It's not what you think “Nihao,” Dorian offered cautiously, doing his best to smile welcomingly at his sister. He was stretched out on his bed in their grandfather’s house on the outskirts of Xi’an reading a book. They had been shopping in the morning, and even with all the cooling charms in the world, it could get to be a tiring experience, as evidenced by the fact that Émilie’s temper had seemed rather frayed by the end of it, and he had needed a nap when he got in. He was just now waking up, and he wasn’t sure whether she was coming to bury the hatchet or to further nitpick at him. Normally, he would have guessed the former, but he could almost swear that she had been in a niggly mood the whole summer.
Émilie had been sitting on what to do about Professor Brooding and their little chit-chat at the concert. She was loathe to cause disharmony with Dorian, who was likely to be mad both that she disagreed with what he wanted and that she had talked behind his back. But deep down, she knew that her brother was rational, even if the Professor wasn’t. Yes, she would hate her life if he stopped talking to her, but she would hate it more if he ended up ruined or unhappy and she felt she could have done something to prevent it. Dorian had had more than enough misery.
Still, it took a particular shopping trip to push the point. She rarely got bored of shopping, and so it was clear an extreme had been reached when even she felt Dorian was taking too long about things. Admittedly, art shopping was of less interest to her than jewellery or clothes or bags, but she could normally put up with it for a little while. This was not taking a little while. This was taking forever, because Dorian… Dorian was being Dorian. He could not make a decision. And she was standing being asked for her non-existent opinion on a portrait of Chang’e that she could swear they had already seen at least half a dozen times - and if not that exact one, then ones indistinguishable from it - all in aid of a woman she did not want anywhere near her brother.
“Just pick one! She’s only your teacher!” she told him, feeling exasperated.
“She’s special,” Dorian reproved Émilie, “She deserves time and care putting into her gift, because she takes care of me.”
She had given up on him at that point, going home before she said something she didn’t mean, but still stung and confused and worried for him by it all.
“Nihao,” she replied, settling herself carefully on his bed and looking him over with anxious eyes. Dorian was alarmed to see this - he lived for Émilie not being sad, and he wanted to swoop in and comfort her, but before he had time to open his mouth she had taken a deep sigh and started. “Dorian… You do know that I love you, don’t you?” she asked, switching to French. For all that they were in China, it was a language that was easier and more comfortable, and she wanted to make sure she was speaking clearly, “And that if something was wrong, I wouldn’t judge you. I would just want to help.”
Dorian blinked. He felt caught out, and was sure he was looking rather guilty at this point. Not just because she was right about there being something to tell, but because she had had to come and drag it out of him with promises that she was on his side. And sweet as her words were, she had crossed her arms over her chest in a rather put out fashion that suggested she was rather annoyed that this reminder had been necessary. It was a look that it was hard to wriggle away from.
“You keep telling me you don’t like any particular girl.” she pointed out, deciding to come directly to it, “Is it because you think you’re in love with Professor Brooding?”
“What?” Dorian gaped. “Émi! She is my teacher! And she’s married!”
“I know! That’s why I’ve been worrying about you. If you did feel that way, you could only end up unhappy, and I don’t want that for you.”
“I promise - I don’t have that type of feeling for Professor Brooding,” he told her emphatically. Émilie’s concerns may have been relevant in ways she didn’t realise, and so he could not outright deny their possibility but he could make crystal clear she should not think anything so unpleasant about his interactions with his Professor. “Why would you think that?”
“Because you are practically obsessed with her! And you won’t go out with any girls your own age. You’re being ridiculous about this gift for her, like it has to be perfect.”
“I’m kind of that way about everyone, no?” he asked.
“Some more than others. Her and Jehan more than anyone else.”
And Dorian waited, for her to put together the facts that were staring her in the face. The fact that he didn’t like girls… That only Jehan and Professor Brooding got this much of his attention… And he wasn’t in love with Professor Brooding.
“You’re really not in love with her?” Émilie checked.
“I’m really not in love with her,” he confirmed. And Émilie seemed almost deflated, the look he recognised of someone who had readied herself for a battle only to find there was none to be had. And she seemed puzzled. He wondered whether it was just his imagination, or whether his sister knew him well enough to know that something had been on his mind, and was still applying herself to what it might be. The way she had crossed her arms over her chest, annoyed that he hadn’t confided in her had stung him, and made him realise that he didn’t want to sit waiting to be caught out. For a moment, he had thought it had been too late to do the right thing, but here he was having a second chance at that. Hoping he was right about her, and that she meant what she had had said, he took a deep breath and told her “I’m in love with him.”