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The rain fell heavy as he watched her leave. Fighting wasn’t uncommon for them, getting hurt was part of the course but something felt different to Lucious as he watched Serena walk away. His hand was trembling as he tried to reach out to her, tried to call out but his voice fell empty.
This felt different, why did it feel different? It shouldn’t be different.
Several minutes passed with screaming in his mind that he couldn’t hear but still understood. His hair and clothes stuck uncomfortably against his skin and he wanted to rip it off, until there was only raw muscle left. He didn’t register how his shaking hand picked up his phone, on autopilot dialed a number. It rang once, twice and then.
“Strato” His voice was raw, scratchy in a way as if it was ripped and bleeding, yet quiet. Any sound was too loud, especially the rain pelting against the ground. His brother didn’t respond and yet he knew he was listening.
“Can you pick me up?” oh how Lucious wished he could hold back the way his voice subtly broke. He wasn’t known to feel or speak, his fists were supposed to do that for him. His free hand by his side clenched and unclenched uncomfortably by his side, like he didn’t know what to do with it, like he wanted to hit something but lacked the energy to do so.
Strato was by his side in less than five minutes.
The car ride was honestly a blur to Lucious, he sat in the passenger seat, his hands together on his lap and his head hung low. He felt like a child, one that was just scolded for misbehaving. He felt so small, he just wanted to disappear.
Next thing he knew he was in Strato’s apartment and sitting on his couch, still just, looking ahead, unfocused. Still not a word spoken, they didn’t need to. Strato knew the lows a woman can bring upon someone. He knows what pain love can bring, it isn’t the same but it would be enough.
Luc got warm, dry clothes to change into. He sat on that couch, Strato used a towel to ruffle his hair dry again, he didn’t move after that, not an inch. The only sound in the room was their breathing and the fabric as it ruffled together. An ugly guilt was forming down in his throat and he wanted to puke it out. She left precisely because of this, didn’t she, because he relied on his family. He couldn’t imagine his life without his family, he couldn’t imagine his life without her either.
Strato sat on the couch and still didn’t utter a word. He didn’t ask what happened, he didn’t ask what Luc needed, he didn’t try to offer comfort. He just sat with him. If Luc looked, he would see in Strato’s eyes a struggle, worry mostly, pity perhaps too. A look searching for the right words to fix this that simply didn’t exist. So rain hit heavy against a window and the silence stretched on.
Eventually he fell asleep on that couch, with an empty ache in his chest. Eventually he woke up, with the same ache. On the coffee table was some food, still warm and fresh. Some toast, with the crust cut off and a cheese substitute melting between the slices. He let out a snort, almost amused as it reminded him of memories that feel both like ages ago and just yesterday.
Strato opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the last second decided against it. He put his hand on Luc’s shoulder, patting it softly in the closest motion of comfort he could give. Lucious appreciated the silence.
He’d leave after he ate, he stayed long enough and he didn’t want to overstay his welcome, even if he’d be told that’s impossible. He also needed to prepare for a match, so he had an excuse. He’d check his phone for messages and would hope to see some, even if they’d curse him out.
They’d never mention this happened. They never do. He’s grateful for it.