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.

[color=a36209]"Thank you..."[/color] he said, quietly as he crossed the room to take the key from the table and slip it into his pocket. [color=a36209]"It'll be nice to be...clean."[/color] 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.

[color=a36209]"I was..."[/color] he began, then paused again as he clenched his fists and opened them again, [color=a36209]"I needed some time...to myself."[/color] 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...