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Things were easy with Arianna Clawthorne. Being his brother’s lover, she had more leniency compared to other people Caleb tried to introduce him to, and who would have dropped Phillip by now. She was kind of forced to stick around, wasn’t she? She certainly stuck around long enough to know him, and then some, which was astounding on its own.
He never had to be someone he wasn’t around her, which was great for him but unfortunate for her. There were times when it felt like they were really both happy in the friendship, like for a second maybe, they’d be able to work it out and Phillip would have someone who wasn’t his brother. It never lasted.
Phillip went on a trip with only Arianna Clawthorne purely so Caleb wouldn’t be a topic to argue about. What else could they get into rows about? Apparently a lot. It seems they couldn’t agree on much for long, that she’d flip-flop between opinions just to piss him off, and he’d do the same to her. But she would always find a compromise, she was smart like that, and then they would keep walking up the beach.
Sometimes, because they shared a room, Phillip liked to watch the corners of her mouth twitch while she slept, probably dreaming of a nicer place than the bed next to his. He would slip his hand under the covers and hold hers, not because he wanted to fuck his brother’s girlfriend, but because just… her fingers felt nice against his.
He wanted to ask her what she was dreaming about but decided against it—it would probably ruin the peace. He pressed his aching head into her arms, and she didn’t wake up.
He never did that with anyone after her. It became their thing that only he knew about.
Ezra was easy too, in a different way. He was introduced to Phillip through Arianna, who whispered dangerously after her little sister’s crush and how she was going to wing-woman her, and she’d teach Phillip how to, just he watch, this was going to be the best weekend ever.
Ezra was thoughtful and witty and a pillar of support that Phillip had never had in his life—that someone who wasn’t tied to him by blood was just willing to walk alongside him, let him lean for balance—it was something new, and Phillip didn’t know what the fuck to do about it. He would never have something like Ezra again.
They agreed on most topics and often talked about how feral Arianna was, or discussed poorly designed furniture and appliances that they knew they could make better. Ezra made him laugh in a way that made your stomach hurt. Ezra made his heart do flips unexpectedly. Ezra gave him an identity crisis sometimes.
Ezra comforted him and made him feel like the most important person in the world when frankly, he didn’t deserve it. Phillip never said thank you enough either. He would meet Ezra’s eyes across the room and suddenly no words had to be exchanged, they both knew.
They shared a bed once, well, couch. When they were late one night at Ezra’s place and Ellie was out getting drunk with her sister, and Ezra insisted that Phillip was too tired to walk home, that he’d be afraid he’d get lost to a beast and he’d have to quest with “Arianna of all people” to get him back. Phillip was sprawled out on the couch, trying to push himself up to leave, to not overstay his welcome, and the next thing he knew, Ezra was lying on top of him, fast asleep. Snoring.
He'd never forget the way that warmth enveloped his entire body, or the way that Ezra’s mouth curled into a small smile in his sleep.
He would not speak to Ezra after age twenty-five.
The Collector was anything but easy. He jumped around and ran like a child despite being older than the ground they stood on. They excitedly assumed that Phillip and him were best friends without any proof or recognition on Phillip’s part.
Perhaps, he’d become more mellow as time had passed because he was different when Phillip became Belos. It was like they were trying to impress him, still. Or at least keep his attention.
That’s all they’d ever wanted from Phillip. Attention. Perhaps he was really that lonely, perhaps just desperate for friends. Phillip wasn’t sure.
One morning, after sleeping surprisingly well despite his curse making everything ache and jerk, the Collector was leaning against his throne, a challenging grin on their face.
“I want to play catch,” the Collector ordered.
And perhaps he was lonely, perhaps it was just too close to Caleb’s birthday, perhaps it was his first year as Emperor Belos, perhaps it was something in-between the memories of his head against Arianna’s chest and Ezra’s weight above him or how Henry Clawthorne had taught him how to play a guitar, but he humoured the forever child.
Racing through the palace at five in the morning with his mask and cloak before anyone would notice, Phillip knew that he never wanted to erase the big goofy grin from his memory.
It was locked away with the other smiles that he saved for rainy days when he got trapped in his own head, briefly losing sight of the world outside, of the goals in the palm of his hand.