Work Text:
A loud banging on Theo’s door causes him to jump, ruining the cursive R he was in the middle of writing. Before he can even curse or dab at the ink, Hondje is already letting herself in.
“Here’s your laundry.” She unceremoniously drops a basket full of unfolded clothes next to Theo’s bed without so much as a hello. “Your fancy coat is still drying, so you can get it yourself later. If it rains before then though, it’s not my fault.”
“Well hello to you too, Hondje,” Theo says through gritted teeth, deciding to rewrite the report later.
The woman had only been staying at the manor for about a week now, but ever since, she’d been making life miserable for Theo. From ignoring him, to forgetting to call him to dinner, to interrupting his sleep, and now, not folding his laundry. He knows he wasn’t exactly friendly and inviting the first few times they spoke, but it’s like all she does is try to provoke him.
She merely rolls her eyes, “Yeah, good evening or whatever. Sebastian said dinner’s in an hour, are you gonna eat with everyone or do I need to serve you in your room again like a spoiled princess?”
Theo turns back to the paperwork on his desk, pretending to be engrossed in work instead of trying to hide a scowl.
Hondje had offered to share Sebastian’s duties when Le Comte let her stay for the month and from what Theo’s seen, she’s capable of fulfilling her tasks for everyone else (and in a polite manner too!), but him. If Theo had things his way, they would’ve thrown her out to fend for herself from day one.
Yet when Vincent heard of his plight, he took her side. She’s in a new place and a completely different time, working for a whole household of strange undead men, Theo, his big brother said. Maybe you should talk to her and the two of you can come to an understanding, yes?
Hondje is busy tidying his bedsheets and picking up discarded items on the floor while she waits for his response, avoiding his gaze and clearly in a rush to leave.
Come to an understanding.
Vincent had him practice conversations and apologies for an hour yesterday and now was as good a time as any to put it to use. Theo takes a deep breath, attempting to embody his big brother’s kind and calm demeanor, “May I ask why you’re always upset when you see me?”
She stops her busywork to stare at him, “What?”
Theo turns in his chair to properly face her, choosing not to stand so it doesn’t seem like he’s trying to intimidate. “You’ve been nice to everyone else in the manor but me. Is it because of how we met?”
Her eyes change then, from that fiery glare he’s so used to into something … unsure. She had been rearing for a fight, but in the face of kindness, she crumbled. Her gaze drops to the floor, “Shut up.”
Theo almost laughs at her simple, childish response; Hondje is all bark and no bite. He holds back his teasing comments though, aware that Vincent’s advice of talking it out is at least getting them somewhere other than bickering and insulting one another.
“Was it something I said?” He tries again to get her to talk, using another of his practice phrases, “Vincent tells me I can be … brash, at times, but I don’t like to mince words. I do enough of that at work, so don’t take it personally.”
She shakes her head, “I said, shut up. ”
Vincent would be patient. Vincent would be quiet and give her space. Vincent would think she’s having a hard time and only needs a little patience, a little kindness.
All Theo can think is what in the world is wrong with this woman.
“Please talk to me.” He continues to rely on Vincent’s phrases, but his ire is slowly seeping into his words, “Is there something you don’t like about me?”
She finally meets his gaze again, that angry fire back in her eyes, “You’re selfish.”
He scoffs now, having been caught off guard by her answer. He was expecting rude or arrogant, maybe even a hearty “You’re a huge asshole”, but selfish? He drops any pretense of Vincent’s training and returns the challenge in her stare, “How so?”
Hondje’s face twists with anger as she opens her mouth to finally give in to that brewing fight, but instead she turns back to the door. “I don’t have time for this, dinner’s in an hour–”
“And the pup runs away in the end, with her tail between her legs. Should’ve known,” Theo taunts. He knows what he’s doing and it’s dirty and cheap, but he’s tired of this game. He’ll have his resolution one way or another. (He mentally whispers an apology to Vincent.)
Any hesitance she held moments ago has disappeared as she slams the door and marches right back to him in three quick steps. “You know what? Tell me something, Theo,” she says, her voice low and seething.
“Well I believe I asked you something first, but by all means, if your matter is more pressing, I’m obliged to answer.” He smiles at her, smug and victorious, and the look she gives him is utterly vile.
She leans in close and asks, “Do you think of them?”
Theo rolls his eyes, “You’ll have to be more specific, Hondje.”
“Johanna.” Theo’s blood runs cold at the name. “And Vincent. Your Vincent.”
If he wasn’t already dead, his heart would’ve stopped. He tries to meet her stare with the same confidence and keep his voice steady, “What are you talking about?”
He had spent years trying to put those memories to rest and he had succeeded. No one in the manor knew his exact past except for Le Comte and Vincent. Le Comte was a man of mystery but he always kept his word and his dear, big brother would never tell a soul. How could she have known? How does any of this have to do with them?
Hondje’s gaze is suddenly suffocating, deep brown like the soil over a fresh grave. “ Your wife and child, Theodorus van Gogh. Don’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
Theo shakes his head, knowing all too well yet not understanding at all. Johanna. The memories threaten to resurface: his first failed proposal, their first apartment, Vincent’s birth. Visions swirl around him like ghosts and with each memory, they pass the weight of their chains to him.
His breath stutters in his chest and he pushes his chair back, walking away from her and the cruel memories she’s reminded him of, “Why are we talking about this?”
But Hondje is relentless, following in his retreat. “I don’t know what Le Comte tells you about the future, but where I’m from, I’ve read about you,” she says, her voice hollow and chilling. “You and your brother and the lives you lead over a hundred years before my time, everyone knows about it, it’s all public knowledge.”
Le Comte never told any of the residents of the future. He said it would distract them from their purpose, from their passions, from the reasons they chose to join him. They were all too focused on reshaping their pasts in the present to even consider the future anyway.
But Theo never thought he’d find his past in the future.
“ Shut up, ” he spits, hating how he sounds just as childish as she did only moments ago.
He’s cornered by Hondje, but her anger has dissolved into mild resentment. “I’ve read you and Vincent’s letters, which were compiled, translated, and published by your wife , years after you ‘died’ and I just … ” She stares up at him, eyes glistening with unshed tears, “I can’t believe you chose an eternity of chasing passion over a lifetime of true love.”
Those words echo in his head: You chose an eternity of chasing passion over a lifetime of true love. It sounds like something Johanna would’ve said if she knew. He smiles at that, feeling a familiar bittersweet ache in his heart. Hondje wasn’t angry for something he did or said to her personally, she was angry with him on Johanna’s behalf.
“And here you are,” Hondje says, disgust written on her face as if this were her own marriage, “I guess a life full of love wasn’t enough for you, huh?”
Her anger is justified. A man running off to chase the horizon, leaving his wife and child to fend for themselves, not knowing the truth. To anyone other than Theo, it would look like that.
“But you’re wrong,” he says, somehow finding his voice again, “I chose an eternity of love.”
Hondje glares at him, “No, you didn’t–”
“I did,” Theo insists. He wished he could’ve had this conversation with Johanna before he left, that he could go back to their Paris apartment right now and beg for her understanding. Hondje only stares back at him, defiant, and for a moment, he sees pieces of his Jo in her.
Her conviction, her stubbornness, and even the lively way she went about her chores.
His heart aches, but he continues, “My brother is the most important person to me. To join Le Comte was an easy decision for him, a man whose life has always been about life itself, but for me? Believe me, it was the hardest choice I’ve ever made.”
Theo drops his gaze to the floor, not wanting to see her reaction. He feels odd, baring his heart to a woman he believed hated him, heart and soul.
“To leave Jo and my son, and follow Vincent, even in death … I knew it was the right choice,” he says without a trace of guilt. “Jo is the strongest person I know, and she would raise our son to be the same, with or without me. But I know my brother would need me, in life and in death.”
Theo remembers those days in Paris in his original lifetime, working at Goupil & Cie and receiving letters from Vincent every other week asking him to become a painter too. Brothers in not only blood, but in art. “If you’ve read our correspondence, then you’ll know it’s how we always were. It’s how we always will be.”
He thinks of that first year in the manor. How Vincent brightened and finally felt free. How he insisted on painting his bedroom walls himself until Le Comte suggested otherwise. How he could finally put all his focus to art without worrying about money and housing and popular opinion.
How, through all of it, Vincent had relied on Theo’s familiar company to keep him steady.
“Now you tell me.” A myriad of questions flooded his mind, questions that had plagued him day and night during that first, long year. Would Jo ever love again? What would our son grow up to be? Did she keep what we had of Vincent’s work?
Were my efforts in my first life enough?
“Tell me, Mitsuki.” He dispels the thoughts with a sigh, “To leave one love for another, to safeguard another’s life over mine. Does that really make me selfish?”
He doesn’t look up, doesn’t dare to, as he’s afraid to see her judgment. Afraid he’ll see Jo’s face in her’s, if only for a moment.
Her voice is unsteady when she answers, “I … I don’t–”
They both flinch when she’s cut off by a quick, three-beat knock at the door.
“Dinner’s ready, Theo, are you coming?” Vincent.
They look at each other then, frozen, and Theo sees her tears begin to fall.
Vincent knocks again, “ Theoooo! ”
In a flash, she turns on her heel and rushes out the door, pushing past a confused Vincent, still poised to knock once more. He looks at Theo, frozen in the corner of his room, then back at Mitsuki, fleeing down the stairs. “Wha– Theo, what’s going on?”
“ Vincent. ” Theo falls to his knees, suddenly feeling empty. He upended the contents of his heart, his guilt, and his past, to make her understand … Could she understand? Jo, their baby, Vincent, and his dearest brother … Was it so selfish to love so much? Was it so selfish to want to see his brother truly live for once?
His big brother is immediately at his side, holding him by the shoulders and searching his face for answers, “Mijn broer, what happened?”
Theo doesn’t have an answer, he just shakes his head and pulls Vincent close.
“Broer?”
“Ik heb gekozen voor een eeuwigheid van liefde,” Theo whispers into the sunshine scent of his brother’s scarf. “En ik heb er geen spijt van.”
I chose an eternity of love. And I don’t regret it.