thatsmyjonson | Cry and cry and cry over the love of you

Cry and cry and cry over the love of you

Dane had lost track of how long had passed since he'd lost the important people in his life. First it had been Lucian to Osiris' hand. And five years after that, the old man had died to Dane's own hand. And eight years after that, Crawford had died. The first had been unexpected and left a hole inside him that nothing could ever completely fill. However, getting his revenge had served to partially patch it. But losing his best friend left him hurting in a different way altogether. So he threw himself into his vices. Nothing could kill him, but that didn't stop him from trying to let it happen.

He was finally starting to live again. Or at least pretending to. He wasn't quite as pickled as he had been, and he was venturing out more and more. He found himself in the embrace of a wild party, celebrating the arrival of a new year. It was a reminder of the fact that it had been over twenty years since he'd lost Lucian. It soured the night once the realization hit, but he swallowed it well, hiding it as he downed another drink.

As midnight approached, the tension in the room grew. He made his way through the revelers, and if by some miracle, they parted before him and at the other end of the gap was a man he'd never thought he'd see again. He leaned on the bar, a woman talking to him. It couldn't be. Lucian? It must be a trick of the light. It had to be.

"TEN!" The crowd shouted around him.

Seized by an impulse, he started pushing through the crowd. "NINE!" they shouted. It felt like a countdown for him. If he didn't reach the other side of the room before they reached zero, this illusion would vanish forever. He dodged and ducked through the crowd as they counted down.

"FOUR!" A couple arm and arm in front of him was his last obstacle, but they were oblivious to the distress behind them. "THREE!" Muttering an apology, he shoved through them, ignoring their protests.

"TWO!" He could see the woman, leaning closer to Lucian now. At this close, he could see. It wasn't just a similar face. Everything about him was exactly the same. He didn't have time for doubts.

"ONE!" His fingers wrapped around lapels of the man's jacket, dragging him closer. Their lips crashed together as the party around them exploded. And they could have been whispering for as much as Dane heard them. Fingers ran up into familiar curls as he pulled Lucian closer. He tasted the salt in the kiss before he was even aware his cheeks or eyes were damp.

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Lucian is young and full of life--but he always has been, no matter what life throws at him. Chipper and together, even if there's always dirt under his nails and most people don't seem to give him the time of day. It suits him just fine--he tells himself that, anyway. That he doesn't matter and shouldn't really, but instead his actions should reflect on the children he taught.

Lucian Harris, for all anyone knew, was a quaint and just man. God-fearing like the rest of them, perhaps a tad more intelligent than some but that's all because of the books he keeps, finding himself strangely fascinated by them. He's young but quickly the town's favourite, and the children absolutely adore him. He loves them, too.

Everyone assumes Mary and he are a couple, but it's more that Mary and Lucian love each other deeply and have a special connection since they were young. They both choose to keep each other's secrets. Mainly, their preferences with which they go to bed to. Mary, beautiful and proper, the town seamstress, much prefers to spend her time with with Caitlyn than any other man. Lucian?

Lucian hasn't quite found anyone for him. It bothers him, more than it should, but Mary is the only person that knows. The two decide to ring in the new year by going to a far bigger town, and they save up and dress their best for the New Year. Lucian, loving to sew and never letting anyone but Mary know, helps design her dress. She, in turn, designs Lucian's. Nothing that would stick out too much, but between laughter and too much wine they'd both decided that they simply needed to dress in red and black in order to be elegant.

They're in a lovely bar, crowded and beautiful and Lucian wouldn't have it any other way as he raises his glass and begins to count with his best friend, both of them all smiles and teasing in between the count down.

"A new year," Lucian states softly.

"And new happiness," Mary supplies, and the two count down from five to one. At two they get close, ready for a kiss that is no more awkward than a handshake for them, when his jacket is grabbed.

His first thought, startled, was that he was going to spill wine over Mary's hard work and careful embroidery of black beads. He even opens his mouth to protest, but when he does lips move to his and Lucian, startled, nearly drops his glass.

He's not sure what's happening but it's a wonderful kiss, and a romantic kiss, and from a man, no less. One who is brave enough to do this in public, one who is... Crying? What on earth? HE can feel Mary gently grabbing the stem of the wine from his hands but he's far too shocked to do much of anything as she pries it away so it won't spill, instead lip-locked with a crying, wonderfully romantic individual.

Or perhaps he was just drunk?

Lucian, confused, pulls away but lets the other keep a hand on his lapel. Peers at him through rounded glasses, looking completely and utterly lost. More than lost--confused. Because it was oddly familiar in a way that he couldn't put his finger on. This man--with his long hair, slender frame and tear-stained cheeks--he looked... Almost familiar.

"How many drinks have you had?" He manages, finally. Mary, next to him, begins to laugh.

"Too many," Dane replied, absolutely beaming. "But that doesn't matter. And I know it's not proper, but I don't care. Why didn't you tell me?" Tears flowed freely and he didn't seem to notice, he just reached up to smooth a lock of hair out of Lucian's face.

"All the years, I thought you were dead. I'd thought that bastard killed you. But you're...you survived. Like I did. If I'd know, I would have looked for you. I would have..."

He shook his head, his voice rising to such a pitch it became impossible to force out any more words. "God, I've missed you, Lucian..." he breathed out as he wrapped his arms around the man's chest in a forceful embrace.

Lucian doesn't hug back. Instead, he sends a rather panicked look to Mary, who's eyes are wide. No one seems to notice all of this, still, thanks to the chaos of it being a happy new year.

The strange rambles--and that's what it is, rambling, and Lucian mouths something to Mary, who mouths 'I don't know' right back. Whatever this is--whoever this is--Lucian is ready to chalk it up to far too much absinthe and maybe a dash of opium, but he visibly tenses when the other says his name.

Lucian.

Somehow, this guy knew his name. Lucian didn't even live in London--never had in his entire life, let alone seen this man, no matter how attractive he is. He licks his lips, trying to find words for something. Anything.

Maybe it was luck? Maybe the guy had overheard him somehow. Still, the hug is getting a little uncomfortable and eyes are starting to follow him. Lock onto him, even.

"How do you know my name?"

Dane seems to remember himself. Remember that they're in a very public place. He started to push back as Lucian asked that question. And he felt as though he might lose what happiness he'd just found. Why WOULDN'T he know Lucian's name?

He scrubbed at his face with the heel of his hand, trying to calm himself.

"Don't be silly," he said with a faint laugh. "Did you think I'd forget after all this time? You changed my life. You were the best thing to..." He started to become aware of the stares they were receiving. He had something of a reputation, now. At least among some folks. He was the reclusive drunk that seemed to keep rather nice apartments despite having no income.

"..best thing to happen to me..." he finished lamely, his smile growing strained.

"You..."

One last, forlorn look at Mary, who only raises her eyebrows and shrugs elaborately. She has no idea what's going on and neither does Lucian. This guy seems to, though. And Lucian's still fairly certain he's just absolutely insane. That's the only reason he has. That he's somehow learned his name and is now convinced of something.

He doesn't want to alert the bobbies or anything of that sort, though, and he's fairly certain Mary would catch on to trouble before he did--Lucian's head was always filled with dreams and forgiveness--which means now he can just try to suss out what on earth was going on.

"Sir," He says as politely as he can. "We've never met. I don't know who you are in the least."

He's not sure why he's doing this, though--why he's raising fishing for his hankerchief, moving forward to dab at the other's eyes.

The way Lucian says that...Dane can't see any hint of the other making it up. Some sort of cover to protect himself. He knew Lucian well enough that he thought perhaps he'd be able to see it. Some nudge to play along. But he seemed truly and genuinely confused.

All at once it all crumbled. Dane thought he'd at last found something that would make this strange life worth it, but it was like trying to use his bare hands to save a sandcastle from the tide. It just slowly fell apart, starting at the foundation.

He stared at the man, even as the other dabbed at his tears. How?! How was this possible? This was Lucian. He knew that face better than any in the world. He'd know it anywhere. He was wearing glasses and his clothes were different, but they were still the right colors. His hair was the same. Even his voice was exactly the same.

Suddenly, the room was too stuffy. The party was too loud. Those tears threatened to fall again for a completely different reason. "But...you're...." He swallowed hard. All at once, he felt like he'd gone back over twenty years. Clutching at Lucian's dead body. It tore at his chest all over again.

"I have to go." He said in such a rush it sounded like a single word. He turned away, shoving people out of his path as he charged toward the door.

"Mary--"

"Don't worry about it," Mary leans over to place a gentle kiss on the other's cheek. "Go after him."

Mary didn't understand it. Hell, Lucian didn't, but it was something he had to do. It wasn't even instinctual, he just somehow knew. He had to follow the other. He had to do something. Mary seemed to get that, too--or perhaps it was because she was eyeing a very pretty lady who looked to be a call girl.

Lucian followed, making no pretense of being polite at other people, nearly upsetting someone's tray of alcohol. The doors opened and Lucian didn't even pay attention to the cold, just that it was beginning to snow and he could see the strange American's form quickly moving away.

"Wait!" He calls, and he's surprised at how desperate and urgent he seems. In fact, he breaks into a run to try to get at him. "Wait, please! Please. Don't run away."

Dane ran. The moment he burst through the doors, he ran as hard as he could. The cold air burned in his throat, his tears felt like they might freeze on his cheeks. But he didn't care. This curse he'd been given was worse than he'd ever hoped. He had to lose Lucian to get it, and now he had to see him in other people?! Lucian, but not. The same name. The same face. But no memory. Not even the faintest glimmer.

It was worse than having what he needed, to have it just barely out of reach. Like fate was taunting him. He couldn't die to join Lucian--he'd tried. He recovered from any injury. Any toxin. His body recovered with ease. He couldn't stand it.

Feet pounded the cobbles of the street, upsetting a horse as he passed. They were close to the river. A bridge. Maybe he could drown. The ice cold currents might overcome the curse and he could finally escape this...

He stopped. He heard the voice behind him. It couldn't be. But he knew that voice anywhere. It cut through everything, clear as a bell. He wanted to tell the impostor to stay away. But he couldn't find his voice. Seeing Lucian running toward him. Suddenly, it was almost impossible to breathe. That face...how was it EXACTLY his face? Why did fate taunt him so?

"Why--" No, that's a stupid question, and Lucian tries his best to catch his breath. He's a schoolteacher, not someone strong like a dock worker, and he's cold and confused and his stomach is doing leaps for reasons he doesn't even know. All he knows is that he needs to stop this guy from doing...

..Anything. Doing anything.

They were on a bridge, now, and Lucian snaps out of staring at Dane only because a carriage whizzes past them. There's Lucian, looking richer than he is, looking far less frazzled than he really is, but he can't help the wild concern in his eyes as he takes a few steps forward. Not enough to scare Dane off.

"How did you know?"

Dane didn't back away. Nor would he have been scared off. Quite the opposite, in fact. All he wanted to do was rush forward and wrap his arms around Lucian again. To prove he was real and solid, not some sort of ghost here to taunt him.

He takes a few, slow breaths trying to let the frigid air calm him. If Lucian didn't know, how could he possibly explain?

"Do you honestly not remember me?" He said, his voice unsteady. "Twenty....three? Four? years ago..." Once it hit twenty, he couldn't bear to count any more. "You and I..." But he couldn't make him say it. He'd never been able to say it. That one singular word that described how he felt for Lucian. Not until he gripped at the dead man's clothes, shouting it until his throat was raw. But nothing could bring him back.

There was a slight problem with that math, however. Even with the disheveled coat, the tails looking ratty, his shirt collar undone and the cuffs of his pants soaking from the snow, he still didn't look even thirty years old.

"You and I were....together..."

That's impossible. He knows it's impossible, but he feels pulled towards Dane--tugged towards him, not even nudged, just drawn. Maybe Lucian's going crazy. Maybe he's had too much wine.

Or not enough.

"I'm twenty-three," He says quietly. He's trying to figure out what the hell is going on--what the hell is happening. He's normal. He's always been normal, always lived a normal life. Is God testing him? Is it something else?

Is it far too much opium, or had someone slipped something in his drink?

..Why would anyone want to slip anything into his drink? Lucian was Lucian. And this man... This man looking at him, looking not a day over 25. He doesn't understand. But they were together, he had insisted.

Together.

He licks his lips, face reddening from the crisp, cold air and his lack of coat. He can ignore the cold, though. The other's tears, they'd been genuine. Sorrowful. Lucian only wishes he could feel that much emotion. He takes a step again, cautious. Unsure.

"...I'm at your mercy, not knowing your name. I don't remember you, but... I'd very much like for you to come back inside, where it's warm." Away from the bridge. "Perhaps to have a drink."

Dane didn't want to go inside. He wanted to take Lucian by the hand and run into the freezing night. Run until they got to his apartment. The apartment the two of them had shared for only a few short years. He wanted to fall into bed with the man, wrap himself around that broad chest, and never let go.

Twenty three. He was only twenty three. The exact amount of time since he'd last seen Lucian. But how?

...didn't even know his name...

Dane was torn. He wanted to rush forward and at the same time run away as fast as he could. Why did seeing that face have to cut him so very deep?

"My name's...Dane..." he said, softly. He takes the smallest step forward, looking as though he might burst into tears again at any moment. He watched Lucian's face for any sign that he might be playing a game. That this was somehow a ruse. !

"Dane. Okay--Dane." He spreads his arms out, as if showing he's unarmed. He's still confused but he's doing his best to keep his voice calm and soft, even though the cold is stinging at him. If he gets sick he's going to be impossible to deal with, but that's Mary's problem.

"I'm--I'm Lucian, and I'm very puzzled by everything that's happening. Just as quizzical as you." He raises his eyebrows, offering a smile. Hoping at least the sound of his voice will stop Dane from running away again. All he has to do is keep it casual and light, right? He doesn't want Dane to run off again, that much he knows. So, he takes a plunge. Says something he will probably immediately regret.

"I came out here to thank you. For the kiss," He elaborates. Offers a surprisingly small, shy smile. "It.. It should have been under better circumstances, but it was lovely."

And his first with a man.

The more Lucian talked, the harder Dane breathed, his chest rising hard under his rumpled shirt. Thanking him? Thank him with another. Thank him with an embrace. With a memory. Anything to tell him this was real. But instead, the words just stung more than the winter air on his cheeks.

"I...I want to explain," he blurted out, knowing he shouldn't say anything. "But if you don't even remember who I am, you'll never believe me." He'd barely believed it himself at first. "By looking at me you'd never believe that I was actually fifty three years old that. That--"

But that lump in his throat cut him off. He couldn't go on any further. This man, this copy of Lucian, would likely have him thrown in an asylum for what he wanted to say. "I...should let you get back to your lovely woman..." he muttered, turning away.

He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't keep looking at that face. He may as well have tired to stare into the heart of the sun. It would have hurt him less.

Fifty three? Dane was mad. Absolutely mad, he didn't look a day older than Lucian himself. Hell, he looked a bit younger than Lucian. He blinks at the other through his glasses, looking momentarily like an owl as the other continues.

And then he can't help it. It's such a silly thing to strike him, but he laughs. He laughs and it's light, airy and almost musical, like he'd forgotten about a delightful joke he'd heard before all of this.

Ridiculous. It was all so, so ridiculous.

"Dane," He manages, amazed at how quickly it rolls off the his tongue and how comfortable the word is in his mouth. "That woman, I assure you, is far more interested in the beautiful serving girl handing out wine than she is me."

For some reason, though, he's more confident. He still feels foolish, of course, but he takes a few steps forward. It feels childish, almost, thinking of this. Absolutely odd. And yet?

"I don't understand what's going on, but... May I kiss you? Now that I know your name?"

It was Dane's turn to stare, blinking at Lucian. He didn't understand. He'd thought he'd figured it out, that this was just some awful joke. But Lucian, the false Lucian, wanted to KISS him again? After dropping that ridiculous detail? After LAUGHING at him for it? He didn't understand. Why would this stranger want that now of all times?

But again, he found it hard to breathe. Found it hard to think of anything but those lips against his. That body against his. He wanted to feel it all over again. But he hadn't been thinking the first time. He hadn't known that this wasn't his Lucian. Having another kiss, knowing he couldn't have any more after that...it would destroy him.

"Midnight's passed," he said, timidly. "I'm sure you've...got a life you gotta get back to, at least. Friends to say goodnight to. A warm bed to..." He scrubbed at the corner of his eye. "It'd be best if I just went on my way," he forced out, despite the lump in his throat. It's not what he wanted to say, but it was what he SHOULD say. The proper thing to say.

"Stay." Lucian's voice was soft again, encouraging. He doesn't even realize it. He can tell, though. He knows that the others about to cry again. "Please. Join me," he offers. "Just us. " mary won't mind, Lucian knows. He also knows that if he doesn't see Dane he'll never figure out what's happening.

Dane is absolutely crazy but Lucian is drawn to him, anyway. So much so that he tries again. Reaches up to grab his wrist.

"I'd very much like to get to know you. I'm--it's strange. I should think myself mad, but part of me...I swear, I've met you before." A beat.

"One drink. One drink at least and then you never have to see my again if you don't want to. "

Dane stared down at the hand around his wrist and for a moment the world just stopped. No, it didn't just stop. It vanished completely. The falling snow could have filled the entire world until it was nothing but white for all he noticed. Because that hand on his wrist felt exactly as he remembered.

For the first time he felt a true spark of hope. Like maybe, just maybe he wouldn't have to spend every year alone until the end of days. Maybe he could really have Lucian again. His Lucian. And with that, a detail fell into place. He didn't see the whole picture, but an idea hit him.

"One drink," he agreed. "But...this might seem like a very strange question. But there's...there's this date. When something happened." He rattled off the exact day in 1862. And gave the saddest smile. "How soon after that were you born?"

"The day after," Lucian didn't dare let go of the other's wrist. Didn't want to, not at all. If he did, he almost felt as if nothing would make sense. Even if his hands are cold and ears and nose turning pink from the wind.

Definitely going to get a cold.

But Dane, for all of his questions, wasn't running away. At the very least, Lucian considers that an accomplishment. One drink. Just one drink. It's a promise, nonetheless, and Lucian steps forward. Tries not to seem absolutely staggered by what's happening.

It's impulse. It's complete impulse and Lucian would later kick himself for doing it so brazenly and in public, but he tugs the other to step closer by the wrist and closes the gap. Stares at Dane, searching for any hint that the other's just messing with him. He finds none, reminds himself that Dane's tears were real.

Slowly, cautiously, he puts his lips to Dane's for a kiss. This time, one he initiates. One he can respond do, now that he's not shocked.

The day after. He'd expected months after, and even that would have fit the idea that had started to form. But the day immediately after?! One night he loses his Lucian, and less than a day passes and there is another one born?

His chest heaved with the implications. Each breath forced out with incredibly effort. This couldn't be true. It was too impossible to even consider. To even name. But...could it be? Could it be possible that he wouldn't have to be without Lucian after all?

Before he could do anything but stare in perplexed shock, he was pulled closer. Those eyes so very close to his own. He searched them, looking for some sign, some spark. Something to tell him this was true. But all he could see was that every minuscule detail was exactly as he remembered it. That alone made him weak in the knees.

He didn't have time to find his bearings. Lucian moved closer still. He felt breath over his lips. Then that warm, familiar pressure. And something inside him just broke. A dam that held everything back. He was able to move again. But there was only a singular direction he wanted to go. He pressed hard against Lucian, one hand on his shoulder the other pushing into his hair. It was incredibly intimate without being sexual.

Dane is kissing back, and Lucian feels it. He feels thrill, elated--like he's dancing on air, and he may never come back down again. He has the urge to take Dane, to spin him, and so he just lets his impulse go: Still lip locked, Lucian smiles through the kiss and pulls him into a hug like he hasn't seen him in years.

He just met the other and yet--and now--as he spins the other in a circle on a snowy bridge overlooking the Thames, and when he pulls away he laughs. Mostly at himself for how dizzy and childish he suddenly feels, but Dane's lips feel right and he's promised a drink with the absolute stranger. He's not dressed nearly as fancy as Lucian is but for some odd reason Lucian finds that fact so very charming.

He does set the other down, eventually, and moves so both of their foreheads are touching. It's an intimate, close gesture. One Lucian's never done before but he feels like he should. Like he has to.

"I don't know what's happening," He confesses. "But I--I feel like I can tell you anything."

Not a minute before, he'd been ready to jump off the bridge. But as he was lifted and spun around he let out the most joyus laugh of his entire life. Or at least, that's how it felt. It felt as though it were the first laugh he'd ever experienced, as it seemed this past lifetime, this twenty three years since that awful night, had not drawn a single laugh from his lips. And now he thought he might cry all over again for entirely different reasons than before.

All sadness and dreariness vanished from his face, replaced by a bright and beaming smile as Lucian's forehead pressed to his. He moved both his hands through the man's hair, hands unsteady but needing to touch him.

"Because you're soul knows," he blurted out, not thinking. He didn't care how ridiculous it sounded anymore. He no longer doubted the truth of it. "You were born the day after I lost you. Every last thing about you is the same. You are the one I lost, born anew."

"I assure you, my soul has no idea what it's doing, either. "

This was absurd. This was nuts! He should be placing Dane in a sanitarium, right then and there. Gently shilling him to a place for the criminally insane. And yet?

This was certainly the night on the town Lucian had scrimped and saved for. Not the one he was expecting, but the one he feels he needed. To feel loved, to feel alive. Even if it was from the handsome man who looked a cross between a beggar and a drowned rat.

...no. This man was incredibly handsome. Attractive. Lucian can't out a finger on it. He can, however, slide his hand down the other's arm to catch his hand.

"Come. Drink. You know about me, evidentially, but I know nothing of you, and I'd rather not see either of us sick." He's also fairly certain Mary will worry if she doesn't have her hand up someone's skirts.

"But I don't," Dane admitted as they started back toward the party. At least, he assumed that's where they were headed. He wasn't watching where they were going. His gaze was riveted to Lucian's face. This was real. This was actually happening. Did he dare allow himself to be happy? To hope that he had another chance?

"I know who you were before, in a life you don't remember. But I know little of you now beyond your name."

New things to discover. A new life to get to know. One without an awful tyrant like Spider, he hoped. And he hardly looked like someone who would work the docks. But Lucian hadn't looked like that the first time Dane met him, either. Nor did he look poor this time. But again, he hadn't looked poor at the start, either. Whether he was or wasn't, Dane wanted to do better for him this time around. Even if it meant not being a part of his life like before. Just making Lucian's life better. Longer. Fuller. He wouldn't let it end so abruptly this time.

"You're crazy," He states. It might sound blunt, but Lucian's not trying to be invasive. It's certainly the start to a new year. He's had his first kisses with men today. Public ones, at least, and with the same person.

He wonders, in the back of his head, if the pastor of Cedar Grove would have a heart attack if he confessed in church on Sunday. Maybe he would, just to see what the other would do.

They make their way to the bar, and Lucian has a thought. It strikes him, quick as lightning. So much so he actually manages a gasp, and when he looks at Dane it's with a wicked gleam in his eye, conspiratory.

"You live here, don't you?"

As they walked, Dane could hardly keep his gaze off of Lucian's face. He tripped more than once, and almost walked right into a carriage. But he didn't seem to care. The shock was starting to wear off. Just enough that he could actually allow himself to accept that maybe, just maybe, this was his Lucian returned to him. He'd long since resigned himself to a life without the man, and yet here he was. In every perfect detail. And not calling for the police after what Dane had done. Did he dare hope there could be something?

He was so taken in by the simple facts of the situation that he missed that look in Lucian's eye. He just heard the question. "Yeah," he said, "Not far from here, actually." It would be better than the first time Lucian had gone there. A day he still thought of frequently.

"Then you know the lay of the land," Lucian extrapolated. "Listen--this may sound absolutely insane," Though no more insane than this entire situation was, he supposes, and stops just shy of the door to the tavern. "Please bear with me."

He takes a breath, full of uncertainly. This is nuts. He should just head back in. Or maybe he should just grab the other and whisk him away. Regardless, Lucian feels a strange blush creep up over his skin, reaching his ears. Trying to sound far more confident than he was.

"You know certain places. Ones... not necessarily viewed on as established or esteemed."

Dane was completely unaware of just how high he'd allowed his hopes to get. That is, until he felt them start to lose altitude. Two completely different scenarios played out in his head. Both equally devastating. The first was that Lucian wanted to find a place of ill repute to find someone better. More suited to his tastes. Not the scrawny thing in an ill fitting suit. The other was that he returned to the Red Rat, found a job, and Dane would be forced to repeat what he'd tried to do over 20 years before.

He tried to not let it show. He tried to keep his face just the same. But his smile became strained and uneasy. It was hard to hold back the questions he really wanted to ask. "There's a few," he admitted reluctantly. "But they're not that great."

"Take me!" Lucian's voice is loud and bright and it actually scares himself for a few moments. It doesn't matter, though--his hand grabs onto Dane's arms, squeezing his upper shoulder. He's far too excited than he should be.

"I've always wanted to go--I've been so curious, so--and and with you there, by my side, since you're so experienced..."

Lucian seems to have his mind made up, still holding Dane tightly.

"With you, I could--we could--do anything! And that includes seeing that there are other people like me, like--like us, and Mary, that we're not alone!"

Dane moved his hands up, fingers curling around the back of the other's head, pushing into lush curls. He wanted to tell the other that he didn't need to go there, that there were better places for him to be, that he deserved so much better. Everything he'd ever said to the man who split his time between the club and the docks. Everything he'd wished he'd been able to say before Lucian had become too damaged to pull himself away. He had a chance to stop it before it could happen again.

But his tongue froze. Lucian was so…happy. Excited. In ways Dane had never seen him before. In ways that had been impossible. A bright, innocent, naive happiness. It made his heart ache just to see it, like the burning light of an angel. Unbearable and so very perfect.

"Alright," he said, his voice strained. "Do you need to get anything inside?" Because he could never deny Lucian anything. No matter how much he wanted to change the course laid out before them.

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Cry and cry and cry over the love of you

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