#lemuel

ballen sankta

Maybe that's how they became friends!!!

Lemuel (the angry one is mine)

I mean, why would he be?

He is in ONE scene this season. And two [redacted]. Where [redacted][redacted] (we can talk about it then.

Like, his character is there to make a POINT.

And that point is being made.

Look, as said, he is an insanely hot guy, and that is why they chose him there, too, let's be real. He does a fine job, too.

But by the end of the season I would be VERY surprised if there would be any plot left wrt him.

Hi!

After a long time I wrote a chapter! This one is written from slightly different perspective. It's in Edward's POV, because I felt that we needed more backstory of him so I decided to write it!

It wasn't proofread, so I'm sorry for any mistakes, I'll check them when I'll have time!

Word count: 1789

Warnings: Mentions of past, self-doubt, self-consciousness, angst, brief introduction to bed scenes. Still, minors don't interact.

Some have always been doomed to solitude, and some have chosen it of their own will.

Edward was one of the latter. He was always a loner, even before he started suffering from Neurofibromatosis. Even as a child, when he was on the playground, he rejected other children who offered to play with him because he preferred to do it on his own. Perhaps even then he was subconsciously afraid of rejection, so he pushed them away before they could do so. He was a quiet, shy boy who felt best in his own company.

Years later, his own company turned out to be a cage from which he could not escape.

When he began to get sick, and his skin was covered with tumors and lumps of various sizes, it wasn't he who began to reject people, it was people who began to reject him. He was ten years old when people started laughing at the thickening bumps appearing on his neck. Other children pointed fingers at him, and adults looked at him with pity. Doctors gave him no hope of recovery. They said that the tumors would cover his face to an ever-increasing degree and that, unfortunately, there was no cure. He was in danger of losing his eyesight in case the tumors spread across his face and obscured his eyes. He had perhaps a dozen years left before this would happen.

Young Edward was terrified. He didn't understand what was happening to him. He wondered why other children were laughing at him and his parents were arguing at night. Mom kept crying, and Dad? Dad finally couldn't stand it. And he left. The boy only heard him say that he didn't want a a son like Edward. And then appeared the first rung of his cage, in which he locked himself. For the first time he felt that he was not good enough. And when he looked at his reflection in the mirror he felt something unknown in his small, innocent heart - disgust.

Years passed, and he became more and more withdrawn into himself. He survived school and moved out of the house. He had no contact with his father, and his mother was the only person who loved him as he was. To her, he was always a little boy. In his new apartment, in an old building that threatened to collapse, the only item from his life that he left behind was a picture of him with his mother. Back in the day his face was still smooth and flawless. Now he was 30 years old, and half of his face was covered by tumors and thickening. He couldn't see with his one eye, and his lips were swollen. And his mother had long looked down on him from heaven.

Loneliness continued to bother him. However, this time, no one sympathized with him. Most people either ignored him or looked at him with disgust. He was often met with ironic smiles or insults. On the subway, no one would sit next to him, and in restaurants he would sit in the farthest corner, just to be invisible. As time went by, he began to leave the house less and less, only going out to the store, for a short walk, to eat something, or to auditions.

He wanted to become an actor. It had always been his dream. He imagined that he could play everyone, as long as he wasn't himself. He could be anything he wanted to be. And he had always wanted to be someone else. Someone who wasn't afraid of his own reflection in the mirror. Unfortunately, most auditions ended in disaster. He was rejected before he even finished saying his line, and more than once they didn't even let him finish. And when he did manage to make it to the end of the audition, someone better was chosen. Edward did not give up. He went to more auditions even though they seemed pointless to him. Someday his time would come.

His life was boring. When he wasn't going to auditions, he spent his time at home. He worked remotely as a consultant, didn't have to go to the office, and no one saw him. After work, he would watch old movies, or read. He once bought an old typewriter, but couldn't use it. Truth was, no words could convey what he felt inside. The machine stood, covered in dust, and he was locked inside four walls along with his own thoughts. He shuttled between the park and the apartment, occasionally doing some shopping or eating out. He passed his neighbors on the cage without even exchanging glances or greetings. He was met with the quiet mumbling of his eccentric neighbor every time they passed each other as he ran down the stairs.

And for as long as he could remember he had always been convinced that all he had was this all-encompassing loneliness and emptiness to which he was condemned. He had yet to meet someone who would want to be friends with him if they had no benefit from it for themselves. Perhaps, only to improve their own image. That's when he met her. He remembered the moment he saw her for the first time. She was standing in front of him, nervously fidgeting with her fingers, asking if she could borrow some detergent for his neighbor, and her friend. He remembered the concern in her eyes when she saw the wound on his hand. Since his mother's death, no one had cared about him. And the thing that stuck in his mind the most was that she didn't care about his face at all. She talked to him normally, as if they had known each other for years. She asked him questions and seemed curious about him. She even tried to joke with him. She wasn't nosy, just very talkative. She comforted him when he told her about the failed audition. And when she kissed him on the cheek, he felt something he hadn't felt in a very long time. Butterflies in his stomach.

They were so much alike, the girl was very shy, she didn't talk much about herself, about her past, but she listened. She could talk about things, but never pressed for more. However, he could sense that she craved contact with another human being as much as he did; conversation, the presence of someone who would understand. He felt like letting her into his cage so she could get to know him.

Their next meeting was in the park, and she captured his heart early on when she protested when he called himself a horror movie character. She told him he was too nice and special to be one. To her they were just words, but to him it was one broken rung of his cage.

When he invited her to the cafe, he wanted to confess to her what he felt. However, he gave up, it was too soon for serious confessions. She had seen him as a friend, and he didn't want to lose her. She was too important to him, he was too attached to her, he loved her too much to destroy it all. He knew that his feelings came quickly, suddenly. But she made this life seem more beautiful, more worth living. She was like a lantern that pulled him out of the darkness. She was the one who opened the cage door, found the key. And he didn't want her to throw it away.

He never told her how much he wanted to kiss her that night as she stood on the steps of her tenement.

Nor did he tell her that he had undertaken treatment. Or more of an experiment to make his disease go away and the tumors disappear from his face. The outcome was uncertain, the treatment itself was very dangerous. He wanted to spare her the disappointment, or pain, if something went wrong. He also feared her reaction if it was successful. So he kept quiet.

Their next meeting happened a week after they went out to a cafe together. That day it rained like hell. People fled from the rain and hid under umbrellas. Edward stood at the window and watched the streets. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. When he opened the door he saw her standing in front of him. All wet, with her hair and clothes dripping.

"Y/N?! What are you doing here?" he asked, pulling her into the flat. "You're soaking wet! It's pouring rain out there. Wait here... I'll get you some towels, yeah, wait here..." he said and disappeared into the bathroom. He came back with a clean towel which he wrapped clumsily around her shoulders.

"I know it's pouring. A downpour I've never seen before." She replied, laughing as he wrapped a towel around her. She gripped his hands. "I'll be fine! But thank you." she said. "I came because what I want to tell you can't wait. My book will be published!" she exclaimed, smiling broadly.

He looked at her in surprise. After a moment, he started clapping. "My congratulations! I knew you would succeed!" he said, squeezing her hands. He knew how hard she had worked on this book.

Before he could say anything else, he felt her arms wrap around his neck and her wet, soft body pressed against his. Reflexively, he embraced her. He looked down, straight into her eyes, and couldn't hold back any longer. He pressed his deformed lips to her smooth mouth and kissed her. To his surprise, she did not push him away, but returned the kiss. What's more, he felt her pulling him toward the bedroom. He tried to resist, he didn't want her to regret it later, but she didn't relent. They spent a wonderful night together, and when he woke up there was a note waiting for him.

Edward,

I am sorry that I had to leave you alone in this warm bed, however, I had to go to work.

This night was one of the most beautiful of my life. I thank you for it. For a long time I wanted to confess to you that I love you very much, but I did not want to destroy our friendship. I was afraid that I would lose you, but unnecessarily.

You are the part that I was missing.

For me you will always be special.

Forever yours,

y/n.

P.S. I look forward to our next meeting.