Chapter Text
She first ranted at Colin. A lengthy text message (you had to press ‘see more’), during which she actually called him names. She’d known him well enough to identify exactly what was wrong with his carelessness. Whether it was regarding the death of her favourite plant because he hasn’t watered it during the ONE trip she and El managed to take to the countryside, or regarding the fact he just nonchalantly commented she’d been signed to the publishing company he worked at, Colin insistently showed a carefree behaviour that is typical to children who have never been punished.
So of course, when he promptly announced that her contract was finished, asking if she wanted to have a little sneak peak beforehand, Eloise shouted in the kitchen, making him unintendedly slam the cupboard door shut and Penelope almost dropped the mug that held her tea.
“You cannot be serious!”
“El, I’m sorry, I-”
“What, you didn’t know?”
“Colin knew before me?”
“Yes, Eloise, I work there-”
“You better disappear before I-”
“We live together, I can’t actually-”
She wasn’t proud of the fact that she slipped away unnoticed between their bickering, but she truly didn’t know how to react right then. Penelope intended on telling El the happy news taking her to dinner, maybe popping some champagne, anything minimally special to thank her best friend for all her support throughout the whole process over the years. But Colin had to come and ruin everything.
So today was the third day neither of them were speaking to each other. It made for awkward encounters in the kitchen or corridor, during which Colin tried to talk to her (but she dodged him), she tried to speak to El (but she dodged her), and she could hear the shouts or shoes being thrown whenever brother and sister bumped into each other in the living room. It wasn’t exactly new, being confined to the limits of their bedrooms inside a small apartment: they were three different people having to live together, they’d had their frictions before.
Although none of them lasted more than twenty four hours (mostly because Penelope herself would be the mediator between the two fuming Bridgertons). Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option right now because the current controversy revolved around her.
She sighed, walking slowly around their block, feeling her legs ache under her usual pants, for standing up all day long and running after wild children at break time. Penelope remembered her dream of living off her writing, choosing to major in English for that matter. So naturally, as it often goes, she was teaching. Mostly young preteens and some foreign people whose lives dragged them to Britain even though they knew not one word in english.
It wasn’t bad, per se. She loved the children, she really did, she just didn’t know how much of this hard teaching life she could take, as she never considered herself someone vocationated to the magisterium. Unlike Eloise, her mind grew heavier with any type of academia, making her thoughts foggy after the day’s work. And her body didn't seem to catch up, no matter how much she ran after naughty children on recess or around the Park on her free time. After a full day of teaching, she was always exhausted. But Penelope hasn't had much choice.
In fact, she’d been pretty lucky. Lucky that her family’s title could provide her free education even though none of them had a single penny to spare. Generations and generations of Barons of Featherington had deteriorated their state so thoroughly that her mother married a gambling addict who couldn’t bring himself to at least be honest with her. Which, of course, led to the most disastrous marriage Penelope had ever heard of.
Portia had a lot of faults. Truly, Penelope could fill a notebook if she put them down to paper. But her mother would always have a special place in her heart for seeing the signs and just leaving before her father’s vices could catch up to one of his daughters, little children back then. She couldn’t remember much about those hard times, only that her mother managed to keep all three of them in the elite school they already attended. Looking back now and knowing her mother like she did, ignorance was a blessing.
She remembered crying, glued to a sobbing Eloise, both of them thinking that her moving out to a different house meant they wouldn’t attend school together anymore. Penelope could still remember the spark in Eloise’s eyes and the warmth of her smile when they actually saw each other the very next week.
Her heart stung with that memory: she didn’t want this falling out between them to last any longer. As she reached their building, a quick message to Colin was sent (“you owe me, bring home El’s favourite Bibimbap for three and that korean soda I like”), then immediately put the phone on mute.
To her surprise, El had finally left her room and sat on the sofa, frowning her brows at her Doctorate’s thesis on the faint light of her laptop.
“You should really turn on the lights while you’re reading, El.”, she tested in a neutral voice, poking the switch and watching the whole room light up.
“I am not reading, nor am I writing. I simply contemplate the depths of my abject failure at being a scholar. The dark was rather suiting.”
Penelope couldn’t help but laugh, sitting close to her on the sofa.
“You’re not a failure, El. Your research has catched the attention of a too many fine institutes who are happy to pay you for your work. And you’re still on schedule to register your thesis. And you know there’s not a doctor on earth who just sat down and wrote their entire paper without freaking out at least weekly and months behind their deadlines.”
The faintest of smiles built up on her friend’s lips.
“It’s very hard to remain mad at you when you say those things, I need you to stop.”
“I’m sorry, El. Really, I planned on telling you with a nice dinner and champagne, something close to the grandeur our friendship deserve. I was just waiting to sign it and then bring you a copy of it to deliver the happy news!”
Eloise groaned.
“I cannot lie, that sounds delightful.” As Penelope tried to reach for her hand, her friend added, hesitantly. “But Colin, really?”
Penelope rolled her eyes.
“He wasn’t supposed to know! I pursued every publisher before I submitted it to his, you know that!” She was keen on securing a deal because her work was good enough, and not because a certain lawyer was a respected employee of the gigantic publishing company. “Besides, it’s not my fault his was the only company I heard back from!”
“But if he knew…”
“El, we’ve talked about it for years, you have read three of my short stories, you knew I submitted every draft under a pseudonym. He didn’t know because I told him, he only knows because eventually I had to sign a contract under my own name!” This time Eloise did let her hand hold. “I would never tell Colin before I told you!”
“Wow, that hurt.” said the entrancing voice she grew so accustomed to throughout the years. Colin had just entered their home, juggling with too many packages of korean food on one hand and his key on the other. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t have diligently done you the favor of bringing the food you asked for.”
“All is forgiven, I love you both.” said Eloise rushing to the bags with the logo of the restaurant printed on the front. She disappeared into the kitchen with her favorite food in hands.
Penelope watched as he took off his shoes, then his tie, hanging his suit in the hooker next to the entrance door. Then he suddenly caught her eyes, smirking, and she wished her blushing could pass for irritation. How could she still be affected by her childhood crush in her late twenties?
“Don’t you owe me an apology?” his musical voice allured her as he crossed the room to stand in front of her, crossing his arms.
His smudgeness brought her back from her reveries.
“Don’t you?”
He kneeled on the floor, taking both her hands on his. His bright green eyes bore into hers; they were playful. She could actually feel her chest imploding at the sight.
“Forgive me, my dearest Pen, for letting out your secret so carelessly. I am ashamed of my behaviour and will do anything in my power to right my wrongs.”
“Do not mock me, Colin.” was what she managed to let out, under her breath, still too focused on the feeling of their joined hands.
Truth was Colin could not make it up for his wrongs. Not the real ones. Simply because they were not wrongs at all: it wasn’t his fault that she fell helplessly in love with her best friend’s big brother. It wasn’t his fault that, despite the two years gap, the three of them hung out a lot and became friends. I wasn’t his fault (but actually his merit!) that he and Eloise didn’t want to use their family’s influence and money to navigate their careers, choosing to move in together in a (much) less than comfortable apartment in the least worst part of London. It was not his fault that they happened to have a third tiny room and could use another roommate to share the bills. Most of all, it wasn’t his fault he never felt the same ardent, unconditional, profound love she nurtured for him.
Colin got up, smiling softly, dropping his phone and his keys on the small and cramped surface they called dinner table. He unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled the shirt upwards. Her chest flipped again. This was getting out of hand.
“Pen,” he called her out and made sure she looked at him before continuing. “I’m serious now, I’m sorry. You didn’t mention anything at any moment, and I should have supposed it was because you didn’t want to. I should have paid more attention to it.”
As she lost herself in his eyes, yet again, she suddenly realised none of that seemed to matter so much. Because all she could think of was that the only thing she wanted him to pay attention to was impossible.
They’d been living together for years. She had noticed every single night he spent out. Penelope supposed she had Eloise to thank for it, she was the enforcer of the “not bringing shags to the apartment” policy.
“If you want to have sex, you’ll have to pay for a motel like all the plebeians!”, she’d say whenever one of them got a little drunk enough to try and persuade her to change her mind.
“Or find a free public space, like all adventurous people!”, Colin would always respond.
Not only did Pen not mind (she’d been comfortable enough hooking up with people in their cars up until now, anyway), but she secretly held that policy to her heart, for it spared her from seeing him bringing someone home. Or worse, from hearing anything during the night. In her fantasies, he would say such things to her, in a voice so ragged by his own desires, that she didn’t want to spoil the image and the sounds she cherished in her heart.
But then again, wouldn’t it be better if she actually had to face him with other women? Maybe the constant reminder that she wasn’t an option to him was the only thing between her current state and getting over him.
In the end of the day, her fantasies were just that: dreams she occasionally relapsed to, when she couldn’t help it. In the real world, Colin was her best friend, her childhood friend, the brother to her other best friend, a roommate with whom she had an easy, familiar and peaceful relationship.
She would have to find a way to make it suffice.
So Penelope nodded, forcing a friendly smile on her lips, repeating in her head the mantra that kept her feet on the ground and her head above her shoulders during all these years: “he sees you as his sister”. She would let the mantra take over, the voice harsh in her head (sometimes she heard her mother’s), almost scolding her for being so foolish.
You’re his sister, he sees you as a sister, you’re his sister in all but blood.
And then she’d be back to reality, to the life she actually led and was working so hard to make a happy one.
“It’s ok, Colin. But you do owe me.”
He parted his mouth to say something, but Eloise shouted from the kitchen:
“If you do not stop me, I will eat all five packages of bibimbap!”
“You bought five whole servings of bibimbap?” a shocked Penelope asked a sheepish Colin.
“You told me it had to be enough for the three of us!”