[OOC] Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

[xivyxx]

Lucien was dissatisfied with his answer. If he had said yes, then maybe he would have been satisfied, at least this had ended up helping one of them, but clearly it hadn't. The Irishman was acting just as awkward, if not worse, than before he had left. His words were curt and short just like they used to be, and he was definitely not expressing himself well. It was like they had completely backtracked again, and he didn't like it.

At his question, he glanced down briefly. Right, Faolan had never seen him dressed like this before. Lucien had adapted to wearing suits fairly quickly. In actuality he felt very comfortable in them.

"Two, actually." He said as he turned to fold the clothes he had just taken off, to keep himself busy. "Bookstore during the day, Wine bar at night. I met another Frenchman, and he taught me some things. It's been a long two months." He said. It was really hard for Lucien to completely hide how upset he was about this entire situation. He felt like he was picking a fight, even though that was normally something he would never do, but he couldn't help himself. He was hurt, confused, and a little angry. He wished their reunion could have been better, that he could genuinely look up to Faolan and smile, tell him he was glad he was back, and then go back to their normal routine, but he just couldn't, not right now.

[FreckersFrog]

Faolan's expression immediately soured at Lucien's response. An undeniable jealousy had risen up in him at the thought of Lucien spending time with some other Frenchman. He had always been friendly, even to the point where it was irritating, but Faolan had never felt this way before. All it had taken was him leaving to begin spending time with someone else. Maybe he had preferred it this way, seeing that a new friend had highlighted all of the faults in his previous one. Though he knew these thoughts were unfair, he couldn't help them from springing to mind.

He grunted in response, and wanted to leave it at that, but found himself speaking before he could contain his annoyance. "Off to see him then...your new friend." He paused and his eyes fell on the whiskey bottle once more, "Suppose you took a liking to being sloshed." His tone was flat and hard, like stone, and his mouth was set in a line. Sarcasm had never come natural too him, but the bite in his chest had transferred to his mouth. Part of him immediately felt bad for poking at Lucien in this way, knowing it was not at all how he had wanted to come back, but he couldn't help the feeling that he had been replaced.

[xivyxx]

Lucien could tell almost immediately that Faolan hadn't liked his response, but he wasn't going to take it back, it was the truth. However he could not help but become annoyed by the response he was given.

"No." He corrected. "I'm off to work." He said, feeling it necessary to not have Faolan get the wrong idea. Marcel and he had become good friends, yes, but he was also his boss, though he had brought up a few times that they should start some sort of partnership in the business. Every time it was brought up, Lucien had always declined, because he wasn't sure whether Faolan was going to return or not.

At his next comment, Lucien turned around, seeing the cold expression Faolan wore, and.. the tone of his voice. It was harsh, and almost accusatory. It made him a bit defensive.

"Not a liking, no. It was a good distraction from the past two months I've spent worried sick about you." He snapped back, but then tried to calm himself. He didn't want to start a fight right now. It was the last thing he wanted to do now that Faolan had returned, but he had spoken before thinking.

[FreckersFrog]

Faolan huffed loudly, a sarcastic smile coming to his lips as he crossed his arms over his chest. "'Distraction...sure." he said, then nodded toward the half-empty whiskey bottle. "I wonder how many more of those you have lying around..." Faolan's da had been a drinker, a heavy one, and Faolan had seen this too many times not to know what it meant. He knew what had happened with Lucien the last time he had been drunk, what was to stop it from happening again, with someone else?

"At least you had a shoulder to cry on." he said, shrugging, "I'm sure Marcel is good company with a few fingers of whiskey in the belly."

Imagining Lucien with some other, faceless man was driving him to anger. He had been annoyed before, but now it was swelling into his chest as a bubble that may burst. It was like what had happened with those women, only worse because it was a man this time. All those years spent in hiding, agonizing over his feelings, and Faolan finally faces them to find the object of his affection gallivanting with another man...no, this was not fair. Faolan had spent the last two months utterly and completely alone, left to ponder and worry, so that Lucien could find happiness without him. He wasn't aware that he would be so easy to replace.

[xivyxx]

Lucien's eyes narrowed. Throughout his entire life, he didn't think there had ever been a moment in which he had truly been angry and lost his cool. It was unlike him, and he usually took things in a calm, and logical approach. It was how he was. Of all things, Lucien was not an escalator when it came to arguments, but he could not help the anger that began to boil inside him at Faolan's accusation. Just like that, all of his self control was gone.

"Is that what you really think? Because it's not true." He asked, clenching his fists. There was no way he could have had that, after all he couldn't just talk to anyone else about what had happened, they would not understand. "If you did not have a shoulder to cry on these past two months, that was because of a choice that you made. I have always been here for you, even at your lowest moment. Don't make it seem like you're the only one who has been suffering. You have no idea what the last two months have been like for me. Constantly thinking if you were okay, if my decision to go out that night had completely destroyed our friendship. I took two jobs to keep myself busy from thinking about you! Because I couldn't get you out of my head!" He stepped toward the Irishman as he spoke, who had quickly took two steps back. That only made his anger grow.

"Stop running away! I don't want to hear you of all people accusing me of doing anything out of drunkenness. Was I just good company to you too? Is that the only reason you kissed me?" The words had left his mouth before he had any chance to stop them. They had both avoided saying this out loud since it happened, but he just couldn't do it anymore. The last thing he wanted to believe was that his words were true, it hurt him to think so, but if that was the case.. then he needed to know. He needed to know so he could stop all these swirling thoughts of confusion. Maybe he still had time.. to shut away those feelings.

[FreckersFrog]

Faolan's eyes went wide as he heard Lucien raise his voice, his face becoming a mask of anger. The Irishman's nostrils flared as Lucien continued to berate and scold him. He had never seen the Frenchman this upset before. Lucien had always been so mild mannered, kind, quiet, and calm...these were his best qualities and ones that had always been a stark contrast to the way that Faolan's attitude could seem harsh and standoffish. All of that was gone now and replaced by hurt and frustration that was mirrored by the Irishman.

Hearing that Lucien had been worried about him, couldn't get Faolan out of his thoughts...this was a mirror also. Faolan had spent the entirety of his absence agonizing over what he would say when and if he came back. It seemed like Lucien was quick to blame him, without even knowing the full story. Even his mention of Faolan's so-called "lowest moment" stung the small amount of Pride that the Irishman had. This was like him, to think he knew more than he did. If Faolan could only tell him all of the reasons he had run away...maybe then Lucien would understand why he had left in the first place, why he had been so afraid to return. But...he just couldn't find the words. All of the pent up worry and fear had twisted into rage in these last moments, and aggression seemed to be his only outlet.

When Lucien moved toward him, he dropped his arms and instinctively stepped back and away. He didn't want Lucien to touch him, he was afraid of his reaction...if he would like it too much and all of his guards would be down again, like they were that night.

A deadly silence hung over them for a moment after Lucien said it, the word kiss. It hung over the two men like a shroud and a whirlwind of memories flooded Faolan's mind. He remember as if it were yesterday how Lucien felt in his arms, how he tasted...it had been euphoria. Faolan had to cast it away, bury it, for the sake of his safety and of Lucien's.

"What if I said yes?" he answered, his voice quiet but clipped, "Is that what you want to hear? That it meant nothing to me, that I was drunk and confused, and so were you? Neither of us were capable of being rational. It was a mistake, Lucien."

Faolan had never been a good liar, but through his anger he knew that what he said sounded true, even if it wasn't. The words spilled from his mouth like acid, burning him from the inside out and leaving a gaping hole in his chest. Just like he had seen in his dreams...but it had to be done. He would say them a thousand times if he had to to keep Lucien safe, he would rip his own heart out over and over until there was nothing left of him to tear.

[xivyxx]

Lucien felt like something had pierced his heart at Faolan's words. It was the answer he had been dreading, from the bottom of his heart. He really hoped that it hadn't been the case.. that it hadn't been a drunken mistake. His shoulders slumped, and he averted his gaze.

"What I want to hear doesn't really matter anymore does it? I wish.. that you would have just said that from the beginning, then I wouldn't have spent the last two months worrying about it." His voice was quiet, it was clear how much hearing that had hurt him. Hearing that it was a mistake... did that mean.. his feelings were to? He wanted to argue with him, to tell him that despite everything, he had been rational enough to know what he had wanted in that moment, but there was no point. If Faolan thought it was a mistake, then there was no reason he should continue this conversation. He was willing to make that sacrifice if it meant there was a small chance of salvaging their friendship. His golden eyes shifted toward the door, he didn't want to be here anymore. He felt like he might break down if he stayed.

"I have to get to work. Make yourself at home. I'll let the landlord know you're staying here." He said, before walking right past the Irishman and out the door, heading down the stairs and back to the lobby of the home. He stopped by the desk to speak to the landloard.

"That was the friend I was expecting. He was out camping, hence his disheaveled appearance, but don't worry, he won't cause you any problems." He reassured.

"Aye.. if you say so lad." The man said.

With that, the Frenchman took his leave, heading for Marcel's. He tried to push all thoughts of the conversation that had just transpired to the back of his mind. It was fine, he had Faolan's answer now, he just.. had to accept it and move on, but right now he had to focus on work. He didn't want what just happened to get in the way of that.

"Bonsoir, Lucien. Are you alright? You look a little down today." Marcel spoke up as he walked into the bar, they hadn't quite opened yet.

The man smiled, attempting to get rid of all signs of that in his expression. "Yes, no need to worry. I'm just a little tired." He said.

"Hmm, you do work too much for your own good. You can quit that bookstore at any time you know? I'd gladly pay you more." This caused Lucien to chuckle.

"It gives me something to do during the day." He had told Marcel when he first started working here that he wasn't sure how long he would be staying in town, granted this was near the beginning of the month, but it was very unlike Lucien to not mention that preemptively. He didn't want the other Frenchman to waste his time teaching him something if he was just going to end up leaving, but Marcel hadn't mind it. The fact that he had so little knowledge of wine to begin with had astonished him. He had genuinely wanted to teach him more, whether he had stayed or left. At the moment the other man was just happy he had stuck around this long. He was quite popular here.

"Well, I hope you're in the mood for some music later tonight? Alfonse is sick, but I figured you could cover for him. Everyone loves hearing you play." At this, Lucien glanced at the grand piano in the corner of the room.

"Of course, you know I'm always happy to." Usually there was another man who played, but sometimes the customers asked Lucien to play a piece when he was gone, since Alfonse also had a different job, now it had become a habit. Perhaps.. being able to play would help him clear his mind.

[FreckersFrog]

Faolan watched Lucien walk out the door without another word. There was nothing left for him to say.

He stood in the center of the room quietly for a moment, stunned. He heard Lucien converse with the Landlord, then leave. Faolan felt as though he couldn't move, or maybe he would shatter into so many tiny pieces if he tried...

But he had to, eventually. There was no way he could continue in civilization in this condition, it would draw too much attention to him...or more than he already did just by his size alone. He walked as if he were an animated corpse, his face and motions devoid of life. He gathered his clothing from the bed, then exited the room and located the shower by following the smell of soap. Once there, he used the facilities to clean himself up.

It was more than cleansing, the wash made him feel like himself again. For a while, he had been living as if he were an animated puppet, carrying out a will other than his own. Although one of his main concerns in life had been maintaining control, over himself and his circumstances, this running away and hiding in the woods had achieved the opposite. He realized now, as all of the dirt and grime was removed from his skin and hair, that he had been out of control of himself this entire time. He had allowed this situation with Lucien to strip him of his own will, to cause him to act as though he were not responsible for his own actions. He hated this, this feeling of irresponsibility.

But what else could he do? He was afraid. For the first time in a long time, he feared what the future held. He didn't have a plan, a way to ensure that he and Lucien were both safe and happy simultaneously. Part of him wished that he could go back to before that night, change his mind and say no to the drinking, or at least leave earlier. But, like the time he had allowed Lucien to see his change, he had let his mind grow clouded by his own wants and needs. This was a problem that for once he did not know how to solve. Could he continue on with Lucien like this, hiding from him and lying to him? He had promised that he would be honest...but he knew that telling the truth was dangerous. But if lying was hurting the one and only person he cared for in the world, was the danger worth it?

He didn't know.

He turned off the water, finally, dried and dressed himself. He didn't know how long he had been in the washroom, but his hands and feet were crinkly and soft and the sun had finally sunken below the horizon. He made his way back to their room and entered, locking the door behind him. Here, he stood in the dim light for a moment, looking about the room that Lucien had made his own. If he had foreseen the events of today, their conversation, he may never have returned at all. But, seeing Lucien's face...he knew in his heart that it had been worth it.

He stood in the dark and the silence for a moment, then made his way to the desk and let his fingers slowly and softly glide over the books on the table, the neck of the whiskey bottle, the discarded handkerchief that Lucien had left there. He walked to Lucien's bed, made neat and tidy even though he would be sleeping in it again tonight. So like him. Faolan touched his blanket, his pillow, but nothing made him feel closer to Lucien. This room was a vacuum, a place where he had been, not where he was now.

Now, he was at a wine bar, pouring for people who had too much money and too much free time. He was talking with them, making them laugh and smile, dazzling them with his own and with his wisdom and charm...Faolan imagined it and could see Lucien's face as if he were standing right in front of him in the dark. He could hear his laughter, his accent, which was sure to make people believe in his authenticity. He could see his hands, holding the wine bottles and polishing the glasses...

And Marcel, his new friend...standing in the corner, watching him. Exchanging a glance and a smile, maybe a wink or a smirk...maybe laying a hand on Lucien's shoulder. Complimenting him, telling him how amazing he was with the guest, how handsome and charming and good with words he was. Faolan felt his adrenaline rise at the thought of Marcel leaning in to Lucien, this faceless man who had kept him company all this time.

Faolan forced himself away from these thoughts and walked back to his own bed, that was not yet his. He sat at the edge of it, placed his palms flat together against each other and stared at the wall with his fingers pressing into his lips. For a moment, he was still, then his leg began to bounce as thoughts of Lucien and Marcel wormed their way back into his mind.

Eventually, he stood up and began to pace the room, trudging back and forth across the floorboards. Images of Lucien and Marcel shaking hands, laughing together, hugging and kissing each other on the cheeks like the French do...it made Faolan's blood boil. Lucien was not his. He was not an object or a toy, but Faolan could not help the mad jealously that was rising up in him. He had forced Lucien to leave with his harsh words...his lie, and he was with someone else now. He should be here, they should be talking, and it was all his fault. He may have been able to convince Lucien to stay if he had thought more about what he would say...if he was more eloquent or well mannered, as he was sure Marcel was. But, no, he had been brash and rude just like he always was. How could Lucien see anything in him now except a rude, callous...monster?

The pacing intensified, he walked faster, stomped louder. Memories of that night, of Lucien, of the two of them just spending time together before the kiss, of him now with another man...it all swirled through Faolan's head like a storm. He could not keep it at bay, it was tearing him apart.

Before he knew it, he had stormed out of the lodging house and into the street. He didn't know where the wine bar was, but he knew he could find it. He could always find Lucien, in the traces of his scent that seemed to linger everywhere. He made off in the direction he knew to find him, with no plan or idea of what he would do. Part of him hoped to see Lucien and Marcel together, to find them so that he could quiet this anger inside of him. Part of him only wanted to see Lucien again, to see him smile, even if it was for someone else. At least Faolan would know he was happy.

He passed through town in a haze, ignoring everyone on the street and focusing on one singular goal: Lucien. Before he knew it, he was there.

He didn't even hear the sound of piano music until he was standing in front of the door, the blood had been pumping in his ears so loudly. The sign above the door said "Rouge ou Blanc" in fancy, swirling script. Clever...

He descended the steps into the bar, it was underground, and pushed his way inside. He had to duck to get past the first beam and the sound of the piano grew louder and louder with every step he took. He did not recognize the song, but it sounded...forlorn, distraught...it sounded like goodbye.

He moved down the long, dark hall until the room opened up. The smell of Lucien was strong here, although it was mingling with the scents of wine, wood, and smoke. He looked around the room, but it didn't take him long to find the object of his search...

[xivyxx]

Lucien tried to continue his work like nothing was wrong, a fake smile plastered on his face as he greeted guests, made his recommendations, and made small conversation with those who sought it from him. He was doing everything he possibly could to keep himself busy or distracted, not wanting his thoughts to stray back to his talk with Faolan and how much it hard hurt to hear his rejection.

When it came time to play the piano, his feelings became much harder to keep buried. Lucien had always been the type to pour his feelings into his music. It gave it more depth, and while normally it was a good way to express himself, it wasn't what he wanted for himself right now. Despite that, someone had asked him to play something French.. and he had settled on Chopin, which might have been a mistake in his current mood. With every key his fingers played he felt like he was underwater, sinking deeper and deeper into the depths of the swirling feelings inside of him. It was ironic that he had subconsciously chosen this song of all things.. Valse de l'adieu. A song about a farewell.

The last thing he wanted was to say farewell to Faolan again. In reality part of him feared that the Irishman wouldn't even be there when he returned. That he would leave again but this time determined not to return. The thought of that was almost unbearable. If he had to say goodbye to something, he was willing to make the sacrifice of his feelings, willing to keep this locked away within his heart.. in hopes that he could actually go back and pretend none of this happened for the sake of the friendship he had treasured all these years.

It wasn't until he realized that his eyes were becoming glassy that he tried to snap himself out of it, just as he neared the end of the song. He was working right now, he couldn't keep getting distracted like this. Once the piece came to an end, he heard the applause from some of the patrons in the bar.

"Oh Lucien that was great! It was The Farewell Waltz wasn't it? The way you played it just pulled at my heartstrings!"

Lucien gave the woman a small bow at her praise. "Thank you, mademoiselle. I'll be playing something a little more upbeat for my next piece, I can't have my audience in tears now can I?" He said.

At this, the woman giggled. "It's worth hearing your beautiful music. We'll love anything you decide to play."

The nephilim simply smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes, before he turned back to the piano to begin to play again, this time keeping a better hold of himself. The rest of his work night went on like this, until he had finally stopped playing and returned to the bar.

"Your performance today was outstanding, but even I couldn't help but get a little emotional. Est-ce que tu vas bien?" He asked.

"I'm alright.. it's just one of those days. I apologize if I affected the mood in the bar negatively."

Marcel shook his head. "No, not at all, the ladies loved it. I have no complains for you, except you always steal their.. eyes?" He joked, his English breaking for a moment. His pronunciation was still a bit in progress, but Lucien tried to help when he could.

"Their attention? Unintentional, I assure you." He said as he finished polishing the last of the glasses. It was about time they closed up. It had been a long time since he had been concerned about what time he was heading home, but there was a part of him that felt incredibly nervous of what he would find.

"Unless you need me for everything else, I think I'm calling it a night." He said, causing Marcel to raise an eyebrow.

"No late night drink today? Are you ill? If you call out sick, lots of guests will be disappoint." Despite his choice of words, Lucien knew Marcel was worried, so he quickly shook his head.

"I'm quite healthy, there's nothing to worry about." He said before he walked out from behind the bar. He didn't really want to be asked anymore questions, so he decided it was best to leave. "I shall see you tomorrow."

With that, Lucien left the bar, though his pace in getting home was slow. He was dreading what he might find in his return.. considering how things had gone before he left. Worst case scenario Faolan was gone.. best case.. they'd be able to go back to acting like before.. somehow, but he wasn't sure how fast he'd be able to repress how he felt about him. He tried not to think selfishly. It was unfair of him to force his feelings onto Faolan if he did not feel the same way. One way or another, he had to move forward.

Lucien continued on his way, making his way up the stairs until he finally reached the door of his room. His eyes lingered on the handle of the door for a moment, before he finally brought himself to open it. Immediately his eyes scanned the room, and he took note of Faolan now sitting on his bed. He felt himself relax ever so slightly. So he was still here.

"I'm back.." He muttered, not really knowing what else to say before he made his way across the room to his side of the room.

[FreckersFrog]

Faolan had stood in the back of the room, watching Lucien play the piano in total silence and stillness. He didn't want to breathe, or move, for fear of tipping the Nephilim off that he was here.

He had come here tonight with the intention of...well, he didn't know what he had intended. But as soon as he had stepped into the bar and seen Lucien bent over the keys, heard the music he was playing, all of the steam had exited his body. He felt as though he were falling down a deep dark hole with no bottom, that the music could reach him in the center of the earth but nothing else could. He watched every movement of Lucien's shoulders, his head as he bowed it, his eyelashes that fluttered...he felt something inside of him break. It wasn't his heart, no...he had tried as he might to break that himself and found it impossible. It felt like...freedom.

He didn't even notice when a man approached him, which was very unlike Faolan. The man whispered, so as not to distract the guests, "Ah,
monsieur," he said in a thick French accent, "Is there something I can help you with? A table, perhaps?" he asked, smiling.

Faolan looked down at him, dark hair and a mustache with a well-trimmed beard. He was older, probably in his 40s, entirely human, with inviting eyes and a welcoming smile. This has to be Marcel.

"Ehm...no," Faolan began, glancing back up at Lucien as he felt the music coming to an end, "I...I'm in the wrong place."

Marcel, presumably, looked quite dejected at this, but understanding. "Ah, well, if you decide to be in the mood for some Chopin and some wine, you come back to Rouge ou Blanc. We take care of you here aah..." There was a slight pause, "Forgive me, monsieur, but are you alright?"

Faolan looked back down at him as the last key was struck, sensing genuine concern in the man's eyes. "Oh, yes, fine...I'm fine." he turned to go, shielding himself from the view of the dining room around the corner, then turned once more and added, "Your musician...he's wonderful."

Marcel nodded at this, the concern disappearing from his face, "Oh yes, this Lucien...he is-" he struggled for a moment to find the word, "magnifique. Come back, he will play something...not so sad next time."

Faolan paused again as he heard the crowd erupt into applause at Lucien's performance. His mouth twitched at the corners in to a very short-lived, but genuine smile. "I hope so." At this, he turned and left.

He had gone back to the house much slower than he had made his way to the bar, wandering a bit through the streets. He kept his hands in his pockets, and mostly looked at his feet. Every now and again he would look up when he heard a noise or sensed people near him. He stopped at a park and saw two young lovers holding hands, giggling quietly and disappearing into nearby bushes. He heard babies crying and their mother's coos through windows, saw men returning from work looking glum, saw women standing on street corners propositioning. None of this would mean anything to him if it weren't for Lucien. He saw the meaning in things now, felt the thrum and hum of the earth beneath his feet. Before he was just wandering the earth, searching for nothing. He was so unaware that he didn't even realize that he had found what he had need all along...he couldn't abide this, not any more.

The breakage he had felt before were the bands he had wound so tightly around his heart. They had kept him safe until now, comforted in his lack of care for anything or anyone other than himself. Lucien had broken them, and now Faolan was free.

He found his way back to the house, back to their room. He sat on the bed and quietly waited for Lucien to return.

When he smelled Lucien's scent enter the building, heard his footsteps, his heart began to race again. This time it was not from anger or fear, but from excitement. He had so much to say, he just had to say it right this time.

When Lucien entered, he looked up at him, slowly, and felt as though he were seeing the man for the first time. He did not smile, he couldn't yet, knowing all of the pain he had put Lucien through. He held it at bay, and instead he stood as Lucien entered the room and closed the door.

"Lucien...I'm glad," there was a pause, his words hung in the air like heavy stones about to fall. "And...I'm sorry." These words came from him like a sigh of relief, even though his body was humming like an engine, it was something he had been holding inside for so long...it was as if he had finally laid down his pack and taken off his boots. He was coming home.

[xivyxx]

For the most part, Lucien had avoided staring at the Irishman for too long, unable to shake the awkwardness from their last conversation. It was Faolan speaking up however, that made him turn to look at the man with a surprised look on his face. Never in the time that he had known Faolan had he heard him apologize. Usually when they had disagreements, if he was in the wrong, Faolan would just end up agreeing with him, but never apologize. It had completely caught him off guard, but he then composed himself. Now Lucien actually got a look at him, he seemed a lot less tense.. and angry than before. Perhaps getting cleaned up had improved his mood? He wasn't sure, but he wasn't going to get his hopes up. If this was the way they could attempt to get things back to.. 'normal,' then he was okay with it.

"It's alright.. we were both.. riled up. I should not have snapped at you.. it was childish of me." He muttered, before turning to face his own bed, removing the jacket of his suit. It was still a little hard to face him.

"I'm glad you're still here.." He added quietly.

[FreckersFrog]

Faolan stepped forward, toward Lucien as the Frenchman spoke and turned his back. "No," he said, holding out a hand but not touching him. They were still too far apart. "It's not alright."

There was another pause as Faolan dropped his hand, and his gaze, to the floor. He had always had a hard time expressing himself. Even as a boy, he was quiet and observant. His ma told him he didn't even cry when he was born, but he didn't smile either. It was just his way. But now he was trying harder than he ever had to just say how he felt. He had to tell Lucien...so many things, but mostly that he was wrong.

"I should never have said those things to you. I'm at fault here, I shouldn't have left. I shouldn't have...lied to you." His voice quieted near the end of this sentence. He needed to say this, but he didn't want to yet. He had so much more to tell him before he said this. He had to back track, to explain.

[xivyxx]

Lucien was beginning to unbutton his shirt when he heard Faolan speak again, causing him to pause the movement in his fingers. He knew that it was not alright. Nothing that had transpired since Faolan came back had been alright, but Lucien was much too forgiving. He didn't want to hold any of this against him, he wanted to let go of it as soon as possible so things could go back to being how they always were, so he could try to forget about the way he felt and try to view Faolan as just a close friend again, no matter how hard that may be.

It was the Irishman's following words that broke his train of thought, and caused him to turn toward him again. Faolan could be many things, but he was not a liar. He had a small tendency to withhold information at times, but he never, ever lied to him. He knew that for a fact.. at least until just now.

"Lied..?" He questioned. There was a part of him that became hopeful, but he tried to repress it. Lied about what? "I don't.. understand.." He was aware that Faolan was terrible at expressing his feelings, he was.. terrible with words in general, but just this once, he wanted to hear a proper explanation from him. He deserved that much.

"Please be clear with me, Faolan." He was trying very hard to be in control of his feelings, working so hard to try to keep them at bay. If the Irishman wasn't clear with him, it made it so much harder to finally shut that door so he could put all of this behind him.

[FreckersFrog]

Faolan took a deep breath, trying as best he could to compose himself before speaking. He knew that Lucien deserved to hear the truth, to know what was going on inside of the Irishman. Faolan knew what he had to say, he just didn't know the right words and the right order for them.

"I'll try," he said as he met Lucien's eyes. He swallowed, then began:

"There are so many things that I want to apologize for. I'm sorry for leavin' ya like that, and for bein' gone so long without a word. I'm sorry that I came back like tha-...like this." He gestured to himself, looking down like he was ashamed, and he was. "I'm sorry for snappin' on ya', and for gettin' all worked up over Marcel. I don't know what that was..." he said, almost laughing to himself. To anyone who didn't know the Irishman, it would have sounded like a quiet bark.

"Most of all, I'm sorry for lyin' to ya'. I'm many things, Lucien, but I'm not a liar. I know this might not be...right, or what you want to hear, but I need you to know, even if it hurts us both." He stepped forward again, making eye contact with Lucien as he gestured weakly with his hands, as if he were tossing the words into his mouth. "It did mean something to me...what I--what we did. I didn't know, back then, but it's been growin' since the day we met. I was drunk, but I knew what I wanted. I wanted--I want you," he said, stepping forward again.

"I'm sorry for so many things..." he said again, dropping his gaze. "But I'm not sorry that I kissed you. I lied--I said it was a mistake--because I'm scared for us, for you. It's no excuse, but...it's the truth."

He looked up once more, his eyes glossy but set, his jaw tight and resolute. There was a look of clarity on his face that was not there before; it was done, he'd decided. "I'm not going to run anymore. Not from you...not ever again."

[xivyxx]

Lucien was taken aback with every word Faolan spoke. Everything came out rushed, it was clear his thought process was all over the place, but with every word that escaped him, the nephilim felt himself being pulled in again. He felt his heart almost beating out of his chest as he tried to process what Faolan was saying to him. He felt that door he had been so desperately trying to keep shut burst right open. He found himself moving toward the Irishman, wanting to close the distance between them. A light returned to his eyes as he realized that Faolan felt the same way as he did, and hope finally returned to him. Faolan.. wanted him. That kiss had meant something to him.. None of this was a mistake. A weight was lifted off his heart, and the Frenchman finally relaxed.

He could not deny that he was not pleased with the way Faolan had handled all of this.. but Lucien was not the kind of person who would hold this against him. There was no doubt in Faolan's eyes. They were honest, just like the Faolan he had always known. Just like that, every doubt that Lucien had been struggling with completely disappeared. The fear of Faolan leaving him, of their friendship falling to ruin, was gone.

"I'm not sorry that it happened either. I know that I was drunk, and I know I wasn't thinking clearly. I was confused at first.. but in that moment.. when our lips touched.. I knew. I knew that was what I wanted. I didn't want to let go of you." He reached out, hesitantly for a moment, to place a gentle hand on the Irishman's cheek, gold eyes staring into his emerald ones.

"I wasn't sure.. how to act. I didn't know if you wanted to pretend it never happened or you just didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to ruin our friendship. You are the most important person in my life, Faolan. I didn't want to lose you.. I was willing to lock all of my feelings away if it meant our friendship could be salvaged." Briefly, he averted his gaze, but then the Frenchman's eyes found his again, with a more determined look. For the first time in his life, the nephilim felt what it was like to be greedy.

"I don't know.. If I can be that selfless anymore." He paused for a moment, his thumb lightly trailing down toward the corner of the man's lips, just short of touching them. "What does that mean for us?" He stepped closer to him as he spoke, almost able to feel his breath.

”This is your last chance to run, Faolan, because if we go through with this, I’m not letting you go again.” This was the closest he had been to the Irishman since he had woken up that morning in his arms, but he stopped himself from going any further, allowing Faolan the final say.

[FreckersFrog]

Faolan didn't know what he was expecting Lucien to say in response to this torrent of words and emotions that had just escaped him. He was so used to controlling his emotions, his anger and his fears, that he never realized that this control had extended to his positive feelings as well. He had kept them all locked away, to in turn imprison the beast that lived inside of him. With Lucien, he thought maybe that beast was being freed...that it would be dangerous for him to express himself when he felt so strongly. But it had had the opposite effect on him.

As Lucien returned his feelings, confirmed that he felt the same...Faolan felt nothing but a wave of pure relief. He didn't know that he had been hoping for the Frenchman to say these words until he had heard them spoken from his lips, in his voice. Every bit of it was a soothing balm that comforted him.

He felt his hands began to shake as Lucien approached him and almost started as the Frenchman touched his cheek. He knew that he had longed for Lucien's touch, but didn't know how he craved it. It was, in this moment, like air to him. He never wanted to go back to a place that Lucien felt he could not touch him like this. He stared into Lucien's eyes, golden pools of warm light that pulled him in. Like a moth to a flame, he was entranced. He moved forward, not realizing that he was reaching for Lucien until his fingers touched the cloth of his shirt.

He wanted to say something in answer to Lucien's warning, his request, but in this moment Faolan could think of only one thing to do with his mouth. He leaned forward and kissed Lucien again, slowly and softly, afraid of moving too roughly or being too aggressive. As soon as their lips touched, that flame that had been dormant in him since the day he'd left was awakened once more. It burned in his chest like the engine of a ship, pumping steam-like adrenaline into his veins. He left one hand on Lucien's hip, and the other moved behind Lucien's ear, caressing the soft tips of his raven hair. Although Faolan wanted to do so much more, he kept all of his movements soft and slow, as gentle as he had ever been, to avoid the avalanche of desire that would surely break on them if he allowed it to.

[xivyxx]

Faolan did not give him a verbal response, but in this moment, Lucien didn't need it. His actions spoke much louder than his words. He felt a spark between them as their lips touched, and he used that opportunity to close more of the distance between them. This kiss was different than their first, it was soft, much less aggressive, but it instilled similar feelings inside of him.

He knew Faolan could hear his loud heartbeat clearly as he closed his eyes, feeling the touch of his gentle fingers at his hair. He had missed this, Faolan's presence.. being about to touch him like this, and now that he was a lot more aware and in control of his feelings, he was able to fully enjoy the warmth and comfort the Irishman provided him with. He felt the desire he had been forced to suppress that night coming back to him, and he couldn't stop himself from placing his other hand on against Faolan's chest.

He broke the kiss for just a moment, opening his eyes to meet Faolan's gaze before he gave him a warm smile, filled with genuine happiness. It reflected the joy he held in this moment, now they had finally been able to be completely honest about their feelings, and that he was able to touch him again like this. Gently he caressed Faolan's cheek, and it was then he decided to put his feelings into words.

"I love you.. Faolan." His voice came out in a quiet whisper, before he leaned forward and connected their lips again.

[FreckersFrog]

Faolan was completely enraptured by Lucien, absorbed in him. He imagined that all this time he had been holding back from something so wonderful, so comforting...if only he could change the past...

He felt Lucien's hand against his chest and moaned inadvertently with pleasure as heat followed wherever the Nephilim touched. Every second of skin contact was like a breath of air to him, and he only wanted more and more of it. Although he was being extraordinarily gentle for a man of his size and strength, he could feel that this would be short lived if they continued this way. Desire had been one thing that he had buried so deep within him that he wasn't sure he could still access it...until now. Now it was coming out in a flood, a torrent, and Faolan was splitting his attention between keeping it at bay and this intimate moment. If something had to give, Faolan knew which he would choose to unleash.

When Lucien broke the kiss, Faolan was surprised, and a little worried that he had done something wrong. His hand had snaked from Lucien's hip to cover the Nephilim's palm as it lay against his chest, and he gripped it now for fear of Lucien pulling away from him. He looked down, once more into Lucien's eyes and felt all of the fear melt away as he heard the words. He opened his mouth to respond, but only "I lo-" escaped before the kiss resumed.

With renewed passion, Faolan pulled Lucien into him with one arm wrapped around his waist and the other against his neck, feeling the throbbing of his jugular beneath his fingers. He pressed Lucien to him until they were seamless, their chests and hips completely flush with one another. Faolan knew that he was aroused, but he didn't care if Lucien noticed or not. There was so much heat between them, there was nothing Faolan could do to stop the obvious signs from showing. He had not felt this in...well...ever.

Without thinking, but within the rhythm of the kiss, Faolan's tongue slipped from behind his teeth to brush Lucien's lips and a low growl rumbled in his chest.

[xivyxx]

Faolan's moan was like music to Lucien's ears. Hearing that he was enjoying his touch was enticing to him. There had been very little moments in his life in which Lucien had been in tune with this side of himself. The thought of doing anything like this had never crossed the Frenchman's mind until that night where the Irishman had pulled him into his arms. While his kiss had interrupted Faolan's response, he knew what he was going to say in return, and that was enough for him. It filled him with a greater happiness, and allowed him to lose himself completely to the pleasure he was feeling every second he was in contact with the man in front of him.

Feeling Faolan's arousal against him sparked Lucien's own excitement. Knowing that it was him that was making him feel this way.. that he was causing this reaction, was an incredibly satisfying feeling, and he wanted more of it. His hand could feel that Faolan's heartbeat was just as fast as his, and he allowed his hand to linger there for a moment before it trailed behind to curl around the Irishman, fiddling with the helm of his shirt.

As Faolan's tongue brushed his lips, Lucien parted his lips to allow him entrance. He could feel the low rumble in Faolan's chest, but it did not deter him, but instead enticed him further. It was just proof of how much he was affecting him. There wasn't a part of him that feared the Irishman would hurt him. If Faolan wanted to give in to his desires, Lucien would gladly accept him. The Nephilim wanted this just as much as he did. A small moan escaped the Frenchman as their tongues danced with each other, guided by their desire for each other. He leaned further into the kiss, if that was possible, and his left hand slipped under his shirt, his cool fingers making contact with Faolan's skin, heat radiating from him as it always did. Lucien had been cold when he first came into the room, but there were no traces of that now. There was no way he could feel cold when all he could feel was Faolan's warmth.

[FreckersFrog]

Feeling Lucien's tongue against his own had pushed the Irishman over the edge. Faolan wanted Lucien, entirely, and in this moment he could do nothing to stop himself from making the moves to get what he wanted, what he needed.

As Lucien's cool fingers slid up his shirt, he gripped the Frenchman tighter, both arms now wrapped around his waist. He lifted Lucien until his feet were off the ground, then stepped forward until he sensed the bed. He let Lucien gently down onto the bed and broke the kiss for only a moment. He stood over Lucien, looking down on the skin of his heaving chest and flushed cheeks. Faolan pulled his shirt from the bottom up and slipped it off, never taking his eyes off of Lucien. He tossed the tank top to the floor and closed the distance to the Frenchman again, hovering over him before crashing down into another kiss. All of his movements were natural, fluid, and gentle, concealing the welling tidal wave of desire that threatened to spill over and flood the room.

He supported himself on an elbow as he let his other hand slide from Lucien's neck to his chest and down his stomach. When he met the resistance of Lucien's shirt, he started to unbutton it instinctively but fumbled with only one hand.