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It's supposed to be an easy mission, a type one trapped in an attic - yet this was the second time George had to yell at Lockwood to duck, saving him from immediate ghost touch. It had been like this all night, forgetting chains at home, not being able to concentrate on the task at hand, fumbling with equipment. He had been useless, save for watching George's back while he secured the source that was hidden under one of the floorboards. Light was slowly creeping up by the time they were done, and their walk to the furnaces was mostly silent. He knew that George was mad at him, that much he could tell, yet he couldn't muster up the energy to confront it - perhaps because he was mad at himself, too. For being reckless, and distracted, and relying too much on George.
He just couldn't stop thinking about Lucy.
It felt like he was walking around drunk, a constant fizzing in his chest from the waves of thoughts jumbling together, making his head hurt from the amount of pressure. It was the feeling of her teeth biting down on his shoulder, how his name sounded out of her mouth, whispered and heady, not Lockwood but Anthony - enough for his mouth to go completely dry. The image of Lucy pressed up against him, his hands digging into hips, the faint moan she'd let out when his hand had ghosted over her neck experimentally. The day before flashed in his mind at the most inappropriate moments, and he'd have to stop and compose himself before smiling enthusiastically at a client, or wielding his rapier. They did not end up going all the way, rather just letting the intensity burn itself in their palms spread out over the other, falling asleep with their fingers interlocked between them - but it was enough, more than enough, for Lockwood to get a glimpse of what it would feel like, being with her fully, like a couple of functional people falling into each other normally and then sharing their feelings for one another. And then of course, like always, there was the relentless wall of self-hatred in which he bumped his head over and over again.
He had been weak, giving in to his need to kiss her, and now he was bound to do the exact thing he feared, letting her down again. The rational decision was telling her how disastrously this would end and how, despite his intense feelings caving into himself, they would be safer being colleagues - friends, if he could ever even see her like that.
Lockwood went through the motions sleepwalking, George's voice waking him while the cab pulled up in front of their door.
" You've got to stop, Lockwood."
"Hm?" He paid the driver and jumped out of the car, heading towards the entrance, but George had planted himself firmly in front of the door, regarding him with a serious look. Lockwood simply stood down on the front steps, avoiding eye contact, readying himself for the amount of shit he was about to get from his best friend. Shit that he knew was well deserved.
" I know what you're doing -Lucy and everyone else might buy it, but you're truly an idiot if you think I will. You're going all dark and twisty, and personally, I much prefer you acting like a cocky bastard.” He plopped down next to him, and then nudged him with his knee. “Now talk.” The air felt cool around them, like a liminal space had materialized around, disconnected enough for him to actually put his frenzied state into words. He coughed, picking nervously at the wild grass growing around the ledge.
“ We - me and Lucy, we kissed. Yesterday. Right after I’d told her how useless I am, and how being something, anything with me, meant taking a risk.” He’d hoped that was enough, his fingers already trembling from that sickly, vulnerable feeling that rose in his chest. It wasn’t, as silence stretched between them. But George was not going to let him off as easily as everyone else. He also showed no surprise at the information, having already teased Lockwood endlessly about how obvious his crush was.
“ She said it was her decision to make but I - I feel like she has no idea about the extensive ways in which I’m emotionally fucked up. That it’s my responsibility to shut it off before it even begins - to not hurt her even more.” His head is now in his hands, trying to breathe through his nose and out his mouth. He keeps telling himself that he’s safe being open with George. That the adrenaline pumping through him makes no sense. He takes a deep breath in .
“Sometimes I think I might be - purposely sabotaging this, because I feel like I don’t deserve it. Like if I let myself hope everything is going to fall apart around me.” In a dream-like state, he vaguely feels the weight of George’s hand squeezing his shoulder supportively. It helps ground him. He breathes out.
When he comes out on the other side, he finds that his eyes are wet, but his chest feels lighter somehow. Like he’s had a sort of breakthrough, even though it was through gritted teeth. He tries to smile, and looks up at George - he appreciates that he finds no shade of pity in his eyes.
“ I’m not even going to try and convince you that you’re completely wrong, because I know you know already.” His characteristic dry tone makes Lockwood let out a puff of laughter, which instead makes George laugh too. “ But what about what you want, Lockwood? If you denied your feelings and went to be just colleagues with Lucy, would that make you any happier?”
He contemplates it for a second. Passing Lucy in the kitchen, not a look exchanged between them - pushing it all down again but dreaming of her every night, bruising his knuckles on his bedroom walls when it’s all too much. Denying that he’s in love with her, that she’s so much more than a colleague or even a friend. He shivers at the thought. George notices his expression, and punches his arm lightly. “Exactly, dumbass. Go tell her how you feel. Just don’t become too obnoxious, you two are already bad as is.”
With that, his friend gets up and steps inside, heading for the kitchen. Still reeling from their talk, it hits Lockwood like a thousand bricks when he walks inside too and he finds Lucy, sleepy and bare footed, waiting for him in the hall.
“Hey”
“Hi”
“You weren’t there when I woke up.”
Lockwood smiled apologetically, trying not to lose all composure when he realizes Lucy is wearing one of his t-shirts. His whole speech is wiped out at the sight of it, how the ends of it softly grazes her thighs, her slightly annoyed tone, the youthfulness of her clean, sleepy face. The fact that she seems just as nervous as he is. He wants to kiss her, again and again, to steal her from their responsibilities and fold themselves into a space that is just theirs, no trauma or ghosts. He hates how his voice comes out shaky.
“I actually wanted to - can we, uh, talk? Just us?”
She nods, and then reaches out her hand between them. Dumbfounded, Lockwood takes it, interlocking their fingers, and following her up the stairs and into his bedroom, only letting go when she goes to shut the door behind them. The memory of the last time they’d been in his room together knocks the wind out of him for a moment, but Lucy is waiting in front of him, no anger or judgment on her face, determined to make it more difficult for him by not being the first one to speak. He knows it’s deserved.
“ I’m sorry I’ve been so cryptic and confusing, telling you that we should not be anything and then kissing you yesterday and then -”
Her cheeks instantly go pink at the mention of it, and Lockwood finds it adorable, how just the implication of it gets her shy. He hadn’t wanted to rush them into anything, but they had fallen into his bed, not breaking the kiss for a second, the thought of letting go of her being too much, both in various states of undress- frantic to get as close as possible, all teeth and tongue and scorching heat melting them down and through the white sheets.
He tries to smile and then set himself straight again, as hard as it was when Lucy was blushing like that. “ I struggle with being - with vulnerability. And starting something would mean involving you in that, and all its potential catastrophic consequences.”
Lucy’s brows are furrowed together, and she looks like she’s about to protest, but Lockwood stops it by closing the space between them, grazing her jaw with his fingers, tilting his face so their eyes meet because he wants - he needs for her to see him when he finally admits it. To see that he means it, that he’s never said anything truer.
“ But if you’d have me despite that then I would love for us to-” He stops mid sentence, when Lucy breaks out into a soft, endeared smile, eyes glazed over with tears. He can’t help but mirror her, chest bursting with light, smiling like an idiot. “ God, Luce, would you stop looking at me like that? I’m trying to tell you I’m in love with you, and you’re making it pretty hard.”
“ Is it my fault that you make me stupidly happy? “ She tries to sound offended, but her smile never falters. “ Go on, then. Tell me.” She closes her eyes, leaning her head into his palm.
“I thought I just did.” He’s teasing her now, but he can’t help him, can’t help that she brings out this side of himself, a side that for once, he doesn’t loathe. “ Not properly you haven’t.”
“ I’m in love with you, Lucy. Have been for a while. You’re worth every risk.”
“ In case it’s not obvious, I’m in love with you too, Anthony.”
Anthony,Anthony. His head swims in the sound of it, in knowing he’s enough for her to love, in knowing she’s teary eyed and smiling because of him. It feels miraculous. They both break out into a soft laughter, the energy bursting between them, and Lockwood pulls her fully into his arm, loving how small she feels in his chest, slotting perfectly. He can hear sniffles and then for a second, he allows himself to be happy and present, nothing else clouding over him.
“God, we’re going to be insufferable now, aren’t we?” She giggles and the sound reverberates into his bones. It feels both light and heavy, charged with so much affection. He nods into her hair. “Oh, absolutely.”