Brothers

The bright light in the studio made Theo blink. When his vision cleared, he saw a small room floored in wood, the mirrored walls reflecting his ashen face and knock-kneed legs.

As well as the person standing at the back of the room. When his eyes locked with Theo's, all the breath fled his body.

Dimly, he realized that he'd never seen the current Victor in casual clothes before. They were simple but well-tailored: a black blazer and T-shirt, sunglasses resting atop his head. It made him seem smaller, more...human.

Theo remained frozen in the doorway, unable to move. So Victor approached, one hand in his pocket, as relaxed as if he was meeting a friend for coffee.

"Hello, Theo," he said. "Did you get here okay?"

"Uh, yeah," Theo managed to say.

"That's good." Victor nodded. "Come on in."

So mundane, just like at the gala. It made Theo want to scream. Instead, he took one step forward, then another, his body unconsciously obeying Victor's order.

As soon as he made it a few steps inside the studio, the door slammed shut. Theo whirled around, alarmed.

"You said this wasn't a trap!"

"Relax." Victor shrugged. "Do you see an arena anywhere? No, I'd just like some privacy."

"Privacy." Theo glared at Victor. "For what?"

"To talk, like I said. Brother to brother."

"And what did you want to talk about?" Theo's voice came out rough and harsh, making him wince. No, he hadn't come here to treat Victor as an enemy. Right? He'd come to understand him, and to persuade him, to save him without fighting.

But with Victor standing there stolid as ever, he wondered if it was really going to be so simple.

"I want to ask you once again to come with me." His expression soft, Victor extended his hand.

The gesture made Theo's throat seize. He saw that same hand covered in black armor, reaching for him the first time.

And his answer was the same. "I'm sorry, but I can't. No, Victor. You come with me."

To Theo's surprise, a little smile flickered across Victor's face. "Demanding as ever, huh?"

'"You're so demanding," the teenaged Victor sighed as Theo gave him his best puppy dog eyes. "Fine. Just this once."'

Theo wasn't prepared for how much the memory hurt, stabbing at his heart like a jagged blade. For a moment, he couldn't even breathe.

But he forced air into his throat anyway, and clenched his hands into fists. "You're the demanding one, trying to make me join you Infernal Legion goons."

"Again with that." Sighing, Victor raked a hand through his hair. "The prince's self-righteousness is really rubbing off on you. I've got to get you away from her influence as soon as possible."

"Self-righteousness? Is that what you call it?" Theo took bizarre comfort from his rage. At least it gave him some semblance of strength. "I fought you guys again, you know. You brainwashed more people, made them thralls."

"So what?" Victor's tone became ugly. "They were just ordinary humans. We're wizards. Why should we care?"

Theo staggered back, gaping. Never, not once in a million years, had he ever expected to hear his brother say something like that.

The doubts from the gala crawled into his mind once more. 'Isn't he too far gone? What the hell can I possibly do to save him?'

But if he gave up now, then he'd be giving up on – everything. His entire reason for fighting.

A grim smile tugged up Victor's lips. "Don't look like that, Theo. It's the truth. You know, in this world a person can only care about so much at a time. Trying to care about everything the way you do is a fool's errand. You'll never satisfy anyone. It makes more sense to devote your love to the few who actually deserve it, doesn't it? Once I realized that, I was set free. That's why I'll stop at nothing to bring you back to my side."

His voice hardened with a determination that struck Theo as terribly familiar. Because he'd heard the same in his own voice when he'd sworn to save Victor, to fight as partners with Zenith.

"Forget about the useless humans, that powerless prince, the homunculus toy. Remember what's important to you. Come home with me."

He held out his hand again. Theo stared at the long fingers, heart pounding. Against his will, he remembered how they'd once held a cello bow so gracefully, gliding it across the strings with such languid confidence.

After one recital, jealous of the praise the adults had lavished on Victor, he'd whined, "It's not fair. I'm not good at anything like you."

"Don't say that," Victor had said, ruffling his hair. "Everybody has something they're good at. Something they care about, even if nobody else recognizes it. I can't draw like you, can I?"

Now that same Victor was talking about useless people.

Tears burned Theo's eyes, but they didn't come from despair. No, white-hot anger was boiling inside him. It swept all his doubts away, allowing him to meet Victor's gaze dead-on.

"I absolutely one hundred percent will not. And I never will. I'm going to keep fighting you and the Infernal Legion until you finally open your eyes and see some sense. Because right now, you're not my brother. The Victor I remember would never say shit like that! So I'll bring him back, whatever it takes!"

His voice cracked, but it didn't break. In the mirrors, he saw three other Theos yelling alongside him, just as determined.

Victor didn't speak. He just stood there, hands in his pockets and face impassive as ever. The seconds dripped by like water from a leaking faucet. All Theo could hear were his rasping breaths and thudding heartbeat.

Then Victor smirked. It slashed across his face like a knife wound, twisting his stern features beyond recognition. Despite himself, Theo stumbled back.

"I see." When Victor spoke, his voice shuddered with an unfamiliar savage delight. "I see. So that's how it is. 'The Victor I remember.' 'I'll bring him back.' I understand now."

"What? What do you understand?" Theo had imagined any number of responses, but not this.

"Ha." Victor flicked his hand through his hair, a distressingly Ryan-like gesture. "I guess I had you wrong, Theo. It's disappointing, but I'm glad we've cleared everything up."

"What are you talking about?"

Victor stepped forward. "I thought you understood my true self, but you don't. No, you're just like the others. Rather than accept me for who I am, you want to mold me into a shape that you like."

Like a leopard, he prowled closer. 'Get out of the way,' some distant voice of alarm in Theo's head screamed, but his entire body had frozen.

Soon Victor loomed directly above him. As his shadow fell over Theo, Theo felt like he'd turned back into the stupid, useless kid he'd once been. Or maybe he'd never stopped being that kid.

"The Victor you remember. The Victor you want to bring back." Victor's eyes narrowed. "Tell me, is that a Victor who plays cello?"

"Wh-what?"

"It is, isn't it." Victor's voice softened. "That's the Victor you want."

"No, it – " But the words died on Theo's tongue. Beneath Victor's intense dark gaze, every protest felt exactly like the lie it was.

'It's not true.' No, it was. In his memory, Victor was always playing cello. Even though he'd known all these years that Victor had hated it, he'd still let it define his picture of his brother. Victor might not have been happy...but Theo had been. Or at least content.

Deep inside, hadn't he always wanted to return to those days? To a life where he had an indulgent big brother who skipped practice to play with him, but played cello all the same. The melancholy music filling the house belonged as much to the picture as those afternoons in the forest.

"You wanted me to play cello again," Victor said, low and accusing.

Theo couldn't even shake his head to deny it. A shiver wracked his body, sending him to his knees on the hard wooden floor.

"You're selfish, like all the rest." Victor's voice seemed to drift from far away, dipping in and out of his hearing like a bad radio transmission. "You have no right to say you want to save me."

Theo curled into a ball, knees digging into his chest, but he couldn't protect himself from the relentless assault of words.

"Now that you understand, you realize you have no reason to fight the Infernal Legion anymore, do you? If you really cared about me, then you would try to make me happy for the first time in your life. So quit it with the games. Join me. Even if you won't accept me, I accept you. I always will. That's what it means to love someone."

Victor's voice became softer, cajoling. As he spoke, Theo realized that the lights had gone out in the studio. Panic crested in some distant corner of his mind, but he barely felt it beneath the crushing despair.

A hand descended into his field of vision. The same hand from before. Wielding a sword as black as night. Guiding a bow across cello strings.

Only one of those was the real Victor. The person Victor wanted to be. If...if Theo accepted that Victor, then did it mean he truly loved him?

As if in a dream, he saw himself raise his own hand. So much smaller than Victor's. But even before their hands met, he knew that it would fit perfectly within Victor's grasp. They were brothers, after all.