Chapter Text
Matthias sat on the couch, reading a book aloud, and Lukas had his head in his lap, making comments every once in a while.
“My dear Art,—” Matthias said, in the most ridiculous Texan accent. Lukas snorted. “We’ve told yarns by the camp-fire in the prairies; and dressed one another’s wounds after trying a landing at the Marquesas—”
Lukas was attempting to keep a straight face, but his features twisted in laughter. “Just read it normally,” he said, whacking Matthias on the arm.
“—and drunk healths on the shore of Titicaca. There are more yarns to be told—”
“ Matthias —”
“—and other wounds to be healed, and another health to be drunk. Won’t you let this be at my camp-fire to-morrow night?”
Lukas’ shoulders hitched as he succumbed to a fit of giggles.
Emil walked somberly out of the hallway and into the living room where Lukas had finally subdued his laughter. “Hey, um, Lukas…” he said quietly, shifting uneasily.
“Hm? What’s the matter?” Lukas asked, sitting up.
“Grandma… She passed away last night.”
Lukas froze. “What?”
Emil shifted awkwardly again. “Mom messaged me a few minutes ago.”
Lukas looked at his phone, noting the lack of notification. He stood numbly, and exited the room in a robotic manner. “I need to be alone,” he said, leaving Matthias staring after him with worry.
After he closed the door to his room and locked it, he leant his back against it. Hearing the muffled conversation between Matthias and Emil. He palmed his eyes, sliding to the floor. After a few seconds, he rested his head on his knees and squeezed his eyes shut.
Some time passed before he heard Matthias approach the door. “Lukas… I’m here if you want to talk about it…”
“Okay.”
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—Ten years ago—
Lukas and Alasdair were casually browsing the books at the library and whispering to each other every once in a while.
“I have to get going soon,” Lukas said, closing the mythology book he had been flipping through. He pushed it back onto the top shelf with the tips of his fingers, and Alasdair reached over and slipped it back into its spot with ease. His hand slid down and came to rest on Lukas’.
Lukas swiftly removed his hand, flustered, and rubbed his arm unsure where to put his hands.
“I like y’lot,” Alasdair whispered, leaning his back against the bookshelf. “Pretty sure y’like me too.” Blunt as always, but Lukas liked that about him. He never had to guess what he really meant.
Lukas looked away, his heart beating heavily. “You could say that.”
“Ha, I knew it—” he chuckled softly. “Cannae believe I hafta go back home t’morrow.”
Lukas finally looked back at Alasdair, noting the far-off look in his green eyes.“Me too.”
“Whaddya say I take a ‘lil souvenir?” he said, smiling.
“Like wha—”
Alasdair leant down and pressed his lips against Lukas’ in a brief kiss. “Like that.”
“Idiot!” Lukas blushed, covering his mouth. “You can’t do that—”
“Sorry, didja not like it?”
“Wh– I did,” Lukas said looking away again, “But I don’t want anyone to see.”
Alasdair nudged him gently on the arm and grinned. “Don’ worry, nobody saw.”
Now Lukas was back home in his room, reading a word problem from his Algebra II textbook for the fifth time over. He simply couldn’t focus, feeling uncharacteristically giddy about what had unfolded at the library earlier. At last he was able to put the equation down on paper, writing the x’s and y’s in their proper places. If he could just finish this last problem he could go to sleep. He tapped his pencil against the desk, working through steps in his head. He could hear his father moving loudly through the hallway, but he paid no mind to it.
“Lukas Bondevik!” his father yelled, throwing the bedroom door open, and grabbing his son by the shirt.
The sudden change in atmosphere stunned him, and all he could do was stare up at his father in shock, like a deer in the headlights. What had he done to bring this reaction? Something like this had never happened before–
Oh.
“I raised you right ,” he growled, dragging Lukas from the desk and down the hallway, not giving him a chance to catch his footing, “Disgusting–” he threw Lukas onto the carpet.
Lukas’ heart pounded and his eyes met his brother’s, who was shrouded in the dim light of the hallway, peeking around the corner. He looked scared. His gaze went back to his father who stood imposingly over him.
“Now, you tell your mother what you did.”
He attempted to get up from the floor, but his father just pushed him to his knees. He looked to his mother, who was standing by the window, having just hung up the telephone. What was the point in telling? It was clear she already knew, her mouth in a disappointed line..
He could try to feign ignorance, really, it was worth a shot. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, too quietly to sound even a little confident.
“Don’t you fucking lie to me.”
Lukas stole a glance down the hallway again. Emil had disappeared.
“Look at your mother,” his father said, grabbing his hair and turning his head to face her. “And tell her what you did.”
Someone had seen, after all.
Lukas climbed out of his bed silently, Emil sleeping soundly on the other side of the room. He walked over to his dresser and started putting some clothes in a duffle bag. He was humiliated, and simply terrified to face his parents the next morning. His whole body felt filled with anguish and anxiety of the pure unknown that was tomorrow, and the future.
“Lukas, where are you going?” Emil whispered, sitting up in the dark.
“Nowhere, just go back to sleep,” he answered, hoisting his bag over his shoulder.
“You’re in trouble, aren’t you…”
Lukas couldn’t lie, but he also didn’t want to say anything about what had occurred a few hours ago. He simply walked over to the bedroom door, and opened it quietly, looking at his brother one last time before disappearing into the darkness.
After walking for hours and getting lost several times, he finally found his way to his grandmother’s house. The sun was just beginning to peek over the evergreen hills, and Lukas’ feet throbbed sorely as he climbed onto the porch. He threw his bags down and sat on the steps, burying his head in his hands, finally letting his guard down. Lukas let out a shaky breath, ultimately failing in keeping his eyes clear.
Exhaustion had overtaken him, and with whatever strength he had left, he laid his head against his duffle bag and cried himself to sleep.
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Matthias, who always seemed to have something to say, remained silent, simply holding Lukas in a firm embrace and rubbing his back soothingly.
“And they weren’t even going to tell me!” Lukas trembled. “She made me feel normal after that! She— she never saw me any different—”
“I’m sorry,” Matthias cooed. He knew Lukas didn’t like to talk about himself or his family, but he had no idea it was like that. Emil must’ve known something , but it seemed Lukas would rather bury everything than have to relive that again, only giving short and vague explanations whenever the topic came up. “And you’ve been dealing with all of this alone…”
Lukas ignored that comment, or maybe he simply hadn’t heard it. “I don’t want you coming to the funeral with us,” he said numbly.
“What? Why not?”
“If you come, they might—”
Matthias cut him off. “Lukas, listen to me,” he said, the other looking up tiredly, “I’m not just gonna let you walk into that lion's den. You need support right now, and I’m not the least bit worried about what your family’s gonna say. You aren’t going for them. You’re going for your grandma.”
Lukas gave a nearly undetectable smile and nodded. “You’re right,” he said quietly, burying his head in Matthias’ chest again. “They don’t scare me…” But he was lying.