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His hands violently shook with relentless rage. One was wrapped around the other as bloody knuckles and stinging pain elicited the tears in his eyes and the weight on his chest. His breaths were sporadic and heavy, burdened by the overwhelming ache. The only sensible thing he had managed was to take it out on the wall, and even then, the tears in the wallpaper and the onset of a hole just meant another trip down to the office. His hand might’ve even been broken, but he didn’t care.
“Leave.”
It stung, but he didn’t.
“Lu-”
“I said leave.”
He shook out his hand, then reached over to his desk for his pack of cigarettes.
“Just talk to me, please.” Allen was desperate. He never knew when to give up.
Lucien’s hands were still unstable as he weakly placed a cigarette between his teeth. He felt his pants for his matches, but they weren’t on his person. He cursed, sloppily moving things around to search the desk, and then pushed past Allen to get to his bookshelf.
“Please, just tell me what I did wrong. I’ll do my best to fix it, I promise. If you would just-”
“No, Allen.” He turned towards him, taking the unlit cigarette out of his mouth. “You are the problem. You didn’t do anything wrong. That’s my whole fucking point.”
Allen wasn’t following, but avoided saying anything that could potentially fuel his exasperation. He was already inches away from driving him away for good. Allen was frozen in fear, and he was not prepared for this conversation at all. He had come to Lucien’s room on a whim, only to be forced to see his true self, the one he kept hidden behind his schemes and master plans, as well as the drugs and alcohol.
Lucien gives up on the matches, throwing the cigarette to the floor. His fists are clenched as tightly as possible- the injury debilitating him. He looks at Allen, this time with what seemed to be yearning instead of anger. He is fighting back tears as he finds the strength to speak again.
“Everything good in my life turns to shit. I can’t…” he has a loss of breath before continuing.
“...I can’t have anything without it being ruined.”
Allen knows he is talking about him- about losing whatever it was that they had between them. It was sweet, in a way. But the damaging effects that were taking place on Lucien were indisputable. Lucien had every right to fear failure, and to fear being hurt again. He had never known a relationship that consisted of feelings that weren’t obsessive. He had every right to be scared of this. He had David to thank for that.
Allen reaches out to him, hesitantly. He was so fragile and vulnerable. Everything he had said was completely right. Lucien has been destroyed, then put back together with faulty pieces only to meet the same fate time and time again, person after person. He knew that Lucien had let down his walls almost instantly with him, which only further complicated his mess of a life. He was truly only good at beginnings; treading the risky waters beyond that was not a path he often ventured.
Surprisingly, Lucien allows him to place a gentle hand on his upper arm.
“It’s okay to be scared, but I am not going to hurt you.” A pause, and a brief search for any kind of sign of approval. He stills.
“...I lov-” Lucien backed away from him, raising his shaky hands to cover his face but ultimately lowering them.
“Allen. Don’t.”
“Please, Lu.”
“Don’t,” he threatened, face reddening. His entire body was moving with the harsh cycle of breaths struggling its way through his lungs. A rush of emotions coursed its way through his conscious self, causing the room to spin all while urging him to get out of there as soon as humanly possible. He wanted to calm down, to just listen to Allen, but the anxiety and the fear-inducing hypotheticals maintained his demeanor.
“Just- get out of my room.” Lucien didn’t want to be seen like this. Allen understood, but he knew that if he did leave him alone, the extremities of the moment would only escalate. He didn’t trust Lucien by himself, just as much as Lucien didn’t trust him by himself either. He approaches him once more, this time even softer.
“Lu. I’m not David.”
Lucien tore away from Allen’s intimate words, immediately sending another solid punch to the wall with a sickening crunch. He cries out, instinctively grabbing his injured hand with the other. He knocks his shoulder into the wall, sliding down until he reaches the hardwood floor. He sits there, crying. He wants to get up and take another hit, but the throbbing pain is entirely too distracting, too frustrating. He barely even registers the other boy in the room. Allen rushes over to kneel in front of him, but the blond won’t look at him.
“Lucien,” he says, worried. He cups his hand on Lucien’s cheek, gingerly turning it to face him. In response to his affection, he hesitantly opens up his blue eyes. They’re decorated with red rims and dark circles, but Allen couldn’t find him any more beautiful. He’s silent as warm tears slide down his skin and onto the brunet’s palm.
“I am not David,” he firmly repeats. Another tear.
“I know how much he’s hurt you, Lu. But I am not him, and I will never hurt you.” He caresses his wet cheek with his thumb.
“I am not him. Please, don’t punish yourself for things that aren’t your fault.” Allen removes his hand, skeptical about what comes to mind next.
“Lu, I…” he takes a breath; Lucien’s eyes are so full of pain and longing.
“I love you.”
Lucien turns his body away from him. “No, no.”
It comes out muffled, from underneath his sleeve.
“Yes, Lu. You have to believe me when I say it.”
“NO.” He retorts, pressing his hands to his ears and squeezing his eyes shut.
“I’ve heard that phrase so many times it sickens me. It’s only his voice. I can’t hear it from anyone else but him.” The agony and the struggle on his face wrench Allen’s heart, as warm tears are streaming, flowing continuously.
David’s presence in Lucien’s life had visibly scarred him. There wasn't a single day, hour, or minute that Lucien had refuge from the older man’s perversion. It was a constant. Lucien despised constant. He had a short temper and a list of brief friendships and almost-relationships to match. There were few things that he often returned to: many of them were drugs of choice, but just one was a substance of enslavement and devastating intoxication.
Allen forces his hands away from his face. “Lu. I’m not him.”
He says it again, two more times, before the crying gradually stops. He meets his gaze once more, and it seems like the blond actually believes him. The rise and fall of his chest slows, and he is calmer. They sit in silence for a little while, as Lucien’s pulse retains a normal speed and he allows Allen to look at him. A few deep breaths, and the world seems in balance.
“This is all your fault, Ginsy,” he says, resting his head back on the wall. The use of the nickname succeeds in lightening the atmosphere, and reassuring Allen.
“You’re challenging me as a person, and I’m not sure if I like it.”
“I’m breaking the cycle?”
Lucien lets out a laugh through his nose.
“Yes.”
Allen smiles, softly, at Lucien. His hands were still lightly touching the other’s arms. Tender and warm, they sat closely together on the dorm floor. A sense of calm washed over Lucien like waves on a beach. Allen was the only one who made him feel so naturally at ease. Everyday he had no other choice than to stay alert, on watch for David or anything else. But the solacing presence of the younger man helped to erase irrationalities, as well as legitimate fears.
Almost absentmindedly, Lucien picked at Allen’s sweater sleeve, suddenly craving human interaction and the pleasant sensation of the other’s skin on his. Allen was always so careful, so delicate when he caressed him ever so lovingly. The same could not be said for when they were caught up in an embrace. Lucien was never much of a hugger, but the feeling of being held incredibly tight and firm was indescribable. Allen was at just the right height for Lucien to rest his head on his, augmenting the subtle, innocent fondness. Sometimes it just felt nice to be in the arms of another, of someone who truly cared more about you than what your body could do for them.
“You have to stop beating yourself up,” Allen said. “It’s not good.”
Lucien let out a heavy breath. This was so different. Allen was different, and Lucien wasn’t used to hanging on to one thing for this long.
“You’re sweet. You genuinely care. I don’t know how I’m supposed to handle that.”
Allen’s heart dropped at his words. He didn’t know exactly how to phrase his next question.
“You’ve… never been in a real relationship?”
Lucien shakes his head.
“Nothing ever lasted,” he answered. Allen quietly let’s out an “oh.” He knows why, he feels for him, he wants to help, but he was ignorant as to how. For now, he stands up off of the floor, helping Lucien to his feet as well. He had no formal training, but Allen could play doctor now and then when necessary.
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
The two walked arm in arm to the nearest bathroom. Though Lucien’s legs worked perfectly fine, he leaned on the other man a bit on the way down. The door was soon shut and they stood on opposite sides of one of the sinks. Allen took Lucien’s injured hand in his, holding it under the warm water running from the faucet. He waited like this for about a minute, as the soothing feeling of the water visibly affected Lucien. Allen dispensed a generous amount of soap in his hand, then gently worked it into his wounds. It stung a little, as indicated by Lucien’s wince, but Allen was sure not to further hurt him.
Lucien stood there, watching Allen clean and care for his hand. He was so engrossed in it that he didn’t look up from gently lathering the soap on every inch of his bruised and ripped skin. Watching this moment was almost overwhelming, for Lucien had never seen so much tenderness and effort be put into such a simple act. He had never felt so cared for in his life.
“You’re really good at this,” was as much gratitude as he was able to choke out. The brunet looked up at him, smiling. He was rinsing the suds off now, rubbing small circles in the back of his hand with his thumb.
“I’ve had some practice.”
Lucien’s hand was patted dry with a soft towel, then wrapped tightly in a bandage. The excess was cut off, and the white cloth was secured at the base of Lucien’s palm. His hand was already starting to feel better, but the throbbing pain was still present.
“Thank you,” Lucien said, barely audible.
“You’re welcome,” Allen replied. He looked up at him expectantly, waiting for something else to be said. Maybe Lucien looked like he had more to say, but he just suggested they go back to the room.
Night had approached them quickly, and Lucien didn’t know about Allen, but he was exhausted. He stripped down to just boxers and a tank top, and sat down on the bed. Allen had lifted his hands to unbutton his shirt, but stopped as he noticed Lucien was watching him.
“A little privacy?” he asked.
“Come on, Ginsy,” Lucien said, raising an arm to touch his leg. “Don’t be so shy.”
Allen’s face flushed red. Sharing the same bed was a little more intimate to him, but Lucien didn’t turn around or cover his eyes; he let his fingers linger on Allen’s hip, before gradually lowering them back down to his side. The brunet eventually gave in and undressed, quickly, then sat down next to Lucien.
“Why are you such a prude?”
“I am not a prude.”
“Okay,” Lucien laughed, disbelieving. Allen playfully pushed him away, eliciting a larger smile. There were a few moments of silence, as Lucien picked at the bandage around his hand and Allen watched him.
His gaze never wavered from the man next to him, as he was transfixed by his ethereal features. Lucien was that of celestial dreams. Every inch of his body sculpted so meticulously, painted by nature’s ginger hands. Every word that escaped his rosy lips was dripping in honey- intelligent, everlasting, captivating words. A writer without having written a single letter, his mind was almost as divine as he. A rare beauty, Lucien was fragile. Lucien was glass. Untouchable yet so quick to break, he had developed cracks over years of abuse and destructive habits.
The wounds he possessed lay underneath the immaculate surface, cutting him deep from the inside out. Few were lucky enough to peer into the depths of his true self. Few stuck around long enough to even get the chance. The deeper Allen went, the more he understood, and the more attached to Lucien he became. Instead of being turned away when learning too much, he was pulled further in, and he knew he was much too involved to simply run the other way. Once Lucien had latched onto him, he realized he was in it for the long run. He just hoped to do right by him, and never turn into the monster of a man that scarred Lucien in the first place.
“You’re my guardian angel, Ginsy,” Lucien said, after a few moments of silence. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Allen leaned in to kiss his temple. “I don’t know what I’d do without you either, Lu.”
Lucien rested his head on Allen’s shoulder. There were so many things he wanted to say, to apologize for, but he couldn’t. Not at the moment. For now, the two just sat on the edge of Lucien’s bed, breathing in sync with each other as the blond listened to the steady rhythm of Allen’s heartbeat. The majority of Lucien’s life was complicated and screwed up, but he realized that it didn’t all have to be that way. Simplicities in life deserved to be cherished, and he decided to start doing just that. Sitting with Allen was nothing extraordinary or astonishing, but it was exactly what he needed.