“I didn’t think you’d be home so early.” A lie, a light one. He’d let himself into the apartment on a whim and maybe, just maybe to impress the shifter a little bit. But he wouldn’t admit that out loud, thought it’d ruin the fun if it was pointed out that they had a ‘thing’ for mischief. It’d been on his mind too much, the apartment in general. The more time he spent there the more he realized he hadn’t given the place his usual once over of protective sigils. It didn’t seem like he was going to be spending any less time at the place and he didn’t think Mal would particularly object to further protection. That didn’t mean it wasn’t still somewhat awkward to be sitting in his living room, the television playing reruns of crime shows, with ash on his fingers and his shirt unbuttoned completely. Fire magic was warm work in general and the apartment, even with the windows open, was stuffy. After that one night, he never really wanted Mal to catch him in a state of undress ever again but it was a little late for that now. @malchesterfield

After making sure Josefine was alright, he’d practically fled the building. Home, he’d gone to grab a couple of things and then on the ride over, he’d looked at the frantic texts that he’d failed to respond to. Nothing felt real, it was like Halloween of 2017 all over again. The moment he was alone, he was content to just focus on the white noise of the city, look at the lights. Nothing mattered until he was on Mal’s doorstep, nothing mattered until he actually saw with his own eyes that he was alright. That’d been his one moment of peace during the whole ordeal, that at least Mal was safe. Standing in front of the door looking completely disheveled and probably bleeding, Lucian released a breath that he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding the moment the door opened. He didn’t waste any time, practically fell through the open door and against the shifter’s chest. He let go of the strap attached to the canvas bag in his hand fall to the floor with a soft noise in favor of clutching at Mal, his fingers finding purchase in the fabric of his shirt. Burying his face against the side of Mal’s neck, he let out an almost humorless laugh. At the sheer fucking ridiculousness of everything that had just transpired. There was no way that this was his fucking life now, he refused to believe it, he refused to believe anything for the moment other than what was taking place presently.

“Look, I get I shouldn’t be here. I don’t have a right to be.” The door had barely opened and he was just going. He’d blame it on being sober and having the conversation in his head for months. It didn’t matter if Mal had seemed to want to tiptoe around the whole thing, Lucian couldn’t just leave it alone and pretend things were fine. “I’m too fuckin’ tired at this point to just pretend we’re fine. I can’t do that shit anymore.” He’d spent too much time trying to make up for previous mistakes, he couldn’t just let this one go. The idea of such a thing was actually kind of funny. He’d actually followed through on kissing more people than he could count on two hands and he’d never really felt any distress or particular attachment to them. But this one, this one person he faked out, somehow he cared enough to at least try and get some damn closure. Mal deserved it, he deserved an apology, he deserved a lot better than-Breathe. Letting out a sigh and giving a shrug of his shoulders, he shot the shifter in his doorway an apologetic look. “I’m fine with being on my own, but I can’t sit on my ass at my fucking parents house and not think about how bad I fucked up with you.” He’d been here the whole fucking time, how much shit had he gone through that he could have needed help with? “I meant it when I said I wasn’t going to let anything happen to you. I’ll stick by that. But you don’t have to pretend to like me or some shit, you can tell me to fuck off and still call me when shit hits the fan, I’ll be there, I owe you that much.” @malchesterfield

“Fuckin’ prick.” Lucian mumbled as he headed down the sidewalk, desperately trying to pull a cigarette from his coat pocket. It was getting colder, that’s the excuse he was going with for why his fingers just wouldn’t fucking work. It’d been a couple of weeks since he’d gone out on his own, with the whole ‘raining blood’ situation, he’d hardly left his apartment. What he’d wanted was one drink and to just filter out the noise in his head for a bit but what he’d got was one bar full of everyone talking about the current happenings in the city. Which had only proceeded to stress him out. Which might have led him to snap at someone two stools over.

"You doing okay?" Lucian's voice was soft as he knelt in front of the cot he'd situated Mal at. As worried as he was about everyone else in his life, he knew they could handle this. Family? Witches, they could handle the elements. Friends? Vampires, most of them. But Mal? It's not like he thought he was helpless, but he was the closest to human. This was some natural shit, this wasn't Halloween again. That didn't mean he hadn't been incredibly happy to see the shifter, fussed over him immediately. He'd dragged him away from the crowd, shoved him down into a less populated area of the room (which had been a nearly impossible feat) and set off to find water and blankets all while desperately wanting a cigarette. Kels was here, Kennedy was here, that was comfort enough for him to stop worrying about everyone else for a while and focus on who was in front of him. "Warm enough? Hydrated?" He was still fussing, chilled himself, but he could handle that. @malchesterfield

@malchesterfield