Chapter Text
“You’re fine,” Copia muttered, carefully trying to lead you back to your bedroom. His voice was soft; softer than you’d ever heard that high pitch.
It was one of the things they’d admired about you; usually, you were much quicker, both mentally and physically, than Copia could ever hope to be. That was, until the liquor had gotten switched with the wine at the post-ritual meal. You’d had… how many glasses now? He’d guess at least four, judging by the way you swayed as you walked. ”Shh. No, just follow me.” You had your hand against your face, a migraine undoubtedly coming after you, only getting worse as you stumbled and hiccupped. He wasn’t a fan of dealing with drunks, but there was something undeniably charming about the way you giggled as the wave of pain ended, as you mumbled his name and tried to grab onto his hand, which he quickly snatched away. Not his to hold, he told himself.
You weren’t just not his partner. You were Secondo’s; quick, sweet, uncomfortably young compared to the man who was bordering sixty. It was no secret you were unhappy sitting by his older brother, holding onto his arm, silently begging for his attention while he looked at some other Sibling. He wished that he was more confident; more willing to whisk you away and show you how much love you truly deserved, but what could he do?
He winced as you gagged again, leaning over a trash bin and coughing up the pitifully small amount you had left in your stomach. He placed his hand on your back, gently rubbing it in hopes to soothe you as you cried out from the pain. Where was Secondo, anyway? Probably splayed out in his bed, with or without some new, unsuspecting Sister.
“Oh, cara mia,” he murmured as you stood shakily, leaning against him, your legs too weak to carry yourself anymore. “Where do we go now?” he sighed, wiping the drying saliva from the corner of your mouth. Even when intoxicated and ill, you were more beautiful than anything his mind could ever hope to imagine. How his heart ached for you.
You sniffed, unconsciously grabbing onto the edge of his coat, shoving your head against his chest as you choked out a sob. You’d been drinking more often lately, having never used to drink. It made it all the more concerning for him. Copia let out a shuddering sigh, biting back another pang of envy as he felt your desperate hold on his body. He knew he should’ve said something; stopped you before you had so much that you went from giggly and clingy to puking your guts out, a shadow of the person he knew you to be. “I know,” he mumbled weakly, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and guiding you to the bed as he slowly entered your bedchamber. This was not what you needed; drinking yourself into a frenzy until your stomach could no longer hold it in. This wasn’t you.
You glanced around the room; your old bedroom, the one you’d slept in before getting involved with Secondo. You sat down carefully, gripping the covers as you did so. The room was warm but near-barren, most of your possessions now scattered about his brother’s room. Some items remained, of course; old clothing you kept as a just-in-case, the cheap Ministry-issued sheets and pillows. Enough to sleep somewhat comfortably, or just pass out. "No..." you murmured. "Where's Secondo?"
Copia’s grip on your arm tightened, and he averted his eyes. So he was right, then; either asleep, or off with some other Sibling of Sin he’d gotten drunk and used. “He’s busy,” he replied slowly, sitting down next to you. He didn’t want to say the words out loud; it was hard enough hearing them in his mind, over and over. “You’re stuck with me for tonight, cara,” he added with a sigh.
The room was silent for a moment as you considered. "I... okay," you muttered shakily. He knew you loved him. Secondo had done a wonderful job at making you think he loved you, too, only to steal away all of his affection when you’d already become attached. "I wish he wouldn't," hic, "work so late."
How blind Secondo was. A beautiful, smart, and good Sibling of Sin like you, begging for his attention, and he didn’t even bother to glance in your direction half the time. He didn’t deserve you. Anyone could see that. He didn’t deserve your love, your affection, your everything. You were too good for him; too kind, too caring. Secondo didn’t even think about you; only himself. “He’s… preoccupied,” he sighed, trying to find a word that wouldn’t make you cry again.
You let my head loll to the side, resting on his shoulder. "Mm. I wish he was not busy more," you told him shakily. "I-I know he works hard... but he used to be free more often."
Copia bit back the bitterness in his throat, forcing himself to focus on the drunken, clingy mess that was you. You weren’t his, no matter how much he wished you were. “I know,” he mumbled, gently wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side, keeping you close. He kept quiet, knowing the doubt would be clear in his words if he chose to speak them.
"He loves me!" you tell him. "I know he does. He told me so. I hate when everyone looks at me like he doesn't; you just don't know him," you sniffed, voice shaky, as if you were trying to convince yourself more than you were trying to convince him.
Copia’s stomach twisted. No, he doesn’t, he wanted to say, but you believed that Second loved you, and he wasn’t strong enough to tell you the truth. So instead, he just let out a quiet sigh, rubbing your shoulders gently. “I know, bella,” he said quietly. “I know he does.” He didn’t, but to tell you that would break your fragile heart into even smaller pieces than Secondo already had. Swallowing thickly, he gently pushed you down onto the bed, caressing your cheek as he pulled the blanket over you. “Just rest.”