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Arc F1.8 | Chapter 38: In Our Dreams, Nothing Back Would Ever Happen

Taelor could count the number of times had been the one in need of comfort from his brothers. It wasn’t a single-handed thing, nor even something he could do on two hands.Still, he could count each time with perfect clarity, and they were nothing in comparison to the times when his brothers were the ones who needed him.

Usually, it was Baylor crawling into his lap, seeking snuggles and warmth, endless love and support. It wasn’t uncommon for Taelor to find his middle brother falling into his bed long after they had gone to sleep. While it was more common for them to share a bed, their limbs entangled, Taelor’s lips pressed to the forehead of whichever brother had managed to claim his chest for a bed.

Sometimes, however, they wanted a little separation. Valor often wanted to be free of Baylor’s clinging and bed hogging, while their middle brother enjoyed staying up later than either of them, reading books and articles Emilia and other clones had found for him, half of them paper products, others requiring technology from some Free Colony or another to be accessed. All of it was loud, bright, and yes, they could use skills to dim the lights, to deafen their ears. Generally, Baylor just kept all his shit in his own room, chaotic and piled high with everything he owned, all disorganized until Taelor swept in to tidy it up.

There was a function within both his and Baylor’s heads, which would wake Taelor to go drag his naughty brother to bed if he lingered awake too long, but while Taelor took care of his brothers, he wasn’t their jailer. If Baylor wanted to stay up a little later, Taelor wouldn’t force his head onto a pillow until it truly became —he didn’t want to deal with a sleep-deprived brat, if he could help it, especially when Emilia had always struggled with sleep, nightmares slipped into her by cruel adults and stupid teenage boys, her own sleep deprivation something that had to be managed with a firm hand.

On some of those nights apart, Baylor would wander to across the room to the bed in his own room and fall into it; other times, he would slip into Taelor’s. Usually, he told Taelor where he planned to sleep long before he slipped into either of their beds; yet, it wasn’t uncommon for plans to change, Baylor’s fingers digging into his chest, hips, neck, pulling their bodies close.

he would say, more often than not, his heart a pound between their skin. Within minutes, Valor would be there as well, curling around Baylor’s back, creating a cocoon of love for him.

Taelor would never turn either of his brothers away, but for Baylor, especially… something inside him was broken in a way none of them really understood. The serial killer urges were easier than this bit—this little part of Baylor that popped up from time to time, screaming at him that he was broken, wrong, unloved, but because of his urges; instead, something had slipped inside him and told him he was because of something else entirely—something he couldn’t articulate.

They’d talked to other clones about it, but the most anyone—an older clone, Varo, who seemed to hate their group and yet not, all at once—had ever been able to suggest was that, whether Baylor realized it or not, perhaps someone had once said something to him that implied he would never be loved.

Varo had added, his cheeks shifting into a light blush that had led them to believe the man knew something of their relationship.

Valor had asked, only he and Taelor having gone to ask Varo about Baylor’s perpetual need to be babied, after Loren had suggested they talk to the man. Varo was old, but not aligned with , and had managed various pods and their missions for so long, and with such an adept hand, that their guardian had thought he might have seen like what Baylor was experiencing before.

In some ways, they supposed he had helped them to figure out some undefinable cause of Baylor’s needs—also, yes, they had realized that, more likely than not, Loren had gone to Varo for advice on dealing with the fact that his three wards were fucking each other. Evidently, Varo had said to let them be.

Varo had agreed, adding on that in Finn’s case, they knew what had led to his issues with germs and dirt, and the cause had been directed at him, rather than simply occurred around him, it was similar: no knots were present in his genetics, yet, he had a trauma he couldn’t shake.

Everyone assumed that trauma was linked to knots, but it wasn’t that simple. It was easy to see in the clones, their genetics as identical as always, even when each of them was a distinct person; it was something difficult to see within the general populace—or, difficult to accept, at any rate.

All that was to say, that when compared to his brother and his near constant need to be held and cared for, Taelor felt his handfuls of time when he was the one crawling into one of his brother’s beds, laps, arms, barely a blip in the ebb and flow of their lives.

Even compared to Valor, always more standoffish and unsure of where he belonged within their trio, as though Taelor weren’t as devoted to his baby brother as to their middle one, Taelor’s moments of emotional collapse were negligible.

Taelor was constantly catching Valor in a mood and tugging him out of it—finding him biting his nails, scratching himself bloody, staring into the abyss. Unfortunately, it was easier to track down Baylor when a mood came for him, turning into violent energy and chaos. Valor’s silence was difficult to pinpoint, the quiet boy simply falling quieter, making himself smaller.

Maybe Halen could modify Emilia’s stalking function to watch Valor for signs that he was in a mood? That would be nice—to be able to track the younger boy down and assure him that he was just as needed and wanted as Emilia and Baylor were. It wasn’t that Taelor that was one of the things his baby brother struggled with, but he thought so. There were other things as well, of course—for one thing, out of the three of them, Taelor thought Valor the most likely to choose Emilia over them.

Taelor almost wanted to tell him to do so. Pick Emilia; he and Baylor would be heartbroken, but fine overall. They would go work for The Black Knot, find people for Baylor to kill. Valor and Emilia would be happy together. Maybe, if they were lucky, these two people he loved with his whole heart would let him and Baylor back into their bed, when The Black Knot let them return home for passing moments of time.

It was horrible to admit, but Taelor couldn’t do it—couldn’t relinquish Valor to the freedom he wanted. He would think about it for the rest of his life—would regret not letting Valor and Emilia have that happiness—yet, Taelor knew he would never be capable of letting either of his brothers go.

Sitting there, on the dingy floor of the building they had located Baylor in after he killed the lavender code—and thankfully, the bitch had been killed in that build collapse—Taelor was reminded of that reality that wasn’t strong enough to let his brothers go.

Usually, it was Baylor crawling into his lap. Currently, Taelor was cradled within Baylor’s embrace, his nose buried into the younger boy’s neck as he tried to keep from crying, his fingers brushing over the younger boy, looking for anything amiss. Valor was kneeling behind Baylor, arms looped around both of their waists and pulling them close.

While the three of them generally tried to keep their public displays of affection to a minimum, currently, none of them cared. Behind them, everyone else in their group had filtered into the building as well, Sorvell’s eyes currently closed as he worked on utilizing the recon-like skill sequence Emilia had recommended. According to their hacked xphern, there weren’t any more of Fräthk’s people around, but with Vtraní thinking that the lavender code had belonged to another group…

Taelor didn’t want to think about it had the moment. He just wanted to breathe in the scent of his brothers, feel their skin against his—a near impossibility, with their combat suits on—and hear the beat of their hearts.

“Idiot,” he muttered, shifting and pulling Baylor closer—or trying to. With Valor’s arms clasped around his back, he and Baylor were already so close, it was impossible to get closer.

Taelor felt like he had to get closer. They needed their clothes gone, their skin pressing against each other's just like it had in the womb. These two boys who were both a part of him and yet not. Nothing was ever enough—it didn’t matter what they did, what parts of themselves they let the other consume, press into, leave marks on. was ever enough.

Baylor was the violent one—the one who wanted to press knives into others and carve holes within their chests. Taelor thought that a nice idea, at the moment. He could slice into each of the other boys, slip his fingers within them and pull until there was enough warmth gushing around him that he could wrap their guts around himself.

Between him and Valor, Baylor snickered. “Gross,” he laughed, as though he weren’t stiffening between them. It was gross; Taelor had still shared his morbid thoughts within their triplets + Emilia relay—gross or not, she would enjoy how needy Taelor’s thoughts were, once she was back onaether.

gross Westrial asked from where she was squatted nearby. Whether due to her age or all of the things she had seen and experienced on the street, the teenager either didn’t realize what their cuddle puddle implied or didn’t care.

In the background, Bireth was politely looking away after doing an initial double take. The young man’s brown eyes had grown huge when he first took them in, after Taelor and Valor had gone running in the moments after the other building collapsed. There had been shock there, but not necessarily disgust. There had also been a whisper hissing conversation between the Drinarna intern and BJ, which had been… amusing?

Taelor it was amusing, anyways. He had forwarded a copy of it to Emilia as well, for her future enjoyment.

Mostly, Taelor thought that Bireth had quickly realized what sort of relationship he and his brothers had, but knowing that clones could be strange creatures, had wanted to confirm with someone who knew them better. As they had introduced themselves with perhaps more detail than necessary, the Drinarna intern was aware that BJ was their , while Sorvell was their more-or-less hostage—something Sorvell had explained himself, having realized the situation he had found himself in at some point. Hence, Bireth had asked BJ—Darrian was politely lingering in the hallway, giving the three of them space before Baylor inevitably threw himself at his new friend—about whether his assumptions were correct.

BJ, it seemed, just thought they were very snuggly brothers and had refused to accept Bireth’s claims that If anything, BJ was rather horrified that Bireth would suggest they were anything than loving brothers—not in a way. More, it seemed that BJ thought Bireth their relationship by suggesting such a thing.

Someone else might be offended that BJ was so adamantly against the mere suggestion that they were closer than most of their cultures expected siblings to be. Mostly, it was simply amusing because Taelor knew the personalities of everyone in their friend and age group, as well as all of the clones around their age. If the truth ever fully came out, Taelor knew exactly who would care, who would not. They kept it secret because some people would care, and it would splinter the group of friends Emilia so valued—would place a blockade between her and future friends, because some people couldn’t get over their hatred for things that they didn’t understand.

As though being were something anyone could understand in the first place.

“Don’t do that again,” he whispered into Baylor’s neck, knowing the other boy would, of course, do it again. Just as he himself would bear all of his brothers’ and Emilia’s neediness, as well as carry all their guilts and worries and the blame for how their lives turned out because of decisions he was making for them, Baylor would forever be the one stepping up to be their shield.

The monster.

The killer.

The protector.

Still, Baylor smiled into Taelor’s hair, his own arms looped around Taelor’s waist, pulling him close, his fingers winding through Valor’s as the other boy silently rocked them. “I’ll try,” Baylor replied with all the conviction of someone who probably would try, but who also knew full well that in no world would he ever succeed.

Taelor pulled his stupid brother closer, closer, closer, wishing all the while that he could swallow both of his brothers whole—keep the younger boys safe inside him—and that they could stay there forever. They couldn’t, but for a moment more, they could pretend they were safe, and everything was fine, everyone was safe, and nothing bad was going to happen.