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The Phoenix lifts one of several volumes from the filled shelves in the Hideaway library. It is not filled with dust or grime because he has so frequently read each page, wondering if anything at all will change if he happens to read it once more. This has not been an uncommon habit for him the past few months, and he thought Harpocrates would not notice, however he should have known otherwise. Rather, he should of told Harpocrates that everything is fine before he would be confronted. Alas, the opportunity to do so is missed because Harpocrates clicks his tongue and retrieves the book from Joshua before any objection could be made.
"The words written on these old pages do not suddenly change," Tomes tells him. "No matter how deeply you wished they would."
"No, I did not think it so," The Phoenix responds. "Yet I find that I continually come back to them. To this," he says softly as he glances at the volume in Tomes's hands.
Harpocrates laughs quietly, "Literature has the power to do just that, you'll see. Though, with that said, if you are not satisfied with our library, my dear boy, you needn't waste any more time. I suggest Clive may help you locate what it is that you need. Vivian, too."
Joshua nods accordingly, and he turns away, leaving the library. He was now caught, and he could not have Tomes sharing with Clive, or anyone else for that matter, that he spent all afternoon at the shelves, repeatedly at a loss for what to do in the grand finale of things. Yet again.
He reaches the last step when he notices Gav struggling with the orchestrion. Gav so animatedly sighs and huffs and mumbles, and one would be a fool not to know that he wants someone to notice him. The Phoenix offers help, if only to pass the ache of time.
"It's not broken, I promise," Gav states too quickly. "I reckon there may be some other fuckall problem with it, but I swear on it all it isn't broken! You think Mid'll know what to do?"
Uncle Byron abruptly places a hand on his nephew's shoulder, gently moving past him and to Gav. "If it does happen to be broken, I believe I know of a dear someone who could fund you for another one," he proposes.
"Uncle," Joshua acknowledges. "He says it isn't broken, but perhaps we should inform Miss Telamon."
Gav points at Joshua as if he just granted a priceless wish. He says frantically, "Good, yes. Right. My Lord, will you join me, then? I need this to be fixed before the kitchens serve supper, or the folks'll be madder than the fucking akashic!"
At that word, the Phoenix stops. The vibrations in his chest begin to gnaw and erode at the feeling of normalcy and picture-perfect health, and it only took an uncomfortable situation, a singular word, to remind him that he left his medicine untaken, beside his bed, once again. Tarja knows this happens too often to be considered accidental, and she will probably reprimand him later. Knowing her behavior, she'll do so in front of Clive, which would not fare well. When he comes to, Uncle Byron and Gav both appear to be calling his name.
"Hey, are you all right, mate? I didn't mean to scare the piss right outta ya," Gav looks concerned. "We're only going to see Mid. She ain't that scary."
Uncle Byron makes a face, and Gav fixes his mistake, "Well, sometimes."
This is the second time within five or so minutes that Joshua has gathered regrettable attention. Deep within his own mind, he is disciplining himself with possibly the most terrible phrases known to mankind. Words that even the late Archduke once told him to never repeat.
"I'm fine," he waves his hand for good measure, yet his voice delivers this rather harshly. "Go on," he dismisses them. "I'll catch up later. I'm onto see Clive for a bit. He's summoned me."
Gav glances at Uncle Byron, and they begin to leave, but only after Uncle Byron takes hold of Joshua from both shoulders this time, and he says not unkindly, "My boy, should you need any help, do not hesitate to call on me."
This is exactly that of what the Phoenix does not enjoy hearing. It's nothing short of pity and it is what drives him to discomfort and madness alike. Instead, he replies, "I can handle myself, Uncle," and for a moment, it seems as though Uncle Byron believes him; believes in him, or more simply, it is his ill mind conjuring up what he wishes would be the case.
Gav and Byron walk away and murmur that Clive has not been at the Hideaway since the day prior, but Joshua does not hear this.
•
"Phoenix, it isn't my place to care, truly, but I have been informed that the orchestrion is fixed, just as I have been informed to tell you," a voice says.
Joshua does not turn around. He answers, "Dion, I— thank you."
On a regular day, Dion would have simply ended the conversation at that, but perhaps today, the Phoenix figures, is all but a regular day. His usual resolute disposition has morphed wholly into a feeling of despair, and he dreads where this is headed. He slumps over further.
"I cannot help but take notice you are usually a bit more— lighthearted, despite our uncertainties, Phoenix," Dion tries overtly.
Joshua does his best not to sulk, and instead attempts to overcome his newfound sentiment by assuring Dion, "It is only that I've worn my senses these past few hours," he says. "Tiresome it's been, to stare out into the unforgiving skies today, unbeknownst to tomorrow. Would you not think the same?"
"Indeed it is tiresome, yet I've met my resolve. Thanks to both you and Ifrit, I know not to let it drive me to the edge of all," Dion says quietly. "Not again, Phoenix."
Joshua stands taller at the mention of his brother, and he turns to Dion finally, and he asks, "Have you heard from Clive?"
"I regret I haven't," Dion replies, crestfallen. His expression turns a bit more serious. He says, "Though, I have heard that you've been the sour one around here, as of late, Phoenix. I do not mean to pry, as I've said, however I think it is beginning to appear obvious.
"Is there something keeping you?" Dion wonders.
No. "No," Joshua insists. "You needn't even ask, Dion," he smiles.
He mistakenly asked for this conversation to continue to happen by asking Dion anything at all. He should of left. So, he decides to do just that before any more of this nonsensical back-and-forth can continue.
"Phoenix, I did not mean to muster offense," Dion remedies. "It's only that everyone here seems to be worried about you a great deal. It isn't wrong of them, and I understand their reason."
"I'm sorry," is the only thing Joshua answers before leaving.
Dion eases, speaking calmly to himself, "It's a wonder how we can all be so quiet, at these coming days. Terence, I hope you and my father will both forgive me all the same."
•
The hour is late and Jote warns Joshua sternly that if he were to leave his room, she would take "appropriate measures." The only thing that remains normal from the day is the fact the he does not listen to her.
The Phoenix dresses, paces, and then decides for certain against Jote's wishes for the chance to wander around the Mess at a no-good hour. What he does not expect, is to see Otto at the tables with his brother.
"I don't remember inviting you," Otto points at Joshua with his chin, squinting his eyes.
"Brother," Clive immediately stands and hobbles over to him. "You should be asleep, not here."
Joshua shakes his head, "What happened to your leg?"
"Nothing," Clive says, as sarcastically as ever. He is not a great liar. He places his hand very briefly on Joshua to steady himself, or to signify that his brother is all there, but Joshua isn't sure which of the two is correct.
The Phoenix scoffs, and he wants to tell Clive, "You only say that so I can heal you, I know it," but it never reaches his tongue before he heaves, falling over into a fit of coughing and heavy breathing and blood. Jote is going to end his life instantly after this.
Without fail, Clive is there holding onto him, and when Joshua is able to process up from down again, he only sees his brother looking at him with the alike expression of every other person at the Hideaway today. It makes him— what, sick? Angry? Upset? Joshua isn't sure of how much more he can take of this, and he also isn't sure of what he is doing. His grip on Clive is almost deadly, and one moment his face is hot, soaked, and smeared with red, and the next moment in time, his face is being buried into his brother's embrace. He tries to fight, push and pull, and maneuver his way out, however he only ends up clinging onto Clive more despite himself.
"Joshua," Clive calls. It does not work.
"Should I fetch Tarja?" Otto wonders.
"No," Clive amends. "But perhaps if you could..." Otto, despite what Cid used to tell him, was not born yesterday, and he already knows what this means.
He finds himself heading down the stairs, leaving the Mess without so much as a, "Later, then," and he leaves the two brothers of flame and fire to themselves.
"Joshua, what is it? What's the matter?"
Upon hearing this, the Phoenix instantly rises, pushing Clive away, but it doesn't do him any good, as Clive holds on still. "I'm fine," he wipes at his eyes to prove it.
As it turns out, Joshua is also not a great liar. Perhaps it is a particular Rosfield attribute. Clive sighs, very deep and heavy, "Joshua, just talk to me. There isn't anyone else here. Are you all right?"
"I can handle myself," Joshua says gruffly. He does not look at Clive, but rather pushes him off, and he repeats loudly, "I can handle myself! I'm fine, and I am not a child! I'm fine!"
Clive, taken aback, tightens his lips until they become a line. He knows how to handle this, right? He should know how to, anyway. This is Joshua, not Charon, for God's sake. "By the flames," Clive whispers. "Joshua, I— I know you can," he begins. "Of course you can, I never said that you couldn't."
Joshua's expression becomes dark and mocking, "Really? It seems that everyone else here thinks I am unable. They probably think themselves much stronger than I, all because I cannot go an hour without pausing at the mentions of Ultima, or the akashic, or the Blight, or the Mothercrystals, or all of damned Valisthea itself!"
Clive does not speak; he only listens, as his brother shouts.
"I know that I am the Phoenix, Clive. I know that you are Ifrit, just as Jill is Shiva and Dion is Bahamut. I know," his voice raises at every sentence. "But what about all of this means anything? We've been kept in the dark for so long, now. It's either that I don't feel anything anymore, or I feel everything, all together, Clive. It's insufferable and constricting!"
Clive sighs again, shifting to sit more comfortably. He waits for Joshua's breathing to steady before he calmy interjects, "No one thinks of you that way, I promise you. You know that," he pauses. "Joshua, are you with me?"
After a few moments of silence, Joshua nods. He finds his words, "Always," he says quietly. "And you know that," he repeats back.
They do not speak about any of it.
"I do," Clive answers. "Joshua, it's all right. You must know that you cannot rely on anyone in the Hideaway to keep quiet, right?"
But it isn't that they do not care to, instead, they already know what the other is going to say.
Joshua sighs shakily, "Was it Harpocrates, Uncle, or Dion?"
Clive sits closer to his brother, wiping at his face, "I can't say."
"Of what use are you to me, then?" Joshua shuts his eyes, trying a smile to lighten himself.
Laughing, Clive pulls Joshua into another embrace, tighter, and warmer than before. Joshua presses into the warmth as far as he is able to, and he stays like this for a while. The fire in their hearts is telling, if only to each other.
"Thank you, Clive. I'm sorry," Joshua says softly. "Today wasn't—"
The older brother shakes his head, "No need. We should go," Clive rises from his place, extending a hand to his young brother, and for a moment, a much younger, childlike version of Joshua appears before him, flickering within a second, just as if the flame of a wax candle is ceasing to burn. Clive's heart beats unsteadily, but he grabs hold of Joshua and grips his hand tightly, ushering him forward.
"It was Dion. He thought he upset you before."
Joshua tsks, "Of course it was. I should've known."
"You'd better not let me hear about this again," Clive says sternly.
"What?"
Clive tells him, "Joshua, whenever you need something, anything, you can come to me. I promise you, I will always take care of you, just as you always take care of me. This is how we will remain."
A smile so bright it resembles the very image of the Phoenix, of fire, itself— Joshua simply says, "I know," to Clive, and the Hideaway then stills with sleep.