother is probably the kindest, most understanding human being you can imagine. Think about a Saint, but immensely attractive, and you're probably thinking about my brother." Lau had that look on his face, wistful and longing, that he only ever got when he talked or thought about his brother.
Ancel couldn't imagine having a blood relative that invoked that kind of feelings in himself. He would truly never understand his friend. He didn't have to, but sometimes he would have liked to understand people beyond their sexual desires and power hungriness. He would have liked to understand the devotion a person could have to another, unsullied by money, power, sex or desire. It probably wasn't meant for him.
"If you say so." Putting out his cig, he got up. "I think I need new shoes."
Lau got up too. "Nothing wrong with new shoes," he agreed, brushing a strand of long, silky, blond hair out of his face.
"Come with me. Giulio almost trips over his own feet whenever you set foot into his store. And while you assure me you've never slept with him, I'm still having my doubts," Ancel insisted as he stood and dusted off his extremely expensive leather pants.
"Giulio likes me for my character, not my ass," Lau protested with a small pout on his lips. Ancel stared at him. He was sure that Lau's ass was a major asset of his, but his mouth much more so. Lau's mouth looked like the personification of sin in a body part. Again, there was a little twinge of jealousy in his chest, but he had become used to ignoring it.
"Whatever you say, Princess. Let's go," he waved him off and hooked his arm through Lau's.
"Will you let me come visit?" Asking that was harder than he would have expected. It sounded too much like something genuine, something innocent and Ancel simply didn't do innocent.
"Of course. I expect you to visit me, even. I guess my brother's friends will hate my guts until they learn to love me. I will have to gossip with someone and while I'm sure that Skype has its merits, someone will have to entertain me," Lau remarked lightly, "I'm sure they'll all be extremely boring. Ten Berengers or even worse."
Ancel laughed and they both ignored the slightly wet quality to it. They didn't do emotional except for special occasions. "Sounds absolutely dreadful. I really hope that they'll be attractive at least. Some eye-candy."
Lau sighed dramatically, "I'm sure they'll all be hideous. Auguste is one of those people who go for character, not looks. For example, he would never have befriended you." The playful tone made Ancel giggle.
"Why doesn't he like naughty boys?"
Lau smirked, "I'll ask him that, last time I checked he was straight as one can be. However, independent of that, fucking and befriending isn't the same."
"Well, then he'll be incredibly disappointed that you're such a superficial bastard, Lau." Ancel shrugged unapologetic as Lau gaped at him.
"Me? Superficial? How can you say that?" He sounded so affronted Ancel couldn't keep the smirk back.
"Lau, you fucked tall-dark-and-handsome just because he had dimples while Torveld was in the other room and thought you had a headache." Yeah, he knew the dirty dirty secrets of his best friend well enough. Lau didn't even try to hide his glee.
"That was legendary and I'm still incredibly proud of how quiet I was. The man had a cock to die for and actually knew how to use it. And you know I was out the door already back then. I left the next day.” The smug look on Lau's face looked incredibly good. It was almost unfair how everything about him was flawless, even now, at thirty years old. The years made him only more attractive, more secure in his own skin.
"Yeah, yeah, congrats, again," he drawled and lit up another cigarette. Sometimes he was sure that the Nicotine was the only thing that kept him going. Well, that and Berenger, but that was so sappy, he would never admit to it aloud.
Lau stopped in the middle of the walkway, ignoring the bustle of the city around them, and opened his mouth to say something. "I will miss you, Ancel." He sounded so truthful, Ancel had never heard him talk like that. Lau was witty, smart, sexy, sometimes even savage, but he never sounded so incredibly sincere. Swallowing hard, Ancel tried to ignore the emotions welling up inside of him.
"Of course you'll miss me. What's there not to miss? I'm amazing and you're lucky to have me. I'm the best thing that could have happened to you." He brushed a strand of his long, red hair over his shoulder, trying for flippant, but utterly failing, judging by Lau's expression.
"That is certainly true. Thank you for being my friend," Lau finally rasped out, his face slightly crumpled. For the first time since turning thirty, he actually looked his age, and Ancel was terrified.
"You sound like you're going to die. And while relocating from New York back to small town France must feel like dying for you, I would argue that it isn't that bad." Ancel stared at his friend in utter disbelief, as he smiled a watery smile and had the audacity to hug him.
"I love you, Ancel," he finally whispered, right against Ancel's ear and that was infinitely worse. He fought with himself for all of five seconds, before putting his arms around his friend and drawing him in close.
"I love you too, you sappy bastard," he replied and hoped at the same time that Lau wouldn't hear him. The wet chuckle against his ear told him that Lau didn't have the decency to pretend that he hadn't heard. Bastard.
"You'll visit soon, won't you?" Lau sounded so much like the nineteen-year-old youth Ancel had taken under his wing that Ancel made a decision. He would accompany Laurent to fucking small-town-France and if it would kill him. Berenger could come or stay in New York, he didn't care.
"Yes. I promised, didn't I?" Still, he didn't have to tell Lau that. He could prove that he could surprise him even after all these years.
"Thank you."
Ancel was already working on a plan as he patted his friend's back. "You're welcome, Lau."