Work Text:
During his time in the tower, Albert had had a few late-night visits from Mycroft. Visits he silently wished would never stop, ephemeral nights he wished would stretch out longer, though the pain and yearning it caused dug so deep into his already wounded heart. However, Mycroft must have read through him, and the man eventually stopped visiting.
It did not mean Mycroft completely abandoned Albert though.
“There you are, Charlie.”
Today, he was no longer in that dreadful, forsaken old tower, William had brought him out– a reunion full of apologies, ache, hope, and tears. Now, Albert sits on a comfortable chair, a warm cup of tea in hand, the sunshine from the open window hitting his profile with delicate warmth. He watches a certain white bird land briefly on top of its cage before flying towards and settling on Albert’s shoulder.
Sitting right across him, was Mycroft, the man who Albert had silently and guiltily admitted, was his soft ray of sunshine.
A meaningful smile over that usually stern face of his, Mycroft began in a relaxed tone, “You do look a little better now compared to when you’ve handed me the invitation.”
“I do apologize for presenting myself rather unsightly.” Albert smiles faintly.
“Do not pay it mind.” A soft reply, “For now, you may speak of your intent.”
“Hmm?” Albert wondered, lightly petting Charlie’s head, “Speak of what?”
“Your purpose of visit.”
Though his face remained slightly serious, the laughter in his beautiful emerald eyes betrayed him, “I do not have any.”
“Unacceptable.”
The small laughter that spilled past Albert’s lips unconsciously made Mycroft’s fingers tighten on the cup of tea he holds. Even if it’s barely there, the light in Albert’s eyes have returned, truly far from how they were when Mycroft would visit Albert in the tower. It made him happy, but Mycroft said nothing, only that he waited for Albert to speak up again.
“Then,” Albert says at last, “I’m here to ask you of something. A permission.”
“Oh? Permission for?”
“To visit Charlie here. As often as possible.”
As if he understood the words, Charlie, who was comfortably perched on Albert’s shoulder made a small sound, briefly rubbing his head against Albert’s cheek.
Mycroft leaned back, “Since Charlie is so very fond of you, you might as well take him home– look after him for a couple of days. I would not mind.”
Albert’s tone and gaze did not change as he replied after sipping from his own teacup, “I’m afraid I’m quite content with mere visits, for it means I’ll get to be with you often as well, Director Holmes.”
A sudden silence. A sudden, invisible tension sparked in the air within an eye’s blink. But not the kind between enemies or opponents. He suddenly wondered if Albert was aware of how those deliberate words can be interpreted or easily mistaken as–
No, Mycroft thought, it must be on purpose. However, I have made up my mind long ago.
“You flatter me.” Mycroft faintly smiles. “However, that will prove to be effective for our future operations.” Mycroft responded, putting up another layer of his personal wall, acknowledging the fact that Albert’s not-so-simple words has greatly shaken him.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the table, the smile on Albert’s face has disappeared, along with the light atmosphere of the room. He stares blankly over the wide-open windows, the blue morning sky, while Charlie arched his wings as if in preparation for flight. “Then this is really how it ought to be. . .”
The sound of Charlie’s wings drowned the rest of Albert’s words as the bird flew out the window, becoming one with the wind and sky.
As he watched the bird fly away freely, Albert was suddenly reminded once more of his days in the tower, those cold, harsh nights, and painful, dreary mornings. A seemingly endless cycle. But he also thought of the time when he’d anticipate to hear the familiar sound of those very wings on that tower window, each day, each turn of season, without fail. . .
Those small, handwritten letters he read and touched over and over until the ink smudged, letters he now keeps in his room, along with that single chess piece. Safely hidden– for they had become his treasured material possessions. . . they had served as Albert’s little sunshine rays of hope, and before he knew it, he was uncontrollably falling even further, deeper. . . So deep he feared he can never come up for air.
“Albert, are you alright?”
When Albert’s gaze landed on Mycroft once more, his emerald eyes looked lost, confused though his lips smile. He looked like he’s been stripped bare of his own shields, the mask falling apart. “Yes.”
A sharp, stabbing pain, but despite of how that expression utterly crushed Mycroft, he remains composed, not allowing his own mask, his wall, to crumble, “Come visit Charlie as often as you like. I too, would be very pleased to frequently have a visitor such as you, Albert.”
Charlie came flying back down that very second, this time, perching atop the backrest of the chair where Albert had sat.
And just as Albert was about to leave without a single word, or another glance, nothing but dead silence, Mycroft stood up, his chair unusually clattering loud, “Al.”
“The line is clearly drawn, isn’t it?” The other man said in a kind, steady voice; his lips were still smiling politely, yet his eyes were without glimmer, “So I’d appreciate if you won’t call my name like that ever again.”
Don’t speak my name in that gentle voice, with those smiling lips. . .
Perhaps it was irrational, very uncharacteristic of him, but for that one second, Albert thought it might have been better if Mycroft had completely left him to rot alone in that cold, dark confinement, instead of showering him warmth, bringing him embers of life, only to take it all back.
But of course, that thought didn’t last. For no matter how much they hurt, Albert will continue to keep those beautiful memories close to his heart no matter how deep and gruesome the wounds get.
“. . .” Mycroft responds, “My apologies.”
Albert could not stop the words that spilled past his clenched teeth, “That is not what I want to hear from you.”
“Then just what is it do you want to hear from me?”
It was the first time Albert hear Mycroft be impatient, without composure. But was he any different? Albert doesn’t know himself anymore. He thought he’d been so good at hiding it. Mind set to conceal what he feels, away from the light, for the line has been drawn long before. Yet right now, every bit of control and cover had snapped. He was a mess, a whole different kind of wreck, grappling with an insurmountable pain. . .
‘That you love me’–, A silent, heartfelt wish, –is what I want to hear from you.
Charlie accompanied Albert half the way home that noon, as if doing his best to comfort his favorite human.
Sleep did not come easily that night as expected, however, Albert was quick to pull himself together. He certainly does not want the silent, private tension between him, and Mycroft affect their work and what they have to do as part of the government and MI6.
And so, they went back to how things between them had used to be, as if that conversation never happened. Their succeeding meetings were of pure formality and business, both their guards were up, and no one had brought that specific matter up even if at times, the meetings consist of only the two of them.
However, no matter how they pretend not to hear the silent plea of their hearts, all of the words they left unspoken only kept piling up, the bottled-up emotions threatening to burst with the slightest of disturbance. . .
“Is something bothering you, Albert nii-san?”
Albert looked up to see his little brother William carrying a couple of books in his arms. Louis had just stepped out of the very room, saying he has things to attend to.
“You’ve been in deep thought since that one time you returned from an errand.” His brother continued on when Albert didn’t reply.
Nothing really escapes his eye. Albert let out a chuckle, taking the book William offered, “I’m afraid I’ve let my heart speak over my mind, that is all.” I couldn’t stop myself.
He was truly determined on keeping those feelings hidden. And yet he failed. But he will respect Mycroft’s wishes, after all, Albert too, thinks that this is for the best. They were people tied down by their own responsibilities, burdened by the crosses they each had chosen to carry, it really wasn’t so difficult to see the whole of the equation. So, he shall, with his best, never again try to lay his heart bare, unless Mycroft–
What am I thinking. . .
In Albert’s heart– refusing to disappear even back before his confinement in the tower– still lay a single, terrifying thing: hope.
“That,” William speaks, pertaining to what Albert had said, “At certain times, can be a good thing, too.”
“. . . Sherlock Holmes, hm?” Albert smiles, “I must personally express him my gratitude for taking care of you and making you happy.”
William laughed, faintly blushing, “I’d be embarrassed to let you do that, nii-san.”
“Will.” A sudden somberness in his voice, “Is it truly alright?”
“I do not have the answer to that.” William calmly admits, “Sherly may have grasped my hand and stubbornly made his way into my heart, but even after all that– the decision of what I must do had been mine alone.”
"Sherlock Holmes may indeed be a stubborn one, but that wasn't how he got to your heart, Will. You willingly let him in despite the dangers it posed."
In his little brother's silence and tender smile for an answer, Albert understood.
I have decided, haven’t I? So, why. . .
Unusually lost in thought, Mycroft didn’t notice when his pet Charlie suddenly took off, landing in front of the closed window where the bird proceeded to tap its beak repeatedly on the glass, as if wanting to fly out and leave.
Walking over, he slid the window open at that familiar sight, “You miss Albert already, do you not, Charlie?”
It’s been a month or so. . .
Charlie flew away immediately. But instead of flying up towards the sky, the bird winged his way down. And Mycroft quickly saw the reason why his pet suddenly wanted to go out. Albert just entered the gates, a smile breaking out his face as he saw Charlie welcoming him halfway.
That relaxed smile however, disappeared when he and Mycroft’s gazes met, and was replaced by the usual one Albert puts up when socializing on formal occasions.
In that second, Mycroft felt a little irritation.
Nevertheless, he personally prepared a bottle of wine and a selection of snacks for his guest. He remained standing by the window when Albert stepped inside the room, with Charlie perched on his right shoulder.
“Good afternoon.”
“Did you come to visit Charlie?” Mycroft asks.
“That,” Albert replies, reaching into his coat pocket as he stood beside Mycroft. Charlie, meanwhile, chose to linger by the windowsill, “And to deliver a few telegrams. I also have something I must attend to this evening.”
“I see.” Mycroft took the letters, pausing when their fingers accidentally touched. . . and the wall it had taken so long for him to build and fortified, fell in one brittle second. The realization hitting him hard as it always did.
Wanting you from a distance was enough. For me, it was supposed to be enough. . . to simply live for the hope of it all. Had been so since he decided to stop coming in the tower to visit Albert.
At Mycroft’s sudden silence, Albert went on to ask, “Is something the matter?”
“Back then,” Mycroft began, dark eyes soft yet intent on Albert, “The words you wanted me to say. . .”
Albert felt his heart jolt, but he managed to conceal it well. His expression giving nothing away.
“You must already know, and yet you still want me to speak of it out loud. But would it suffice?” Would the mere declaration be enough for you? For both of us. . . “What would become of us?”
The words came out a little low, hesitant, “There is but one plausible way to find out, I’m afraid. And unfortunately. . .”
Finally taking that step forward, Mycroft erased the painful distance between their bodies, leaned down and in, close enough for his lips to reach Albert’s ear, their fingers softly brushing against each other once more as Mycroft whispered words he never once thought to utter in this lifetime, “Unfortunately, my heart has belonged to you for a long time now, Al.”
What Albert first questioned was the fact that: did he even deserve to feel happiness after all this time? Because at that moment, that’s exactly what it was. Pure, genuine bliss, like the indescribable feeling of a bird stretching out its wings toward the bright azure sky after years of being caged. The freedom from a seemingly endless night. The sunshine after the snow and unforgiving storms. . .
Albert, hyperconscious of their now nearly interlocked fingers, mumbled, “You. . .” And even more. “. . . really meant it, don’t you?”
“I would never say it otherwise.”
“. . .”
Mycroft continued to stand close beside the man he just confessed to, lips an inch away from Albert’s ear still, as if he is not yet ready to face the other man. Or rather, embarrassed of what kind of face his own self is making right now. He has, unmistakably, never felt this way about anyone. This was a new, strange, foreign feeling, something that is equally frightening and beautiful that he didn’t know what to do with it. Especially with the kind of life he lives.
And he was never that, Mycroft Holmes has always been someone strongly decisive; is never lost, never reluctant; someone who knows exactly what it is he wants, and what it is he must do.
He had been determined to lock his feelings away, to simply be content on loving his dear Al from afar, knowing it might become the death of one of them one day, but something he must’ve done along the way– in between– had been for naught and only worsened his yearning. For the feelings only grew beyond control with each day that passed, as if leaving him with no option but to surrender.
How unbecoming of me. Mycroft softly laughs at himself before finally raising his head to gaze into Albert’s eyes, radiant and vivid as a polished emerald, the sunlight reflecting on it so beautifully, “Is this the part where we have to indulge ourselves in an intimate act?”
Albert’s lips quirked up to a smile and raised their linked hands, no longer looking at Mycroft as if he’s nothing but an acquaintance. “Not intimate enough for you?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Taking a step back, Albert found himself laughing out. He hadn’t laughed this true in a very long, painful while that even he himself, was surprised. The sound, he found it strange; the sensation in his chest felt new yet also familiar that it almost hurt.
It felt as though it was the very first time he had taken in clean air to breathe.
When he finally stopped, the evidence momentarily remained– and his lips were still trying to hold a huge smile back. As if it was taking all of him to compose himself back to his usual calm, elegant demeanor.
But even Mycroft himself, is holding back a grin, all thanks to that sudden infectious laughter. The extremely rare sight and sound relentlessly tugging at the strings of Mycroft’s heart. And it left him wanting for more.
Albert clears his throat, glancing down their still loosely linked hands. This, and the feeling of pubescent bliss in his heart alone, already felt like committing another crime. Forbidden and unforgivable. And yet, instead of pulling away, he turned towards Mycroft, who was already leaning forward, so that their lips would touch . . .
And for a brief moment of magic, none matters.
“Kissing you feels like committing the most tempting– most forbidden sin of all.” Albert hoarsely whispered against Mycroft’s lips, trembling lightly. But one I am willing to commit over and again. “It’s madness.”
A shaky smile on his face, Mycroft breathlessly replied, pushing his fingers through Albert’s hair when the latter did the same, “It is as they say: the more forbidden something is, the more a person yearns for it.”
Mycroft hastily drew the curtain close as soon as the kiss began to escalate. Interesting, because this wasn’t their game of chess nor a competition, however, neither of them seemingly wasn’t into the idea of allowing the other lead and take over the kiss. Both were fighting for dominance.
This was certainly not how they planned to spend the respective afternoon and night to come, but none of them was interested in stopping, even if a certain white, pet pigeon was present in the room, watching them with its curious beady eyes.