end theme || q + lysander
The first person Lysander wanted to call when he got home was Demetrius. Sweet, steady Demetrius. He would make this okay, he was the one person Lysander thought might actually help to see through this. Because right now he had half a mind to jump out of his office window and be done with it all. But no, Demetrius was too sweet, too steady. Right now Lysander needed somebody irresponsible, who wouldn't stop him drinking until he was blind. What he didn't want was to be alone. It was odd how death made a person break from their habits.
So the second person he thought of calling was Q. That bastard, he would be perfect. So he invited him over, promised vodka, and got a positive answer. Perfect.
Nothing wrong with starting early, he reasoned. He had changed out of his suit when he got home, into jeans and a thin, long-sleeved t-shirt that draped over his frame. His flat was always too cold for his liking, but he wanted to feel it now. Anything to remind him what being alive felt like. As he settled onto his couch with a glass of vodka and lemon (diet, of course), he could feel goose pimples rising on his arms, he shivered slightly.
He sat with a kind of dazedness, a stupor, that reminded him of the days after his mother detonated and took his leg with her. When it still hadn't sunk in, yet.
Hearing a knock at the door, he downed his drink, winced at the bubbles, and got to his feet. Lysander moved to the door to let Q in. Opened the door, gestured, shut it again, dead-eyed. "Thank you," he said, with some effort, “for coming at such short notice.”
