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Once they had arrived at their temporary home. Lucien wasn't sure of what he should do. He looked up at Faolan, just as he had turned in his direction, and for a moment he felt his heart skip a beat. Part of him hoped that Faolan would bring up what happened but.. he didn't. He hoped.. he hadn't decided to just forget about it. There was something about it that was discouraging, even more so recalling that he would be leaving tomorrow, but he didn't argue. They had done enough of that today.

The Frenchman turned away from him and removed his shoes, before removing the vest over his button up shirt. He began to unbutton it, but then paused before removing it. Perhaps it was best he didn't, even if it was hot. Now that things had.. calmed, he began to feel tired, and decided to just get into his bed. He couldn't help but glance over at Faolan, who had removed his shirt. At this point he couldn't help but be conscious of the fact he was attracted to him, but still he tore his eyes away, and turned away from him.

"Goodnight, Faolan.." He said quietly before closing his eyes. Despite his attempt at trying to relax, it was harder to do than he had originally thought. He couldn't quite cave into the tiredness he felt, even if he wanted to ease the headache he was having. The events from before kept replaying in his head. He just couldn't stop thinking about what happened. Going forward.. what would this mean for him? Would Faolan really pretend it didn't happen? Or.. would they be able to talk about it? He just didn't know.
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Faolan set his boots to the side of his bed, glancing at his bag to make sure it was undisturbed in their absence. Satisfied, he removed his shirt, noting that it was slightly damp with sweat. He tossed it on the floor, then stood to take off his pants too. He focused on these things instead of thinking about Lucien, but it was hard to focus with the man lying only feet away from him.

He heard Lucien get into bed and lay down, and glanced over his shoulder to see that the Frenchman had turned his back to him. He grunted in response to Lucien's farewell for the night, but lingered as he looked over at him. After a brief pause, a moment of weakness, he finished undressing and fell into his bed.

He had his back to Lucien as well, worried about what would happen if he looked at his companion again. The springs in his mattress whined against his weight as he shifted his position to get comfortable. His body ached and itched. After moments, he shifted again, but could not find a place of rest. He was too hot, too cold, lonely, frightened, aroused, and tame all at once. He was leaving tomorrow. He could imagine Lucien's face, see the look of disappointment, of betrayal in his eyes. He could feel his lips still, now, as he lay alone in his single bed on the other end of the room.

He couldn't help it any more. He rolled over, and though he tried to keep his eyes closed, he could not help but open them. He saw Lucien's back, her shoulders tight as his arms wrapped around himself. He looked so cold there, alone...Faolan could feel it welling up inside of him. He had never craved touch so much in his life. He was frantic and desperate and could not relax.

He took a deep breath, contemplating for only a half second what he was about to do. He let instinct take over for one more moment, and felt himself rise from his bed.

He crossed the room quickly and quietly and approached Lucien's bed. He could see that the Frenchman was still awake, but was trying not to react to his presence. Out of fear or...did he not want Faolan there?

He pushed these thoughts from his mind, and softly lifted the blanket as he slid into bed beside Lucien. The springs creaked under both of their weight as Faolan settled himself against him. The bed was barely big enough for the Irishman alone, let alone both of them, but he didn't care. He would sleep on the floor if it meant he could touch Lucien again.

He pressed his body into Lucien's back and laid his arm over him slowly and gently, looking down at the Frenchman's face. From this vantage, he could only see half of it, but that was enough to tell him that Lucien had opened his eyes. He was worried for a moment that he had overstepped his bounds, but he felt Lucien relax into him and subconsciously he smiled. "Is this okay?" he whispered. There was only one way to know for sure.
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It was hearing Faolan leave his bed that snapped the Frenchman out of his thoughts. For a moment he didn't react, unsure of what the man was going to do, but then he heard him approach. Did.. he want to talk about it after all? He had been thinking about it so much, but the thought of actually having the conversation stumped him for a moment.

Then the blanket lifted, and he felt Faolan's weight on the bed. This had surprised him, and caused him to open his eyes as he could feel Faolan's warmth at his back. Before he had felt cold.. but now that the Irishman was next to him.. he felt warm again. He found himself instinctively relaxing after he felt Faolan's arm across his body. This action gave the Frenchman the sense of reassurance he needed. He had been craving the other man's touch, and despite having him so close by in the room, it still hadn't felt near enough.. until now. He had practically melted into his arms. It just felt.. so right. He turned slightly to look up at Faolan, his expression softening.

"Yeah.. it's okay." He said, giving him a small smile, curling up slightly against him. While there were so many things he would have liked to talk about, in this moment.. this was enough to tell him that things would be okay. It was what he needed to finally be able to relax enough to lose himself to sleep. While very aware of the Irishman's presence behind him, he felt extremely comforted by it, and no longer felt like he was alone. He shifted slightly, to place his own hand over Faolan's.

"Sleep well.." His tone was much softer, but also much brighter than his last goodnight to him. He closed his eyes, his expression becoming more peaceful than before. This way.. he felt like he'd be able to sleep just fine.
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Faolan's pounding heart eventually began to slow as he felt Lucien relaxing against him. No longer full of adrenaline, fear and arousal, he knew he would finally be able to let all the tension of the day go. He felt his mouth twitch into a smile at Lucien's response, and pulled him in closer as their fingers interlaced. Like the tumblers in a lock finally falling into place...this felt right.

Faolan wanted to close his eyes and drift off to sleep, but instead he forced them to stay open for just a little longer so he could watch Lucien relax into unconsciousness. He noticed through the darkness that Lucien was smiling, and after this he felt his eyelids slowly descend.

---------------------------------

Faolan didn't actually remember falling asleep. The first thing he thought of was Lucien's face, his hands, his lips. The events of the previous night had played over and over again behind his eyelids as he finally fell asleep. He dreamed that the two were on a boat, in a still placid lake cut only by the wake of their oars and keel. He was rowing them out under the stars, reflected in the black water below like a perfect mirror. They were smiling at each other as they pushed themselves into the unknown at Faolan's back, but there was no fear or trepidation. He felt that as long as Lucien was there, they would both be safe and sound.

Slowly, Faolan's eyes drifted open as the sun lanced through their room and onto his face. He was acutely aware that his neck hurt, just from the position he was laying in. The next thing he noticed was that his arm was still wrapped around Lucien, the other was tucked under his head as a makeshift pillow. He gazed down at the Frenchman as he slept, now facing toward him, and his face melted into serenity.

This lasted for a moment, before a spear of dread pierced his heart. They had kissed, and Faolan had started this entire domino effect. His head pounded with a hangover, his muscles ached, but he could not deny how completely at peace he felt in this moment. He did not want to move, to leave this space, with Lucien pressed so closely to him. But he knew, for both of their safety, that he must do so soon. He glanced at the door and remembered it to be locked, glad for his drunken foresight. They had a few more moments of peace and quiet, to be together, before the spell would be broken by the day. He didn't know now whether Lucien remembered their contact, or how he felt about it...had his brash and lustful actions ruined everything? What was in store for them now that they had crossed that line? Would they be safe...could he keep Lucien safe? As he looked down on the Frenchman, through all of his insecurities, he knew that he must remain safe. That was Faolan's duty, and his number one goal, and he would not compromise this for anything, even his own happiness.
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Lucien wasn't sure how long it had actually taken him to drift into unconsciousness, but it had been a smooth transition, and despite the headache he had been trying to fight off, he managed to sleep quite soundly. The body heat Faolan provided throughout the night made the blankets almost completely unnecessary, and he had found himself curling up against him to seek more of his warmth. It felt like the most natural thing in the world for him, and not once had he awakened throughout the night, feeling completely safe in his arms.

It was the sensation of being watched that ended up rousing the Frenchman from his sleep the next morning. Tiredly he opened his eyes, grimacing slightly at the loud pounding in his head. He supposed that was what people called a hangover. Having worked at bars on multiple occasions, the term had come up often for him. For a moment his vision was blurry, but as it cleared, he found his gaze meeting with Faolan's dark emerald eyes. It took a moment for him to register their current position.. the warmth he felt even now, before he was hit with the memories of what had transpired last night during their drunken fiasco. The thought brought a redness to his cheeks, but he didn't make any attempt to move away from the Irishman. That.. had really happened.

For a moment he thought it might have all been a dream.. but considering their current position now, it was definitely not possible. There was no doubt that it had occurred. How did he feel about it? Embarrassed, certainly. Never had the Frenchman acted with such... little control. It had been the first time in his life he had been overcome with such a desire.. and it was certainly a new feeling for him.

"Good morning.." He said, his voice a little raspy. Even though he didn't regret anything that happened, he wasn't sure how he was supposed to act with Faolan now that they had crossed this line. Should he.. try to not make things awkward by acting normal..? Or should he bring it up? He just didn't know. This was all new to him. For once he just didn't know what to say.
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Faolan's smile had slowly faded as he realized that Lucien was awake. The two met eyes and Faolan felt a tightness in his chest. He wanted to lean down and kiss Lucien, again and again, but now that he was sober he was back in control of such impulses. He couldn't and he wouldn't, and he wasn't sure he would be able to again.

"Mornin'." He said, gruffly, and lifted his arm from around the Frenchman's shoulders as he extricated himself from where he lay. Were his movements too fast, too rough? Would they betray his desires or conceal them? This he did not know, as he could not imagine what was going through Lucien's head.

His head spun as he sat up from the bed and swung his legs over the edge, facing away from Lucien. He paused for a moment, leaning forward as his eyes and forehead throbbed with a headache. The light pained him and his stomach turned. The two of them needed breakfast, and quickly.

He stood up from the bed, slowly so as not to dizzy himself, and retrieved his clothes from the floor. He felt his cheeks grow hot as he dressed, realizing that he had taken them off before getting into bed with Lucien. He kept his back turned to him, so as not to show the blush he knew he wore.

"I'll get us some food." He said quietly as he pulled his shirt over his head. "Be best to eat before I go." He had to leave today, the full moon approached. Maybe the distance would give him some perspective, allow him to get a better handle on everything. Being this close to Lucien, he wasn't thinking clearly. He felt an aching in his chest as the realization sunk in that he would be without the Frenchman, but he did not give in to its allure. It was better this way.
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Lucien was disappointed to feel Faolan lift his arms off of him. There was a part of him that didn't want him to let go, that wanted to lay with the Irishman for a little longer, but he controlled himself. It seemed he had become a little greedy. His eyes didn't leave Faolan as the man got off the bed to retrieve his clothes, though he did force himself to look away as he looked down at his own state of disheveled clothing. Finally he brought himself to sit up, letting out a small groan at the throbbing in his head.

"Do you have a headache too or is it just me?" He muttered. The fact that Faolan was not making any attempt to talk about last night threw him off a little.. but then again the Irishman had never been really good at talking. Was he just.. going to forget about it? Did he even remember? Even though he hadn't gotten drunk before he did know some people's memories got a bit fuzzy. He had overheard plenty of stories in the bar he had worked at. No.. that couldn't be the case. They had woken up on the same bed after all.. even if he didn't remember.. that would still be something to question. Part of him felt like he was just overthinking everything but.. he didn't just want to leave things like this, specially not with Faolan about to take his leave.

"Wait, Faolan.." He called out, finally rising from the bed. "Shouldn't we.. talk?" He finally brought himself to say.

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Faolan grunted, still with his back to Lucien, "That's the dog bitin'." Of course this was in reference to the entire bottle of whiskey the two had shared the night before and the hangover that plagued them both now, but he couldn't help but notice the grim pun.

Once he was dressed, he made for the door, careful not to look directly at the Frenchman. He needed to keep himself focused directly on the task at hand to avoid deviance from his plan. He'd wanted to leave as soon as he reached the door, but he paused as Lucien spoke to him.

His hand hovered against the knob of their door, as his turned an ear toward Lucien. His heart was pulling him one way, back, toward the Frenchman and the bed they had shared that night, but his head pulled him forward and toward a more rational action. He felt as though he might rip in two.

He knew that it would be hard, but that he would have to take away Lucien's hope of discussing the events of the previous night. He steeled himself and said, "There's nothing to talk about." he said, his voice completely devoid of emotion. It was hard enough for him with just his thoughts, his memories of the previous night, he did not want to look at it directly for fear that it may make him slip up. The last time this had happened, he had put Lucien in grave danger. He was not about to let this happen again.
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Lucien noticed Faolan's lack of eye contact almost immediately. In fact.. it seemed like he was avoiding looking at him completely, and there was something about it that made him a lot more anxious, but he really couldn't bring himself to argue with him. He supposed he was right.. considering their current throbbing headaches.

"If you say so..." He said, attempting to hide his disappointment. The Irishman wasted no time in leaving after that, and the Frenchman finally brought himself to stand. He wanted to bathe and change into fresh clothing, but he decided he would just wait for Faolan to go to do that, and simply buttoned up his shirt once more to make himself more presentable.

He couldn't help but worry about the composure Faolan was showing. Things were.. awkward, and he didn't like it. It had been a really long time since Lucien had felt it hard to talk to Faolan about something.. but at the same time.. what should he say? He knew he wanted to know how Faolan felt about it.. but it seemed to him just based off of the attitude he was showing that he most likely regretted it. It hurt to think that, and it made him conflicted about the whole thing. It was a little unfair of him.. to do this and then want to pretend it never happened without considering his feelings. He shook his head, but quickly realized what a mistake that was as the throbbing hit him harder. It was definitely going to be a long morning.
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Faolan exited the room quickly, wanting no more debate or dwelling on the subject. He made his way downstairs, careful to avoid eye contact with anyone else that was boarding in the house. Of course, this wasn't hard for him as most avoided him anyway.

He went into the kitchen and began making plates for himself and Lucien. The two had woken up rather late, so there were only the dregs of breakfast left, but as there was no one else in sight at the moment, he raided all of it. After he had filled their plates, he remained for a moment to stuff the last of the bacon into his mouth, and took the last slice of toast as well, before heading up to their room again. At least while they were stuffing their faces, they couldn't talk.

He entered the room and brought the food to the small table in the corner of the room, under the window. He set the plates down and shrugged toward them, still making sure not to put Lucien in his direct line of sight. "A little cold, but serviceable." he grumbled, then sat down and started eating, keeping his eyes trained on his plate.
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Lucien was snapped out of his thoughts by Faolan's return. The man had wasted no time in making his way to the table and beginning to eat. The Frenchman made his way over to the table and sat across from the man, taking note of how keen he was on eating his food.

"Thank you." He said before he began to eat as well. There were too many thoughts swirling through his mind to focus much on the taste of his food. Usually they held some small form of conversation while in the process of eating their food, but that was clearly not the case this time. This awkwardness was beginning to bother him. He understood if Faolan didn't want to talk about it, but could he not even bear to look in his direction? Did he regret things that much? It was that train of thought that finally brought him to speak up.

"Faolan." He spoke up. "Look at me." His tone wasn't harsh, but it he couldn't help himself.

"I understand if you don't wish to talk about it, but please don't avoid me." He said, eyebrows furrowing a little.
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Faolan quite literally wolfed his food down. He needed to eat quickly, to get out of here before Lucien was finished so that he had an excuse to leave. His heart pounded in his chest as his brain swirled with anxiety and his body ached at the notion of walking out the door again...his attempt to distract himself by eating was working, but not entirely. A couple of times, he found himself wanting to glance up at Lucien, but he fought the urge and continued eating sloppily. He had nearly cleaned his plate when the Frenchman finally spoke up.

He was in mid-bte through a piece of sausage when he stopped as if he had been struck. Lucien's words were sharp and painful and they pierced him like a silver blade. A burning pain erupted in his chest as he rose his eyes and locked eyes with the Frenchman. He could see the way he looked last night, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling in the lamplight above, chest heaving...he wanted desperately to reach out and touch him, to apologize, to explain...

But he couldn't. Lucien's safety was what mattered most, now and for ever. If keeping this act a singular event was the way to do it, then Faolan had to resist.

He swallowed his bite of sausage and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he leaned back in his chair. A heavy silence hung between the two of them for a moment before Faolan shrugged and said, "Its not a good time." His voice was flat as he spoke, his expression blank. He pushed all romantic thoughts out of his mind as he looked at Lucien. Harsh though it was, he could not allow his mind to be changed.
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Lucien let out a heavy sigh at Faolan's response. That wasn't what he had asked for at all. It was fine if he didn't want to have a conversation, but he just wanted him to stop avoiding glancing in his direction or even looking him in the eye. It was a little frustrating, in all honesty. He was the one who had.. initiated that kiss. If he was going to act like this then why did he do it? Had it simply been the alcohol? Did he think it so horrible that he didn't even want to think about it? He just didn't know anymore. Even he was having a hard time reading the Irishman in his moment, and he was sure Faolan was doing that on purpose. He set his fork down, having lost his appetite.

"I wasn't asking to talk, it's clear you don't want to. I just wanted you to stop avoiding my gaze." He muttered. It was all he could really say at this point.
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Faolan pushed through the tightness in his chest, the heat that threatened to well into his cheeks, to keep his expression as blank as possible. He looked at Lucien and tried to separate him from his feelings, to tear him out of his chest and let him be free of the confines of his ribs. It was hard, but Faolan had seen pain and suffering. He knew he could get through this.

Another silence fell between them, and after a moment Faolan stood up. The chair's feet made a harsh wailing sound against the floorboards as he did so. He crossed the room, the bottoms of his boots thumping toward the bed and his bag. He crouched to organize his things, keeping his back to Lucien.

"Going to leave a little early," he said, zipping up his bag and standing. "Get a head start." He crossed the room to the door and touched the handle.

"We're meeting in Green Bay...right?" Lucien said, his voice wavering slightly with nervousness.

Faolan paused, his fingers resting against the cool brass of the handle. He turned slightly toward Lucien and nodded, "I'll be there." he said, then walked out the door. In this moment, he was not entirely sure that this was true.
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Lucien didn't speak, golden eyes only following the Irishman as he made his way over to his bed. His eyebrows furrowed as he spoke, but he couldn't bring himself to argue with him. Not about this, that was something that had been established long ago. He never complained when Faolan said it was time for him to go, he had promised he'd never let anything like that happen again and he had abided by it. Even if he didn't want him to leave right now, there was nothing he could to do stop him, but he still couldn't help the nervousness he felt as he asked him to make sure they would still be meeting up. He just.. didn't like leaving things like this. The Irishman's response had provided him with a bit of reassurance, but it hadn't really lasted very long.

He had made a head start of his own, seeing no need to remain in this town any longer. He had made short stops in other towns before he had finally made his way to Green Bay. There was an anxiousness in the back of his mind that he could not ignore through his entire journey. The fact that he couldn't talk to Faolan about what happened had been bothering him this entire time, worried about Faolan possibly getting wrong idea or coming to his own conclusions.. but there was nothing he could do now except wait for him to return.

Upon arrival, it didn't take long for Lucien to adjust. It was normal for him to adjust to new cities fairly quickly. His personality made it easy for him to find a job or places to help out. As the days went by, he had found that the longer he remained unoccupied, the more often his thoughts would trail back to Faolan. Since he had realized how he felt about him.. he found himself missing him more and more as the days went by, especially when his absence hit the three week mark. Lately Faolan had been better about coming back earlier but.. this time was different. He couldn't help but think it might have been because of what happened... and his anxiousness only grew. The fact that there was nothing he could do except wait was nerve-wracking. To keep himself occupied, Lucien began to take on double shifts, having gotten a job at a Bookstore during the day and then working at the bar at night. It was the best thing he could do to try get the Irishman off his mind.

During one of his late night shifts, he happened to encounter another Frenchman at the bar, a fugitive from the war. After his shift was over, they had engaged in conversation, since it had been a while since he had last encountered someone who had just recently been in his homeland. His name was Marcel. His family had owned quite the large vineyard for wine, but it had been trashed by the Germans during the war. They had salvaged whatever they had and left France before things got any worse. It had been truly a shame to hear about, but Lucien had been glad to hear that no harm had come to his family. He had opened a fancy wine bar in town, and had asked him if he wanted to work there as a sommelier. Unfortunately Lucien turned him down, telling him that he wasn't knowledgeable enough for the job. This had resulted in a conversation that involved Lucien vaguely explaining his upbringing and lack of knowledge of such things. However, he was more than willing to learn.

Marcel decided to do his best in training him for the job. This included explaining everything in regards to the productions of wine, how it was made, and some other facts about the different tastes, flavors, and the etiquette the other Frenchman had not been as familiar with. He was glad to have received this knowledge, and had ended up agreeing to take up his offer of work. Considering how long ago it had been since he had left France.. there was a nostalgia he felt about being able to talk about it again, and even get to learn more about it. They had actually become good friends during his stay, something that usually Lucien had never gotten to achieve because he and Faolan had never lingered in a town enough to do so. Faolan had always said it was much harder to move on when you made such connections.. but what could he do? By the time it had hit a one month mark, Lucien wasn't even sure of what course of action to take. Move on? Stay? They hadn't agreed on a back up destination.. and even though Faolan had always found his way back to him, no matter where he had gone, part of him didn't want to risk leaving, not this time.

And so the Frenchman waited. The more days passed however, even with the lessons Marcel would give him, he could still feel his worry for Faolan tugging at the back of his mind. Working more no longer helped him, and it had even began to distract him at times. What if something had happened? He couldn't imagine anyone really being able to hurt the Irishman but.. what he if got himself into trouble? Or had simply decided to not return? He couldn't but begin to regret the fact that he hadn't pushed that conversation they never got to have.. to make sure of how Faolan felt about the situation.. to reassure him everything was fine. He had never imagined anything could really ruin their friendship, the trust they had built up to this point.. but maybe he had been wrong. These thoughts began to haunt him. Thinking that everything they had gone through together could go down the drain just because he decided he wanted to try a drink with him.. it was heart-wrenching.

It was during one of the nights he had been consumed with these thoughts that Lucien returned home with a bottle of whiskey. Water of life, as Faolan had called it. The drink that flowed through his veins. It was a thought he still found to be poetic.. and despite the strong taste, it made him feel like he was closer to the Irishman who still had not returned halfway through the second month. He had found himself drinking it a little too often.. but it was during one of the harsh mornings he realized he had overdone it that he discovered his healing ability could help cleanse the effects of drunkenness. A dangerous discovery, but one that helped build up the Frenchman's tolerance to alcohol. Occasionally he and Marcel would go out to drink after his bar closed, and the other Frenchman would comment on how impressed he was with how well he had now come to hold his drink. Another random skill the Frenchman had obtained.

Lucien's days had practically become a routine. Bookstore during the day, working with Marcel at night. His knowledge of wine had become vast, but that wasn't the only thing he did there anymore. Once Marcel learned of his talents with instruments, on occasion he would have him play the piano to set the mood. This was something he had learned long ago, when he lived with the church. He was glad to have been able to put that talent to use again. The Frenchman did not get too much sleep in between, but that was okay with him. Life on the road had gotten him accustomed to such things. If anything it felt weird to just.. settle down in a town for so long.

The nephilim was snapped out of his thoughts as he had almost ran into someone on the streets, quickly apologizing as he made his way to the boarding house. He had just gotten off from the Bookstore, and was on the way to change his clothes and head to Marcel's. As he entered the 'lobby' for the home, the landlord called out to him.

"Lucien, someone stopped by to see you." He called out, causing the Frenchman to pause.

"Who was it?" He asked. It wasn't common for people to really come looking for him at his home.

"Not sure, said' he was a friend of yours. Big Irish man. He might be waitin' outside your room. It's not gonna cause any problems is it?" He asked.

At this, Lucien slightly narrowed his eyes. "No, not at all." His words left his mouth very quickly as he wasted no time in almost running past the landlord to head up to his room. Faolan was back? It had been two months since he left, and he hadn't heard anything from him all this time. As he entered the hallway he saw him there, standing next to his door, leaning against the wall. He almost froze in place, for a moment almost doubting what he was seeing.. but no, it was him.

"Faolan.." He called out, before finally bringing himself to move. "Where... where have you been? Are you okay? Did anything happen?" His words were rushed, his expression a mixture of worry and relief at finally being able to see the Irishman again.

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Faolan had been dreading this moment for two months. Ever since he had left, he had been tortured by the thought of his returning. For a while, it had been almost easy to resume his routine before he had met Lucien. After the night of the change, he had found himself so lost, so distraught and confused, that even the thought of seeing Lucien again had made him sick to his stomach. It was not out of hatred or anger at the Frenchman, no...Lucien deserved none of that. It was out of worry and fear. After he had regained himself, he tried to move on, to go back to civilization and to Green Bay, where Lucien was waiting...but, he just didn't. As the days passed, he found himself wiling away the hours in the woods. He had hunted, fished, hiked, climbed, slept in trees and in the dirt, washed himself in streams, cooked over an open flame. The longer he was alone, the more the voices in his head quieted until they were simply a whisper. A whisper he could tune out.

But two days ago he had realized that this silence would be short lived. He had a nightmare, for the first time in many years. He had been walking down a long, winding path, using only his nose and ears for guidance. He heard music, singing, like in a church choir, and smelled sweet breads. He knew this had to be Lucien calling out to him. He began to jog, then broke into a run. Sweating and panting, he made his way down this path, clouded in penumbra, but the faster he ran the quieter the singing got, and the more faint the sweet smells became. Finally, he saw something lying in the road in front of him and approached it. It was Lucien, lifeless at his feet, his chest open, his heart gone. When he fell to his knees and looked down at his hands, he saw blood and chunks of flesh and he knew...he knew this was his doing. He had torn Lucien open, ripped out his heart and eaten it. He couldn't live with himself, and his howl of rage and pain echoed through the chambers of his mind.

He had been awakened by the sound of his own screams in the middle of the night, thrashing about in the makeshift bed he had formed from leaves and an old blanket he carried in his pack. After he caught his breath, realizing that it had been a dream, he packed his things and left for Green Bay.

And here he stood. The sound of Lucien's voice, the look of his face...it was a relief to see and hear them. He felt a weight lift from his shoulders and a smile tug at the corners of his lips. He was alive, and safe, and clean and warm. This was in contrast to Faolan, who looked exactly like a man who had spent the last eight weeks sleeping on the ground and foraging for food. He was dirty, disheveled, and smelled of mulch and sweat. He had nearly knocked the landlord of the establishment off of his feet when he'd asked for Lucien. The man only told him where to go out of fear, but Faolan didn't care. He had to see him, to make sure he was okay.

"Fine," he said, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his smile at bay, "Just dirty, tired. I've been...out." this was all he could think to say.
Hidden 4 yrs ago Post by xivyxx
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For a moment it was easy to forget the anguish he had felt these past two months during Faolan's absence. Just having him here standing in front of him right now.. it was so relieving he didn't even know how to express it. He felt himself relax, just a little. He had.. really began to think that maybe he wouldn't come back, but he was glad he had decided to stay.. to wait for him. There was a hint of a smile at Faolan's lips, but it was gone just as quickly as he had seen it. He couldn't even be sure whether he had imagined it or not, but he didn't care. Faolan was here. He was back.

"I can see that..." He said, considering the man's current state. It didn't really seem like Faolan had seen civilization in well.. since he had left. It had been many years since he had seen the man like this. At a first glance, it didn't seem like he had been hurt in any way, even if there were a few cuts and tears in his clothes. Once he was completely sure the man was fine, he finally brought himself to move toward his door. It was best they didn't continue to linger in the hallway. Quickly he made his way to his door and unlocked it, motioning the Irishman inside. There were.. a lot of things running through his head right, now that he had registered the fact Faolan was back. There were so many things he wanted to do.. wrap his arms around him, demand to know why it had taken so long to return.. and most of all, want to know whether it had been because of what happened.. there had been too many things he had been worried about while the man was gone, but he wasn't sure now was the time to bombard him with questions, not when he had to head out to his next shift soon.

He walked into the room, one that had been intended for two people from the very beginning. He hadn't thought Faolan would take so long to come back, so he had gotten this one with the intention of having it ready for his return. He hadn't seen the point in changing to a room with a single bed, just in case the Irishman had decided to come back at any moment.. and well, here he was. Half the room was occupied with some of the things he had brought from the trailer. In his time here he had spent much more time in the room than back then. It was still tidy, but the table that would usually be used to have breakfast had a variety of books on top of them, ones he had grabbed from the bookstore. There were also two bottles of whiskey, one that had already been half consumed. There were even a couple books on the nightstand next to his bed and the lamp that was placed there. Lucien had found any way to keep himself busy while he was home, and he know seemed more weary than he used to, not really having been getting as much sleep as he should have. He didn't like allowing his thoughts to wander.

"Well.. I'm glad you're back. I brought a couple changes of clothing on your behalf when I first got this room, so feel free to go wash up and change.. your key is on the table.." He said, before heading over to his bed, having already had the next set of clothes he'd be changing into on top. When working with Marcel, since it was a more fancy establishment, he was usually made to wear a suit. That wasn't really something he had a reason to do often, so it had certainly been a bit of a change of pace. As he began to unbutton his shirt, facing away from the Irishman, he slowed his movements, his eyebrows furrowing. There was no way he couldn't just leave without knowing.

"Why.. did it take so long? I.. was worried.. I thought something had happened to you.. For a time I thought maybe you weren't going to come back.." He said quietly, knowing the Irishman would hear him.
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Faolan kept his eyes on Lucien as he moved toward him, but instinctively backed away as he approached. The closer Lucien got, even in this small moment, the more that Faolan noticed the gulf of fear that lay between them. As Lucien unlocked the door, he watched his hands, smooth and pale like always, and his eyes, bright and golden...how Faolan had missed looking at them. Even now that they were so close, Faolan felt isolated and alone, unsure if he would ever be able to bridge the gap he had made between them.

He followed Lucien into the room, it was bigger than what they were used to, more well-kept. Faolan could immediately see how Lucien had been spending his free time alone. Piles of books everywhere, not surprising. He recognized the name on one of the spines as an Irishman: Oscar Wilde, but did not know the work itself. He let his bag slide off of his shoulder and opened his mouth to comment, but noticed the other Irish product present in the room sitting on the table next to it. His jaw slowly closed when he noticed it was half empty, and his eyebrows furrowed. So, one small stint of drunkenness was not enough for Lucien? That explained the haggard look he had about him, well, as haggard as Lucien was capable of looking, anyway.

He dropped his bag to the floor and noticed his clothing folded neatly on the second bed. He was grateful for them, suddenly feeling much more filthy now that he was under a roof again. He was careful not to touch anything as he stood in the room, knowing his hands were caked with weeks of dirt that the water of lakes and streams just could not eradicate.

"Thank you..." he said, quietly as he crossed the room to take the key from the table and slip it into his pocket. "It'll be nice to be...clean." He was talking as if underwater, his words sounded foreign...far away.

He turned to see Lucien changing and immediately averted his eyes, dropping them to the floor. He approached the second bed and the clothes there, but paused as he heard Lucien speaking to him. He felt as if a hand had reached through his ribs to squeeze his heart. For a time...he wasn't planning on coming back either. But he couldn't tell Lucien this, of course...he didn't have the words to now.

"I was..." he began, then paused again as he clenched his fists and opened them again, "I needed some time...to myself." While this was true, there was so much more he knew he had to say. He should apologize for worrying Lucien, for leaving him in the first place, but his breath caught in his throat when he tried. He had imagined this moment, his return, so many times that it seemed to play on a loop in his brain. He didn't think it would be this hard to just say what he needed to say. The real thing was not the way he'd imagined it, but what had he expected? He couldn't talk like Lucien could, explain. The way he said it in his mind just sounded absurd, and he couldn't bring himself to let another hear it, let alone the person he cared for most in the world. He would make a fool of himself...
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At Faolan's response, Lucien's hands began to move again, though much quicker than before as he changed into his suit, letting silence drift over for a moment. It was only then that he turned around to face him. There were still.. so many things he wanted to say to him. Despite everything.. Lucien was incredibly relieved and happy to see Faolan here again. It was like a heavy weight that had been lifted off his chest, knowing that he was safe, to see that he had come back in the end.. but there were still things he wanted to know, but he stopped himself from asking the barrage of questions he wanted to ask.

Lucien had always been a selfless person, and Faolan's well-being had always been important to him. He wasn't going to be angry with him for wanting some time to himself, but it made him worry about what that time had done for him. He had returned.. so did that mean he had figured things out? He was unsure of that was a good or a bad thing.. but he was willing to accept whatever answer Faolan would give him at this point, if it meant he could save their friendship.

"Did that help?" He asked, doing his best to not sound upset. He genuinely, truly hope that it did, because it had done the complete opposite for him. These last two months on his own had been filled with nothing but anxiousness and paranoia over what happened between them, worrying over how this might have affected their friendship. if Faolan had left for this reason, then he sincerely hoped that the Irishman had fared better than he. He was beginning to suspect that Faolan's first instinct when things became too complicated was to run away, but he really wished he had stayed and that they could have talked things out before he had gone, but there was no point in lingering on that anymore. Faolan was here now, so maybe now he'd have that chance.
Hidden 4 yrs ago 4 yrs ago Post by FreckersFrog
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Faolan looked down at the clothes that Lucien had left out for him and let his fingers hover over the fabric without touching it. He knew if he did, he would stain the white cotton with his dirty hands. He let his arm fall to his side, then shrugged and answered Lucien's question quietly, "Some."

In truth, his absence from Lucien had been harder and easier than he had anticipated. Harder because he spent every waking hour thinking about the Frenchman, wondering where he was, imagining him walking through town, smiling, remembering the flush in his cheeks the night before he left...and easier because he did not have to confront his feelings or talk about their passionate connection. It stung him to hear the sadness in Lucien's voice and see it in his eyes. He knew he had hurt the Frenchman, and that itch to turn and run from it yet again was crawling up his back. If he was gone, Lucien wouldn't be in pain. Maybe he would even forget about him...after some time.

He turned to face Lucien, noticing immediately what he was wearing. He focused on this, the suit, the buttons, his shiny shoes...

"See you have a new job...must pay well?" he asked, his question coming out a little quicker than he intended, making him sound judgmental or suspicious. It was clear to him, but maybe not to Lucien, that he didn't know how to act around the Frenchman any more. Maybe the distance had hurt them in more ways than he knew.
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