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Clive is hovering, but Joshua does not mind. He doesn’t need to be in here, sat at a table in the empty library, but he craves a closeness he has been denied for so many years.
A stack of tomes set aside, Joshua is reading, while his brother watches. Clive sits with his head cradled by his crossed arms, gazing to Joshua languidly. In his contentment he finds himself drifting, but he fights sleep, because it’s Joshua’s companionship he seeks, not dreams.
He stares at his brother’s profile, and as always, his eyes are drawn to a small, thin, pink line on his ear. It’s a scar, where his earring should be. He hasn’t asked about it, because he already knows the answer, and maybe he couldn’t stomach it to hear of it.
Without thinking, he finds himself reaching out, to brush his fingers against the mark. Clive cradles the flesh gently between forefinger and thumb, and Joshua’s eyes lift from his book. Silently Clive asks the question, saying without words like he often could only with Joshua.
Joshua gives him a little smile, and cups his hand over Clive’s. “Lost on that night, I’m afraid,” he says, and there’s an ache in Clive’s chest. A small thing, and yet it smarts.
Even though he was so young, Clive can remember sharing the set of earrings with Joshua. His little brother’s ear had been pierced at his own request, and guilt had gnawed at him at the babe’s screech of pain. Clive had cradled and soothed him in his little arms as he squalled. Clive’s own ears had been pierced when he was a babe, so surely, this wasn’t something cruel. Though he had felt bad, there was a delight, too, knowing he would give him a gift—his first ever.
The earrings were precious family heirlooms, embossed with the sigil of House Rosfield, Rosaria’s own crest. Naturally they had been gifted to him, as he was the assumed heir. Clive felt he had to share them with his brother, to welcome him into this world. He had to make a connection, and the earrings were his link. When he became Joshua’s shield, he liked to think perhaps it would keep him safe, to always have a part of First Shield with him.
He had failed in that duty, but Clive has been given a second chance, a rare, beautiful thing that he would not squander.
“Would you have mine?” Clive blurts out the sudden thought.
“Have—you want me to take your earring?” Joshua looks up again from pages of thick vellum, surprise on his face.
“Yes.”
His face pinches, and his voice is soft. “But, it’s yours. It’s been with you all these years.”
“It would make me happy, to see you wearing it.” He smiles at that, and Clive knows he’ll say yes.
“How can I say no, when you’re so sincere? Alright,” Joshua extends his hand, his palm up.
“Let me.”
Gingerly he cradles his brother’s jaw, and brushes aside strands of gold to expose his ears. The worn earring pinched, he prepares to insert it, but pauses—he’d forgotten that the opening is closed. Joshua notes the hesitation.
“Just put it in.”
“Are you sure? There will be pain.” Clive gently rolls the earlobe, as if that would ease any future hurts.
Joshua smiles, and rests his cheek on his curled fingers. “I think I can handle it.”
“If you’re certain.” Admittedly, he didn’t want to have to wait for a more proper piercing. There’s a strange sort of excitement to this, just low in Clive’s belly, that he doesn’t quite understand. All he knows is that he wishes to see his brother with his heirloom, like he always should have had.
Clive watches his face, and Joshua watches his own, as he carefully presses the point of the earring through his ear lobe. Blood blooms, bright on moon-pale skin, stark and fitting. He doesn’t stop until it’s in entirely, a full smooth motion, the needle poking out of the back of the flesh.
“Does it hurt?” Clive asks, watching the slow sanguine drip down his brother’s neck. There’s some on Clive’s thumb, where he had pushed in the earring, and it wells at the bottom, threatening to spill onto the floor. He curls his fingers around his thumb, lest it fall.
“Yes,” Joshua replies, though there isn't any discomfort on his face—he’s smiling. His eyes flicker to his left, but of course he can’t see the side of his head. He rises, and brushes past his brother. It seemed odd to Clive, his sudden departure, but his brother still looks so pleased.
“Where are you going?”
Joshua pinches the earring between his fingers, fresh blood welling at the wound.
“To find a looking glass, of course. I’ll be back.”
Joshua slips through the door, and Clive makes a sound to himself, soft and fond, his lips curled into a smile before he even realizes. He sinks into his chair, and reaches for his earlobe. It feels strange, for it to be bare, but he feels so warm.
Perhaps he could have a replica made, so they can match again. He would want Joshua to have the original, though, to always carry a little piece of Clive—a little mark.
The thought leaves him a bit restless, giddy and warm, and Clive pushes it down—of course, he’s just pleased to have his brother returned to him, how things should be. There isn’t anything strange with that.
Content, Clive sits and waits for his brother’s return. His thumb still slick, Clive presses it to his lips, and tastes a familiar richness.