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There were moments silence could be a gift. Tonight, it was not.
The tiny apartment buzzed with the sound of the fridge and a distant siren echoing down the street, but inside the living room, Lucien sat like a stone. Still. Too aware of the heaviness in his chest. He was curled on the corner of the couch, legs pulled up, Arin beside him quietly sipping tea.
Lucien had spent weeks trying to be light for him. To tease, to touch, to smile. But tonight, something inside him throbbed too hard to hide. His past had always haunted him like a shadow, but now it was pressing right behind his eyes, demanding to be spoken aloud.
"Can I tell you something?" he asked.
Arin didn't look away from his mug, but Lucien saw the twitch in his jaw. "You never have to ask."
Lucien exhaled, the breath shaky. He watched the candlelight flicker on the wall, then finally said it:
"His name was Silas Greer."
Silence snapped taut.
Arin turned to look at him now, brows drawn together. "The man who...?"
Lucien nodded once. "My debt collector. My nightmare. My… everything awful."
He ran a hand through his hair, grounding himself. "He wasn't just someone I owed money to. He owned me. From the moment my parents were killed until now, I never got free."
Arin looked stunned. Lucien pushed on.
"He made my father beg for our lives. Said my mom could live if I agreed to work off their debt. I was thirteen. I said yes." Lucien's voice cracked. "He killed them anyway."
Arin's mug clinked as he set it down. His fingers were trembling slightly.
Lucien laughed bitterly. "He made me clean the blood up, Arin. Like it was some lesson. Like I should be grateful."
Arin reached over, but Lucien flinched instinctively.
"Sorry," Lucien muttered.
Arin didn't pull back. He simply shifted closer and gently rested his hand on Lucien's knee.
"He still finds me sometimes," Lucien continued. "Leaves notes. Reminds me I belong to him. That if I run, Anna'll die next."
Arin's face went pale. His voice was barely a whisper. "Your little sister... She doesn't know, does she?"
Lucien shook his head. "She thinks mom and dad died in a car crash. Elsa keeps her safe. As safe as she can."
Tears welled in Lucien's eyes. He tried to blink them away, but one slid down his cheek.
"I'm not brave like you, Arin," he whispered. "I never was."
That word. Brave. It pierced Arin like a dagger.
Lucien didn't know. He didn't know that Arin, too, carried a weight too awful to speak most days. A grave no one had seen him bury.
"You're wrong," Arin said, barely able to speak. "You're the bravest person I've ever met."
Lucien looked at him. "Why?"
Arin exhaled shakily. "Because you kept breathing. That alone is bravery."
He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "Do you want to know why I never mention my past? Why I keep it locked behind cold smiles and sarcasm?"
Lucien nodded.
"Her name was Camilla."
Lucien's eyes widened, but he didn't interrupt.
"She was sunshine. Loud, wild, unstoppable. She didn't care I was my father's son. She loved me anyway. We had plans. A baby. A little apartment in the north where no one knew our name."
His voice cracked.
"I told her to wait. I said I'd clean up everything—that I just needed time. But while I was pretending to be clever and careful, he found out."
Lucien's eyes filled with pain.
"He said it was an accident," Arin whispered. "Her brakes failed. But the call came from his driver. She died screaming my name. And I wasn't there. I wasn't with her when she needed me the most."
The tears came now. Unstoppable. Arin hated them. Hated himself.
"I loved her more than I've ever loved anything. And I failed her."
Lucien took Arin's hand, gripping it tightly.
"She wouldn't blame you."
"But I do," Arin whispered.
They didn't speak for a long time. The clock ticked. The candle burned low.
He gently pulled Arin closer. Not with force. Just a silent invitation. Arin leaned against his chest, silent, breath uneven.
Lucien stroked his hair slowly. "You loved her. That doesn't make you weak. It makes you human."
Arin mumbled against his chest. "Then why does it hurt like I'm being torn in half every time I think of her?"
Lucien kissed the top of his head. "Because she mattered. She left a scar on your soul. That's all love is. Beautiful scars."
They fell asleep that way. Entwined. Fragile. Real.
He drifted in and out of dreams. Of Camilla's voice. Of Lucien's arms.
Of a world where he didn't have to choose between past and present.
Until Lucien's phone buzzed.
He didn't wake up, but Arin did.
He watched Lucien answer the call and step outside.
And through the half-open door, he heard it.
"Hello, little rabbit. Miss me?"
Arin sat bolt upright.
Lucien froze.
The voice was silky, dangerous.
"You thought you could run forever? Cute. Time to pay up."
Arin watched as Lucien went pale. Then the call ended. Lucien stood frozen, his hand shaking.
He turned, meeting Arin's gaze.
"He found me."
The words were barely a whisper.
Arin stood. His fists clenched.
Lucien could see it in his eyes. The calm before war.
And for the first time since that rooftop, Lucien felt afraid.
Not for himself.
But for what Arin would become if he had to choose between love and revenge.
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