Chapter Text
Benedict couldn’t explain how his life had turned into this, or what this was, even if he tried.
And he had tried.
Repeatedly.
He had looked for an explanation, for any sort of an excuse for the thoughts he’d been having, and each and every time he had come up blank.
He couldn’t even pinpoint when it started.
Eloise and he had always been close, inseparable, despite the 9 years between them.
The moment he first held her in his arms, Benedict had loudly promised that he would always protect her, that he would be the best big brother that could possibly exist.
And he had tried to keep that promise ever since.
He really had.
Which made this, whatever this was, even worse.
Benedict sighed, pushing his forehead against the front door of his flat.
No, their flat.
If only he could go back to those simpler times.
To the times of giving her piggyback rides, of tending to her scraped knees as he wiped her tears.
Or even to the times of her teenage years, when even their mother’s endless patience had been tested by Eloise’s rebellious behavior and acting out, but not his.
Never his.
He’d always had a soft spot for her.
Even in her most rebellious phase, he had been the one she trusted.
He had been the one she called to pick her up after she had snuck out to a party and gotten drunk for the first time, knowing she would get no judgement from him, no screaming or punishment.
Just worry for her wellbeing, just someone who would be there for her wherever, whenever, at any time of day or night.
It was his shoulder she had cried on after her first heartbreak, and he had barely stopped himself from pulling Cressida’s hair out of the tight buns she always wore for daring to hurt his little sister.
Both girls had been only 15, mere children, yet he never could bear the sight of his favourite sister in pain.
He still vividly remembered the day when she asked him if she could live with him after high school, on their swings when he came home to visit during the summer.
There had been such sparkling joy and excitement in her eyes that he couldn’t bear the thought of extinguishing it.
And why would he have?
He couldn’t have known the torture that would await him mere two years later, as a consequence of that decision.
And it was torture.
There was no other word to describe it.
Or perhaps… perhaps a part of him had known, even then.
Perhaps that had been the reason for his slight hesitation, one he had often berated himself for.
Of course he would be happy to let Eloise move in with him for college.
Of course it’d be good to live with his favourite sibling again, to be the protector she needed as she moved into a new city.
So why had he paused, his mind going blank at the sudden request?
Benedict had later convinced himself that his hesitation had been due to the things she might witness living with a 27-year-old man, due to the men and women he sometimes brought home with him.
That it had had nothing to do with the fact that she’d grown up during his time away from home, that she had turned into a beautiful young woman he’d have to chase suitors away from, because the thought of her with someone, anyone, made bile rise in his throat.
He had fooled himself into thinking that his hesitation had had nothing to do with the way his breath had caught entirely inappropriately when she grabbed the rope of his swing, pulling him closer and grinning at him in the most charming manner possible as she talked excitedly about how much fun they would have living together without even waiting for an affirmative response to her question.
Of course she hadn’t waited.
Eloise knew as well as he did that he could hardly say no to her, especially once she decided she wanted something.
So he had said yes.
Of course he did.
Which was what had led to him loitering outside of his own flat now, afraid of coming in, because Lord knew what he would find inside.
What other temptations his twisted mind would conjure, caused by nothing but his own sister being inside?
It had started innocent enough.
The first year and a half had gone smoothly, with Eloise settling into college life like she was born for it and the two of them falling into their usual comfortable routine.
She had quickly carved a space for herself in his life in the city like she had always been there, like he had never left their country home to travel the world and try to build a life for himself.
He had made adjustments, of course, small things like opting to stay the night with whoever he was with instead of bringing them home, being fully dressed at all times – no matter how hot it was – and drying himself off in the bathroom instead of walking around the flat in nothing but a towel like he used to, but those were small sacrifices.
Logical sacrifices.
But lately... oh, lately Benedict had started cursing the summer, his previously favourite season.
It was unusually hot, which – though uncomfortable – wouldn’t normally be a problem, but Eloise had taken to wearing the shortest scraps of fabric that could be considered clothing in order to combat it.
Now, Benedict was not a prude – thank you very much – but this was his sister.
Whenever he could, he averted his gaze out of decency and respect, or hid in the privacy of his own room, but with Eloise on her summer break and spending most of the time in their flat, avoiding her completely was simply not possible.
Nor should it be needed.
She was his sister.
It shouldn’t matter how much skin she showed.
And yet, he couldn’t help but start to notice things.
Like the way her skin looked silky smooth.
The way her breasts flushed from the heat.
The way those scraps of fabric accentuated just how perfect her body shape was.
Such thoughts were killing him slowly, the guilt for having them at all eating him up inside, so he spent more and more time outside of the flat, delaying his returns with every and any excuse he could think of.
But Eloise had started to notice – of course she had, his clever sister – and after a text asking if he’d stay at the studio painting late again, he knew he could no longer avoid her this obviously without arousing suspicion about something being wrong.
And it was wrong.
So very wrong.
But she would never find out.
He’d shield her from his twisted mind forever.
So Benedict sighed, steeling himself for facing her before pushing himself off the door and entering their flat without a knock.
Fuck, he should have knocked.
He definitely should have knocked.
Not that anything would have prepared him for seeing Eloise pushed against a wall in their living room, as a dark-haired man mouthed at her neck, her eyes snapping open at the sound of him entering.
At first, they only stared at each other. Her lips parted from either a moan or the shock of seeing him, their eyes locked together for a few seconds that stretched for eternity.
Then, the anger kicked in.
Irrational, inexplicable anger.
Suddenly all Benedict knew was that he needed to get that man off his sister, and he needed to do it in that instant.
He stalked towards them, pulling the man backwards by his shirt, and would have punched him if it wasn’t for the small but surprisingly strong hands wrapping around his wrist.
“Benedict, that’s enough!” Eloise demanded, pushing her body in between the two of them, and – no matter how much Benedict twisted, he couldn’t find a way of hurting him without hurting her.
“I... I’m sorry, I–” the man started, making Eloise groan and roll her eyes.
“No, not you, Benedict,” she muttered, the words knocking the air out of his lungs more effectively than if she had punched him, and Benedict glared at his apparent namesake, deciding he couldn’t afford to dwell on that particular bit of information right now.
“How old are you? What do you want with my sister?” he spat out instead, drawing a sick sort of satisfaction from the fear in the man’s wide eyes as he stared at him over Eloise’s shoulder, until she released his hand just to push at his chest.
God, he wished his body didn’t react to the touch.
“I am not a child anymore!” Eloise exclaimed, exasperation clear in her voice, “and I am well aware of the kind of company you keep when you’re out late, so it’s really none of your business what I do or who I do it with!”
“It is my business, Eloise! You’re living under my roof, and–”
Eloise growled, throwing her head backwards before pushing at his chest harder.
“Well, if you’re going to act like you’re my father, I might as well move out!” she yelled, the words ringing in the silence that descended upon them.
Benedict knew that this was his chance.
His chance to escape this torture.
To see her only at their family reunions.
To allow the distance to cure this sick infatuation with her, this desire to push her back against the wall and continue what his namesake had started.
But he was a coward.
As much as he despised himself for the thoughts and urges she inspired in him, he couldn’t bear the thought of being permanently parted from her.
Of no longer hearing her laughter every day, of no longer engaging with her remarkable wit.
Besides, where would she go?
Would she move in with him?
With this man she probably barely knew, yet he had still kissed and touched parts of her that he never would.
The thought made bile rise in Benedict’s throat, or maybe it was the desire to be in his namesake’s place that made him nauseous, but Benedict turned on his heel and left the flat without another word, unable to trust his self-control if he stayed.
He made his way to the nearest club, drinking until his worries faded away and hooking up with a pretty blonde whose face he wouldn’t be able to remember in the morning.
The only thing he would remember, the only thing that mattered, was that she looked nothing like his favourite sister.