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When Lucas received the invitation to his father’s wedding, it had been a rainy Sunday afternoon in April. His mother had always told him that it rained in April so that flowers could bloom in May; something he thought was made up to give people a sense of hope. As he stood in the living room, staring out through the foggy window, he watched as raindrops rolled down the glass. He followed each one down, until they hit the ledge and melted into a puddle that overflowed onto the side of the apartment building. One by one, they traveled in streaks as the rain came down in a silent storm. No lightning, no thunder, no overwhelming gusts of wind that toppled trees. It was the type of rain that only made the sky go grey and not black; the sun finding cracks in the clouds to burst through. Light enough that you could find a calm, serenity like quality to it. This was the type of storm people meant when they said they liked the rain. The one that made the air smell fresh of wet pavement and new beginnings.
Lucas had his arms crossed over his chest, the letter in one hand, his other hand resting against his mouth as he chewed his nail. He didn’t do it often, not liking to make a habit out of it, but every now and then it would resurface subconsciously. Between chewing his nails and shaking his leg, he was a walking wreck. If only his eye twitched too, then he’d have completed the set of stereotypical nervous ticks. Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed when the front door had clicked open. It wasn’t until a pair of arms wrapped around his waist, and a kiss was pressed to his shoulder that he realized Eliott was home.
“You okay?” Eliott asked, as he nuzzled his face into Lucas’ neck. His hair was damp and cool against his skin. “You didn’t answer when I called out for you.” Lucas kept his eyes on the window, continuing to watch the patter of raindrops.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” Lucas apologized, numbly, his voice faraway. Eliott removed his face from his neck, and Lucas could feel his eyes watching him intently.
“Earth to Lucas?” he called out suddenly, waving a hand in front of him. Lucas turned to him, having missed what he said.
“Hmm?” Eliott looked at him curiously, a hit of worry spreading across his expression.
“I asked you what’s wrong?” Lucas tucked his bottom lip in, running his teeth along it. He handed Eliott the pretentious silver envelope that had Lucas Lallemant scribbled in calligraphy across it. Eliott raised an eyebrow before pulling out the even more pretentious card. The invitation, tri-folded open, which had been held closed off by a wax seal of the initials L and C. Once folded open, it revealed the information in an almost illegible cursive.
We cordially invite you to the marriage of
Thomas Lallemant & Louise Couture
Saturday, July 17th, 2020
15hr at 1039 Brodeur St.
18hr at 1928 Reconard Ave. for dinner and dancing
RSVP no later than April 03rd, 2020
“Oh, Lucas,” Eliott spoke softly, his voice teetering between pity and sympathy. Lucas didn’t want pity or sympathy, he just wanted to rip up the invitation and pretended that he never found it. Lucas returned his head towards the window, but let his eyes trail to the floor. Eliott sighed, tossing the letter onto the coffee table, before pulling Lucas to the sofa. He let himself be brought into the other boy’s lap, Eliott’s arms wrapping around him. He closed his eyes, resting his head on his shoulder.
“I have to respond by tomorrow,” Lucas said, finally speaking.
“Why did he send it so late?” Eliott questioned. Lucas wanted to laugh but didn’t.
“He sent it to my old apartment, even though he knows I don’t live there anymore. Mika forgot to give it to me, so on his way to work today he dropped it off. Apparently it came in like a month ago.” Eliott shook his head, rubbing circles over Lucas’ back, attempting to provide what little comfort he could to the situation.
“I didn’t even know he met someone,” Eliott thought out loud and that’s when Lucas felt anger bubble in his chest. The first real emotion he felt since opening the envelope. When he had first read it, his entire mind went still. He didn’t feel anything, just a numbness that set in.
“I didn’t either, but I guess this is a bit more in his style. No need to give his son a heads up,” Lucas spat, bitterly. He found himself unable to sit anymore, so he freed himself from Eliott’s grasp and began to pace. Eliott sat in silence, his eyes following him as he wore out a path on their hardwood floors.
“What an asshole,” Lucas muttered, running his hands through his hair. “I don’t care if he gets married and fucks up his second attempt at a family, but the fact that he didn’t even tell me--” Lucas felt like screaming, all his emotions hitting him at once, as if the anesthetic wore off and now all the pain in his body was burning. “You know what? Nevermind! He’s right! Why tell your son that you’re getting married again? There’s no point, it’s not like he cared about my opinion before he left! I really have to hand it to him. He managed to rope another poor woman to marry him and in only… what? A couple of months? Less than a year. Or maybe he’s been with her even longer! Maybe that’s the real reason why he left us!” Lucas had stopped pacing, and he was staring right through Eliott, screaming at no one in particular. Eliott just sat watching him, lines of worry and pity had returned to his face.
“Lucas?” Eliott’s voice was quiet but alarmed. He slowly rose from the sofa, and approached him like one might a wild animal. Lucas hadn’t realized he was shaking, or that he had started crying at some point. Was he crying? He raised a hand to his cheek, his fingers coming away damp. Huh, he was. Eliott put a steady hand on his shoulder and Lucas suddenly felt his legs go weak. Before he could fall, Eliott caught him, in a swift motion. He carried him to the sofa and laid him down. Lucas was looking up at the ceiling, feeling like he could cry another ten gallons of tears and it still wouldn’t be enough. Why was he crying in the first place? He should be happy that his dad is moving on-- it’s better for Lucas if he does. He might actually never have to see or hear from him beyond this wedding. Why invite Lucas in the first place if you didn’t care about him? Was this an olive branch or was it just a pleasantry, one that his new wife probably made him do? How had one card managed to completely wreck him? How had it brought with it millions of different questions?
Eliott had gone and returned with a glass of water before Lucas had even contemplated the first question. He sat up to take a sip from it, only to ease Eliott’s conscious. He handed the glass back to his boyfriend who placed it onto the table, before taking a seat beside him. Lucas leaned his head on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry--”
“--Nope. I refuse to let you apologize for feeling upset over this,” Eliott interrupted.
“I just… What game is he playing at? He doesn’t tell me he’s dating anyone, and then suddenly I get a wedding invitation?”
“I don’t know, my love. I don’t know,” Eliott admitted. Lucas wiped his face with his sleeve, before leaning his head back on the sofa. There was a pause before Eliott asked, “Do you think you’ll go?” Lucas scoffed at the thought.
“If I go I’m admitting that I still care about him--which I don’t. I’m admitting that I support his life choices--which I honestly couldn’t give less of a shit about. And I’m subjecting myself to a painful six hours of people acting like my dad is a good person--which he’s not.”
“You’ll also be proving that you’re the bigger man,” Eliott offered, playing devil's advocate. Lucas rolled his eyes.
“But, I’m a petty man at heart, babe and I think he already knows it.”
“Then don’t go,” Eliott began, turning to him. “Done. Don’t respond to him, and maybe, hopefully, he’ll leave you alone forever.”
“I’m not going,” Lucas agreed. Eliott smiled at him, giving him a reassuring squeeze of his hand. “I don’t need to put myself through that.”
“No, you don’t. Instead, we should just throw a really big rager that same night, and get shitfaced,” Eliott proposed. Lucas perked up at the idea.
“Yes! Vodka! So much vodka!”
“I’ll buy you all the vodka you want,” Eliott told him, with a small laugh. Lucas gave him a big grin.
“You don’t know what you just promised. I don’t think your bank account can take that kind of a hit.”
“I don’t think the liquor stores can take that kind of a hit,” Eliott countered. Maybe his dad’s wedding day would be a fun time. So much fun in fact, that Lucas was hoping to black out and not remember anything when he wakes him.
A week later, Lucas was sitting cross legged on their countertop, as he watched Eliott sort through a pile of takeout menus, with so much concentration that it looked like he was taking an exam.
“Chinese?” Eliott asked, plucking out a menu card and flashing it to him.
“Meh,” Lucas responded with a shrug. Eliott tossed it into the “meh” stack, before returning to comb through the options again. Lucas watched on, a small smile curling on his lips. It didn’t take much for Eliott to make his heartache. Just his intense focus on selecting a restaurant, his tongue slightly poking out from his mouth, a piece of hair falling into his eyes, made Lucas want to reach out and kiss him.
“Sushi?” he proposed, holding up another card.
“You don’t like sushi,” Lucas pointed out, suppressing a small laugh. Eliott paused and looked down at the restaurant menu, having gotten caught up in rattling off ideas.
“How'd this end up in here?” He shrugged and tossed the card into the “no” pile. Lucas let out his laugh, and Eliott’s eyes flickered up to him.
“You’re so cute,” Lucas commented, taking a breath. Eliott rolled his eyes, but before he could say something in return, there was a knock at their door. They shared a quick look.
“Who do you think it is?” Eliott asked, glancing over to their hallway. Lucas shrugged, slipping off the counter, his feet landing on the tile with a soft thud.
“I don’t know,” he said, his eyebrows furrowing. He made his way out of the kitchen.
“Greek?” Eliott shouted, poking his head around the wall. Lucas shot him a ‘yes’ from over his shoulder, and watched as Eliott excitedly retreated back to the island to look through the menu.
“Yes?” Lucas answered, swinging the door open, still smiling from Eliott’s reaction. His face quickly dropped when he registered who was standing on the other side.
“Hi son.” His father stood, his shoulders pushed back, his arms hanging steadily to his side. His eyes looked at him, with a serious gaze that rang anything but warm and loving. All the air had left Lucas’ lungs, and as he stood standing in front of a man he never wished to see, his knuckles turned white as his grip on the door became rigid. His jaw clenched tight, as his father tilted his head, awaiting for a response that would never come.
“My love, who--” Eliott's voice came to a sudden halt from over Lucas’ shoulder, and although he couldn't see him, he knew that he too was frozen with sudden shock. Thomas Lallemant, looked passed his son to Eliott, who had suddenly appeared behind his boyfriend, a protective arm wrapping around his waist.
“Hello, Eliott,” his father greeted out of politeness.
“Thomas,” Eliott spoke dryly, his posture looming.
“How did you find out where we live?” Lucas asked, finally speaking up, his voice slightly fearful. Thomas’ eyes flickered down to his son.
“I asked your mother.” Lucas bit the inside of his cheek, and he could feel Eliott’s grip tighten around him. “May I come in?”
Everything in Lucas’ being screamed for him to slam the door in his father’s face, and never look back. Yet, some part--some stupidly influential part--begrudgingly allowed him to entire their apartment out of sheer curiosity. Now, as he and Eliott sat across from Thomas, an entire living room between them, Lucas started to wonder what possessed him to let this man even remotely near the new life he created for himself. This comforting bubble that took every part of him to perfectly sculpt with Eliott. Months of gluing pieces of his heart back together. Months of working on his abandonment issues and his anxieties. Months of working up the courage to let Eliott finally see every part of himself, every fear and nagging thought that ate away at him at night. Every problem that was created and cultivated under the thumb of this very man, who now sat on his sofa. The absolute audacity of Thomas Lallemant was absolutely astonishing.
“I didn’t know you two moved in together,” Thomas said, breaking the fragile silence that balanced between them like a glass on the edge of the table. Lucas had told him, but the fact that he didn’t remember didn’t shock him in the slightest. Nothing this man did, shocked Lucas anymore.
“Yes, a few months ago,” Eliott replied, blandly. He held Lucas’ hand in his, with an unrelenting pressure. Lucas wondered who was benefiting from the touch more. Regardless of whether it was to comfort Lucas or if it was to stop Eliott from lunging at the older man, Lucas neither knew nor cared. He wouldn’t let go, and he didn’t want Eliott to either.
“That’s nice--”
“--What do you want?” Lucas snapped, unable to sit through the painful small talk. His father clamped his mouth shut at the sudden interruption. “Why are you here?”
“I see you don't want to beat around the bush,” Thomas said, his tone even.
“I don’t want to spend any more time with you than I have to,” Lucas answered honestly. To any random stranger, it may have seemed like Thomas Lallement was hurt by the spiteful comment, but to Lucas, he knew that what flashed across his eyes was not pain, but hatred.
“I see,” he replied slowly. “Well, I only came to see why you didn’t respond to the invitation.”
“Oh, you mean the one that you sent to my old address because you didn't listen when I told you I moved?” Lucas laughed without humour, his voice dripping with sarcasm. His father presses his lips together into a line, attempting to be patient. He would try to hold back for no reason other than the fact that Eliott was present. Lucas’ hand further clamped onto his boyfriend’s, making certain that he couldn’t simply leave. There was no way to tell what his father might say if they were alone.
“Please, Lucas. Let’s be civil.” Thomas seemed to flash a look to Eliott. Was he asking for backup? The fucking audacity. Eliott blinked at him.
“Lucas can say whatever he wants to say. I don’t control him,” Eliott told him sternly. Lucas bit back a smirk that threatened to spread across his face. Thomas proceeded without acknowledging the comment made by Eliott.
“I want to know why,” he explained, repeating his earlier answer. Lucas shook his head with disbelief.
“You could have called,” he offered his father.
“Would you have answered?” Lucas licked his lips, leaning his head back slightly.
“You got me there,” Lucas declared, with a short laugh. His father watched him, his face stone cold. “Is that seriously all you wanted? You don’t talk to me for months and then you just decide to pop back into my life at your convenience?” Thomas shifted in his seat, the only indication that he was hit by the weight of the words that now hung in the air, trapped by the tension. “You only come back into my life when you need something, only when having a son plays in your favour. Why do you really care if I don’t come?” Thomas didn’t respond. He just looked on at Lucas, in growing anger. “Is it because it will make you look better? Are you going to pretend to be proud of me so you can show me off for your personal gain? To show off how good of a dad you are? Or is it because your girlfriend thinks that it’s important that I come?” A shadow passes across his features. Lucas nods, with a smile of realization.
“Ah, that’s it, isn’t it. Linda? Lana? Linday? Oh, whatever her name is--” Lucas knew it was Louise. “--She said this would be a nice olive branch, didn’t she? She thinks it will make you seem like the bigger man, right? She wants to play ‘mommy’ so badly, hoping that this can bring us together and we’ll be one happy family?”
“Lucas this… tantrum that you’re throwing is incredibly childish.” Lucas scoffed at his comment.
“Tell me,” Lucas began, shifting to sit at the edge of the sofa, finally dropping Eliott’s hand so he could lace his fingers together. His boyfriend’s touch went immediately to his back, continuing his silent encouragement. “Did it ever cross your mind to… oh, I don’t know… tell me about Louise? You know, introduce her to me? Or was it your plan from the beginning to keep me in the dark until the very last minute?”
“I don’t see how my love life concerns you, Lucas. I am an adult and I can see whoever I like. I don’t need to tell you anything.” Thomas spoke blatantly. “Especially since you’ve decided to distance yourself from me.”
“You’re such a hypocrite!” Lucas lashed out, with a shout. His father’s eye twitched, at the observation.
“I beg your pardon?” Thomas said slowly, his tone dangerously on the edge of threatening.
“When I told you I was dating Eliott, you seemed to have many opinions about my love life, which by your own words, doesn’t concern you .”
“This is different,” his father started, his anger finally seeping through his words. “You are a child . You don’t understand what love is.” Eliott’s reflexes were sharper than Lucas’ speed; his arm springing in front of Lucas’ chest to stop him from jumping at his father. Lucas’ eyes burned with rage, sudden and explosive. Had it not been for Eliott, he would have done something rash. However, Eliott may have stopped him from impulsive actions, but the older boy didn’t let Thomas’ words go unaccounted for. As Lucas shrunk back into the sofa, Eliott leaned forward, a deadly look, glaring at the middle-aged man across from them.
“I don't appreciate you coming into our home and telling my boyfriend that he is incapable of knowing what love is. For someone who doesn’t seem to have a compassionate, loving bone in your body, I’m surprised you have even convinced another woman to be with you. Unless you’re sitting on a bank account with more zeros than a phone number, I don’t see what anyone could see in you. It’s only a matter of time before she realizes what kind of heartless spineless man you are. Luckily, Lucas got his heart and his brain from his mother. Emotionally abusing your own son and being a manipulative asshole doesn’t get you far with the ladies, Thomas.” If Lucas wasn’t on the verge of crying, he probably would have pulled Eliott into the hardest kiss he’d ever given him-- if not to thank him, then just to piss off his dad.
“I suggest you leave before you say or do anything else that might bury you deeper in your grave,” Eliott warned. Thomas, without removing his eyes from Eliott’s, rose from the couch. Eliott stood as well, and it was like watching two lions about to pounce, only waiting to see who would make the first move.
“Just,” Lucas spoke up, his voice weak from holding back tears. His father looked down at him, pulling his attention from Eliott. “Are you actually disappointed that I can’t come? Seriously. No pretenses. No Louise. Nothing. Between you and me. Honestly?” Lucas didn’t know which hurt more, the single word that went unspoken, or the ones that his own conscious cruelly substituted. He doesn’t love you. He never did. He never will.
Thomas didn’t hang his head in shame, or avert his eyes in guilt. No, he just turned and made his way to the door. Eliott followed him, meters apart, keeping a safe distance. Lucas remained staring at where his father once stood, his eyes frozen on the patch of wall that was now visible without the man blocking it. Tears welled in his eyes, having been held back for so long. He curled in his bottom lip, pressing his teeth down, until the pain subsided and was replaced with a faint sharpness. As the front door locked shut, he let out an unguarded, heart wrenching sob, that brought Eliott running to him. Lucas’ hands flew up to his mouth, muffling his cries, until it was Eliott’s shoulder that could do it. He weeped into the soft cotton fabric of his boyfriend's shirt, feeling it becoming damp under his face. Strong arms cradled him tightly, making him feel like a child in desperate need of comfort. He curled himself against his chest, showing a vulnerability that he had never expressed to Eliott before. Sure, he had cried plenty of times in front of him. He had shouted. He had shaken with fear, but never had Lucas violently sobbed uncontrollably with painful gasps for air. Lucas didn’t know how to stop. He didn’t know how to calm himself down. He didn’t understand why he let himself waste any ounce of energy on Thomas Lallement. A man who didn’t deserve his name to even be uttered in thought, let alone weeped over.
“Shh,” Eliott whispered, holding him so close to his body, that they could have become one person. “I love you.” For the next few minutes, those three words were the only ones being repeated to him over and over again; the only words that Eliott was saying. Lucas knew that he loved him. He knew deep in his subconscious, deep in his being that Eliott loved him. He didn’t understand how someone so wonderful as him, could ever love someone as broken as Lucas--someone as self-conscious and shattered.
“All your life you were told you weren’t good enough,” Eliott began, with a soft voice, as if reading his mind. “That you wouldn’t be loved. That you can’t love. But I love you so much it hurts. Lucas, you are loved. You were always loved. Your mother, she loves you. Yann, loves you. Basile, Arthur, Mika, Manon, all the girls, they all love you. I love you. You don’t need him in your life. You were doing so well without him, this entire time. Don’t let him put doubts in your mind. You are strong. You are capable. You are the most amazing person I have ever met, so don’t let him show up and ruin all you’ve worked hard to rebuild.”
Eliott had held Lucas for what felt like hours, never once complaining, never once loosening his hold on him. Lucas had cried until there was no more liquid in his body left to pour out, and then just laid limply in the older boy’s arms, feeling a heavy blanket of drowsiness overcoming him. The last thing he remembered was a vague memory of Eliott carrying him off to bed, and laying him under their warm duvet with a gentle release.
He awoken in the middle of the night, the loft quiet, save for the soft breaths coming from the sleeping boy beside him. A familiar arm laying over his body because even in Eliott’s sleep he was protecting Lucas. The steady rise and fall of his partner’s chest, lulled him back into a relaxed state. Tomorrow, Lucas was going to burn the wedding invitation that was somewhere in their apartment, looming like a shadow. Tomorrow he was going to block his father’s phone number and he was going to call his mother and tell her about what happened. Tomorrow he was going to call Emma who had recently become obsessed with saging, to see if she would come by and burn the painful memory of his father out of the house. Tomorrow… tomorrow Lucas was going to move on. Move forward and never look back. His father had managed to ruin too much of his life already, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let him get a hold on the life he’d made for himself.
Eliott shifted, pressing his face into Lucas’ hair, sighing before resuming his patterned breathing. Lucas smiled to himself, letting his eyes fall back shut. This is what love was. What he felt when he was with Eliott. What he felt when he simply heard the boy’s name. The ache in his heart, the hitch in his breath, the curl of his lips, the shine of his eyes-- all of it was love. You are a child. You don’t understand love. The words bounced around his mind like an echo in an empty cave. Lucas wondered what his father saw when he looked at him? Lucas wondered if his father ever truly felt love? There must have been a moment with Lucas’ mother, a moment with Lucas. But he couldn’t help wonder if he ever felt what Lucas has with Eliott. How could anyone who’s ever experienced love be so full of hate? Maybe he never has, maybe he never will, and maybe Lucas would have felt a sliver of pity for him. Not now, though. Lucas was officially, never feeling anything for his father again. Lucas was going to live for himself, and if that meant having to cut out the toxicity of his own father, then so be it. He had a family. One that he had chosen, and it was made up of people who were proud of him and loved him. It wouldn’t happen over night, because forgetting those who cause you pain is never easy, but he was going to try.
“Minute by minute,” Eliott mumbled to him, only ever so slightly awake. “Too much thinking.”
“What’s this minute?” Lucas inquired, softly, but Eliott had already fallen back into his slumber. “For this minute, I’ll think about how much I love you,” Lucas said, to the sleeping boy wrapped around him.
And Lucas fell asleep thinking about just that. He loves you. You love him. You love each other and that’s all you need.