Desperate - Lucien

Lucien & number 4 from this list…

“Have you considered this isn’t good for you?” You ask stiffly, you gaze darting to the tequila and Lucien’s proximity to the edge of the roof.

“All the time.” He says, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

He doesn’t sound drunk, not even a little tipsy, but you still have the desire to yank him away from the pending free fall. You think he surely wouldn’t die like this, regardless. He has wings, even if he did fall he could save himself.

If he wanted to.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip hard. Would he want to?

“Then why do this?” The question comes out quiet, your voice hoarse.

“I don’t know what else to do.” He answers, shockingly candid, “I can’t be around Cameron like this. They worry too much. The hallways are crowded, and so is every other spot in this university. So to the roof I go.”

“Have you even touched that bottle?” You squint at it, trying to see if the seal has been broken.

“No,” He says, a slight bitterness in his voice, “I tried. If I take a drink, it’ll only come back up.”

“Why?” You raise an eyebrow, inching closer, “Scared of heights?”

He tenses, though, his wings rustling ever so slightly.

“Lucien,” You say as you finally stand beside him, glancing down at the top of his curly head, “Seriously.”

He still doesn’t respond, just gazing at the ground below vacantly. You kneel beside him, reaching a hand out for his shoulder-

Flinching violently, he jerks away from your touch. His eyes dart around your face and his expression goes carefully still.

You don’t think he realized it was you. You wish, for just a moment, that you could see what was going on in that brain of his. There had to be some explanation, some reason.

What happened after you were forced to leave? What happened well before you ever arrived?

“I’m fine,” He says, voice blank, “I’ll be down in a bit.”

“I’m not leaving you up here,” You deny instantly.

His gaze darts over to you, and you’re shocked to find he looks reproachful.

“I’m not a child,” He keeps his voice carefully level, “And I don’t need a chaperone.”

“What about a friend?” You suggest, regretting the words as soon as they leave your mouth.

The past hangs heavy between you both as he stares at you like you’ve gutted him. You want to say that you meant it earnestly, that you do want to be here for him, that you’re scared to leave him alone-

He stands, not looking at you as he heads for the stairs.

“Lucien-“ You call out, but he simply waves you away.

“Don’t waste your time,” He mutters, “I think we both know I don’t make a very good friend.”

Then he’s gone, slipping down the stairs quietly and leaving you behind. At least he left the tequila, too.