A/N: Another collaboration between me and Icecreamkid, written for prompt 'Abuse'
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The tea scalded his throat and its aromatic vapors burned out the poison of his bottomless hate. He drained the cup gradually-almost droplet by droplet, as if he wanted to extend this tranquility for a few more moments. Bradley set the empty cup down onto the saucer with a clink. Back to business as usual. With a stiff turn he took off down the hallway. He passed by Mrs. Bradley in the living room, reading The Island of Dr. Moreau. He stopped to wave at her, showing one of those rare, genuine smiles of his. "Where are you going, dear-" She looked up from her book, genial as usual as she tried to remember what was going on today. "Oh, that's right-Selim has a doctor's appointment today, doesn't he?"
"His bi-annual examination," her husband answered. "You and Selim have a good time together." Mrs. Bradley smiled, before returning to her book. Bradley didn't take two steps before his smile darkened into a glower. Good time, indeed, the old man raged internally as he headed towards his son's room.
He knocked on Selim's door. Waited a second, and then knocked again. He waited another second, and then knocked again. Just one of the many ways that he could annoy his older brother. It mitigated the unpleasantness of their living situation. And today, the day of Selim's bi-annual appointment with the doctor, made the arrangement all the worse. He would have to be excused for indulgences in petty pranks.
"Come in." it was a low, miserable groan, one he never would have made if he had been with his 'mother'. Of course he knows it's me. The door came sliding wide open immediately without any movement from the room. Wrath caught the quick flick of shadow as it loosened around the door handle and slithered back to the small boy on the floor, who was lying on his stomach in front of a piece of paper, purple crayon in hand and countless others scattered around him. He didn't raise his head as Wrath stepped into the room.
"It's time for your medical exam soon, Selim." As he stepped closer he could see it, the unnatural black dyeing his 'son's' shadow, the tiny jagged spikes running along it, the spasms that made it twitch and flicker.
"I'm drawing." The boy dragged the crayon along the paper, hard, but halfway through he hesitated, forcing a breath like he wanted to calm himself, carrying on much softer so as to not tear it.
"I'm sure you can carry on after your exam. The sooner you go the sooner it will be over, Selim." It wasn't the worse lie he'd ever told. It must have taken everything Pride had not to shudder, but it forced itself out as another sudden ripple in his shadow.
"But I'm drawing." As if he could call ghosting over the paper 'drawing'.
"You mustn't be nervous." Pride stabbed through the paper at the word, tearing it.
"'Nervous', Wrath?'"
That got his attention. He enjoyed piercing Pride's facade, making him show his true self. That perfect child act that was tiresome enough as it was without having to drag it out further when not in the presence of humans. Besides, that drawing Selim had made: it was horrible. Wrath supposed it was one of the Gatekeepers, but it looked more like General Grumman's nose grafted onto General Cremin's ass. With a light mischievous smirk, he wondered if he should tell Pride what an abomination his drawing was. But he restrained himself and instead replied, "Of course not, Pride. You're never nervous. So, shall we go get this over with then? Or should I tell Father that you're not properly fulfilling your role?"
Wrath did not wait for a response. The answer to that question was quite obvious. He did not like using this leverage against Pride: rarely could he get the upper hand where Father was concerned. Usually, Pride would be able to turn the threat back onto him. So, before older brother could return some barb, Wrath grabbed the smaller hand of his 'son' and quickly walked him out back into the hallway within earshot of Mrs. Bradley. That should at least force him back into the good boy act again. When it came down to a choice between playing house or fighting outright with Pride, naturally he preferred a straight fight. But, today, they did not have the time. The good doctor could not be kept waiting.
"I want to visit mother first." What would usually be a demand coming from Pride only voiced as a quiet whisper accompanied by a feeble attempt to pull out of his grasp, waste even more time they didn't have. He was trying to stall them, desperately place as much time between him and his examination as possible in any way he could. Visiting 'mother' might have also held some merit to him as well; Wrath had seen the sudden change inside Pride a few months before. That gentle, human type of love she exuded so effortlessly had begun to seep through, reaching some part of him and slowly but surely eroding the however many years of spite and loathing he'd been raised to posses. Pride might have thought that spending some time with her, absorbing some of her warmth might make the experience that followed somewhat less torturous. Or make it worse. Wrath didn't blame him one bit for trying to make himself feel better, but he couldn't abide the distraction this time.
"No, Selim. She wouldn't appreciate you interrupting her book. She would also want you to act like a good boy and not complain like an immature child." Wrath opened the door to the basement, watching Pride as he trudged down the steps, following behind him. "You did not protest this much six months ago so why are you so reluctant now?" Pride stopped on the second to last step, sighing.
"You wouldn't understand. You'll never understand, Wrath."
Wrath froze to a rigid halt. Pride had struck a nerve: red, raw, and naked. Naked. His shoulders lurching forward under his uniform, throwing himself from a straight and gentlemanly stance into the posture of the murderous Homunculus he was, Wrath erupted, not giving a good goddamn who heard. "What do YOU know of my life?" He foamed with animalistic rage, spit flying and sticking onto his flaring mustache. "Naturally you think that you're the only victim, because the world revolves around one little Homunculus, doesn't it?" he mocked, his normally staid features warping into a monstrous, cruel grin—one more suitable for his older, self-centered brother, but who said Pride had any monopoly on spite? "I bet the facility came as a shock for you, am I right? All those years being sheltered by Father and there you were, suddenly exposed to the most debased, vile aspects of humanity." He lunged forward with a snarl, slamming his weight onto the step Pride was standing on. "Did you cry when he touched you?" Wrath sneered, boiling in vicious fury that wavered between explosive and barely under the surface. "Well I'm so sorry I could not wipe away your fake tears, because I was a bit BUSY with the man myself!" The last of Wrath's tirade echoed off of the basement walls, leaving the remains of his volcanic fury gradually fading into the air. All that was left was tight, tense breaths. His frame hulked over the steps, looking rather defeated.
Pride looked equally as defeated, looking so small and weak having had his veneers torn away so violently. Something was shining in his eyes that wouldn't meet his own, and he turned away in his shame, pulling his blazer tighter around him. He was trying to hide himself from everything and everyone and never wanted to be seen again, never wanted his container to be viewed and violated by human eyes and hands ever again. "I-I…I never…" he managed to squeak out. Never what? Never knew that he was far from unique? Never cried at all despite the distraught shimmer that was far too obvious to hide filling his eyes? As Wrath stepped closer Pride flinched, trembling, huddling further into himself. Is that what he must have looked like? Terrified and shivering?
Wrath waited, though time was of the essence he couldn't present Pride to the doctor like this, and Pride knew it, roughly wiping his eyes and trying to control his frightened little gasps. It wasn't right to be vulnerable, mustn't ever be vulnerable; the doctor liked vulnerable too much for that. Even with Pride's best attempts to force the shameful weakness from him, it was still as clear as day when their eyes met for a brief second, wide and fearful and pleading. Stop it. Stop making me remember what he did to me. What he's going to do. It was something Pride would only escape from when the doctor met his end on the Promised Day.
His arms still dropped, Wrath rather lethargically shifted his uncovered eye to the scrunched-up little ball that was his hundreds-of-years old older brother. Cowering. He looked so…helpless. Like a real child. The kind of child that…Wrath's weathered eyelid tugged open, exposing a softness incongruent with his earlier tantrum. It was logical, in a sick way. Humans weren't capable of anything that he could not eventually understand, or at least comprehend in a strategic sense. While he had grown up, grown old and the doctor at last grew tired of playing with him, Pride was frozen in the guise of a child. And the outward appearance was all that mattered to the humans, including the repulsive alchemist with the gold tooth. Wrath rubbed Pride's head, gently. Pride looked up, confused by the sudden affection, but it calmed him, and he even mustered a tiny smile.
Being outside the door now had reawaked countless memories of before, leaving Pride as afraid as he ever was, though there was as much hate beneath that fear as well. Pride unbuttoned his blazer and took off his tie, handing them to him, not give him the satisfaction of removing them himself. Without them, Wrath knew Pride must have looked exactly like he did back then in his facility uniform. Why had he let him wear his braces, today of all days? Wrath caught Pride's unsure glance and softly took his hand again, but it was sincere now.
"Neither of us are alone this time, Pride."