"Just what happened at that auction?"
Luther asked me. He wasn't mad anymore or curious. He was just worried about me.
Luther was worried about me.
Which made the dying twice part worth it, since for the first time since we've seen each other that he looked at me.
Not with anger or pity or annoyance, but how he used to.
Full of love and worry.
That was a look to die for.
"It's not important what happened at the auction, Lu, but at the after party. Because I could guide you thoroughly through the auction, but I was not invited to the after-party,"
"But you were…"
The tubes and wires attached to every part of my body made any word I pronounced feel like a continuous, twisting stab.
Yet somehow, letting the fake smug redhead next to Luther playing all mighty was far more annoying than the agonising wound.
