I

The lights flickered on, and when Laurent turned his head, Nicaise was standing in the doorway in his robe, a large bowl of chips and two sodas balanced precariously in his arms. "What's wrong?" he asked, blowing a strand of dark hair out of his eyes. His tone made it evident that he knew exactly what was wrong, but wanted to hear Laurent say it aloud. He shouldn't have been out of bed, but Laurent had apparently overestimated his own ability to be discreet when sneaking downstairs at two in the morning. When he didn't reply, Nicaise huffed and began his perilous trek across the hardwood floor, careful not to drop anything.

"You have school in the morning," said Laurent, as his brother settled down beside him on the sofa. Nicaise didn't acknowledge his words; instead, he tugged at the fleece throw hung across the back of the couch, and draped it over the both of them. Despite being early March, it was still a little chilly outside. Snow had been in the forecast earlier that week, though it had thankfully been incorrect.

Nicaise shoved a can of Vanilla Coke into Laurent's hand. "I'll survive," he said. He fell silent for a moment, the only sound in the room the tell-tale fizz of their sodas opening. He watched Laurent carefully, refusing to look away until his brother took a sip of his drink and snagged a couple of chips. Even then, Nicaise hardly looked satisfied. "You skipped dinner."

"I wasn't hungry."

"I know."

In most cases, Laurent was fond of silence. In this case, it was deafening. Neither of them wanted to address the elephant in the room. Neither of them wanted to be the first to acknowledge that it had been six years since they'd lost their family. In lieu of speech, Nicaise reached for the remote control and turned on the television. He had a feeling that neither of them would be sleeping tonight – Laurent, because he would find it impossible; Nicaise, because he couldn't stand to leave his brother on his own.

He flipped through the channels, not looking for anything in particular (although he wasn't much in the mood to watch paid programming). He landed on what appeared to be the tail-end of Return of the Jedi. At that time of night, he probably wouldn't have found anything better. It would suffice. "Want more chips?" he asked, holding out the bowl. Laurent shook his head. While he'd been fixated on the television, it seemed that his brother had abandoned his soda on the floor at his feet. Nicaise noticed, but said nothing. It was a miracle that he'd managed to entice him to take the few sips he had; downing the whole can was more than he'd expected.

"You don't have to stay up."

Nicaise didn't have to look at Laurent to hear the unspoken words that lingered between them: But I'm glad you are. He placed the bowl on the floor beside Laurent's soda and, careful not to spill his own, shifted so that he was pressed snugly to his brother's side. "Can I stay home tomorrow? I don't…" He trailed off. He and Laurent both had a way with words – in all matters, but those of the heart. The sentiments struggled on his tongue. "I just – I don't want to leave you here alone."

"Won't that ruin the perfect attendance streak you're so proud of?"

Nicaise scowled. "You're the one who's proud of that. I couldn't give two fucks about it."

It spoke to how miserable Laurent was feeling that he didn't admonish Nicaise for his language. He didn't care, really, but he usually tried his best to at least pretend to be a responsible parental figure. "If I send you to school, you'll just find a way home, won't you?"

"Yup."

"Fine."

That had been easier than Nicaise had anticipated and, honestly, that worried him. "Laurent…"

"Are you just going to talk through the entire movie? If so, I hardly see why you bothered to turn it on."

Nicaise took that as his cue to shut up. If Laurent wanted to talk, he would; trying to force him had never worked out in Nicaise's favor. The boy finished the last of his soda and carelessly tossed it aside, which earned him a grunt of annoyance from Laurent, but still no reprimand. If not for the circumstances, Nicaise might have tried to see justhow far he could push his brother before he snapped. As they were, he'd seldom felt less inclined to make Laurent's life difficult.

Truth be told, Nicaise wasn't much of a Star Wars fan. That, combined with the fact that he was already drowsy (he'd been sound asleep when Laurent's late-night journey to the living room had startled him into consciousness), left him snoring against Laurent in a matter of minutes.

When he woke again, the television had been turned off and the digital clock on the opposite wall read 3:25. At some point, Laurent had wrapped an arm tightly around Nicaise's shoulders; he probably wouldn't have been able to shrug him off, even if he'd tried. For once, Nicaise didn't try. Laurent himself was still wide awake. Nicaise would have expected nothing less.

"Go back to sleep, Nicaise," came his brother's soft voice.

"You should sleep, too," Nicaise argued. "This isn't healthy." When Laurent didn't so much as acknowledge that he'd spoken, Nicaise grew more daring. He could appreciate the irony of what he was about to say – after all, just an hour ago, he'd decided against saying it. "Laurent, he…"

He felt his brother tense.

"He wouldn't have wanted this." Nicaise had been so young when Auguste and their parents had died that he hardly remembered Auguste; at twenty-five, he hadn't been around as often during Nicaise's childhood as he'd been during Laurent's. But, from what little he did remember, and from what Laurent had told him of their elder brother, he knew without a doubt that Auguste wouldn't have approved of Laurent's coping methods.

"Go back to sleep, Nicaise."

"He'd want you to be happy," he persisted. "He wouldn't want you to—."

"Auguste wouldn't have wanted a lot of things." The words were sharp as a knife. "It doesn't matter what he would or wouldn't have wanted. He's dead. Go back to sleep."

"You still have one brother, you know," Nicaise said hotly, "and he worries about you, asshole." For a moment, he thought that Laurent was going to ignore him again. Instead, his brother heaved a sigh, shoulders slumping. He said nothing, but Nicaise could at least be assured that he was listening – and, that he wasn't going to interrupt. His fleeting anger dissipated; in its place, guilt flared. He shouldn't have lost his temper, especially given the date. "…I want you to be happy, too."

"I don't know if I can, Nicaise. I'm not sure that I know how." He'd never said it aloud before; the admission felt heavy on his tongue.

"That's not true," Nicaise reasoned, his voice dripping with all of the wisdom a thirteen-year-old could possess. "You like making your videos." He paused, seemingly deep in thought. "Speaking of, you haven't posted one in over a week. That's what we can do tomorrow!"

"We?" Laurent raised an eyebrow.

"What, you don't think your subscribers would be interested to see me?"

When his brother failed to respond, Nicaise knew that he'd won. He could tell, however, that it would be up to him to plan the video. Laurent clearly wasn't feeling up to snuff.

Nicaise still wasn't entirely sure how Laurent's YouTube channel had come into being. Ever since he was a child, he'd been more prone to spending the day reading than playing video games, or watching television. He'd never shown the slightest interest in YouTube – and then, shortly after the trial that had finally rid them of their uncle, Nicaise had walked in on Laurent angrily waving a copy of Fifty Shades of Grey in front of his webcam. The channel's theme, at least, Nicaise could understand.

Book reviews were Laurent's forte, if one could even call his videos reviews. Most of them involved Laurent reading passages aloud in his characteristically dry, sarcastic tone, and fixing the camera with Office-worthy stares; that was his appeal. Viewers loved to watch him tear (sometimes literally) horrible novels to shreds. His brother had a high standard to which he held literature, and Nicaise could count on one hand the number of times a subscriber had recommended that he read a book he actually liked.

Whatever it was that had driven his brother to start YouTube, Nicaise was grateful for it. It'd been good for him. Nicaise couldn't lie – he still worried about his brother, especially at this time of year, but nothing compared to the period preceding and during the trial. It'd been difficult on both of them, of course, but Laurent most of all. He'd been a nervous wreck. Even now, he didn't sleep as often as he should, and there were times when Nicaise had to all but force food down his throat – but, he remembered the countless mornings he'd come downstairs to find his brother pacing the kitchen floor, still wearing his clothes from the day before. Laurent had a poker face that could have beaten out Laurence Olivier for an Oscar; he'd hidden his exhaustion behind icy glares, his anxiety behind callous words. Nobody but Nicaise, who knew his brother as well as he knew himself, had been able to see past the façade.

So, Laurent could pretend all he wanted, but Nicaise knew the truth. He'd rarely seen his brother happier than he was while on camera.

"We could read fairy tales," he suggested lightly. "They're so fucked up. Your subscribers will love it."

"Maybe," said Laurent. "Go to sleep."

The next time Nicaise awoke, it was after nine o'clock and sunlight was streaming in through the windows. Sometime during the night, Laurent had left the couch. Nicaise was alone, head cushioned on a slightly-lumpy pillow that his brother had found in the hall closet, and comfortably wrapped up in the blanket they'd been sharing. He sat up, stretching. "Laurent?"

"In the kitchen."

Nicaise traipsed into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Do you think," asked Laurent, who was stirring the sugar into his tea, "I could persuade Paschal to sign a doctor's note for you?"

"I don't doubt that you could, but I don't need a note."

He sat down at the table across from his brother, who slid a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs over to him. Nicaise hesitated. He didn't see a second plate, or any leftovers. He wasn't about to scarf this down if Laurent had neglected to prepare anything for himself. "Did you eat?"

"You're not my mother."

"Did you eat?" he repeated.

"I ate enough." Nicaise had the good sense not to push him any further.

"So, did you think about my idea?"

Laurent sipped gingerly at his tea. Nicaise interpreted that as a no. "I'm not going to let you spend the day moping," he said sternly. "We're making a video. That's final."

His brother sighed, but refrained from arguing. Small victories, Nicaise supposed, but it didn't feel much like a victory when Laurent looked so despondent. "Are you sure you don't want a piece of bacon?" he asked softly. Laurent shook his head. "Alright." He picked at his food, but he'd seemed to have lost his own appetite. He seldom looked away from Laurent, who, in turn, seldom let go of his teacup. By the time he'd finished eating, Nicaise suspected that Laurent was only holding the cup to keep his hands from fidgeting. He'd stopped drinking from it ages ago. "Want me to wash that for you?" It wasn't often that Nicaise voluntarily did the dishes, but he had a feeling that Laurent and chores were going to be incompatible today.

"I've got it," muttered his brother, rising to his feet and snatching Nicaise's plate out of his hand. He moved to the sink, much to Nicaise's surprise. Perhaps he'd misjudged the situation, after all. "So," said Laurent, voice distorted by the running water. "…fairy tales. How fucked up are we talking?"

Nicaise grinned.

Two hours later, they were in front of the camera. After introducing himself as Laurent's younger, better-looking brother (Laurent had stifled his laughter behind his hands), Nicaise had taken it upon himself to read a few stories aloud. Laurent was doing what Laurent did best – losing his shit.

"Didn't you say that she was seven?" he demanded, holding out his hand. "Let me see that." Nicaise leaned back in his chair, holding the book just out of his brother's reach.

"She is seven," he clarified. "I told you, these stories are fucked up."

"Why does this prince want to buy a seven-year-old's corpse? What does he plan on doing with it?"

"An excellent question."

"Alright, you little smart-ass, keep reading." Nicaise hardly minded the insult; it meant that Laurent was beginning to feel like his usual self again. Truth be told, the strange, subdued Laurent of the previous night had been disconcerting. There wasn't much left of the story; no sooner had he finished than Laurent snatched the book away and flipped haphazardly through the pages, eyes scanning over them as though he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "I thought you'd made it up. They… drop her corpse. Really?"

Nicaise scoffed. "That's not even the weirdest story."

Over the course of an hour, Nicaise introduced Laurent to The Juniper Tree ("What the fuck?"), Trusty John ("No, seriously, what the fuck?"), and How Some Children Played at Slaughtering ("…is there even a moral to this one?"). Laurent was enjoying himself so much that it was almost a shame to stop recording, but Nicaise could only read aloud for so long before he started to lose his voice.

"So, what I've learned from this," said Laurent, pulling up the footage in iMovie, "is that it's not a fairy tale unless child abuse is involved."

"That's a fair assumption," Nicaise agreed, tossing the book onto Laurent's bed. "Can I edit the video?"

Laurent hesitated. The last time he'd allowed Nicaise to edit one of his videos, he'd gone way overboard with the special effects. Laurent had ended up editing it himself, and as a result, it'd been posted much later than he'd intended. Then again, Nicaise had managed to do the impossible: he'd cheered Laurent up, if only for a little while. He deserved some sort of reward for his effort. "Take it easy on the SFX," he said, ruffling his brother's hair as he moved to go. He'd expected Nicaise to yell at him for it; he lingered in the doorway in anticipation of an outburst that, to his astonishment, never came.

"Love you, too," said Nicaise, without looking away from the screen. Laurent's lips quirked into a smile.

READING FAIRY TALES – FT. MY LITTLE BROTHER

40,361 VIEWS

5,773 comments

"That's pretty impressive," said Nicaise. He was eating a bowl of Fruit Loops as he scrolled through the comments on the video. He'd succeeded in convincing his brother to have a bowl, too. Laurent was in a considerably better mood than he had been that morning. "Forty-thousand views in just a few hours? You should let me be in the videos more often."

"What makes you think that it has anything to do with you?"

Nicaise stuck out his tongue. "The comments. Listen: 'Your little brother is adorable! Is he going to show up again?' 'Can I adopt your brother? He's precious.' 'Seeing you with your brother just made you 20x more attractive to me.' See?"

"Careful, or I may take that second person up on their offer."

"You wouldn't."

Laurent rolled his eyes. "No, I wouldn't." He poured some more cereal into his bowl. His appetite had returned with a vengeance. "Comments about your questionable cuteness aside" – he smirked – "what are people saying?"

"Um… 'What the fuck?' 'What the fuck?' 'What the fuck?' A lot of that."

"Obviously."

"Most people hadn't heard those stories before. Not surprising. You hadn't even heard them before, and all you fucking do is read." Laurent would have refuted that if he'd been able, but Nicaise had a valid point. "Um – oh, this person wants to know if you know Damen."

Laurent stared at his brother quizzically, waiting for him to tack on something else to that sentence – something that might help him figure out just who the hell Damen was, and why he might know him. Nicaise, who was mid-bite of Fruit Loops, dropped his spoon.

"How are you a YouTuber and you've never heard of Damen?" he asked, disbelieving. Laurent wasn't particularly social with other YouTubers. He'd never done any collaborations, although several content creators had expressed interest in doing so. His aloofness was part of his appeal, or so he claimed. Even so, Nicaise couldn't imagine that he'd been posting videos for close to two years and had never come across Damen. "He's really popular? Runs a gaming channel?"

"That would be why I've never heard of him."

"…right." He looked back to the comment; there were several replies, all seconding the question. Weird. "I don't understand why they think you'd know him. You don't even like video games." Laurent shrugged. This was far from the strangest comment he'd seen on one of his videos. He wasn't going to complain.

"Wait. Holy shit,there's another one." Nicaise cleared his throat, reading the comment in question in a high, over-dramatic voice that had Laurent choking on his cereal: "'Show of hands, who wants to see Laurent and Damen co-parent Nicaise?'"

Alright. That took the prize as the strangest comment Laurent had ever seen on one of his videos.

"Dare I ask how many up-votes that comment has?"

"…you don't want to know." Nicaise was trying (and failing miserably) not to laugh. "These people are shipping you with Damen."

"I don't even know Damen."

"As if that matters. It's the Internet, Laurent." Nicaise quickly exited out of Laurent's video and pulled up a channel that he actually did watch semi-regularly. Honestly, he was convinced that everyone in the world had seen at least one of Damen's videos – everyone but his brother, apparently. "This is Damen," he said, sliding his phone across the table.

[LIVE] MARIO KART 8 DELUXE W/ DAKIELOSGAMING FT. NIKANDROS

12,887 VIEWS

2,127 comments

"DAkielosGaming," Laurent read aloud. "Not the name I would have chosen."

"His two hundred thousand subscribers don't seem to care," Nicaise pointed out. "Maybe you should ask him to rebrand you. You've been sitting at one hundred thousand for months."

"Have you already forgotten that I don't know this man at all?" And then, not a minute later: "Who is Nikandros?"

"His best friend." Nicaise dragged his chair around the table, positioning himself beside Laurent so he could see the screen. "He comes to the streams a lot."

Laurent had very little interest in Mario Kart. He had even less interest in watching somebody else play Mario Kart. Frankly, he had never been able to understand how gaming channels became popular – that is, until he pressed play, and saw Damen for the first time. He was painfully aware that his very perceptive younger brother was sitting right next to him; he tried his best to keep his expression neutral.

Damen was, to put it bluntly, gorgeous. It was difficult to tell while he was seated, but Laurent estimated that Damen was almosta foot taller than him – and Laurent was hardly short. He was muscular, too, and clearly unafraid to show it off; he was, appropriately, wearing a tight-fitting Super Mario t-shirt that made his biceps extremely noticeable. He was dark-skinned with equally dark eyes, and short, wavy brown hair that Laurent, embarrassingly enough, could easily imagine himself running his fingers through.

He didn't know Damen, but fuck, he wanted to.

"Are you blushing?" Nicaise's voice broke through his thoughts. "Oh my God, you are." Laurent couldn't tell if his brother was amused or traumatized. Maybe a little of both.

"I am not."

"You are."

Laurent ignored him and returned his attention to the video. Damen had, apparently, lost the first race to Nikandros; the latter was laughing while Damen, his mouth curled into a pout, proclaimed that this was the last time he was ever playing Mario Kart again.

"He always says that," said Nicaise.

"This is just embarrassing," Damen was saying. "I'm the one with the gaming channel, and the only person I've ever beaten at Mario Kart is Jokaste."

"I'm pretty sure she let you win,"Nikandros remarked.

"I know she did."

Before the question could even pass his lips, Nicaise was out of his chair and carrying his bowl to the sink. "She's his ex-girlfriend," he said, "and I'm going to bed." There was only so much star-struck Laurent a person could take at one time, and Nicaise had already reached his quota. "Have fun drooling over Damen."

"I'm not—."

"Goodnight."

It rained that night. A crash of thunder woke Nicaise at half-past-three. Unable to fall asleep again, he decided to check on his brother. Laurent had stayed awake for over twenty-four hours; if he wasn't going to be a responsible adult, Nicaise would play the part for him. As he'd expected, Laurent wasn't in his bedroom. From the looks of things, he hadn't been there since they'd filmed the video that morning. Sighing, Nicaise padded quietly down the stairs, assuming that he'd find his brother on the sofa again – sitting in total darkness, staring at the wall.

Laurent wasn't there.

From the kitchen, he could hear soft laughter. Laurent was still at the table, the cell phone plugged into the wall beside him, his face illuminated by its light. If he noticed Nicaise standing in the doorway, he didn't say anything.

Nicaise didn't think that he'd noticed.

He was completely fixated on the video; Nicaise could hear Damen's familiar voice issuing from the speaker. "For fuck's sake, Nik, couldn't you let me win? Just once?"

His brother was smiling – actually smiling – and although Nicaise's purpose in coming downstairs had been to tell Laurent he needed to sleep, he found that he didn't have the heart to do it.

"This game hates me. It actually hates me."

"Come on, you know people wouldn't be half as entertained if you didn't suck ass. You're terrible. That's your appeal."

Nicaise turned away. He could still hear Laurent's laughter when he reached the stairs.

A/N: I just want to thank everyone over on Twitter for encouraging me to write this. Y'all are the best!

I'm not sure how long it's going to end up being. It'll be at least five chapters, but probably longer. This is the first long piece I've written in who knows how long. I'll try to update as quickly as possible.

The title references the song To Show You My Love by Mike Schmid and, if it wasn't obvious, the first fairy tale Nicaise read was Snow White. If you've ever read the original story, it's much different than the Disney film ^^

Again, thanks so much for reading! As always, any feedback is much appreciated! This story is posted on Ao3 under the username labeautelivresque. I also have a Ko-Fi, if you would like to support my writing with a donation. You can find the link to my page pinned to my Twitter account, kath_lightfoot. I'll also be posting updates/snippets of upcoming chapters to my Twitter, so you can all feel free to follow me there. I'm almost always on, screaming over Capri or YOI or one of my dozens of other fandoms.

Thanks again!