II

"This is getting ridiculous," Nicaise declared, dropping his backpack onto the floor beside the sofa. Under normal circumstances, Laurent would have told him to pick it up, you weren't raised in a barn, put it in your room for fuck's sake. There were few things his brother was more passionate about than keeping a reasonably tidy house. Nicaise thought that he was, for whatever reason, equating cleanliness with good parenting.

For nearly a week, however, the only thing Laurent seemed to care about was Damen. Nicaise had never seen him like this before – he seemed intent on watching every minute of footage on Damen's channel. The night before, Nicaise had caught him watching a livestream while he did the laundry. He'd nearly dropped his phone into the washing machine in the process. He supposed he should be grateful that his brother had found something to distract himself from his seasonal depression (and he was), but he was almost at his wit's end.

He wondered if Laurent had talked to Jord about this. He doubted it. Jord was the closest thing Laurent had to a best friend, but that didn't mean that he told him everything. Far from it, in fact.

Nicaise prided himself on being his brother's closest confidante, and even he didn't entirely understand his thought processes sometimes.

Regardless, Nicaise was on the verge of calling Jord himself and staging an intervention for his brother. He could handle being ignored at dinner. He could handle having to repeat himself a dozen times because Laurent was too distracted to listen to what he was saying. He could even handle waking up in the middle of the night to his brother's laughter resonating from down the hall, but he'd just ridden a school bus home for the first time in years, and he wasn't keen on doing it again. "You must have watched every one of his videos a hundred times by now."

"I haven't watched all of them."

"I was exaggerating, asshole," Nicaise said sourly. "Are you ever going to, y'know… talk to him?" He wasn't sure that he could take much more of this pining, especially as Laurent refused to admit that he was pining at all. His brother's infatuation with Damen was going to be the death of him, he was certain of it.

As far as he could tell, Laurent was going out of his way to ensure that Damen didn't know he was watching his videos. He never left comments. He wasn't even subscribed to the channel. Nicaise knew for a fact that he looked at Damen's Twitter and Instagram accounts on a frequent basis, because he was constantly coming to Nicaise with questions – that, usually, he couldn't answer. He wasn't following Damen on either account, however, nor did he like or retweet anything. Nicaise couldn't understand it. His brother was quite possibly Damen's biggest fan, and he seemed to be opposed to letting it be known.

"Look, you're both popular YouTubers. It wouldn't be weird for you to say something to him."

Laurent completely bypassed everything he'd just said. He probably hadn't heard. If the sounds coming from his phone were any indication, he was currently invested in watching Damen play Pokémon. "This concept seems a bit unethical," he mused. "Don't you think? How do the humans know that these creatures like being captured?"

That was it. Being questioned about the moral implications of Pokémon was where Nicaise drew the line. The next chance he had, he was calling Jord and planning that intervention. "You're not listening to a word I've said."

"Of course, I am." He sounded distracted. On the video, Nicaise could hear Damen giving a short recap of his current team. "I know these Team Plasma people are supposed to be the antagonists, but I think they have the right idea."

Nicaise rolled his eyes, reached out, and snatched the phone from his brother's hands. "Nicaise, what the fuck?" And then, as though he was truly seeing him for the first time that afternoon, Laurent's brow furrowed in confusion. His eyes darted back and forth between Nicaise's face, and the clock on the wall. Nicaise had known that it was only a matter of time before Laurent realized that he'd forgotten to pick him up from school, but he wasn't looking forward to what was about to ensue.

Laurent had always been overprotective of him. It was a trait that, he supposed, ran in their family. The way Laurent spoke, Auguste had been the same. In the months after their family had died, it hadn't been uncommon for Laurent to invite Nicaise into his bed at night. Neither of them had liked being alone, although they rarely admitted it aloud. They were different from Auguste in that regard, Laurent had told him once. Their elder brother had been an open book.

They closed themselves off as though their lives depended on it.

On such nights, Laurent would tell him stories, usually about Auguste and himself. Auguste became something of a fairy tale hero to Nicaise, who had only been seven when the car accident left them orphans.

He'd met Auguste, of course. He'd always visited on holidays and birthdays. Sometimes, he'd dropped by unexpectedly with gifts for his brothers. He'd always been closest to Laurent, however, despite the gap between their ages.

Laurent was full of stories.

Nicaise was positive that he'd made some of them up. Laurent could say what he liked, but the chances of Auguste saving an old woman from a burning building seemed highly incredible. Still, he'd never dream of saying that aloud. He liked the stories, regardless of their truth.

There were some that had undeniably happened – for example, the time a young Laurent had decided to play hide-and-go-seek with Auguste during a trip to the mall, without informing Auguste that they were playing. After their brother had spent nearly an hour searching for him, he'd been forced to go to the mall security and send out a message over the intercom.

"I felt sorry for doing it," Laurent had told him. They'd built a blanket fort in his room that night, Nicaise remembered. It'd been storming, and Laurent had hoped to distract him from the thunder.

"Why?"

"Auguste was angry. I'd never seen him that angry before. Never at me, at least."

Nicaise had propped himself up on one elbow, tilting his head quizzically. He'd thought his brother's antics were funny, himself. He couldn't understand why Auguste would have been angry. "Why was he mad?"

"He was scared, I think. He was worried I'd been kidnapped or something." Laurent paused."I never told him I was sorry." A sudden flash of lightning had sent Nicaise catapulting into his brother's arms, clinging to him tightly until both of them were half-asleep and the storm was nearly past.

"I bet Mama thought it was funny," Nicaise had mumbled into Laurent's shoulder.

"I wish I'd told him I was sorry," was all Laurent had said.

So, it could have been simple genetics that made Laurent so staunchly protective of Nicaise, and he of Laurent. It could also have been fear. They were all the other had left. If anything happened to Laurent, Nicaise didn't know what he would do. There was also a second, darker fear that neither of them would ever dare to verbalize.

Their uncle was gone. They'd been assured of that.

It was a hollow comfort. It hadn't stopped Laurent from adding a second lock to their front door.

Now, Nicaise believed that he had a pretty good idea of how Auguste had looked when a five-year-old Laurent had decided to hide from him at the mall. Laurent's face had blanched, his features twisted in mounting horror.

"Wait, what are you doing home? It's only…"

"It's four-thirty."

"You get out of school at three."

"Yep."

There was a beat of silence. Laurent's horror quickly shifted into anger. Unlike Auguste, however, Laurent was angry with himself – not with Nicaise.

"I didn't pick you up."

If it were anyone else, Nicaise might have said something sarcastic in response. As it was his brother, he stayed silent. Nothing he could say would make things better when Laurent was so beside himself. Honestly, he was beginning to regret having distracted Laurent from his phone.

"Please tell me you didn't walk all the way home."

"Laurent," Nicaise began, hoping to curb his brother's panic before he really got himself worked up. That went about as well as expected. Laurent cut him off before he could say another word.

"Why didn't you call me? Something could have happened to you!"

"Laurent."

"I can't believe I – I lost track of time. You could have been kidnapped or – fuck, I'm a terrible brother." He carded his fingers through his hair, one of his many anxious habits.

"Laurent."

"How long did you wait for me before you realized I wasn't coming?"

"Laurent."

"Why the fuck didn't you call? I had my phone with me the whole time."

"Laurent."

"I wouldn't have ignored you if you'd called."

"Laurent."

Nicaise did the only thing he could think to do, and wrapped his arms tightly around Laurent. He succeeded in stunning him into silence, but a hug wasn't enough to wipe the misery from his brother's expression. "You're normally right on time," he said calmly. "When I realized you weren't there, I got on the bus. Okay?" Laurent was staring at him, uncomprehending. Nicaise couldn't blame him. Even he was having trouble believing that he'd voluntarily gotten onto a school bus. "I didn't walk. There were no kidnappers. I haven't been traumatized, and you're not a terrible brother."

At that, Laurent scowled. "Auguste would never have—."

"You aren't Auguste."

He had intended the words to be comforting but, if anything, they only served to upset him further. Nicaise almost regretted having said it. "No, I'm not." He said nothing more, but Nicaise could hear the unspoken, self-deprecating remarks that Laurent was certainly thinking.

For as long as he could remember, Laurent had done that – compared himself to Auguste as though there were some sort of competition between them that he would never be able to win. Part of it was his own fault. Nicaise, whose knowledge of Auguste was mostly confined to what Laurent told him, could see what Laurent couldn't: he had idealized their brother in the way that only a younger sibling can.

Nothing he could ever do would be able to equal the version of Auguste he'd stored in his memory.

"Look…" Nicaise said, sighing. His prior exasperation had all but vanished. He much preferred a distracted, cheerful Laurent to this. He felt as though he owed Damen Akielos a personal message of thanks for putting an almost permanent smile on his brother's face.

He felt as though he deserved a punch to the nose for being the one to remove it.

"You're being too hard on yourself."

"I don't think I am."

"You've been distracted. It's alright."

When Laurent didn't argue, Nicaise took that as a good sign. Hesitantly, he wrapped his brother in another embrace, prepared to let go immediately should Laurent show any indication of discomfort. Hugs were always kind of hit-or-miss with him. To Nicaise's overwhelming relief, Laurent returned the embrace, holding him tightly to his chest as though he were half afraid he'd disappear if he let go.

He probably was afraid of that, honestly, after the events of the afternoon.

Nicaise wished, now, that he hadn't taken the bus. Laurent had been right. He should have called, but he'd been so annoyed with his brother for forgetting about him that he'd resolved to take care of matters on his own. "I'm sorry," he mumbled into Laurent's shoulder. "If it ever happens again, I'll call you."

"It's not going to happen again." There was conviction behind the words – so much so that Nicaise didn't bother to bring up any what if's.

They both knew that in a few hours' time, they would begin pretending that this entire conversation had never happened. It wasn't that any of it was untrue – they just, generally, preferred not to have discussions like this. They didn't like to be vulnerable, even to one another. Thus, when they were, they rarely brought it up again. If not for that knowledge, Nicaise might not have said what he did next.

"You know, it's okay that you aren't like Auguste." Laurent tensed, but made no attempt to protest. That gave him the courage to add: "You've always been myfavorite brother. I think that… well, I think that Damen would like you, too. Why don't you message him? It can't hurt to try."

Laurent laughed, but there was something melancholy in the sound. It nearly broke Nicaise's heart. "Why should I?" he asked. "He doesn't know who I am."

Fuck.

It was official: Laurent de Vere was, by far, the most attractive human being Damen had ever had the pleasure to (not) know. He had reached this conclusion following three days of extensive research – that is, watching every video Laurent had uploaded over the past year (which, he thought with some dismay, wasn't nearly enough). Nikandros was going to flip his shit when he found out about this, and really, it was only a matter of time until that happened.

It'd been hisidea in the first place.

Well, not really. It had been his idea that Damen find someone new to take his mind off Jokaste, and he had been the one to bring Laurent's channel to his attention. For over a month, according to Nik, a small portion of his subscribers had been begging for him to collaborate with Laurent. Nik was Damen's designated PR guy. He received so many comments, tweets, and emails that it would be impossible to read all of them by himself. Usually, Nik would have done his research on Laurent before bringing him up, but apparently, he'd happened across a few comments that had led him to believe that Damen and Laurent might 'make a cute couple' – at least, so said one of his Twitter followers.

Damen had a feeling that if Nikandros had actually seenLaurent, he never would have brought those comments up.

Nik must have been really desperate to get Damen to stop moping around the house, pining after his ex-girlfriend. His plan, however, had unquestionably backfired. Damen was still moping around the house, but now he was pining after Laurent de Vere. He knew it was ridiculous; he'd never seen Laurent in person, let alone exchanged a single word with him. If that wasn't enough, Laurent likely had no idea who he was. He didn't strike Damen as the sort of person to play video games, much less watch somebody else play them.

He couldn't help but think that he might be able to beat Laurent at Mario Kart.

Damen felt that he'd learned quite a bit about Laurent over the past few days. For example, he knew that Laurent was nineteen years old, very nearly twenty, and that he lived somewhere in Ohio with his little brother. That realization had been encouraging, as Damen lived in Indiana, and should anything ever come of this little preoccupation, it would be easy enough for them to meet.

He also knew that Laurent had a preference for the color blue. Damen approved of this wholeheartedly. It brought out his eyes. As far as Damen could tell, Laurent rarely wore short sleeves. He'd been wearing sweaters or hoodies in every video he'd watched, and although the camera always cut him off at the waist, Damen could say with certainty that Laurent only ever wore jeans.

He just didn't seem the type to wear shorts.

He knew that Laurent had at least two nervous tendencies. To determine any others, he would need to conduct further research. Throughout his most recent video, Laurent had swept his fingers through his hair at least five times. In another, he'd kept cracking his knuckles.

Not the most appealing habit, by any means, but Damen could deal with it.

He knew that Laurent (and his brother, apparently) had a liking for swear words. He'd never heard one person say fuck fifty-two times within ten minutes, but that was before he'd watched Laurent review a bad romance novel that looked as though it'd been purchased at the local drugstore. In fact, he'd be willing to bet all of the money in his bank account that Laurent's favorite word was fuck.

Speaking of money, he'd also gathered that Laurent was wealthy. He wasn't sure what had given him that impression, exactly, because Laurent had never explicitly stated it. He supposed it was the way Laurent presented himself – he had a high-and-mighty air to him, as though everyone and everything was just dirt beneath his shoe. He had a way of making every word out of his mouth sound not only important, but completely true.

Damen didn't have many opinions about books, but that didn't matter. Laurent had plentyof opinions and Damen couldn't fathom disagreeing with any of them.

After watching fifteen minutes of Laurent explaining why Of Mice and Men was the worst book he'd ever been forced to read in high school, Damen had practically reevaluated his entire existence, wondering how on earth he'd ever enjoyed that book when all of its flaws were now so glaringly obvious to him.

Frankly, Laurent could stream himself reading a phone book, and Damen was sure that he would watch every second. There was just something mesmerizing about him. Damen wouldn't have been able to explain it if he'd tried.

God, Nikandros was going to have a field day with this.

"Are you still there?"

Jord had been silent for so long, Nicaise was beginning to wonder if the call had dropped. "Yeah. Yeah, I am. I just – he has a crush?" He sounded just as incredulous as Nicaise felt. He nodded, forgetting that Jord couldn't see him. After a moment, Jord continued: "Your brother?" Nicaise had the sense that Jord believed he was playing some kind of elaborate joke on him. "Laurent de Vere? Has a crush? I don't think he's had a crush on anyone for as long as I've known him."

"Well, he does. It's bad."

"He's going to be angry if he finds out you've told me."

"Probably."

Desperate times had called for desperate measures. After his talk with Laurent that afternoon, Nicaise had come to a conclusion: he didn't need to stage an intervention. He needed to help his brother spark a friendship with Damen. Laurent clearly wasn't going to do so on his own.

"So, is there a reason you told me?"

"Yes."

"…okay, I'll bite. Why did you tell me?"

"I have a plan, and I need your help."

He had approximately fifteen minutes until Laurent finished preparing dinner, and that was more than enough time to do what he needed to do. His idea was, admittedly, quite simple. He would send Damen an email from Laurent's work account, introducing himself as his brother and suggesting that they collaborate on a video. Damen must have noticed the comments asking if he'd met Laurent – their mutual subscribers, Nicaise had uncovered, left nearly identical comments on both of their channels. With any luck, he'd take "Laurent" up on the offer, if only to placate the fans.

"Why do you need me for this?" asked Jord warily, after Nicaise had explained. "Nicaise, do you have any idea how pissed off he's going to be when he finds out about this?"

"He'll thank me, eventually."

Jord sighed deeply. "So, why do you need me?"

"I need his computer password." Jord had helped Laurent with some technical troubles a few months back; Nicaise knew that he knew what it was.

"Are you trying to get me killed?" Jord deadpanned.

"For fuck's sake, just tell me."

As it turned out, Laurent's password was Nicaise. He made a mental note to tease him about it later – honestly, how embarrassing. Luckily, Laurent was already logged into his email account (although, Nicaise was a little disappointed that he wouldn't be able to find out whether his name was Laurent's password for that, too).

He must have rewritten the message at least a dozen times before he was satisfied; Nicaise was something of a perfectionist, for as much as he badgered Laurent for sharing the trait. At any rate, this was quite possibly the most important email he'd ever sent. For all he knew, his brother's entire future depended upon what he had written.

Crossing his fingers, Nicaise hit send.

A/N: 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!