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.
“Hi.” He said quietly, taking in a shaky breath and closing his eyes. The whole act suddenly made him feel incredibly vulnerable and he tried to will away the heat that rose in his cheeks. Swallowing and taking a step back but still clutching tight to the shifter’s shirt, looked to Mal with as much seriousness he could muster in his exasperated state. “I know you probably have a lot of questions and that’s fine. To save you one, I’m fine, I’ll heal whatever I’m dealing with in a bit. I just…” His gaze averted from stormy blues in favor of looking to the minimal physical space between them. “You’re okay, right?” @malchesterfield
