Chapter Text
“He doesn’t speak.”
“What do you mean he doesn’t speak? He’s Papa!”
“Yes, I understand that,” Sister said dryly. “But the fact of the matter stands. He does not speak.”
“Then how—”
“He can still sing and perform,” she cut him off, “so that isn’t a worry. He is capable of speaking. He just won’t.”
“But why?”
Her lips curled up.
“I guess you’ll just have to ask him.”
Copia sighed and slumped into a chair.
“I don’t know,” Sister quietly told him after a moment. “I don’t know what happened to make him this way. He came to us in this state, refusing to speak. The ghouls will translate for him on occasion, but he doesn’t spend much time around them. You’d have better luck asking him to write it down. And by better, I mean no luck at all.”
“Why not? I’m Frater! I’m his brother! Why won’t he speak to me?”
“I don’t know, Copia,” she sighed. “You seem to be taking this as though he won’t speak to you, but you’re not special, sweetheart. He’s like that with everyone, including me.”
He could hear the hurt in his mother’s voice, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. On the one hand, he felt bad for her that her own son would not speak to her.
On the other hand, she had abandoned him first.
“Well, at least I’ll get some peace and quiet around here,” he grumbled to himself.
—
“It’s eh… nice to meet you?”
Copia cringed inwardly, hating that he couldn’t get out a simple greeting without being painfully awkward about it.
The man before him remained silent and still, simply watching him.
At least he didn’t laugh.
“So… I hear that we’re brothers,” he tried, unsure what he was hoping for, but he continued to receive nothing in return.
No, he did know what he was hoping for, and he was disappointed. He’d hoped that since they were twins, since they had this rare, unique bond, that he might be the exception. Maybe even his position as Frater would get the man to speak since he apparently communicated with the ghouls, but that didn’t seem to be the case either.
“Alright,” he sighed. “This has been a wonderful conversation, but I have some work I need to get done.” A lie. He had nothing at all to do and was bored out of his mind, but he couldn’t take the awkward standoff. “Congratulations on your ascension, and feel free to go and do as you please. I’ll be here if you need anything.”
With that, he walked back around his desk and dropped into his chair to look over his desk, which was empty save for the old computer monitor. Maybe he could play solitaire and watch the cards dance around the screen. It would be better than nothing.
He startled when the chair in front of his desk moved and a thin figure slowly lowered themself onto it.
“Oh… was there something else?”
Papa V Perpetua made no indication that he’d even heard him speak. He simply sat back in the chair and folded his hands in his lap.
“O—okay, sure, you can sit there. I’ll just… work, now.”
As though desperate to humiliate him, the universe decided that, despite the fact that he knew he’d turned the volume down, remembering hitting the button when his mother was scolding him for not listening to her just that morning, the volume had miraculously skyrocketed, and the game’s music filled the room while he fumbled to turn the sound off. Once he did, he looked forward and saw that Papa’s eyes were still lowered, but he had his hand hiding his mouth.
Great. Now his brother was silently laughing at him.
What a fantastic start to a relationship.
—
The rest of the day passed as usual, with the occasional clergy member making their way to his office to remind him what he could and couldn’t do and to give him an unimpressed look that also reminded him that he held the respect of very few within the church. At least, that’s how it felt. His mother swore it wasn’t true, but she was his mother. Of course, she would say that.
Though she’d never been one to sugarcoat his shortcomings before.
All the while, his brother sat silently in the chair before him. He tried to strike up a conversation a few times and received only a blank stare in return. A few of the clergy members who noticed him startled and gave him a polite greeting, but they didn’t even get the glances Copia did. At least Copia felt acknowledged. That was better than the nothing the others were getting.
Maybe their brotherhood did count for something after all, no matter how small.
Papa V did not budge from his seat until Copia decided to get some lunch. He stood up and was startled when his brother gracefully rose from his chair as well and waited for him to move. Once he did, Papa followed close behind. Copia went to the cafeteria and ordered a light salad before looking at his brother, curious to see how he would order. Instead of doing so, he just looked back at Copia patiently with his hands folded before him. After an awkward silence that Copia was starting to expect was going to become the norm, he walked off back to his office with his brother trailing close behind.
Once they settled back in his office, Copia hesitated to eat, worried it would seem rude when his guest had nothing.
Well, it wasn’t like Papa could call him out for it.
Still, it felt wrong.
“You can have some of these if you’d like,” he said, putting a cup of grapes in the middle of the desk to share. He knew it would be in vain, but it didn’t hurt to try—
Just as he went to stab some lettuce and chicken with his fork, Papa reached over, plucked a grape from the stem, and popped it into his mouth.
“Do you like grapes?” he asked, startled by the action.
Rather than answer, Papa took another grape to eat before settling back in his chair.
“Noted,” Copia murmured.
And he did note it. It was the first piece of information he’d gotten about the other man, even if it was a tiny one.
His brother liked grapes.
—
When it was time to leave, Copia was almost reluctant to go. His comment about peace and quiet had turned out to be accurate. It was peaceful and quiet with Papa around. He seemed to unsettle people, so they kept a distance, and those who came to his office did not linger the way they tended to do. It should feel isolating, but it was… nice. Copia was so used to being in the spotlight, to having people begging for even a fraction of his attention. It was somewhat of a relief to get a break from that.
Still, he wanted to get home to some true quiet, to have time to himself. His brother rose when he did and followed him to the door.
“It was nice meeting you,” Copia told him honestly. “Today was… good. I expect I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Twin mismatched eyes held his own for a long moment before Copia broke eye contact, oddly flustered.
“Okay, goodnight, Papa.”
He didn’t know why he expected a response, but he was disappointed when he didn’t receive a “goodnight” back. He would need to break the habit of expecting a response.
With that, they parted, Papa immediately turning to walk down the hall in the opposite direction from his brother. Copia watched him until he turned the corner, and then he made his way home.
—
The following day, there was a knock at his office door shortly after he arrived.
“Come in!” he called, curious to see who might be coming to him so early and hoping it wouldn’t be someone wanting to scold him for something.
To his surprise, it was his brother.
“Oh! Hi, Papa. I wasn’t expecting you.”
With no response, which Copia had once again forgotten to expect, Papa walked across the room to his desk and settled in the chair before it, folding his hands in his lap just as he had the day before.
And just like that, a routine was born.
Every morning, Papa came to Copia’s office and sat in the chair across from him, where he would spend the entire day. The only times he left were when Copia left. Thankfully, he didn’t follow him into the bathroom, but he did wait outside the door, which made Copia nervous. There was a pressure knowing someone was waiting for you when you were relieving yourself.
Copia was starting to feel like a mother duck with one little duckling of his own.
Papa did occasionally get up to leave on his own for a brief time. On one such occasion, Copia jokingly got up to follow him. To his surprise, Papa flashed a quick smile at him and then held the door to his office open so Copia could follow. With that visual memory in his mind, Copia started following his brother around as well until it became rare to see one twin around the abbey without the other.
Lunch went the same as it had on the first day, and it made Copia uncomfortable that Papa never ate, especially with how slim he looked. He started ordering extra food and sliding it across the desk for his brother to take, just as he had done with the grapes. It took a few minutes, but Papa would eventually reach over and begin picking at what was presented to him. Copia took note of what he consistently ate and what he left untouched, so he knew what to order in the future. The first time he ate everything set before him, Copia felt a strong sense of accomplishment.
It was so easy to fall into step with him, to adapt his lifestyle to include this stranger.
Except he didn’t feel like a stranger anymore. They’d never spoken, and Copia was beginning to accept that they never would, but he was starting to feel a bond with the other man. Every time he saw those painted lips curl up, he may as well have been getting a hug for the way it warmed him.
—
The day it happened, Papa had been lingering near Copia more than usual, standing closer as they walked and later peeking at the computer as he genuinely did get some work done. Frustrated with the tasks, Copia made some comment he was hardly aware of, rambling to himself as he often did and bitching about something or other, when he was startled by a breathy sound. It was soft and barely there, but it was so drastically different from every other moment Copia had spent in the presence of the man before him.
When he looked, Papa’s eyes were lowered, and he was shaking his head, still silently laughing. Copia felt a mix of pride and affection, the latter surprising him, but he’d think about that later. He considered addressing the sudden break in silence, but he worried it would make the other man shut up again.
Papa returned to his quiet stillness a moment later, anyway, and the rest of the day was spent just as peacefully as all the others had been when he was around.
From then on, Copia made it his mission to get his twin to laugh as often as possible. As far as he knew, no one else had been able to do so. He didn’t tell anyone, choosing to keep the precious moment close to his chest.
Papa remained silent the vast majority of the time, and Copia had still never heard him speak, but his brother smiled more when they were together and met his eyes on occasion, that same affection Copia had felt when he’d laughed reflected in his gaze.
He was finally starting to understand what it was like to have a brother.
Chapter Text
It was a choice.
People regularly debated around him whether it was or wasn’t, speculating about the cause of his silence as though he weren’t in the room.
It was always interesting to see how people reacted to his silence. Did they get frustrated? Annoyed? Offended? Did they start treating him like a child or cut him off entirely, not bothering to talk to him at all? So often, people behaved as though he had no hearing, occasionally even raising their voice to talk to him. Some treated him like he was developmentally delayed, and he hoped those people were never actually around anyone who was, because their behavior was appalling.
You could tell a lot about a person from the way they responded to someone like him.
Regardless of how people felt about it, the result remained the same: Perpetua refused to speak, and he had done so for decades.
As a boy, he had grown up in the Catholic Church. He’d left when he was old enough to find his own way, and his desire to meet his parents eventually led him to the ministry, but his formative years were spent having psalms beaten into his memory by righteous priests, nuns, and others of the like. One such priest, Father Jim DeFroque, had taken it further than beating, tainting his body in the eyes of God for eternity.
Perpetua hated God for that. If he were there, he should have stopped it. And if Perpetua’s soul truly was sullied by the assault, that only infuriated him more. Why should he be punished for the actions of others? For surviving torture to his mind, body, and soul? Why should he be seen as tainted rather than one who would put their disgusting, greedy hands on a child?
Father Jim’s office was soundproofed so he may “speak to God in pure privacy,” and he loved utilizing that fact, notably when he was harming others or pleasuring himself.
Usually both.
When he had his private time with Perpetua, he always wanted him to be loud, to scream and beg and cry as he was used. He wanted God to hear them.
Perpetua had never quite understood that. It wasn’t until he was older that he wondered if Jim had been intentionally spitting in God’s face, if he was egging on his damnation. And if that were the case, he’d never know if that desire was born from rebelliousness or because he knew he deserved to burn.
The reason didn’t matter when the result was the same: he had to cry for God. And he did cry for Him. He begged Him for safety, to free him from his abuser’s grasp, to please, if nothing else, just make it stop hurting. It never amounted to anything, and even his broken little mind, which would latch onto the tiniest crumb of hope, couldn’t make up a reason other than that he really was tainted.
I know your soul is not tainted, even though you’ve been told so.
Perpetua closed his eyes as the lyric caressed his mind.
It was one of his favorites, as though Papa were singing directly to him.
Once he was free of Father Jim’s grasp, his interest in Perpetua waning as he matured, Perpetua made a decision on the very steps of the church before he left it for the final time.
No more.
It was a difficult choice to accomplish, even if it was effortless to make, but he didn’t care. He would neither cry for His help nor curse His existence. He was tired of being ignored, and God could not ignore words that were not spoken.
No, God would never hear his voice again.
Consequently, neither would anyone else.
—
As difficult as it was to maintain his silence at all times, it was a decision he had never come to regret.
Perpetua had no interest in being part of the world. He was content to sit back and watch and listen, letting people pass him by like he was nothing more than a wisp of smoke. He listened to those around him, heard their needs and desires, and then he watched them drift on by.
When he felt his calling to the church and papacy, he made a single exception to his vow: the only time God would get to hear his voice was when he was spreading the word of His most hated one to thousands of people at a time. But even during the rituals, whenever they were to begin, he expected to be little more than a projection on a stage to display the glory of Satan and encourage the people to seek damnation just as he had.
On only the rarest of occasions, he was required to communicate in some way, and he hated it. It felt wrong, like it went against everything he believed in. He knew different types of sign language, and he was capable of reading and writing, but he didn’t want to. So when he had to, it felt like his control was being ripped from him just as Father Jim and the church had stolen it away as a boy.
—
When he found out about his twin brother, Perpetua was fascinated. He prayed the other had not gone through the same torment he had, and he was curious to see what type of life he had chosen. He knew he’d been with the church and even became its leader, but he didn’t know what his brother was like. When it was time to find out, he held his breath, keeping his back straight as he walked into the office that had been made just for his brother.
Even though he knew they were fraternal, he was still surprised by the lack of resemblance between them. He didn’t see himself in his brother at all.
Except…
No, he did see himself. He just had to look for it, and he found it in his eyes. Not just the color, but something more. He couldn’t name what it was.
Until he could.
His brother was lonely.
It was evident in the way he spoke, in the tentative words and looks. He seemed almost shy with the way he shuffled his feet and avoided his gaze, his hands fidgeting at his sides.
It was rare for Perpetua to feel bad about choosing not to speak, but he almost did when his twin deflated at his silence and disappointedly dismissed him. Rather than go, he decided the least he could do was offer his presence as company. Copia had reacted with surprise, but he didn’t send him away, so he stayed.
He knew he had made the right decision, if for only his own amusement, when the solitaire music played and his brother turned beet red as he fumbled to turn it off. Perpetua tried to hide his laughter for his brother’s sake, but he doubted he succeeded, especially when he looked up again and saw him with his head in his hands.
The rest of the day was spent in mostly peace and quiet, further proof that he was where he should be.
—
After that first day, Perpetua found himself drawn to his brother’s office, always curious to see how he might react to his presence. He inevitably stuck around when he had nothing else to do, and they settled into a routine fairly quickly, with Perpetua staying close by his brother’s side and becoming increasingly reluctant to be anywhere else.
One of the main reasons for that was that Copia talked to him.
Just because Perpetua was silent did not mean he wanted to be isolated or ignored. While he didn’t mind his solitude, it was refreshing to have company, and his twin seemed the type to chatter regardless of whether anyone was around to listen. He was the polar opposite of Perpetua, and he liked that about him.
He also just liked his voice.
At the same time, Copia seemed content to sit in silence with him, often for hours at a time. But when he got up, he always told Perpetua what he was doing, and when they left the office together, he told him where they were going. It seemed instinctual, like he was hardly aware he was doing it, but Perpetua was grateful to be thought of.
Copia also offered him things: snacks, drinks, papers he didn’t want to deal with. He’d even once shown him blurry pictures he’d taken of some rats he’d seen in the yard the night before.
No one had ever spent so much time with Perpetua before, especially knowing they’d get nothing in return.
That was the most significant part of his being drawn to his brother. He never tried to make him speak. He didn’t question his silence. All of his questions could be answered with a simple look or action. The few times he did ask something that required a verbal answer, he quickly caught himself, rolled his eyes, and muttered something along the lines of “he can’t answer you, dickhead,” before moving on.
That always made Perpetua smile. His brother didn’t tiptoe around him or gush apologies when he forgot or made a mistake. He simply waved it off and moved on, which was incredibly relieving. Perpetua hated when people made a scene about him.
Yet another way Copia was different from anyone else in his life was that he touched him.
People made a lot of assumptions about Perpetua, and a common one was that, since he didn’t want to speak, he didn’t want physical contact either.
That wasn’t true at all.
He was not a virgin by any stretch of the word. He’d had his fair share of encounters, all of them beginning in clubs or bars where he could get away with not talking, coming across as mysterious rather than broken. He liked being embraced, though he couldn't recall the last time that had happened. He found comfort in the warmth of a body beside him, though it was rare for anyone to get close enough for him to feel it.
He liked being touched, but it happened so rarely that the first time Copia touched him, just a simple pat on the back as he walked past, Perpetua jumped in surprise and immediately wished he hadn’t. His brother retracted his hand like he’d been burned, though he acted like nothing had happened. Another comforting instance of him not making a scene. Perpetua knew he must have been thinking what everyone else thought, and he didn’t want that to be the case. Copia understood him so much better than anyone else ever had, and he didn’t want this misconception to linger.
To remedy the situation, the next time he passed his brother, he put a hand on his arm and gave a slight squeeze.
That simple action opened the floodgates, with touch quickly becoming the primary way for them to communicate, and Perpetua was delighted to learn how physically affectionate his brother was. A pat on the shoulder here, a squeeze of the hand there, elbowing his side playfully when he was in the way.
Knowing he felt any sort of affection for him at all warmed his heart.
He still had no desire to speak, but there were sometimes messages he wanted to send to his brother that he couldn’t with looks alone, especially if Copia wasn’t looking back.
If he found his brother slumped over his desk, he put a hand on his shoulder or gently rubbed his back, letting him know he was there for comfort and support, and smiling when Copia relaxed under his touch. When Copia was speaking to him and he felt a strong emotion, be it affection, sympathy, amusement, or anything else, he would reach over and lay his hand over his brother’s.
Perpetua had always been content to let the world pass him by, but not Copia. Copia made him feel like a person, something that was exceedingly rare in his life, and he didn’t even have to change who he was. It was comforting and grounding.
He hoped his brother knew how grateful he was to have him in his life.