Lucas didn't rush.
He never rushed. Even after that strange, unexplainable morning, he moved through his routine with his usual precision. The memory of what had happened clung to him like morning fog, refusing to dissipate entirely.
A faint distraction at the back of his mind, persistent and unwelcome. A pair of sleepy eyes staring at him through a screen, unguarded and vulnerable in a way that had caught him completely off guard. A flustered voice, breathless with surprise. A scream that still echoed faintly in his ears.
He adjusted his cufflinks, his jaw tightening slightly. The motion was automatic, practiced, a physical anchor to pull himself back to the present.
Focus.
The hallway outside Lucas' room was already alive with the sounds of a household in motion. Soft footsteps echoed against polished floors. Muted voices drifted from distant rooms. The distant clink of porcelain against glass signaled breakfast preparations underway.
