AND ALSO BROOKIARTY LOVE CONFESSIONS AAAAHHHH-chokes and dies because no one should ship potential twins that much unless they're hosts and ginger omg
(I’ve never done Richard before unless it’s Jim being him so don’t blame me if he sucks okay)
Richard fidgets nervously as Jim ruffles up his hair, eyes soft and wide as they watch his brother. They should be mirror images of each other, but personality bleeds through into appearance. Jim is sharp, cold, controlled. Even stripped of his sharp suits and designer labels, he can strike the fear of God into Richard clad in loose fitting pyjama bottoms and a v-neck. Has done several times. Richard on the other hand is soft, warm, undeniably gentle.
Jim steps back, admiring his now disheveled hair. He unbuttons another button on the shirt he’s dressed Richard in and the other man pulls his sleeves down over his hands in a nervous motion. He thought he had escaped Jim, broke away from his influence. He hadn’t heard from his brother in years, but it would seem all it takes is Jim snapping his fingers and Rich will come running back. Well, that and one lap dog assassin who’s willing to fetch when Jim tells him.
“I don’t want to do this.” His voice is weak even to his own ears, no bite to it. Not like Jim’s. Jim looks like he’s about to smirk at the pathetic effort, but he hides it easily and puts a hand to Richard’s cheek. Richard nearly flinches away to the touch but manages to hold his ground. No. He won’t give in to Jim. They’re not children anymore. He’s not some small, timid thing that Jim can order about.
Except he kind of is.
“Richie,” Jim purrs, voice low and soft, like velvet or melted chocolate, something comforting and lovely. Richard knows it’s an act, knows that Jim can slip in and out of character just as easily as he can, but something in him relaxes at the sound. “You’ll do this one little thing for me, won’t you? For your brother?”
Richard’s lips part to argue that it’s not a ‘little thing’, that Jim is asking him to sacrifice his identity, his career, everything he is and has just for his stupid little game. Jim doesn’t give him that chance to get out words.
“I love you, Rich. Do this for me.”
Richard knows it’s a lie. Part of him flares up angrily at the words. Jim doesn’t love him. Jim doesn’t love anyone except perhaps himself, but the same part of him that softened at the purring voice squirms hopefully. He’s wanted to hear those words for years. He doesn’t dare believe them, but his body leans slightly closer without his consent. With a sigh of defeat the resistance drains from him.
“I love you, Jim.” He raises a hand, laying it over the one on his cheek. “I’ll do anything you want.”
“Excellent.” Jim grins, clearly pleased by this. He pulls his hand back, twirling and pacing out of the room, shouting instructions to Sebastian. Richard stands alone in Jim’s bedroom. A broken shell of a man looks back at him from the mirror. He takes in his new appearance. Fragile. Disheveled. Scared.
Slowly, he lowers his hand from his cheek.