La Siene
also posted on my ao3!
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The dorms were quiet for that particular afternoon, Andrew noted idly. It was a given, granted that it was the weekend. Dan and her puppy were out on a date, Nicky was probably at some extra classes he definitely regretted signing up for, while the junkie was out on a run alone after Kevin, miraculously, declined the offer.
That left Andrew, his copy and Kevin at the deserted dorms.
'Oh, what joy.'
He should steal Nicky's ice cream to celebrate.
There as a bit of a commotion downstairs, some kind of music playing. Unsurprising, as his copy and Kevin were often the ones seen playing games or blasting weird sappy music, respectively. Now that he thought about it, Andrew had never heard what kind of music his copy enjoyed. Unlike Nicky, his copy had the decency to wear earphones, or keep the volume at a reasonable, low murmur in the privacy of his own room—barely audible even when Andrew intentionally slowed near Aaron's room until he stopped, and tried to listen to the sound of him working, moving, breathing, living.
'He never played music on speaker before moving out, though,' A tiny, treacherous part of Andrew whispered. It almost sounded bitter—jealous, even. Funny. But, Andrew waved it away with a 'He doesn't play music when Matt's in the room either, clearly not an anti-Andrew act,' in reply.
He staggered down the stairs, intentionally noisy just to see if the music would suddenly cut off, if whoever was loitering in the common area would scramble to act normal (Kevin), or pretend it never happened (Aaron).
Unfortunately, his own footsteps were drowned out by the music, and the shuffling of feet downstairs didn't stop.
When he finally made it down the hallway, the scene before him was so absurd, so utterly out of place, that for a moment, Andrew wondered if he was hallucinating. If he was somehow medicated again without him noticing, and this was one of those weird dreams that make you question if anything was ever real.
Uncaring of Andrew's crisis, the music continued on; the ending of the first chorus and the starting of the next verse, accompanied by a blend of four voices. Two of those voices, unfamiliar, belonged to the original singers, while the other two—
'Je ne sais, ne sais, ne sais pas pourquoi
On s'aime comme ça, la Siene et moi'
—Were far too familiar.
Extra Lucille quand tu es sur
Andrew froze.
La scène, la scène, la scène
Kevin Day—brooding, perfectionist, asshole Kevin Day who seemed like he'd never had a moment of joy in his life outside of stick ball—was spinning in a slow circle, arms outstretched, lips moving along to the swelling melody of a french song—La Seine, he recognised, from 'A Monster in Paris'. He sang alongside the original male singer, his voice obviously louder than the flimsy old speaker, as he danced to a choreography as though it had been rehearsed.
He'd pitched his voice higher than normal, and mimicked the accent flawlessly as he moved around with the kind of fluidity Andrew had yet to see off the court.
Extravagante quand l'ange est sur
La scène, la scène, la scène
His movements were exaggerated, theatrical, as he circled around the kitchen island, having ample of space to do so.
Je ne sais, ne sais, ne sais pas pourquoi
On s'aime comme ça, la Siene et moi
Je ne sais, ne sais, ne sais pas pourquoi
On s'aime comme ça, la Siene et moi
Kevin spun, elaborate and precise in his body control and footwork, bowed once, and then held out slow, poised hand. Andrew thought he might be performing for an invisible audience, excluding him of course. Or maybe, it was Aaron he was performing for.
Because there was his copy, perched on the coffee table. His body tilted on its axis, an elbow resting on his thigh and a hand pressing into his cheek. He leaped off the table in an unexpected and exaggerated flourish and took the hand held out to him.
Sur le Pont des Arts—Mon cœur vacille
He sang the higher, softer parts of the song with surprising accuracy. His voice wasn’t bad, either. Clear, a little breathy, but perfectly in tune. A near-perfect replica of the woman's voice, if they weren't separated by gender. Andrew was almost upset he missed the first verse, missed his twin singing the other parts, as the two pairs of singers went back and forth in their lines.
Entre deux eaux—L'air est si bon
Cet air si pur—Je le respire]
Their voices blended well with their "respective" singers.
Andrew blinked.
The music swelled, and Kevin, ever the dramatic bastard, kissed the knuckles of his copy in sync with the song. Aaron, still singing, spun himself under their nonexistent joined arms before breaking away with a flourish.
The two of them pitched their voices even higher, as they sang together rather than in turns.
Nos reflets perchés
Sur ce pont
Andrew should have said something. Should have made his presence known with a dry comment or a pointed 'what the fuck?' because he hadn't even known Aaron spoke French—
But he didn’t.
On s'aime comme ça, la Siene et moi
He just stood there, watching, as Kevin and Aaron—two people he had never once seen engage in anything resembling fun—continued their ridiculous performance, and enjoyed it.
Kevin held both of Aaron's hands, leading them into a rotating basic where they spun around once, before guiding him into an inside underarm turn. The striker kept his eyes on the backliner the entire time even as they sung, and Aaron seemed just as happy to reciprocate the action.
On s'aime comme ça, la Siene et moi
It wasn’t just the singing. It wasn’t just the dancing. But it might've been the fact that they were smiling.
Kevin, who usually looked like he was one wrong word away from committing murder, had an actual grin on his face. And Aaron—Aaron, who had spent most of his life either scowling or sneering (or crying and pleading or expressionless and lifeless)—was laughing between verses, his cheeks flushed and eyes bright with something Andrew couldn't name, something he'd never seen in his copy before.
On s'aime comme ça, la Siene et moi
Aaron let go of the striker's hands in favour of moving and dancing on his own with grace usually reserved for Eden's, when none of the foxes can see him in the sea of numerous other bodies and movement and where he's shielded from his twin's line of sight under the flashing lights.
Andrew felt something twist in his chest. Not annoyance, not amusement. It was something else entirely, and he couldn't put a finger on what it was. That was irritating part, rather than the circus before him.
On s'aime comme ça, la Siene et moi
The song reached its climax, and Kevin, in a move that was so un-Kevin-like that Andrew nearly startled, grabbed Aaron by the waist, lifted him and spun him in a full circle. Then, rather than setting him back on his feet, Kevin dipped him as low as possible just as the song ended, slow and meticulous at first, before pulling him upright before the moment was even over. Aaron yelped, but it dissolved into laughter as he stumbled into Kevin’, shoving at him playfully.
“You’re such an idiot,” Aaron said, his voice breathless. He lacked the usual bite as he blew some of his hair out of his face, cheeks flushed and full as he tried and failed to get his laughter under control.
Kevin, still grinning, shrugged. “You’re the one who suggested it.”
“Yeah, because I thought you’d say no.”
“And miss the chance to see you try to hit those high notes? Never.”
Aaron rolled his eyes, stepping away, "Oh please, I totally nailed it."
Kevin didn't respond, simply reaching forward to grab the shorter man by his waist once more, before pulling him closer again. Aaron had his eyes shut closed his eyes and let his head tilt back, adamant that he wouldn't look at Kevin; a resolution as weak as a sand castle before the sea.
Kevin gently took a hold of his chin and coaxed him into facing him, but Aaron kept his eyes closed. In retaliation, the striker pulled the other into his chest, locking his arms around him and then placed his chin over the golden curls.
When Aaron didn't budge, he huffed out a laugh, rocking them both back and forth, "Are you sulking cause I didn't compliment you?"
Aaron's response, muffled by the taller's shirt, was still clear to everyone in the vicinity, "Fuck off, Day."
Andrew exhaled slowly, feeling like an intruder.
He had known, objectively, that Kevin and Aaron had gotten closer over the past year. He had seen them studying together, had noticed the way they sometimes lingered in the kitchen after practice, talking in low voices. But this—this was different. This wasn’t just tolerance. This wasn’t just reluctant teamwork.
This was….'friendship'. And for some reason, the realisation settled heavily in his chest.
(No, Bee, he was not ignoring whatever was going on between his copy and the princess. He wasn't. He was just not acknowledging the princess looking all soft and sappy at his brother while keeping his knives ready. That's all. See? Progress.)
Andrew took a step back, intending to leave just as he'd entered—unnoticed. However, it seemed that the flooring beneath his feet had other plans, and suddenly began to scream under his weight. Wonderful.
Andrew paused, and it seemed that Aaron and Kevin froze along with him.
For a long, silent minute, no one moved.
Then, just to be petty, Andrew shifted his weight so that it rested more comfortably on both his feet and let the floorboard scream louder at the movement. As though the sound had broken him out of a trance, Aaron slowly turned his head. His eyes immediately locked onto Andrew’s, and his face went through a series of complicated expressions—surprise, embarrassment, annoyance and more Andrew couldn't latch onto long enough to name—before settling into a defiant scowl.
“How long have you been standing there?” he demanded.
Andrew considered ignoring him. Considered shrugging and walking away without answering. But something made him tilt his head and say, “Long enough.”
Perhaps it was the lingering warmth in Aaron’s cheeks, or maybe it was the way Kevin had already crossed his arms and tried to look unaffected—the way he did when he was placed in front cameras, affectionately dubbed as the ' Queen's Bitchy PR Face', or Bitchy PR Face.
Aaron groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Fuck.”
Kevin, to his credit, recovered faster. “If you tell anyone about this, I’ll make sure Coach benches you for a week.”
Andrew raised an eyebrow, unimpressed with the flimsy threat. While that might've had an effect on the junkie, it was no different that a breeze to him. “And what makes you think I give a damn about stick-ball anyway?”
Kevin’s glare was impressively murderous, but Andrew had spent quiet some time managing Kevin’s temper. Having lived through his own copy's temper, the Princess seemed like a puppy in comparison. He turned his attention back to Aaron, who was now pointedly avoiding eye contact. Kevin took this as a sign to walk himself out.
Andrew waited until the striker was gone before he spoke. “You’re not bad,” he said.
Aaron blinked. “What?”
The goalie huffed; Of course he'd have to spell it out for him. “At singing. You’re not terrible.”
Aaron stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “Are you—are you complimenting me?”
He simply shrugged in response. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Kevin snorted from where he was pretending to not eavesdrop from the couch. He was hunched low to hide himself from sight, but he wasn't low enough to hide that mop of raven (heh, raven—) hair that shook with silent laughter as he spoke, “Too late for that.”
Aaron chucked an empty water bottle at his head, but let the comment slide otherwise.
Andrew watched them for another moment before turning to leave. He debated asking about the sudden fluency in French, but had some suspicions as to who was willing to tutor him, anyway. Deciding he didn’t need to, the goalie simply stomped back up to his room, allowing his footsteps vibrate throughout the dorms—a direct juxtaposition from when he intentionally silenced them while coming downstairs.
As Andrew walked away, he couldn’t shake the image from his mind—Kevin spinning Aaron like they were in some cheesy musical, Aaron laughing like he didn’t have a care in the world.
He hadn’t realised. He hadn’t realised a lot of things when it came to those two, it seemed.
'But', Andrew paused, a ghost of a smile gracing his face as he gazed back at an oblivious Aaron, 'Maybe, this is as good a start as any.'
Andrew wondered what lead to the sudden development, and where the cheerleader fell in this mess, but ultimately decided it wasn't his problem.
He'd just have to keep a closer eye on Day from now on.
Aaron's defiant scowl flashed through his mind.
Hm.
He resumed his climb and quietly slipped into his room, noting the time. The junkie wouldn't be back for another thirty minutes or so.
Day and his copy, he amended. The goalie decided that although he'd watch them, he wouldn't intervene. Despite what everybody else thought, Andrew genuinely wished Aaron happiness. If Aaron said he wanted to be a doctor, Andrew got him clean and got him into college on a scholarship. If Aaron wanted to be normal, Andrew made sure he was labelled the 'normal' twin. That's how they operated.
Despite the fact that their deal was off, Andrew still hadn't been happy his copy chose the cheerleader. He supposed that Kevin was a better choice, with him being under Andrew's protection and inner circle, and all that.
He would have to scare Day a little though, just to make sure he wouldn't get too comfortable.
'Tomorrow,' he thought to himself. For now, he'd wait for his rabbit to get back and share his little discoveries from today.
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