Truthfully, he sort of hated Oswald – the new Glenn who shouldered the burden of loss all on his own – he really, truly disliked him. He would probably kill him in an instant for his inactivity in rescuing Lacie, if only the window of opportunity would open. A second was all he needed. He would crush his skull, grind his bones to dust, pry every rotten tooth from his jaw. He would annihilate him completely and he would feel no remorse.
But the hatred remained secondary to the disorientation he felt every time he saw a speck of Lacie in Oswald. The similarities at first seemed few and far between, but if you got to know the Baskerville siblings as well as Jack had, you came to realize a few things. Firstly, Oswald and Lacie were two sides of the same coin in a variety of different ways.
It started with their eyes.
Lacie's eyes had been unrelentingly crimson, an unmistakable mark that denoted a Child of Misfortune. Yes, Lacie's eyes had been worth marvelling at and yet, in the same instant, worthy of fearing. She was very charismatic in the sense that a single sweeping glance could have just about anyone on their knees. Still despite the harshness of the colour, they had been only gentle when she looked at Jack. Only sweet, only gracious; only playful and sometimes mischievous. They had only invited him closer and he had only obeyed.
Oswald's eyes were piercing violet weapons that were just as unrelenting as Lacie's, but edged toward dangerous in the way he saw Jack. There was nothing Jack could sneak past those sharp eyes and, worse yet, there was nothing he could hide. Oswald was far too intelligent, far too attentive for Jack to be entirely settled around him. Yet in the same way that Lacie was gentle, Oswald was kind. It had taken a little while but eventually Jack was able to see through Oswald just enough to realize he was an incredibly steady, sympathetic person. Perhaps outrageously stoic, but still sweet in the same way Lacie was.
The day he learnt that was an incredible discovery for Jack because all along he had thought Oswald to be stern and intolerant, but it had never been that way at all.
He remembered clearly the way Lacie laughed when he told her he was a bit frightened of Oswald. That had been the sole time Lacie had mocked him with ample sarcastic intent. She insisted that being fearful of Oswald was like being fearful of a dormouse and tittered at him some more. He didn't mind that much honestly, as her laugh was quite adorable. Although that didn't deter him from muttering about mice and diseases and only incited another round of laughter from Lacie.
As part of one of the four families of the dukedom, Lacie and Oswald were both a generous measure of regal. Lacie, while elegant and feminine, had just as much pride and swiftness as any man did. She commanded a presence that was almost larger than life and conducted herself thusly. It was no matter that she spent her life locked away in a tower, she was still of nobility and would always behave in that manner. Jack found it rather endearing.
Oswald was a different kind of elegant altogether. He too commanded a presence, but he kept his in check until it was necessary to bring forth. He was also very careful to keep his attention divided neutrally, and Jack had personal experience as to what it was like being under the full influence of that attention. It had a dizzying, euphoric feel to it and Jack would never forget the searing intensity of Oswald's gaze. There was nothing more breathtaking than feeling awed by such an all-consuming intent. That had been the first time Jack and Oswald officially crossed paths, but it remained the most impressionable moment he had ever shared with him. There had been a few other instances of the full brunt of Oswald's attention being centred on Jack, but none yet so shocking as the first.
There was also something to be said of the similarities of their voices. Lacie had a very distinct voice, one that was soft but entirely unwavering. Not once had Jack ever heard her stammer nor had she ever become too flustered to speak despite some rather embarrassing circumstances they had found themselves in. The fact that she always knew what she wanted and consistently knew how to get it seemed to factor into the calm readiness of her voice. Her singing voice, too, was one to marvel at. When she sang Jack was reminded of a soft, uncluttered breeze that carried well and soothed any frayed nerves he possessed. Like wind chimes or the croon of a lark filtering down from the trees above. Her voice was heavenly.
And then there was Oswald's voice, the yin to Lacie's yang. Oswald's voice was soft as well, but much deeper and with more of a guarded tone. When unintentionally flustered, Oswald sometimes stumbled on a letter or snapped his mouth shut and simply refused to speak. He was contrary to Lacie who flowed with whatever happened and always had a clever retort in her arsenal. While his voice was by nature composed and temperate, he was more likely to lose his verbal footing than Lacie was. That fact would come as a shock to anyone less acquainted with the siblings, but to Jack it made sense. Oswald was stoic; detached from people and average conversations. He was business and organization and didn't often engage in communication that required any kind of informal wit. Lacie, on the other hand, often enjoyed friendly banter in which quick humour and charm was a natural requisite.
Then, of course, there was a compulsory difference that really never made the two of them any different at all: their smiles.
Perhaps Lacie's was a touch more bewitching. Or maybe Oswald's was a pinch less eager. That never altered the fact that both of their smiles were equal in their level of attractiveness. Lacie's grin had a clever quality to it, an air that implied she was both intelligent and crafty. When she wore that grin Jack simply couldn't find it in him to look away from her. But that grin paled in comparison to the smile she wore when she was feeling melancholic. Jack had only seen it a handful of times, and only briefly each time. She always kept her sorrow well under wraps. That particular smile both chilled Jack to the core and made him feel so much he felt he might implode. When that bittersweet, glacial smile surfaced, Jack wanted to kiss it away. He wanted to hold her until whatever was causing it melted into something sweeter again, something he could taste on her lips and see in her eyes. Lacie's smile was something of a majesty.
Oswald's smile, for as few times as Jack had seen it, had been equal parts stunning and captivating. Mostly, Oswald took to smiling with his eyes. A crinkle at the edges; a borderline playful glint, almost mistakable for a glare sometimes. And even then those signs were far from obvious. You had to know him well to know where to look. It had taken Jack, who mastered the craft of reading people at age nine and honed it to a fine artistry, weeks to realize that when Oswald stared at him like that he wasn't aggravated, he was just amused. That had come as a genuine shock to Jack whom had been operating under the assumption Oswald disliked him. The fact remained though that Oswald's smile was a sight to behold. If his smiling eyes were attractive, Oswald's sly smirk was entirely too enthralling. Whenever that smile made an appearance in a conversation Jack was hit with the same sensation he was when he had Oswald's full, rapt attention. He felt genuinely important and that feeling was irreplaceable.
Certain other things found Jack comparing Lacie and Oswald yet again.
The first time Lacie and Jack kissed was incredible. It had been about a month after they met, and Lacie had apparently grown tired with the mucking about. That day hadn't been an extraordinary day to begin with. In fact, it was fairly average. It was a relatively sunny day, although a few clouds lingered passively on the horizon. The wind was quite weak and stronger gusts that served to cool a travelling man down were both brief and rare. It made the trek to Lacie's tower all the more difficult to endure. Not that Jack would ever complain – that would be outrageous. He would have conquered the depths of hell to see Lacie, so enduring an afternoon of sweat for her was child's play.
In any case, that day was incredibly average. Like with most things, Lacie was spontaneous about the kiss. She simply reached up on her tiptoes, locked her arms around Jack's neck, and pressed her lips firmly against his. When she made to stand down Jack caught her by the waist and pulled her back in with a slow, hesitant tug. She obliged, grinning strangely, and they kissed again. Jack remembered Lacie's distinct flavour, one of black tea, cinnamon, and the sweets she had eaten beforehand. He remembered the way her lips were soft and pliant against his, although aggressive in a way he hadn't dreamed she would ever be. It shouldn't need to be said that the kiss sent sparks up Jack's spine and lit a passionate flame in his gut. He found himself very quickly addicted to her sultry glances when they parted from the kiss to consider each other.
He knew he should have been concerned with his spontaneous addiction but he had never been good at rejecting things he desperately wanted. Perhaps that was why it was so hard to resist Oswald as well. He had started the whole debacle of course, and Oswald had awarded him no small number of opportunities to back out, but he was stubborn. He saw too much of Lacie in Oswald to withstand the magnetism he felt toward the future Glenn.
While his first kiss with Lacie had been a dreamlike experience, his first intimate encounter with Oswald was... humiliating at best. By way of some fantastical coercion on Jack's part, both he and Oswald were soundly drunk out mingling with the people on the streets of lower Sablier. In the guise of peasants, of course, because royalty was never supposed to walk among the boorish pedestrians of Sablier's ghetto.
They had kept mostly to themselves, bothered no one, and found a quaint little brothel with a bar attached to sit in. Jack wouldn't have been able to remember the name of the place if he tried but he was certain he would be able to find it again. It stuck out like a sore thumb with it's sheer red walls both on the outside and the interior, coal black shingles, and a decrepit old sign that was stamped with inspectors seal. The seal denoted that it was clean of all infectious diseases one might expect to come across in a whorehouse in downtown Sablier.
It had been a busy bar, lined with old booths and stools and waited on by grossly exposed women in tight corsets and pantyhose. Jack led Oswald to the very farthest booth, away from the 'action' so to speak, in the corner opposite a particularly eery portrait of a woman with red eyes staring out at them. A hostess with dark eyes made darker by caked makeup introduced herself as Eliza, took their orders, and sashayed away when she came to the conclusion that they were well and wrapped up in their own affairs at the moment.
The booth was incredibly silent, despite the din of the rowdy crowd clamouring on about them. It seemed almost muted around the table, like they were squared away from the rest of the bar.
"You know, Jack," Oswald murmured, slurring only a bit considering the amount of scotch he had swallowed down during the past few hours. Jack glanced up briefly to see his friend struggling with something internal. "You know I... I miss her, Jack. Maybe more than you do, and I don't think you realize that."
"Oh?" Jack took the chance to smile, or smirk, he wasn't sure what it was to be called, and rest his chin on his hand. "Why's that?"
"I wanted, I want, to help you get Lacie out of the Abyss I did, or do. I just... I can't. She's gone, I know it. Whatever she is now... she's not Lacie. Not anymore. I love her so much, Jack, she's my little sister and it hurts that I couldn't protect her. I... I failed at being her big brother. I know that. But I just..." Oswald rambled on, eyes downcast as he stared at the old oak of the table. "I miss her, Jack. I miss her so much that I wish I didn't." He spat that last word so vehemently that Jack's eyes snapped up from where they had drifted off, almost shocked by the look Oswald wore. It was so... so incredibly Lacie that Jack had to take a moment to bring himself down.
Oswald's eyes were quickly shaded by a fringe of dark hair but the damage was done. Jack had seen that sad smile, he stared into those hopeless, desolate eyes that Jack himself wore so often when he was alone and remembering Lacie. He had seen the bitterness and the frustration, a look he had only once observed on Lacie. But he remember it, oh, he remember it well and his first reaction was to lean across the table with the shakiness of a newborn kit and pull Oswald in. It was awkward and it was vaguely uncomfortable, but Jack still remembered the way Oswald melted so freely at his touch. All the barriers, all the emotional blocks, and every internal defence just fell away the moment their lips brushed.
It was a quick kiss that ended abruptly when Jack found himself compelled to playfully dab at Oswald's lips with his tongue, but it left both of them red in the face anyway. He didn't quite catch Oswald's reaction because the moment he looked was the moment their waitress dropped two beers down in front of them, grinning.
"Did you see-" Jack began, but was promptly cut off.
"Right down to blondie's wandering tongue, I did." The waitress crooned, winked, and crossed her arms.
"You won't say anyth-" It seemed it was Oswald's turn to be cut off by the dark-haired hostess.
"Honey, take note, nobody 'round here cares much about personal preferences. If your willing to pay for a drink, you're always welcome." She laughed again and spun on her heel. "Even you nobles can drop by if you've got some spare change for a tip." She tossed over her should as she traipsed away, still smiling to herself.
Jack didn't remember a whole lot after that besides heat, and dark eyes, and Oswald's peculiar mint-and-scotch taste.
Of course, that had all been incredible. The morning after? Decidedly less so. It left a great number of questions that neither Jack nor Oswald had any desire to answer and a great number more personal revelations that could have been left entirely untouched.