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It was midnight as the bus made its leisurely way down the highway. In the darkness, from his own room, Copia could hear shuffling and pacing from the small living area. He was irritated. He wasn't even supposed to be here... Psaltarion had badgered him until he did, however. Upon his and Marika's insistence, Copia found himself traveling on his brother's bus, his brother's ...tour. It should be his tour! Instead he was forced to watch as his brother stole everything. His moves, his fans, his ghouls... He seethed. His mother had asked him, upon becoming corporeal enough to chastise him, to please try to get along.
Oh, his position was so much more important! That's what they told him. How could it be more important when he was stuck on the sidelines doing nothing? And even though he was forced on this trip (that's what he would say) he had barely even spoken to Perpetua. He had come in at a time when there was practically back to back rituals. He'd asked to be placed on the ghoul bus or the crew bus but there was no room in either. No, simply the two suite bus that Perpetua and his driver shared. What a prissy diva; a primadonna, to need his own bus! Who approved of this?(He did).
The last few nights, Perpetua had simply gone to bed without speaking to him. In the early hours, Copia tended to pretend like he wasn't there. Simple one word answers and questions were enough. It was clear to both of them that he didn't want to be here. He barely paid it any mind when Perpetua had returned that night still donning paint and mask but wearing some lounge clothes. It was weird but it wasn't his problem. He had practically rushed into his room and turned the light off. It wasn't rare to see Perpetua in just the mask...Copia actually wasn't sure what was under there.
He'd been blissfully sleeping until he started hearing the shuffling. He'd almost fallen asleep until he began to hear cabinet doors opening and closing, rather roughly. What the fuck was he doing out there? He stood from his bed, ready to go out there and give him a piece of his mind when a sound stopped him. A low, pathetic whimper and the words “Oh God, no..nonono..” So something was actually wrong. Fuck...It wasn't exactly his problem was it? Well, he couldn't just let him keep going on like this. It would interrupt his sleep...That's why he was going out there.
“Perpetua...” Copia said as he stepped out of his room. “It is midnight. What are you doing?” He stopped in his tracks when he saw Perpetua bent over the counter, whimpering and hyperventilating. His remaining paint was badly smudged from what he could see in the low light above the counter, his t-shirt damp with sweat.
“I-,” he said, his voice shaky. “I feel sick 'n I don't...I don't have my medicine,” he stammered.
“What medicine?” Copia asked, suddenly feeling like he was dealing with a frightened animal. He moved slowly towards him.
“Mmm...the uhh, the pink..pink stuff. Pep, ughhh,” he cut himself off, groaning.
“Peptobismol?” Copia asked.
“Yes, I ran out!” he said, panicked.
“Okay ,well...” Copia said, glancing around the room awkwardly. “You feel sick how?”
“I'm gonna be sick,” Perpetua whimpered.
“Well you know, better out than in. If you just get it over with you'll feel better in no time!”
“No!” he whimpered, almost in tears. “I can't! I can'tIcan'tIcan't,” he stammered. In a mantra now of pure panic. “I can't do it!”
Copia had not seen this side of his brother, or rather, most sides. He seemed pretty collected on stage if not a bit shy. He held an air of strange otherness about him that put Copia on edge, but this was pure vulnerability and fear. Copia felt...bad.
“Why do you feel sick? What happened?” Copia said, trying to get to the bottom of it.
“I don't know...I get sick on the bus sometimes so I take it anyway. But I started feeling sick after the show, maybe something I ate...”
“And you forgot to take your paint off? Did you shower?”
“Sort of,” Perpetua said, breathing still heavy and his words shaky and panicked. “I left it on 'cause I thought maybe if it was bothering me I could focus on that.”
Copia let out a heavy sigh and grabbed Perpetua by the arm.
“Come sit down,” he said, like an annoyed parent who couldn't believe he was about to be teaching this lesson. Perpetua was rigid as Copia lead him along but he complied. Copia guided him onto the couch and then headed into his room to get some makeup wipes.
“It needs to come off,” Copia said as he returned. Perpetua only whimpered and hung his head almost between his legs. He clicked his tongue and pushed Perpetua back into a sitting position. Copia reached behind his head to unclasp his mask and saw him flinch briefly. For a moment Copia thought that maybe he wasn't ready to expose what was behind it, but by the time he thought it it was already in his hand. Perpetua kept his eyes closed, head back and attempting to calm his breathing but not doing a great job at it. He could see his brows knitted together and the sweat slick along his forehead and temples.
Underneath the paint, Copia saw a pretty nasty scar crossing the left side of his face in an X pattern. It crossed on one side to the center of his forehead, over his eye and ending near the corner of his jaw. The other side had it running from his temple all the way down to his nose just above where the mask stopped. Part of the scar was obscured by paint but he could see where the flesh was different and raised. He decided not to comment on it.
“You're a mess,” Copia said as he began to wipe away the makeup. It took several wipes to finally remove it all and even still there were faint black smudges in places. Perpetua finally opened his eyes to look up at him and it made a lump form in Copia's throat. Perpetua didn't really look anything like him but damn, if the eyes he stared back at weren't his own. Except they were teary eyed; damp and shimmering. He broke eye contact to pull a trashcan over to where he was sitting, throwing away the wipes as he did so.
“Whatever it is, it probably needs to come out, or it will be coming out the other way and that will be a whole different way and that's another problem.”
Copia had to turn away as more tears came and ran down Perpetuas cheeks.
“Don't...don't do that,” Copia stammered. “It's going to be alright.”
“You don't understand...” Perpetua whimpered, voice breaking a bit. “I hate it. I hate it more than I hate anything...”
“But you'll be okay, right? You know...I've had my fair share of ...excess. Too much booze, too much of the devil's lettuce...I've spent many days and nights in front of the porcelain throne. And look at me! I'm still standing here, eh?”
“I know it won't kill me!” Perpetua said, panicked. “It's a phobia, it's not logical!”
“Okay, okay,” Copia said with a sigh. “What do you need me to do?”
“I don't know...” Perpetua said with a whimper. “Could you make it stop?”
Copia let out a soft 'tsk' and headed over to the sink to grab and wet a towel. He returned to Perpetua and placed the towel on the back of his neck, listening to him gasp slightly.
“This might help,” he said, hovering around him for a moment. Perpetua was holding onto his own shoulders, shaking like a leaf. This man who had seemed quite confident and full of himself onstage was now reduced to something of a pathetic mess. It was rather sad. Copia hesitantly sat down beside him to put an arm around his shoulder. It was an awkward dance of hovering briefly over his back, pulling his arm away, putting it back again, until he finally settled it on Perpetua's shoulder.
It was an awkward few moments and even more awkward when Perpetua migrated down onto his lap. His hands, hovering in the air nervously as he hadn't expected him to end up down there. He swallowed heavily and placed a hand back on his shoulder to run his hand along his arm. He could still feel him trembling and he could feel his pants getting wet with the towel, which gave him his own chilled shiver. In the silence it felt all the more weird and so Copia sang.
It was something Marika used to sing to him as a child when he himself was sick. A lullaby in Italian which he had memorized from hearing it so many times (he was quite sickly for a while). He used his other hand to run his fingers through Perpetua's hair, attempting not to get snagged on curly knots.
“I don't know Italian...” Perpetua said, almost embarassed. Copia let out a soft laugh.
“I know less than people think I do. It's something my mo-...Marika...used to sing to me when I was sick.”
Perpetua fell silent after that and Copia sang until his brother's breathing began to even out. He'd fallen back asleep... Copia tried very, very hard to weasel his way out from beneath him but every time he moved, Perpetua would stir again. Resigned to his fate, he closed his eyes with the knowledge he would likely be waking to something more traumatizing. Perpetua probably wasn't going to get out of this just by going to sleep.
He had no clue what time it was by the time he woke up. He could see that outside the bus, it was still dark. He had woken to something that sounded like it was out of a horror movie. Like, Hereditary. A broken and mournful wail that morphed into a sobbing scream. Good God he really didn't like throwing up.
“Cool it!” Copia said, blindly grasping for him as his eyes tried to adjust. Perpetua was curled over himself, shaking hands grasping the trash can as a small amount of drool bridged from the can to his chin. Copia hesitantly raised himself up to peek in the trash can, hoping he'd come in on the end of these shenanigans. He was greeted with a pretty much empty trashcan, and he cursed to himself. He'd held many people's hair back when they threw up. Poor Dewdrop, with his impossibly long hair and his penchant for alcohol and things he shouldn't eat, he would need more hands to count the times he'd helped him.
But he hadn't helped anyone who was so utterly distraught and horrified of the mere thought of throwing up.
“Don't do that,” Copia said, rubbing his back. He quickly got up to get another wet paper towel to put at the back of his neck. “You can't be screaming like that, you scared me half to death.”
Perpetua didn't respond, just sobbed pathetically and held an arm around his stomach. He was shaking so badly Copia was afraid he was going to knock the trashcan over. He slid in next to him once more, placing the paper towel on his neck, sliding the same hand down his back while the other was on standby. He glanced at Perpetua's hair, then his own hands. He really did need more hands. He looked around frantically to deduce if he should be holding Perpetua's hair or rubbing his back when he saw a ponytail holder on the other man's wrist. With very little resistance, Copia pulled his hand to him and slipped the band off. He quickly pulled his hair back, probably pulling it too roughly but Perpetua seemed not to notice.
“You're gonna be alright,” Copia said, a bit awkwardly but softly. Perpetua responded not with any true words, but a whimpering groan. It felt like waiting for a storm he knew was going to come. Yet as he sat there, he hoped that maybe it would just ease off. That he wouldn't have to deal with this, but then Perpetua gagged and Copia thought maybe he got why he hated puking so much. It was visceral; violent. His whole body seemed to strain and he white-knuckle gripped at the trash can with such force Copia was worried he was going to hurt his hand.
The noise he made was some guttural, wet sound and Copia had hoped that maybe they were getting headway. But all he saw was a small amount of saliva. The minute it subsided Perpetua started hyperventilating. His grip on the can began to waver and Copia felt him starting to slump.
“Hey!” Copia shouted, roughly patting his back a few times. “You have to breathe, you're gonna pass out! You're going to fall and get a concussion, and then I'll have to take over the tour. You don't want that, do you?”
“I don't care!” Perpetua shouted, voice hoarse, choking on the words. Copia blinked, taken aback by the statement but he tried to remember what it was that you were supposed to do during a panic attack.
“I can't take over the tour...” he said sadly. “I can't...I can't fit in your clothes, too much rigatoni. Nothing to do at the office but binge on snacks and pasta. Besides, I don't know the lyrics.” Perpetua, between panting gasps, laughed a little and it brought a smile to Copia's face. It faded with the realization that he was still hyperventilating. He did everything he could think of. He rubbed his back, held the one hand that wasn't having a death grip on the trashcan. Perpetua was gripping his hand rather tightly but it wasn't helping. In desperation, he started to sing again. He heard his twin's breathing begin to slow and he thought he had finally found a remedy to the situation. It was seconds later that his body seized up again. A horrible, guttural retch and torrent of liquid that came with it. Copia very briefly jerked back, hand once again hovering above his back in hesitation. The noises he was making were going to haunt his dreams. He'd never hear someone scream-vomit before.
He put his hand back on Perpetua's back and cringed slightly. It seemed very painful. He could see the muscles straining in his neck, veins bulged along the carotid. Heaving so hard and violently it felt like something was about to burst forth from his spine. Sending wave after wave of that fetid, vile ichor splashing into the trash can. Terrible images of Perpetua's bones springing forth from the confines of flesh filtered into his mind
“Okay, okay,” Copia said soothingly. “Get it all out....You're okay,” and he ended his statements with a few pats on the back.
In a brief moment between heaves he sobbed. An exhausted sounding noise, all choking and hiccups, quickened panicked breaths and despair. Copia could feel the dampness on his hand as Perpetua sweat straight through his t-shirt.
“It's okay, I'm here. I'm here,” he said hoping that it was over. But it was not, of course. It continued and was just as visceral as the time before. Copia began to wonder how his stomach could hold that much. After some time it began to subside. He still dry heaved several times, the most coming up being rivulets of saliva. He was shaking, drenched in sweat and weakly weeping by the end of it. Copia chanced finally pulling away from him to go to the kitchen area. He grabbed another wet paper towel and a bottle of water from the fridge.
Perpetua was hugging his arms on the couch, bent over and still shaking. His face was red, streaked with tears, snot and thick saliva down his chin. Eyes red and watery; a little too red. Might've blown a blood vessel. He looked the picture of pathetic. He looked nothing like the man Copia had seen before. He looked...so vulnerable, and Copia felt so guilty. He looked up at him and he shattered inside. God, he'd been such an asshole.
“Take this,” he said, handing him both the water and the paper towel. “Drink some water and clean your face off.” Perpetua took both, hands trembling still and hastily wiped his face off, then struggled to get the bottle of water open. When he did he started to down it, which Copia quickly chastised him for.
“Aht! Slow, slow! You don't want to get it started again.”
“I can't do it again,” Perpetua said, fresh tears starting to form which made Copia look away again.
“You should be okay, just...go brush your teeth, change your clothes, and we can all go about our business.”
“Could you...” Perpetua said , cutting himself off. He seemed ashamed. “Could you stay, please? Out here? I can't be alone again. I can't go through that alone.”
“You're...” Copia let out a frustrated sigh; he was going to tell Perpetua he was fine but God, he just looked so fucking awful. “Yeah, okay. You take the couch, I'll take the floor. I'd say let me know if you need me but I think the screaming will probably wake me up.”
“I'm sorry...” Perpetua said, barely above a whisper. “I know it's...stupid.”
“We all have our...quirks,” Copia said, leaving it at that and heading to his tiny little cabin of a bedroom. This was going to do awful things to his back. He gathered the bedclothes off mattress, stood there for a moment simply holding them, and then dumped the heap of them onto the mattress again. He elected instead to pull the whole mattress out to the living area.
Perpetua was gone by the time he got out, but appeared moments later with different clothes and a mission to get to the bathroom. In his alone time, mattress on the floor, sheets haphazard and blankets tangled, staring at the bus ceiling, he considered some things. He was an asshole. He was probably a bit of a man-child. Petulant, bitter, jealous. He had a brother he never knew about and it took seeing him so vulnerable to realize that Perpetua hadn't come to spite him. To steal his spotlight, to take his toys so to speak. It was very hard to let the feeling go, though. Even if it was true he couldn't apologize to him. His ego wouldn't allow it.
When Perpetua came back to settle onto the couch after a brief detour to his room , Copia couldn't look at him for a bit. When he did he found him there, nestled into a blanket and a stolen pillow and staring at the same ceiling he'd been looking at. He glanced over, Copia looked away. He just looked so sad. It had turned awkward. Both of them looking but not willing to keep eye contact. Not willing to discuss the trauma that they just went through.
“You feeling...better?” Copia asked hesitantly.
“Yes.” Perpetua replied. It was short and curt and Copia found whatever trauma bonding they had done was beginning to slip already. He sighed but again, refused to speak of it. He turned away to face the opposite wall and gave an awkward “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Perpetua responded. The light went out moments later. Copia didn't know how but assumed it was from that little remote next to the couch. He stared, blinded by old age at the opposite wall and its fuzzy shapes. His ears rang from tinnitus and the fridge hummed in the distance. The silence seemed so loud.
“Why do you dislike me so much?” came from the darkness, and Copia jumped.
“I-I don't-,”
“You look at me like you hate me half the time. Tonight is the only time you've ever been nice to me.”
Copia could just refuse to respond, but instead he rolled over to face him. Perpetua was still staring at the ceiling.
“I...” he stalled. Frowned, and then realized he needed to make things right. “You took ...everything from me. I worked so hard to get to where I was, and you came in and you just...took it. You took my job, my ghouls, my fans, my band...You didn't even have to work for it!” Copia started to get irritated at the end there.
“I never asked for it,” Perpetua replied coldly.
“I know...maybe somehow that's worse.”
“Do you want it back?” Perpetua said. He sounded bitter but sad. “I could finish out the tour and just...stop. I haven't been doing it as long, maybe I won't miss it as much.”
Perpetua was handing him his life back on a silver platter. The screaming fans, the thrill of playing on stage. Cramped buses, exhausting hours, cold showers... He only wanted half of it. He was bored...so very bored, but he realized now that it was time. It was time to hand over the reigns. He'd had a long run; longer than anyone before him.
“I don't...” Copia said sheepishly. “It's yours now.”
“Thank you...” Perpetua said. There was still sadness in his voice but maybe now it didn't seem so bitter.
“I've never...had a brother. I've never had siblings. All I had was my uncles, and they were too old for me anyway. I don't know...how to share. I don't know what siblings do together.”
“I don't either,” Perpetua confessed.
“Sleep in the same room...? That's step one finished.”
Perpetua laughed and Copia felt some kind of relief.
“Goodnight, Copia.”
----
Morning came faster than it should have. Copia was awakening groggy on the floor, spread out like a starfish and half twisted. Blankets askew, pillow missing. A modicum of saliva pooling at the side of his mouth and slicking the side of his cheek. Perpetua, however, was already dressed and sitting at the kitchen island with a cup of coffee. His mask having been put back on and everything seemed to be back in place. His hair neatly combed, the pony tail holder back on his wrist. He looked far more put together than Copia felt.
“How are you feeling?” Copia croaked out, sleep clinging to his vocal chords.
“Better,” Perpetua replied, thought with not much emotion.
Okay, today, Copia was a brother....Not an asshole. He stood from his makeshift bed, bones cracking exceptionally loud. He sounded like someone had just crushed a box of rice krispees.
“Do you...” Copia started, toeing at the carpet. “Want to get lunch later, when we stop? My treat.”
“It's already your treat,” Perpetua responded, deep in the coffee. “What's the occasion?”
“Maybe it's a start, so I can figure out how to be a brother.”
“Alright,” Perpetua said. He turned to him and gave him a soft smile, “To being brothers then.”
“To being brothers...You know,” Copia cleared his throat. “Your mask...your face. It's nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I'm not too hideous?” Perpetua said sarcastically.
“Well, you can't be as good looking as me but I'd say you're...pretty average, not terrifying.”
“Well, since I've been given permission by the great and powerful Copia...” Perpetua said, reaching back to unclasp his mask. He set it on the table with a clatter and then looked at him with a smile. “I guess I can go the day without it.”
Copia returned the smile, and kept one thought in mind. Today was the day that may change his life. The day he finally, truly gained a brother.