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As many nights on the weekends, Lucius sits at his desk with a glass of wine and corrects some tests of his class. A big glass of wine. Otherwise he wouldn’t be able to tolerate the endless mistakes and worse the stupid answers, if there were answers at all. But that’s what you get from teaching at a problem school.
Now he has Thorfinn’s test in front of him. The yawning void on the blank white paper makes his life both hard and easy at the same time. Except for one sentence, a message for him. “Let me pass, asshole!”
Lucius sighs and writes back a comment. “Give me something to have at least the chance to let you pass.”
Lucius doesn’t actually know why he makes the effort to write an answer to that as the sheet of paper will be ripped apart the second the brat sees the grade on it. The brat can never control his temper.
Speaking of the devil, Lucius hears the door being opened and immediately falls with a loud noise back into the lock. Lucius looks annoyed at the clock above him. 11:30 pm. Too late, as he told him to be back at 10. But there had been later times in the past, so Lucius won’t be too harsh on him with his lecture.
However, some hisses and painful moans make his ears prick up.
“Shit…”
From the noises, Thorfinn stumbles along the dark narrow hallway.
“Aaah! Fuck!!!”
Thorfinn yells and curses loudly. Lucius assumes the kid hit his toe at one of the door stoppers. His first guess is that he is drunk, otherwise this wouldn’t happen. But then he remembers that Thorfinn doesn’t like alcohol, so the theory was off.
Thorfinn goes directly to the bathroom and Lucius can hear the water running in the sink. There are splashes and spitting sounds audible. Then the water stops, the door opens and Thorfinn’s feet drag over the floor towards the bedroom.
Lucius stands up and the first thing he does is to inspect the trace. Even though it’s dark, Lucius spots some small drops of blood on the wooden floor. He peeks into the bathroom and catches a glimpse of a watery red trail in the sink and some smears of the same colour on a towel.
There is only one logical answer left and Lucius leaps to a conclusion.
“Got into a fight again?“
As always, Thorfinn ignores him, makes his way to the bedroom and closes the door behind him.
Obviously, Lucius follows up. He doesn’t tolerate such behaviour but this time he does it because he is the slightest bit worried.
”What happened?” Lucius investigates as he enters the bedroom and leans against the door frame.
Thorfinn has just crawled into the bed and pulled the blanket over his head.
A sign that Lucius won’t get an answer any way soon and he sighs in surrender. He knows, it’s a waste of time. No matter how many times he asks, Thorfinn won’t tell him the truth. At least, it’s not a trust issue, Lucius knows that. Just the kid’s damn pride.
And it’s what probably got him into the fight in the first place. That and his hotheadedness.
”How many times exactly do you need to get beaten up until you’ll learn the lesson, kid?”
Lucius can’t help commenting and lecturing him about his behaviour. Although he knows it’s useless and it’s like talking to a wall.
“Shut the fuck up.”
Thorfinn growls and grimaces. Immediately, the boy moves his hand to his hurting jaw.
“Let me have a look.”
Lucius closes the space between them and bows down to inspect Thorfinn’s face. There is a bruise right above the eye, but no open wounds. The kid must have taken some punches. Maybe hit the head somewhere by the backlash. The nose doesn’t seem broken, though. Nothing too worrying, as it seems.
Suddenly, Thorfinn hisses when Lucius brushes over his hurting cheek.
“Open your mouth.”
At first, Thorfinn furrows his brows in reluctance but then follows the order obediently.
No teeth missing. At least no more than the two that are already out.
“I’ll fetch you a cold pack.”
Lucius turns but is called back by the young man instantly.
“You can stick your cold pack up your ass.”
So the kid is playing the tough guy, huh? Thorfinn is so freaking hard to deal with. Fortunately for the kid, he has the patience of a saint to handle him. He gives him the freedom the kid needs and usually ignores the rare arising worry in him. Thorfinn doesn’t buy it, anyway. How could a brutal criminal like him feel that, anyway?
“Your stubbornness will kill you one day, you fucking idiot.”
Again, he neither gets an answer nor a comment to that, just a snarl this time. Thorfinn has a terrible headache and all he wants is his peace and to fucking sleep it off.
Lucius sits down on the bedside next to him and puts his hand on Thorfinn’s forehead, making the brat pinch his eyes shut in pain at first, but then relaxes his expression.
To the outside, it doesn’t seem like Lucius cares for the boy. But deep down, he does. And although Thorfinn is too troubled to realise it on a daily basis, he knows what Lucius feels for him.
That’s how complex and layered their relationship is. Nobody but them could understand.
Lucius hands are cold. They are big and cover both his forehead and eyelids. In a way, they evoke the same effect as a cold pack. The cold works against the headache and the hot swelling. His long calloused fingers block the light so he can actually get some sleep.
Slowly, the pain eases. It doesn’t fade away completely but at least becomes more endurable.
Silently, Lucius observes the young man who leans into the touch. Thorfinn‘s breath gradually becomes calmer and his chest rises and falls in slow regular intervals.
“Finally, your cold hands are good for something, you old bastard.”
Lucius’s hands are always cold. Thorfinn hates it during sex. But tonight, it seems there is a good side to it.
Lucius interprets it as a compliment. Similar to the fights and almost any other thing in their relationship, Thorfinn does never talk about his true feelings. Neither does Lucius to be honest, so he can’t blame the kid. They just communicate differently.
Insults become words of love. Brutal hits turn to soft caresses.
And sometimes even cold hands are comforting. Like the touch of a cruel angel.
Thorfinn inhales and exhales deeply. Along with the air, he greedily sucks in Lucius’s smell.
Gods, this is heaven in hell.
“Can you stay like that? I don’t need anything else. Just your cold hands.“ Thorfinn whispers almost inaudibly.
Lucius doesn’t answer but stays beside him. Even after several minutes, Lucius doesn’t remove his hand.
For once in Thorfinn’s life Lucius has the mercy not to torment him with his endless old-man lectures which are good for nothing. Silence, so he can sleep. Cold hands to comfort his headache.
This is like Christmas. What else could he want?