Half of what he had just said had gone all the way over the other's head. This was... right. How on earth had this demigod gotten a reputation like the one he had? This...? This ... display of demigodness had a reputation of leave him alone or get your head smashed into a concrete wall.

Sure.

He looked ragged and in pain. The inner workings of Lucius felt just a touch smug about it. If it wasn't the consequences of his own actions, coming back to bite him.

He hid a small and faint smile behind the coffee cup as he took another sip.

"We don't have to go now," Lucius said, testing the waters subtly. His voice was tinged with slight concern. "You look... well, you look like you met Hela and crawled back after she decided you couldn't stay. To put it lightly," he gave him a small teasing smile. "Might as well stick around here for a little bit, wash up, get some rest and whatnot," he waved one hand. "I've got to figure out how to get to Garden City in the first place. Is it cheaper to drive? Can we rent a little plane? Or is there a bus that'll go all the way out there?"

Lucius waved one hand lightly, shrugging it off before pausing. The urge--the really, really stupid urge--to make some off-hand comment about something he had said last night was growing. While he could make it flippant and barbed, he figured it'd be far more telling if it was loose and light.

That would be the reaction he needed to see. If Feo really did remember everything--in which, Lucius would see how long it would take before he cracked again. Or, if Feo didn't remember a thing and simply had confusion to the line he had said.

"Figured I'd let you know where I'm headed to this time," Lucius ended his sentence with a bouncing chuckle, looking down at his coffee cup again. His sapphire eyes flicked to the bag before he snagged one of the sandwiches. He really didn't feel like eating but the mask he wore needed to eat. It would throw Feo off of his trail, get him away from asking any question--prying inside. That was the last thing that Lucius needed.

His thoughts turned to potential answers if Feo should ask about his own behavior the night prior. Lucius had been rather firm, direct and dismissive. What was he supposed to say if Feo asked about it? It was... up to that point, rather out of character for Lucius.

A bouncing light tone would prove that he had something to hide. He'd have to use a slightly nonchalant approach, a slight shrug, glance down and then up again. He'd comment lightly about how he'd spent a lot of time around drunk folks and he learned it was better to not rile them up and let them do their own thing.

Which, clearly, had backfired last night. But not for Lucius. No, he had done everything right. He couldn't control Feo or what he did. He could only control himself.

Lucius figured most of what he was saying was just passing up and over Feo's head. He wasn't listening at all, he didn't care. Figured. He was probably in his head again and while he was looking at him... he wasn't listening.

Not until he sat that nonchalant little teasing sentence. That was when the demigod's focus sharpened, honed in on him. But instead, the coffee cup all but burst in his clenched fist.

Lucius raised an eyebrow, somewhat concerned and confused at the reaction. But he didn't bother saying anything and instead shook his head lightly, chewing mechanically on the sandwich that he really didn't want to eat but he was making himself eat to keep up the charade.

But he did remember the whole thing about last night. That was important information to know. That gave him enough to know that most of what Feo was doing was because he knew and remembered the majority of what had been going on the night before. At least what he had said--which was important because in *that* case, it meant that not all of the drunken outburst was just drunken thoughts. It meant that some of them were real, sharp thoughts that Feo had.

Which, fine, but Lucius refused to interact with drunk folk and especially with that type of conversation. That was the type of conversation that required both parties to be level-headed, engaged in the conversation, focused and--most importantly--sober. But he couldn't hide his disdain last night, that smell and the behavior of Feo had slipped through a crack in his walls and Lucius had reacted... instinctively instead of logically.

The words--the two words that Feo all but growled back at him were a touch confusing. Stay--as if he was going to make him stay.

"Well, I mean, I can't exactly force you to do anything," Lucius commented around the last few bites of his sandwich. "It's mostly just a suggestion but if you want to go somewhere, by all means, I can't stop you. You are, after all, an adult."

And besides, Feo didn't want his pity or his help. He wanted to fix things on his own, so by all means better let him. If he figured he could do it, Lucius wasn't going to get in the way. Feo had stated that he didn't need to be coddled or protected, he didn't need to be fixed or a burden or whatever else. Besides, Lucius had been chewed out for it--not once but twice. And both times, Feo had stormed off to go who knows where.

But when Lucius did the same thing, it was a problem. So he hadn't said anything more other than pointing out that he wasn't forcing Feo to do anything but that they both had autonomy and free-will to do what they both wanted.

Lucius could see that broiling anger just bubbling under the surface and he was not looking forward to having to deal with it. It would mean trying to fight to stay calm, to stay level-headed and not to say anything ... damning.

Feo stood by the window for what felt like an eternity, his back rigid, staring out at the street below. The world outside seemed so far away, distant and unimportant, as the weight of his emotions pressed down on him like a thousand pounds. The light from the fading sun cast long shadows on the pavement, stretching them out like some cruel reminder of the distance between him and everything else. The air inside the room felt heavy, stifling, and despite the chill that had settled in, the suffocating heat of his frustration continued to burn beneath his skin.

His body was still, but his mind was racing, thoughts too sharp and jagged to piece together. Every possible outcome, every word he could have said, every action he could have taken played out in his head, each more painful than the last. His fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into the palms of his hands, but it didn’t help. The storm in his chest refused to settle. The silence was too thick, too oppressive, making him feel like he was suffocating. The space between him and Lucius felt insurmountable, even if they were mere feet apart. The distance wasn’t physical; it was emotional, something deeper, something that couldn’t be measured by mere inches.

His breathing slowed, but his heart pounded in his chest, as if trying to force the emotions free. But the storm inside him refused to let up. He didn’t want to look at Lucius. He didn’t want to speak. He didn’t want to hear that voice again. But his mind kept replaying that last comment: Stay. The utterance had been both a command and an invitation, a challenge. A challenge he wasn’t sure he could meet, even if he wanted to. Stay physically? Sure, he could do that. Socially? Sure, he’d always hated people anyway, and that was never going to change. But emotionally and mentally? Fat chance. Lucius’s nonchalance made it worse, the way he'd chewed through his sandwich, like nothing was wrong, like he hadn’t just shattered something inside Feo with the weight of his words, his actions. And Feo felt even worse about what had come out of his own mouth.

What an idiot.

Every moment felt like it was dragging, pulling him down into a pit of indecision and confusion. How could Lucius be so unaffected? So detached? Was this what he wanted? To make Feo feel like nothing more than an afterthought? The thought stung more than Feo had been willing to admit, but now it was impossible to ignore. The look Lucius had given him, the cool indifference—it had been harsher than he had expected, and now, Feo couldn’t stop hearing his voice in the back of his mind, mocking his restraint, twisting the knife deeper. Feo couldn’t convince himself that he didn’t care. He did care. And that was part of the problem.

The words felt like an afterthought to Lucius, like they were meant to sting but in the end, they only felt hollow, like everything Feo was feeling was irrelevant. The emptiness of it all gnawed at him. It made him grind his teeth together, the sound scraping across his skull like nails on a chalkboard. His jaw tightened with the intensity of it all, and before he could stop himself, he turned away from the window.

Without saying a word, he walked back toward the bathroom, his movements sharp and deliberate. Every step was a battle against the urge to turn around, to scream, to lash out, but he held it in. He had to. The silence in the room was suffocating, a blanket of quiet that smothered everything. It was too much to bear, but he didn’t look back. He didn’t need to. Lucius was still there. He was always there. In his head, in his presence, standing there and lingering like some statue that didn’t know what he was doing with his life, but always somehow managing to make Feo feel like the problem.

Feo closed the bathroom door behind him, the click of the lock echoing in the silence. His fingers hovered over the lock for a moment, the feeling of the cold metal sending a shiver down his spine, before he let it fall into place. He didn’t need to trust anyone, not anymore, not after this. Trust was a fragile thing, and it had shattered in Feo long ago. He wasn’t going to give Lucius that power. He wasn’t going to let anyone have that much control over him. Not ever again.

Inside the bathroom, he quickly filled the sink with warm water, watching the stream as it cascaded over the porcelain. His thoughts continued to swirl, dark and tangled, and he added soap until the surface bubbled and swirled, the scent of lavender and citrus filling the air. His fingers hovered over the water for a moment, feeling the heat rise from it, but he didn’t pause. He was tired of thinking. Tired of feeling. He just needed a moment to breathe, to forget.

With a sigh, he leaned down and plunged his hands into the soapy water. The warmth seeped into his skin, creeping up his arms like a comforting balm, soothing the tension that had knotted in his muscles. He had always preferred the cold, the sharp clarity it brought, but for some reason, the heat called to him now. The heat didn’t demand anything of him. It didn’t make him think. It just let him exist, if only for a moment. And for a moment, he allowed himself to forget.

His breathing steadied as he closed his eyes, the sound of the water lapping against the sink filling his ears. Slowly, deliberately, he shifted. His body contorted, muscles rippling beneath his skin as his bones rearranged, snapping into place with a dull crack. His human form melted away, leaving only the sleek, black serpent he had long grown used to, the smallest thing he could turn into in order to become tiny and easy for the world to pass by. Coils of dark scales wrapped tightly around the edges of the sink, his long, serpentine body slithering through the warm water, the smooth scales catching the light in the dim room.

Feo’s head submerged beneath the surface of the water, his breath steady and calm as he held still, sinking deeper into the comforting embrace of the warmth. His mind momentarily quieted, the storm inside him dissipating like fog lifting from the ground. For a few precious moments, he felt peace. The anger, the frustration, the turmoil—they began to dissolve with each passing second, replaced by an empty, almost blissful calm. It was easier this way, away from the mess of his human emotions, away from Lucius and the shattered pieces of their conversations. The silence was soothing, like the calm after a storm, a breath of fresh air in the aftermath.

Silence.

That was all that he got in return.

It was the lack of talking to him, the lack of returning anything. There was no words, no nothing, no... nothing. Lucius's sapphire eyes followed the Norse demigod as he walked from window to bathroom and closed the door--locked it--and Lucius simply just shook his head. "Oh..."

Sure, sure--he was the problem. That was right. Yeah. Lucius was the issue here. Whatever.

The young man rolled his eyes, shook his head and stood up. Not his circus, not his monkeys, not his problem. Feo could deal with his own problems and Lucius was going to continue with his plan. His *full* plan.

He crossed the room to the door leading to the hallway, pulling it open and closed it behind him. One hand pushed through his blond hair, tousling the golden locks before he began to walk through the hotel. The carpet beneath him turned to tile of the lobby. The front desk patron smiled and he flashed a smile back as he slipped out of the door. The morning air was crisp and comfortable, birds singing in the trees and the bustle of people moving around to head to jobs, do some shopping, kids bouncing to get to school and the likes. Some of the other young men were crowded around a radio, listening to the updates of the war in Europe.

Lucius knew, full well, that he was going to be immediately disqualified. It wasn't exactly something he shared openly--nor did he try and make it obvious either. For the most part, it wasn't obvious at all. Especially since he wore longer pants, sleeves up to his elbows at the least. But when he had been younger, he had several strange things that seemed to show up. Odd little masses along his bones. There were scars all over from them but they usually didn't bother him--what would disqualify him was the fact that those scars also had his bones... more brittle than others. That was less unusual since he had wings and one had to be lighter in order to fly... which meant you sacrificed some weight somewhere.

A quick fix to make sure nothing else showed up was a visit to a healing witch--a mythological woman who had studied the Egyptian spellworks of healing.

Easy enough.

Perhaps it was a secondary thought of why he was doing this as well. He couldn't do what they could do. He wouldn't go out, be a hero like they would. So he'd find another way.

Lucius moved past the radio, slipping into the crowd as he chewed lightly on his lip. Where... would be the best place to figure out transportation? A map maybe?

Where could he get a map?

The library.

Perfect.

Lucius knew the bus ran to the library. They had passed it on the way to the museum. Easy as pie.

The young man leapt up onto the bus, paid his fare, and settled down again on the seat. Briefly, his thoughts turned to Feo wondering what he could be doing. But the burst of sharp resentment that coursed through him was enough to quell those thoughts. Lucius just wanted to help, to move on but no! The demigod was too focused on fixing himself by himself--which was definitely not going to be fixed with alcohol--that he had shoved him out. Fine! Lucius was fine with that.

But if he expected that Lucius was going to just bring him along with that attitude and behavior? Boy howdy was he in for a wake-up call.

Feo emerged from the bathroom, feeling at least a little more clean than he had been, yet still feeling like an abysmal emotional filth. The silence still pressed in, thick and stifling, and there was no sign of Lucius. No sound of him wandering around, no faint shuffle of footsteps. He stood there for a moment, his mind still in a haze, his body heavy from the emotional weight that had been dragging him down. He surveyed the entire room, only to find it completely empty. The bed was untouched, the chair by the window vacant.

His chest tightened.

Lucius was gone.

A flash of rage, sharp and brutal, hit him like a sledgehammer. How dare he? After everything, after all of it, he just left. Again. Like he hadn’t absorbed anything from Feo’s frantic state—like he left every single fuck that he had to give in his little red wagon at home. He didn’t even have the decency to stay, to talk, to try—just vanished, like Feo was some passing inconvenience. Feo had been trying so hard to be nice to him, to like him, to come to a point where they could get along, but nothing would work if Lucius kept running away. All Feo had tried to do was get a moment of silence, a moment to gather his thoughts, so he didn’t end up screaming at him again—instead, Lucius had decided to leave, right when he had been preparing himself to mend everything he’d done. The bitter taste of betrayal rose up in his throat once again, sharp and sour. Now, he didn’t blame Lucius. He blamed himself. And, for some reason, that made everything sting even worse than it had before.

Feo’s hands clenched into fists again, but this time, the sting in his palms felt more like a welcome distraction from the storm of thoughts raging inside his head. He marched over to the door, throwing it open with force. The hallway was empty. The place was eerily still. He leaned out, eyes darting left and right, searching for any trace of Lucius. But there was nothing.

He slammed the door shut behind him, and his chest heaved with the effort to keep his anger under control. How stupid could he be? Lucius had been so damn arrogant, so damn detached, and now he was gone, leaving Feo with nothing but the hollow ache in his chest.

With an almost violent motion, Feo grabbed the remaining sandwich from the small table by the bed. He stared at it for a moment, the thought of eating turning his stomach. Lucius had eaten one, leaving the other, but the idea of food, even something as simple as a sandwich, only made his stomach churn. His anger didn’t want to subside, didn’t want to let him move on from the frustration he felt. He hated this feeling, this endless tug-of-war between needing answers and hating the feelings he was too afraid to confront.

His breath came in shallow gasps as he set the sandwich back down, turning away from it like it might explode. He dragged his hands through his hair, feeling the weight of everything crashing down on him. The hotel room felt like a cage, and his body felt like it was suffocating in it.

The thought of sitting, of trying to calm down, was unbearable. But standing and pacing around like a caged animal wasn’t helping either. Feo’s gaze flickered over the bed, and for a moment, he thought about just crashing onto it, letting the exhaustion win. But that would be too easy. He wasn’t going to let sleep take over. He wasn’t going to fall into that false sense of peace in a place that felt so alien.

But as time passed, his legs grew heavy, and his mind became foggy with the weight of everything that had happened. He crossed the room to the bed again, barely aware of his movements, and before he could talk himself out of it, he collapsed onto the mattress. His head sank into the pillow, drawing in the heavy scent of Lucius, but he refused to let sleep claim him. His body ached, his mind screamed with questions, but his eyelids felt heavier with each passing second.

Lucius had to come back. He had to.

But no matter how much he told himself that, no matter how tightly his body tensed with the fear and anxiety that crept in the longer Lucius was gone, sleep came for him anyway. The throbbing in his head persisted, like an unrelenting reminder that no matter how much he fought it, the weight of his emotions—anger, frustration, confusion—was just too much.

Eventually, he drifted off into an uneasy, restless sleep, his heart still aching with the knowledge that Lucius was out there somewhere, and Feo was stuck in the middle of it all, unsure of whether to even care anymore.

The quickest way to get to Garden city was to buy a ticket on one of the tiny little planes--or bribe one of the private plane owners into taking a flight over there. That was far more expensive. There was, however, a train that passed through garden city. Most of the time, it was carrying produce or farm animals. But they could probably get onto that and be in Garden city easily with a way to get back as well. The train ran every two days, with tomorrow being the day it would pass through Hutchinson--or Hutch, as all the locals called it--and into the other city. But it meant that he had to go back to the hotel room and face that whole mess.

Lucius's nose crinkled at the sheer thought of it. He'd walk in, probably get chewed out about leaving him behind again and then the whole 'don't you actually care' bit would come up and then he'd get all huffy and puffy about it and then probably storm off again.

And not a single thing Lucius ever said would actually register in that thick Nordic skull. No! It was always the same thing. Lucius explained something--that he was somewhat excited about--it went over Feo's head and then Lucius would make some off-hand comment to lighten the mood and he'd fly off the handle.

If he said anything at all.

No, the broody demigod of Loki just did his own thing. But heaven forbid, Lucius do his own thing. And--AND--he had even said where he was going this time. It wasn't his fault if Feo was too busy ignoring him to pay attention. But he couldn't say that.

He'd have to be patient, be kind, be calm because if Lucius got mad then he was the villain. He was the bad guy--he started all of the issues and the problems. That was how it always went. But, if he was calm and collected, they couldn't turn it on him because everybody knew how he was.

The bus pulled up to the stop and Lucius felt a sense of dread in his stomach. It was heavy and knotted as he made his way to the front. The bus driver smiled, waved, and Lucius did the same as he stepped down onto the sidewalk. Detach himself from Feo, get the demigod to hate him, whatever, Lucius didn't care anymore because he had made it clear that Feo didn't need his help and only cared about him for his feathers.

That stupid blank look he had on his face when Lucius had his feathers out--oh that made him irritated. Nothing he had said, not a single word about the whole thing had ever actually been heard. No, it was Lucius dragging around Feo and Feo getting mad at him when Lucius got tired of it!

No--no. Calm, collected, kind. Lucius took a steadying breath as he unlocked the door and stepped inside. The bathroom was dark and the sound of silence lingered in the air of the room. On the bed, he could see the dozing form of Feo and, Lucius decided he could use the sleep.

He sat down on the couch, fishing for a magazine to read in the meantime. Something to distract him from the rush of frantic raging words that were bound to head his way any moment now.

Feo woke with a start, his body jolting upright as though the suddenness of his awakening had caught him off guard. The dim light of the room cast long shadows that stretched unnaturally across the walls, stretching like the remnants of some dream that refused to let go. It felt like the room had changed somehow, as though time had moved differently while he'd been asleep, or perhaps it was just the aftereffects of the deep weariness that clung to him like a heavy cloak. His head throbbed, a dull, constant pulse behind his eyes that made everything feel disjointed, unreal. His body felt heavier than usual, as though the simple act of moving was a monumental task, his limbs aching from the effort. Despite the long hours of rest, exhaustion still lingered in his bones, an insidious presence that refused to release its grip.

It took him a moment to gather his bearings, the haze of sleep still clouding his thoughts. When the fog began to lift, he tried to take stock of his surroundings, but the effort was slow. His gaze first landed on the empty space beside him on the bed, which was so, so strange—why in the world would Lucius want to lay in a twin sized bed, next to him? During the daytime, no less. And the image of it reminded him of the gardens—of curling into a ball, sobbing for the first time in a decade, and Lucius’s comfort that he’d been trying to convince himself since it happened that it wasn’t real. A familiar pang of unease shot through his chest at the sight of the empty space anyway, his pulse quickening, his thoughts racing as panic flared. Why wasn’t Lucius back? A sickening knot twisted in his stomach at the thought. Had Lucius really left? Had he not come back after all, or had something happened?

The slight coldness of the room, feeling more sharp and biting than it really was, seemed to accentuate the growing tightness in his chest. It felt like a space had opened up between them—one that Feo couldn’t quite understand, but could definitely feel. He drew in a shaky breath, willing himself to calm down, to push the thoughts away, but they kept circling back, spiraling with increasing intensity. The weight of his uncertainty felt suffocating, and for a moment, he wondered if he could trust the reality of what he was seeing.

But then, just as his mind was about to spiral further, his eyes flicked toward the far corner of the room, toward the couch. Movement. There, sitting casually, was Lucius.

He sat propped against the cushions with a magazine in his hands, flipping through its pages with an almost disinterested air. The sight of him, looking so calm, so unbothered, felt surreal. Feo’s heart skipped a beat, the sudden relief almost too much to bear. But just as quickly, a strange sense of disorientation took hold. Lucius seemed so... normal. So unaffected by whatever it was that had been tearing at the seams of Feo’s mind. Why did he look so at ease when Feo felt like everything around him was unraveling? Why did it feel like they were worlds apart even though they were in the same room?

Feo remained frozen, his body tense as his eyes stayed locked on Lucius. He couldn’t help himself. He studied him, the way Lucius’s fingers turned the pages of the magazine with absent precision, the slight furrow of his brow as if something on the page had caught his attention. Everything about Lucius seemed effortless, controlled, as if nothing in the world could break his calm. But that only made Feo’s heart race even more. There was a gnawing feeling at the back of his mind, a sinking sensation that something wasn’t quite right. He couldn’t shake the unease that came with watching Lucius, the feeling that maybe there was something more going on beneath the surface that neither of them had dared to confront yet. And something else. Something strange.

He’s so pretty.

What?

Feo shoved the thought down the second it came. He couldn’t afford to tackle whatever that was, let alone everything else that was happening right now.

The silence grew louder, the tension between them suffocating. Feo could feel his chest tighten, a knot of anxiety tightening with every breath he took. He wanted to say something, anything, to bridge the distance between them, but the words stuck in his throat. What could he say? What was left to say after everything that had happened between them? How could he make sense of the strange, complicated feelings that seemed to have taken root in his chest?

It was as though everything within him wanted to scream, but his body refused to comply. Time seemed to drag on, the weight of the moment pressing down harder with each passing second. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Feo found his voice, though it was small and fragile. It was barely a whisper, as though even speaking louder might shatter something in the room, something delicate and fragile that he didn’t understand.

“Are... are you okay?” The words came out soft and unsure, trembling on his lips. He couldn’t quite grasp why he’d said them, but once they were out, they hung in the air between them, heavy and uncertain.

Feo’s eyes remained fixed on Lucius, waiting for some kind of response, but unsure if he was ready for what might come next. He didn’t know if he could handle whatever truth lay behind those eyes, whatever answer Lucius would give. But he needed to hear it, needed to know. The uncertainty, the unanswered questions, were gnawing at him, pulling at him, and he couldn’t ignore them any longer.

The magazine was largely rambling on about celebrities. Which was slightly interesting, actually. The newfound fame of getting something on television, new authors rising up and publishing--also record sales and whatnot. It also talked about different celebrities, prominent figures and the likes who had donated or gone to the war itself. That creased his brow just slightly but nothing more than that. It wasn't until the demigod all but jumped off the bed just by sitting up that Lucius paused to look up at him with a sapphire eye. That... was something. The way Feo just sat there for a few moments was... interesting? Maybe?

Lucius shook his head lightly and went back to the magazine. Baseball stars that were still playing, but this time for the war efforts--in honor of those serving the country. Patriotism couldn't be higher, Lucius noted. Everybody was getting a piece of the action in someway. Well, except for him. But he was doing something different all together and that was alright. He could do that, it wasn't like he had to do what everyone else was doing--especially when, in reality, he couldn't.

That was alright. It wasn't something he could magically fix. And he had tried.

Lucius felt a pair of eyes on him but made no effort to look up, instead piecing through the pages of the Life magazine. He knew, normally, it was for women to read through but he was bored and it had some fun guy-articles. It came with a good distraction at the least. Something to focus on instead of whatever was starting to brew again over yonder on the mattress.

The words though, that surprised him minutely. Feo was asking if he was okay?

Lucius lifted his eyes, lowering the magazine slightly as he looked up toward the demigod on the bed. Was he okay? Lucius was fine--more fine than Feo.

"I'm a little miffed that we didn't find the Cestus and that we might have to take some sort of train out to Garden city but other than that, I believe I'm fine. Realistically, I believe it should be me asking that question. Are *you* okay?"

Lucius set the magazine down, remaining where he was on the couch. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and looking toward Feo.

"Now I don't mean this in any rude, crass or mean way but man, you have been an absolute mess," Lucius said bluntly, keeping his tone concerned. That was true, there was no lie behind it and Lucius focused on Feo. "I'm doing fine, I'm used to this sort of thing. But, Feo, are you okay?"

Whatever was going on in his head was clearly louder than Lucius and it proved to be an issue when trying to get things done. Clearly, in order to move on, they had to address whatever was going on inside of the demigod's heads, the thoughts he had.

Lucius didn't mind because it got the whole icky mushy prying feeling off of himself. He didn't talk about himself, that was bad. Gross, not his favorite thing in the slightest. If he could avoid it, great.

Feo remained still, his heart thudding in his chest as he waited for a response, the air thick with the tension between them. He hadn’t expected the question to hang there for as long as it did, nor had he anticipated Lucius’s answer to come with such a casual, almost detached tone. It was strange, the way Lucius didn’t seem at all rattled by the weight of the question Feo had thrown at him, almost as if it were a trivial thing in the grand scheme of everything else.

When Lucius finally spoke, Feo couldn’t quite decide if he was relieved or even more confused. The words weren’t harsh, not in the way he might have expected them to be. Instead, they felt almost... matter-of-fact, like Lucius was going through the motions of conversation without really putting much effort into it. The mention of the Cestus and a potential trip to Garden City, as if that was the only thing on his mind, left Feo momentarily disoriented. Was that all Lucius was concerned with right now? The mission? The object they’d failed to find? Was that why he was here, sitting like that, detached from everything else?

But then, the tone shifted when Lucius’s question hit him directly. Are you okay?

The bluntness of it caught Feo off guard. There was no sugar-coating, no hesitation. Lucius wasn’t asking with a sense of empathy, not in the way Feo had expected. It wasn’t an open invitation for a deep discussion or emotional exchange, nor was it a mere formality. It was a genuine inquiry, one that felt strange in its directness.

As Lucius continued, Feo couldn’t help but swallow thickly, the words sinking in. An absolute mess? Was he really that obvious? The self-awareness hit him like a physical blow. He hadn’t realized just how much of his inner turmoil had been bleeding through to the point where Lucius had to call it out so bluntly.

His throat tightened, a mixture of frustration and discomfort bubbling up from somewhere deep inside him. He didn’t know what he had expected from Lucius’s response—maybe a reassurance, something to help him feel less like he was drowning in his own head—but this wasn’t it. This felt different. This was Lucius pulling away from the emotional depth Feo had hoped for and, instead, focusing on the more practical matters of the mission. It was easier that way, wasn’t it? Avoiding the mess. Avoiding the uncomfortable.

But Feo couldn’t ignore the way his mind had been working, the constant churn of thoughts and worries that seemed to cloud everything else. His shoulders felt tight, a pressure that was only growing worse the longer he sat there, trying to make sense of things. Lucius might have been fine, but Feo wasn’t. He wasn’t fine at all.

He shifted uncomfortably on the bed, finally breaking his silence, but his voice came out softer than before, laden with the weight of unspoken things.

“I don’t know,” Feo said, his words caught somewhere between confusion and exhaustion. He wasn’t sure if he was talking to Lucius or just to himself anymore. “I don’t know if I’m okay. It’s... hard to tell. I just feel like everything’s been... too much lately. Like I’m... not in control of anything anymore.”

His eyes darted to the floor, unable to hold Lucius’s gaze for too long. The vulnerability felt raw and exposed, but the tension was suffocating. He had to get it out somehow, even if he didn’t know how to frame the words.

“I don’t even know what’s happening with me. I thought I could handle everything, but... I’m not sure I’m really handling it anymore.” He gave a bitter laugh, but it sounded hollow to his own ears. “And then I look at you, and you’re... you’re fine. It’s like you’re unaffected. Like you’ve got everything under control. And I don’t know how to be that, or if I even want to be that. And you’re so.. so..”

He fell silent again before he said something even more stupid, his eyes still cast downward, unwilling to meet Lucius’s gaze. The air between them had shifted, the conversation now hanging in a delicate balance. Feo had said more than he’d planned to, and it felt like he’d opened a door that could never be closed again. But he couldn’t take it back, even if he wanted to.

“..I want to create a bond with you, Lucius. And I’ve been trying. But.. I’m an asshole, and.. I can’t stop being an asshole. I won’t go—” he almost said ‘home’. Ick. “I won’t go back to campus. I’m staying with you. You can’t get rid of me. But.. if you want me to shut up for the rest of this.. if you want me to leave you alone.. if you want me to sleep outside for every night that we’re doing this.. I will do that again. I’ll do it, and I won’t protest. The only thing I ask is that I stay.”

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting from Lucius now—reassurance, understanding, or maybe just a shift in the atmosphere that would help him breathe again. But for the first time in a long while, Feo wasn’t sure if any of it mattered. All he knew was that something inside him had cracked open, and he wasn’t sure how to piece it all back together.