Work Text:
The rain pattered down on the concrete as Lucas made his way to the Hutch, his heart feeling more heavy today as he took a large breath of air.
It had been a month since Lucas packed up his future in a cardboard box and walked away from everything he had desperately tried to cling on to.
It was hard at first, watching his shared home with Dillon slowly become just Dillon’s. Their wardrobe, which once presented dark fabrics against bursts of colour, now only displayed lonely cardigans; two messy bedside tables soon became just one, and the cupboards were spacious despite once being filled with stacked mugs, bowls and plates.
Lucas pulled open the Hutch doors and strolled to the kitchen.
“You’re late,” his father stated, folding his arms across his chest.
The boy ducked his head and avoided eye contact with his father as he went to slip on his red apron.
Ste sighed and shook his head. “Right, if you’re not gonna give me a proper excuse, you might as well make yourself useful and start chopping these onions.” He pointed to the red onions on the chopping board.
Lucas washed his hands quickly and moved to the red onions, still avoiding eye contact. His felt his father’s burn through his head as he started dicing the onions.
“What’s happened?” Ste suddenly asked, dropping the saucepan down on the counter and stepping closer towards his son.
Lucas placed the knife down and turned to his father. “I was just thinking...about the future.” He bit his lip and frowned. “It’s been over a month since I moved out and since I last spoke to Dillon.”
Ste stared at him with a sad smile and rubbed his shoulder. “Sometimes you’ve got to do what’s best for you.”
Lucas blew out a long breath. “I know, dad. But it doesn’t mean I don’t miss it...” He then looked ahead with a far away look in his eye.
“It doesn’t mean you don’t miss him,” Ste finished off for him.
His son sent him an emotional look, watery eyes shining with despair. He sucked in a shaky breath and looked down at the onions. “It must be the onions.”
“Did you need to take the day off?” Ste asked him gently, watching his son stare hard at the table with glistening eyes.
He frantically shook his head. “I need to get my mind off it.”
“Alright, well get to work then,” Ste said before giving him an encouraging slap on the back and leaving to turn on the hob.
Lucas was in the middle of wiping down a table when he spotted a dark head of hair through the clear glass window. He immediately ducked, making sure he couldn’t be seen from inside the Hutch. It was silly of Lucas to hide from his ex when he knew where he worked, but he couldn’t handle catching his eye.
He waited a few seconds before popping his head back up again. With a solemn expression, he watched as Dillon stumbled around, his movements messy but slow. Lucas tilted his head and furrowed his brows. Why was he walking like that? He then widened his eyes.
Was he hurt?
Lucas rubbed at his chest and made a beeline for the back rooms. He rushed to get his apron off and darted to the front of the restaurant for the exit.
Dillon was now slumped against a brick wall near the bus shelter which had Lucas immediately rushing over towards him.
“Dillon?” He crouched down in front of him and didn’t hesitate to cup his damp cheeks. “Dillon? Hey, are you OK?”
He slowly opened his eyes, revealing brown blood shot ones. “Lucas?” His ex-boyfriend grumbled out, lifting his head up with a grunt.
Lucas sniffed the air, scrunched his nose and recoiled. “Jesus, Dillon, you smell like a bar.”
Dillon gave a drunken smile and raised his arms up. “You’re here.”
The curly haired boy sighed and wrapped his arms around his neck before helping Dillon up from off the dirty ground. “God, what on earth happened to you?”
His ex rested his head on Lucas’ shoulder and breathed out. “You’re finally here.”
Lucas rolled his blue eyes. “Alright, you muppet, let’s get you home.”
A drunk Dillon registered what he said and groaned. “No, Misbah will get mad at me.”
“Wow, you must be so wasted to not remember,” Lucas muttered, before he started moving the both of them in Weirside View’s direction. “I’m taking you back to your home, Dillon.”
“Will you be there then?” Dillon asked in turn, stopping Lucas in his tracks.
A pang shot through Lucas’ heart and his teasing smile fell. He cleared his throat, stabling Dillon as he stumbled over his feet. “You really need to start watching your drink.”
Dillon shrugged and then yawned. “I felt extra down today.”
Lucas fell quiet but nevertheless carried on walking them back to Dillon’s flat.
“I’ve been really struggling,” Dillon continued, slurring his words a little bit. “I used to feel all light and bubbly...but now I just feel this dimness.”
The curly haired boy frowned as he listened to a drunk Dillon convey his feelings through broken words. They may have split up, but it didn’t mean he didn’t still care for him or worry about him.
“I tried to resist it, Lucas,” his ex-boyfriend drawled, wiping his mouth with the limp hand that rested at his side, “but something keeps pulling me back into the darkness.”
Dillon sighed aloud and then steadily rested his head against Lucas’s head, closing his eyes soundly.
Lucas felt his heart thump loudly in his chest as his ex’s head found its past resting spot. He knew it shouldn’t be happening again, letting Dillon get that close to him, but his heart ached too much for his head to truly fight it.
The month without talking had a been a long, gruelling one. Dillon was his first point of contact when he was struggling emotionally. Unfortunately, he couldn’t go to Dillon if he happened to be the main cause.
Lucas blinked away his thoughts, along with the painful emotion wavering in his blue eyes, and stopped them both directly in front of Weirside View. He wanted to leave Dillon then and there; open the flat with his keys and shove him through the door.
But one look at a drunken and dejected Dillon had him re-evaluating the harsh scenario that he had come up with in his head. His hardened eyes softened once he took in the dark bags under Dillon’s eyes, and his protective guard crumbled when he saw the chipped brown nail polish upon his bitten down fingernails.
Swallowing down the bitter feelings he had been harbouring for over a month, Lucas turned to Dillon and gently brushed his fingertips over his cheek. “Hey, sleepy head, where are the keys?”
“Rex usually keeps a spare one under the doormat,” Dillon mumbled through heavy breaths before tucking his head into the crook of Lucas’ neck.
A burning sensation rose up in his throat as Lucas started to become nauseous. He tried to reassure himself with the fact that Rex owned the house so it was normal for him to have a key- but it didn’t settle the anxious flutter in his gut.
“OK, Dillon,” Lucas whispered to him, unwrapping his arm from Dillon’s waist and pulling away from his close embrace, “I'm going to set you here.” He gently placed him against the walls of the building before bending down to flip the doormat over.
He had hoped for Dillon to have been wrong and that there wouldn’t be a key to his home just lying under a doormat, but alas all of that was extinguished when he saw the singular golden key flat on the ground.
Lucas shook his head, rage filling up inside of him. How could Rex be so careless? He was putting his boyfriend in danger by doing that, Lucas thought to himself angrily.
He then blinked at the word “boyfriend”, another heavy hit to his chest. Boyfriend came so easily to him when thinking of Dillon.
The hardest part was stripping that title away from Dillon's face. Dillon’s beautiful, calming face.
Lucas looked back at a slumped Dillon, light rainfall sprinkling down his face. He was miles away from the boy he used to know.
Suddenly, Dillon was coughing and that sprung Lucas into action. He jumped over to Dillon and patted his cheeks.
“Dillon?” Lucas called out to him through Dillon’s drunken stupor.
“I’m alive,” Dillon choked out, slapping his hand on top of Lucas’ and swiping the skin there with his thumb. “You worry too much.”
“Well, if you didn’t do stupid stuff like this, you wouldn’t give me anything to worry about,” Lucas grumbled, staring meaningfully into Dillon’s brown weary eyes.
They stood there and stared for a couple seconds, and every moment that passed in that short time span Lucas could feel his walls chipping away.
“I didn’t think you cared anymore,” Dillon slurred, his face crumbling with emotion. “I thought I was nothing to you. That’s all I am to everybody. Just nothing.”
Lucas looked to the floor, guilt stabbing at his heart. He thought about that comment every day. Wished that he could take it back. He heard it as he unpacked his box of things. He saw Dillon’s hurt expression reflecting back at him in the water as he scrubbed ferociously at the dishes in the sink. He felt the sting of betrayal licking at his heart every time he thought of his sweet Dillon who never gave up on him.
“You’re everything but nothing, Dillon,” Lucas firmly said, looking deeply into his sad eyes.
“You’re just saying that,” Dillon responded with a downcast expression on his face. “I know I messed up, Lucas. I would have chased after you...I would have.” His eyes became watery and he sniffed.
Lucas nodded before he let his hand fall from Dillon’s cheek. “It’s done now so...”
His ex-boyfriend squeezed his eyes shut and wiped at his forehead, flicking his wet fringe back.
Lucas turned to the door and with the key he unlocked Dillon’s flat. He then tugged Dillon towards the entrance and stepped into the flat.
His eyes roamed the place and his lips parted as he took in his surroundings. Red paper solo cups and beer bottles were scattered over the kitchen counter, floor and sofas. A black bin bag sat in the corner of the room, overfilled with more red cups and kitchen roll.
Lucas looked to the left of him and his eyes landed on the piles and piles of letters that were stacked on top of the wooden table next to the front door. One specific envelop had the words “private and confidential” outlined at the top in black bold font.
If the state of the apartment told him anything, it was that Dillon hadn’t been taking care of himself. Bitter exes found solace in the fact that their ex-partner was doing a lot worse than they were.
But all Lucas felt was this intense feeling of regret.
He knew it wasn’t his responsibility to take on his boyfriend’s struggles and care for him like a full-time carer. Months of therapy had taught him that. However, it didn’t stop that constant feeling of guilt and regret from stirring up inside of him.
A nagging voice wondered if he was the cause, but Lucas shook his head and tried to reason with himself, remembering what his father had told him: “Sometimes you’ve got to do what’s best for you.”
But was it what was best for him? Or did he just take the easy way out? Because finding out that the love of his life wasn’t doing so well didn’t feel like that was best for him. Splitting up with Dillon had never felt right. Hell, even his subconscious was telling him that it wasn’t the best thing for him.
“Sorry about the mess. I know you hate mess,” Dillon murmured, slowly making his way over to the kitchen but then tripping up on his feet. “Whoops...” Dillon chuckled and steadied himself against the kitchen counter.
Lucas blankly stared at Dillon and then sighed, “You’re a mess.” He then walked over to Dillon, threw an arm around his shoulder and went for the sofa.
He pushed Dillon down onto the grey sofa and then headed for the kitchen sink, filling up a glass of tap water. He floated back to the sofa and firmly placed the glass down on the coffee table in front of him, water droplets landing on the table mat. “Drink.”
Dillon huffed out a breath, reaching for the glass on the table. He brought the water up to his mouth, liquid dribbling past his lips. “Oopsie...” He watched the water roll down his black t-shirt, darkening the fabric.
Lucas shook his head impatiently and then helped steady the glass, wrapping his hand over Dillon’s. Ignoring the jolt in his heart, he pushed it to Dillon’s mouth, allowing him to gulp down the fresh water. “Better now?”
Dillon nodded slowly and observed Lucas settling the glass down on the coffee table.
“Have you got a bucket anywhere?” Lucas said, thinking about the times drunk Frankie puked up her night’s worth of alcohol all over Dillon’s expensive shirt.
It was an ugly shirt anyways, Lucas smiled to himself.
Dillon pointed to the bathroom and then slumped further back against the sofa, his eyes closing.
Lucas switched on the bathroom light and frowned at the state of the place. Limescale was around the taps and mold started to wreak havoc on the faded white walls. He opened the window before scanning for a bucket. Beside the grubby sink sat a green bucket so he swiftly picked it up and went back to Dillon, ignoring the muddy tiles that he would have immediately cleaned up if he had any claim over that flat anymore.
He placed the bucked in front of Dillon and then hesitantly sat on the edge of the sofa.
“I’m sorry, Lucas,” a quiet apology left Dillon’s mouth.
Lucas stayed quiet and watched Dillon’s breaths turn heavy. He waited for a few months, wondering if he’d say anything more.
But he was now fast asleep, and likely wouldn’t remember any of it in the morning.
So he stroked his forehead and stared at the boy sleeping soundly He looked so manly with his full stubble, but under the mature persona he gave off with his now rugged features, he could see his old Dillon peeking out.
“I’m sorry too,” Lucas whispered out, continuing to brush his fingers through the strands of Dillon’s damp hair. “Get some rest, yeah?”
Lucas then reached for the blanket around the back of the sofa and covered him with it before watching him sleep, making to keep a close eye on him.
Things may change in the morning, but for now Lucas was here to stay.