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Feo stood in the doorway, his arms crossed loosely over his chest as Lucius finally let the truth spill out. He watched the younger man closely, his sharp gaze taking in every detail: the way Lucius’s chest rose and fell with quick, frustrated breaths, the way his hands moved erratically, betraying the emotions he was so desperately trying to suppress. And most of all, the way he couldn’t bring himself to look at Feo, his sapphire eyes darting anywhere but toward him. - The admission hit Feo harder than he expected. The alcohol. The volatility. The fear. It all made sense now, the pieces falling into place in a way that made his own stomach twist uncomfortably. He hadn’t thought about how his actions might have affected Lucius, how his own frustrations and anger had come across that night. He’d been too caught up in his own turmoil to see the ripple it created. - Feo let out a soft breath, uncrossing his arms and taking a step closer. He moved slowly, deliberately, careful not to startle Lucius as he reached out. His calloused fingers gently tilted Lucius’s chin upward, guiding his face toward him. - "Hey," Feo said softly, his voice no longer carrying the sharp edge of earlier. It was quiet now, almost tender, like he was afraid speaking too loudly might shatter Lucius entirely. "Look at me." - "I didn’t know," Feo said, his voice low and even. "I didn’t realize it was the alcohol, or that it scared you. I should’ve... I should’ve paid more attention. That’s on me." He paused, searching Lucius’s face for any sign that his words were getting through. "But you don’t have to avoid me because of it. You don’t have to carry that alone." - He dropped his hand slowly, letting it fall back to his side, though his eyes never left Lucius’s. "I wasn’t angry with you," he added, his tone laced with quiet sincerity. "Not really. I was angry with myself. For a lot of reasons. But none of that had anything to do with you. And I’m sorry if I made you feel like it did." - Feo stepped back slightly, giving Lucius space to breathe, though the warmth in his voice remained. "You don’t have to pretend everything’s fine, Lucius. Not with me. You don’t have to protect me from the truth, or whatever you think might hurt me. I can handle it. I want to handle it, if it means helping you." - There was a pause, the air between them heavy with unspoken emotions. Feo offered a faint, crooked smile, his voice softening even further. "You don’t have to be something more. You don’t have to be anything other than who you already are. That’s enough. You’re enough." - He waited, giving Lucius the space to respond, to let the words sink in. Feo wasn’t going to push him any further. Not now. But he wasn’t going to let him slip away again, either. Not this time. |
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Lucius swallowed quietly, his hands coming up to hold onto his arms. He hadn't wanted to talk about it and he hadn't wanted to even address it at all. He was waiting for it, the rush of tension again. The huffing and grumbling about how it was pathetic, all men--all people--drank and it was a fact of life. That he couldn't escape it and that he'd just have to accept that was how life was. He shook his head and took in a breath, nearly turning away. The silence was almost deafening after his charged words tumbled out. It wasn't the full truth but it was enough that it felt raw, even to him. He watch Feo step closer, slowly. There was a careful deliberate movement to each step and Lucius paused. The gentle touch, slowly guiding his eyes and face upward to meet his was almost startling. It was gentle, it was soft and not... and in his personal space. That was the main surprise. Lucius dragged his eyes upward at the whispered urge, finally meeting Feo's gaze. His voice was quiet and softer now, lacking the edged tilt that it had before. Lucius let out a quiet breath as he shook his head minutely. He couldn't stop him from drinking--it wasn't his place to tell him not to. That wasn't fair-- Lucius watched him, listening intently to every single word he was saying. Feo was... not blaming him. He wasn't. He didn't--not a single word was chiding him for what had happened, if anything he was urging him to be open with his thoughts and feelings. But Lucius wasn't sure if he really could. His jaw clenched, trying to stifle the tightness in his throat as Feo stepped back and let those last two words hang in the air. Lucius.. didn't feel like he really was enough. There was no way he was enough right now and ... and Feo didn't know that. But his heart twisted in his chest. Lucius wanted to feel something other than the washed out relief and grief that swelled together and mixed in his stomach. He had been so certain that he was going to snap at him--that was the usual reaction with these types of things. That was how this went, they snapped at him because he was a pansy! No matter what--why had this gone so differently? Lucius swallowed thickly, his chin lifting up to try and keep the hot tears from falling down his face. He didn't need that. Feo didn't need to see that. No--no. But they were flowing now and Lucius lowered his chin down to bury his face in his hands. A hiccuping sort of sob escaped from his lips as he tried to say something along the lines of apologizing. |
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Feo hadn’t been expecting the tears. He’d been bracing himself for deflection, anger, maybe even some sarcastic quip that would’ve sent the conversation skittering to a halt. But the way Lucius’s face crumpled, the quiet sob that escaped his lips—it hit Feo like a punch to the gut. - For a moment, Feo just stood there, his chest tightening as Lucius buried his face in his hands. He looked so small, so vulnerable, as though the weight of the world had finally caught up to him. And for all his sharp edges and blunt words, Feo’s heart softened immediately. - Without hesitation, he closed the distance between them in a few long strides. “Hey, hey—c’mere,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing as he scooped Lucius up effortlessly. He was careful, his hands firm but gentle, cradling him as though he were something fragile. - Feo carried him to the bed, sitting down in the middle with Lucius still curled against him. He adjusted so that Lucius was leaning into his side, his arm wrapping securely around the younger man’s shoulders. “It’s alright,” Feo murmured softly, his voice steady despite the knot in his throat. “Let it out. You’re safe.” - As he held him, Feo felt a strange but familiar tug deep within himself—a warmth spreading from his chest to his shoulders, the sensation of something unfurling. He knew what it was before he saw them, and for a moment, he wanted to will the urge away—he knew it would make him exhausted, and he couldn't afford to sleep now. But Lucius was worth it. With a deep breath, he willed it to happen, the large, raven-black wings he’d woken up to a few nights ago sprouting from his back. - The wings stretched out for a moment, their sheer size darkening the room before Feo carefully curled them inward. He wrapped them around himself and Lucius, creating a soft, enveloping cocoon of feathers. The world outside seemed to fade away, the dim light barely filtering through the glossy black plumage. - “There,” Feo whispered, his chin resting lightly on top of Lucius’s head. “It’s just us now. No one else. Nothing else. You’re okay.” - The wings muffled the sound of Lucius’s hiccuping breaths, creating a sense of intimacy that felt almost sacred. Feo’s fingers absentmindedly rubbed soothing circles into Lucius’s shoulder, his other hand resting lightly on his back. Despite the exhaustion tugging at his own body, Feo stayed steady, anchoring himself for Lucius’s sake. - “You don’t have to apologize,” Feo said quietly after a long silence, his voice soft but firm. “Not for feeling this way. Not for breaking down. You’ve been carrying too much on your own for too long. You don’t have to do that anymore. Not with me here.” - The feathers of his wings shifted slightly, brushing against Lucius’s arms like the gentlest of touches. Feo didn’t know if his words were enough, but he hoped the weight of his presence—the warmth, the closeness—was enough to let Lucius know he wasn’t alone. Not anymore. |
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Lucius couldn't be angry with him. He just couldn't. There was a part of him that was, perhaps irritated, that he had gone off script. But he couldn't make himself be angry. It was too much of a shock that Feo really did actually care. That was... it had to be impossible. That couldn't be a thing but Feo cared. He hadn't snapped at him, he had told him it wasn't his fault at all. Something that Lucius inwardly knew but avoided actually saying. He was so used to apologizing, taking the blame, the fall, the fault--everything to make sure that others were alright that to have someone else tell him... that it wasn't... was foreign. But not just tell him, but mean it. Feo meant every word. Lucius nearly took a step back as Feo crossed the distance between them, unwilling to let him see this crumpling mess. But it wasn't like he had the weight to protest. Or the words at the moment. His throat felt too tight to say anything. The firm warm presence of Feo was a reminder that he was there. He was... there. Feo wasn't leaving--even on his hair-brained scheme to try and lure the gods into being better parents. Lure was the right word, since he really wasn't planning on using violence if he didn't have to. But even still, Feo was still there. Lucius took in a shaking breath, murmuring a better more clear apology into his chest. He shook his head lightly, swallowing thickly again. This... oh he was not a pretty person when he cried. It was not a pretty sight and it was rather evident by his attempt to hide his face behind his wings again. His breath caught in his throat, cautiously at the sound of feathers ruffling around him and the feeling of feathers that weren't his own. Lucius swallowed quickly, quietly, as he tried to take in a steadying breath. "N-no, no. I... I do. Let me apologize," he protested, voice hardly over a faint whisper. "Please. Just... just let me apologize. I... I'm not used to this," he whispered, hardly trying to be any louder than he was. His voice trembled and he had to take several pauses but his head hardly moved, still resting against Feo's chest. Every so often, between the pauses, he could hear the breaths that the Norse demigod would take in. His heartbeat a reassuring noise in the back of his mind. It took a bit of effort to drag that heartbeat to the front of his mind, focusing on the sound. "Everybody always says that... y'know, alcohol is a part of life. You just have to get used to it and being around people like that. That ... I can't control what others do and I shouldn't try to either. I can't control their fun, their release and their choices." But it diminished his own. It bulldozed over his desire to get away from it all. "I'm sorry," he whispered again, "for keeping it... inside for so long..." Lucius took in a small breath with a faint and attempt at a weary laugh.
"... and for last night." |
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Feo’s arms tightened slightly around Lucius, his chest rising and falling in a deep, steady rhythm. The quiet apology pressed into him was something he expected—Lucius had been apologizing for everything since he met the guy—but it stirred something deep in his chest—a raw kind of ache, like hearing someone who had been holding their breath for too long finally exhale. - He stayed quiet as Lucius spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, each word trembling but honest. Feo didn’t interrupt, didn’t rush him, just held him steady as the younger man unraveled in his arms. Gently, Feo shifted his grip, resting his chin lightly on top of Lucius’s head. God, he smelled good. - “You don’t have to apologize,” Feo murmured, his voice soft but steady. He paused, letting the quiet hang between them for a beat before continuing. “Not for how you feel. Not for what’s happened. Not even for last night.” - His wings adjusted around them, feathers brushing against Lucius’s as if shielding him from the weight of his own guilt. “You don’t owe anyone an apology for wanting to protect yourself,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You don’t have to ‘get used to it’ just because people say so. You don’t have to force yourself into a mold that doesn’t fit, Lulu. You deserve better than that.” - Huh. The nickname was starting to grow on Feo. It felt more natural than it should have—that somehow, Lucius was never just "Lucius"— he was always Feo's "Lulu". Affectionate nicknames were strange, but Feo didn't mind letting it slip past his lips as long as Lucius didn't. He wondered if anyone had ever called Lucius that before, or anything of the sorts. - Feo let out a soft breath, his hand moving in slow circles against Lucius’s back. “And you don’t have to hold it all inside anymore. Not with me. You hear me?” He pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt his head and try to catch Lucius’s gaze. His own eyes were warm, steady, even as exhaustion lined his features. - “Whatever’s in here,” Feo said, tapping lightly against Lucius’s chest, “you can let it out. It’s not too much, and it’s not a burden. You’re not a burden.” His voice dipped, low and certain, as if willing Lucius to believe it. - Feo’s lips quirked in a small, tired smile. “You’re allowed to feel this,” he said softly, his fingers brushing away a stray tear from Lucius’s cheek. “And I’m not going anywhere. Not last night, not today, not tomorrow.” - Feo let the silence stretch for a moment, the weight of his wings and the warmth of his presence speaking louder than words. "You’re not alone in this, Lucius," he added gently. "You come to me, okay? I may not be able to fix it, but I sure as hell will fix whoever hurt you. Especially if it's me." |
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Lucius took in a few deep breaths again, mostly through his nose. There was something comforting about the warmth of Feo and the subtle scent he carried with him. It filled his brain, soothed his thoughts and let his heart slowly calm down from a racing tempo. His hand worked along his shoulder and then to his back. The blond young man opened his mouth briefly to say something in return but the soft nickname finally registered in his mind. Lulu. It kept his heart in a small skip. Something soft, and subtle, something spoken with a caring tone. It wasn't the same jeering sneer as 'Lucy' like his mother used to use. No, Feo said it so much softer, with a lot more of a genuine tone to his voice. Lucius took in a deeper breath and let it out, sinking against Feo's chest again. "I hear you," Lucius murmured, his tone exhausted but lighter than before. His eyes lifted, catching Feo's gaze with his own. His eyes lowered, looking down at his chest and then back up. Not all at once. No. Lucius would do it little by little. The little small things first--the ones that he felt like wouldn't matter that much. The deeper ones... well... that'd wait a while. "Okay," he whispered finally, sinking his head against Feo's shoulder. "Okay." It was kind of hard to fix someone who was dead. But then again, she was dead. She didn't have the power to hurt him anymore. Right? Technically? Lucius sighed wearily. Breaking down was exhausting and now he just wanted to sleep but he knew they needed to get up and get going to catch the train but he didn't want to move. His hand moved from his own lap to hold onto Feo's hand. Now that he really looked at them, their hands seemed... somewhat similar in different ways. Lucius's hands were slightly calloused, mostly from holding onto things and just general day-to-day activity. But his bore a few more scars as well, things he had gotten from stupid endeavors and ideas. Those ones were stupid. Like trying to whittle a bar of soap. Soap was not like wood. Soap was soft. Wood was not. Lucius learned that one the hard way. Ugh, thinking hurt. Maybe... they could just sleep a little longer, right? Just a little bit? It'd be... fine. Maybe... But he didn't know when the train was coming through. Ugh. "... I don't want to move," he admitted quietly, a faint laugh escaping his lips, "I'm tired and I'm comfy and I don't really want to move. But we gotta because the train..." |
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Feo let out a quiet chuckle, the sound rumbling low in his chest as Lucius’s words tumbled out, tinged with exhaustion and a hint of humor. His hand instinctively squeezed Lucius’s gently, his thumb brushing over the faint scars and callouses he could feel under his fingertips. There was something about the way those subtle imperfections revealed stories of hard work, sacrifice, and quiet resilience that stirred something in Feo’s chest. He wasn’t sure why the little details—the roughness of Lucius’s hands, the weight of him resting so comfortably against his shoulder, the soft sound of his reluctant laugh—made his chest ache in such a peculiar way, but it did. It was a feeling that was hard to put into words, like something bittersweet and tender. - Feo's own hands weren’t as calloused—he took pride in keeping them soft, and wearing gloves while doing most tasks had protected them from any real damage. His palms were smooth, almost unnervingly so in comparison to Lucius’s. Yet, despite the softness, Feo had his own share of scars. Not as many, and they were larger—deeper. A divot where a blade had gone nearly straight through his hand, a jagged slash from his thumb that extended all the way to the back of his wrist, a few burn marks from a reckless experiment gone wrong. There were more training-induced cuts, from days spent pushing himself too hard, than there were from any true moments of recklessness. But still, they were there—stubborn reminders of the path he had chosen, the things he had put himself through in the pursuit of something he often couldn’t define. - "I get it," Feo murmured, his voice low and warm, the kind of tone that carried a comfort he wasn’t even sure he could explain. "Believe me, I’d rather sit here all day too. This... this feels like the first time either of us has breathed easy in a while." - Feo’s gaze drifted to the soft golden light filtering through the window, casting a warm glow across the room, but his mind wasn’t fully there. It was in the quiet moments, like this one, when he felt the weight of everything—everything they’d been through—starting to settle. They weren’t safe, not really. There was always something pressing, something demanding attention. The train wasn’t going to wait forever, and the hotel wasn’t theirs after today. The world outside was still spinning, still moving, and they’d have to leave this small sanctuary sooner rather than later. - Still, despite the practical side of his mind trying to pull him back into the reality of what lay ahead, he wasn’t about to rush this moment. Not yet. It wasn’t every day that he got a reprieve like this, a chance to catch his breath, to just exist in the quiet peace. - “Maybe just a couple more minutes,” Feo relented softly, leaning back a little further against the headboard to support them both. His voice was quieter now, almost a whisper. “You deserve this moment. Even if it’s just a little longer.” - He shifted again, more to make Lucius more comfortable than anything else, his hand giving Lucius’s another firm, grounding squeeze. It wasn’t much—just a small gesture—but it was all Feo could offer in this moment: his presence, his care, his promise that, for now, nothing would pull them apart. - Feo’s gaze softened, and for a moment, he found himself watching the way the sunlight that came through the strip of his wings caught on Lucius’s hair. Stupid, he thought, but the thoughts of Lucius being pretty circled back into the front of his mind. He blinked. He was tired. - “But when we do have to move,” Feo added after a beat, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, “I’ll carry you to the train if I have to. You might not want to move, but I’m not leaving you behind.” - The playful note in his voice was genuine, but there was a deep, underlying sincerity in his words as he glanced down at Lucius. It wasn’t just an offer; it was a promise, one he would follow through on no matter what. The warmth in his gaze matched the gentle squeeze of Lucius’s hand, as if to reaffirm that no matter the distance, no matter how heavy the world felt, he wouldn’t let Lucius go through it alone. - “So we’ll rest,” Feo murmured, the smirk fading as his expression softened even more. “Just a little longer. And, hey, maybe you'll get to sleep on the train." - Ick, optimism. |
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The rumbling noise of Feo's deep chuckle shook Lucius's own chest and rattled in his ears. That made his heart skip just a little bit and there was a rush of something in his chest. Something... dangerous. Almost dangerous. Lucius wasn't exactly the most "dangerous" being in the whole world. But he at least tried. Reckless was a better word for it but that was something he openly admitted with perhaps a touch of dry pride. The grounding feeling of Feo's hand, brought Lucius back to where they were and out of his mind. The words that followed soon after drew his gaze up to look at Feo. "In a long while," Lucius agreed quietly. The rush of a new school, the factions, the rush of everything else, the drafts, the new students, the--everything. It had all been such a rush to get everything going and now, tucked in the little hotel room... it all seemed so far away. It all just seemed so trivial now... at least that was something. The rushes of the day to day were trivial now. That had his heart skipping a beat or two as he reluctantly sighed. Lucius nearly shifted to move and get up when Feo spoke again. A few more minutes. Lucius was worried that he was going to fall asleep if he waited a few more minutes. Feo was comforting, comfortable and Lucius was exhausted. That was not a good mix for "waiting a few minutes" at all. But the thought that somehow he deserved this moment was still a little foreign. That was such a weird concept that he deserved... to slow down and be lazy in the morning. No--no. He deserved to take a breather, a moment to rest and recuperate from the break down that he had just had. "Ohh--you don't have to carry me," Lucius protested, poking at his side. "Not outside at least. That is not happening." The protest was light at least, Lucius knew full well that if Feo really, really wanted, he could just throw him over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Lucius couldn't exactly rely on his appearance being somewhat broad and bulky to save him now. Feo knew--and felt--exactly how fragile he really was. Which was not exactly a talking point he enjoyed. And he knew, full well, that he'd be hearing more about taking care of himself and not doing stupid things later on. "True," Lucius said softly. "It'll be at least a few hours, I think, before we get to Garden City," he mumbled lightly, sinking into his side again with a far more resolute sigh. There was that idea again, that reckless idea. It--no. But--no. Maybe if--no. Bad idea. That was an inside thought and an inside thought to stay and remain. That was not an outside thought in the slightest. But boy howdy was it tempting. No--it would ruin the moment. Besides, they were friends. |
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Feo’s gaze lingered on Lucius longer than he realized, tracing the faint curve of his lips as they formed that soft protest, the way his features shifted from exhaustion to a quiet resolve. There was something disarming about seeing Lucius like this—unguarded, relaxed against him, the usual sharp edges dulled by the warmth of the moment. Feo’s chest tightened with something he couldn’t name, a sensation that felt ridiculously close to something else he wanted to leave in Asgard. - The protest itself—light and teasing—made him smile faintly, but the warmth behind it caught him off guard. It wasn’t just what Lucius said, it was the way he said it, that unspoken trust and reliance that had somehow become second nature between them. Feo knew, or at least partially, now, how much Lucius hated to admit to being fragile, how much pride he took in keeping up appearances even when he was barely holding it together—that much was evident just from the past day. The fact that he could let that go, even just a little, and lean into Feo like this made Feo’s throat tighten in a way that was entirely unwelcome. - He tried to refocus, his thumb brushing once more over the scars on Lucius’s hand, but his gaze betrayed him, trailing to the soft line of Lucius’s jaw, the way his hair caught the golden light, the steady rise and fall of his chest. His thoughts tangled in the quiet intimacy of the moment, the dangerous line he was toeing between what they were and the things he didn’t dare let himself hope for. - Before he could stop himself, Feo’s cheeks warmed. His wings, which had been drawn protectively around them, fluttered slightly as if to dispel the tension he felt building inside. He didn’t know why—didn’t want to know why—it was so hard to pull his gaze away from Lucius, why that teasing protest had made his chest ache with something that felt entirely too real. - Feo sighed, a low and quiet sound, before giving up entirely. He dipped his head and buried his face in the crook of Lucius’s neck, the warmth of his skin grounding him in a way he desperately needed. His breath fanned over Lucius’s collarbone as he let out a soft laugh, his voice muffled. - “You’re impossible, you know that?” Feo murmured, the words half-heartedly teasing, though his tone betrayed a softness he couldn’t hide. He didn’t lift his head, letting himself linger for just a moment longer, his wings curling in tighter as though shielding them from the rest of the world. - It was scary, this closeness. But Feo couldn’t bring himself to pull away just yet. Not when the sound of Lucius’s steady breathing filled the quiet, not when the warmth of him felt like the only thing keeping Feo’s own thoughts from spiraling. - Just a little longer. He could allow himself this much. |
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Lucius exhaled softly, letting himself--forcing himself--to just settle down. He just had to relax for a few more minutes. That was all but good grief, Feo felt sturdy. He had a stronger firmer grip and presence than Lucius did. Lucius knew, full well, that his entire sturdiness was faux. It was everything he did and how he carried himself that gave him the image--the illusion--of a sturdy build. But that was partially why he refused to usually do this. Except this stubborn Nordic demigod who had decided to wiggle between his walls and pry him open. Partially at least. What a little sneak. That wasn't fair--granted, Lucius had done the same back at him. Perhaps it was a little fair, they were both giving and taking in the same way. There was more to each person and that was alright. His breath caught in his throat for just a mere moment as Feo lowered his head, curled around him almost entirely. But a small and tiny little chuckle escaped after he registered the soft murmured words. Impossible.
Lucius was a lot of things and impossible was definitely one of them. Reckless, impulsive, clever--in a weird way--stubborn, elusive, ethereal--and impossible of course. That was definitely not something he could argue with.
That... that was something, instead, he could own up to with ease. "Yeah...?" Lucius whispered, his eyes sliding closed as he struggled to keep the inside thought from becoming an impulsive thought because impulsive thoughts became way harder to stifle. Now, under normal circumstances, Lucius would've made some off-hand joke about the two and how they're lucky they're not mortals. Mortals in this kind of situation? Absolutely not. Gods? Regular Tuesday. Not to mention, Lucius didn't exactly have the most 'upright' upbringing and it was coming to light the longer he was around Feo. Especially tucked in his embrace, buried under dark feathers. Just like a raven. His raven. Lucius felt a burst of emotion in his chest and the inside thought went from impulsive thought to action. The emotion swirled between warmth, terror and perhaps a sort of aching breathless reach for something that he had now but was just beginning. That rush of emotion that felt somewhat like the giddy happiness of friendship but deeper. It rooted itself deeper in his heart and wrapped a vine around it, tied to this demigod curled around him. Lucius took in a small breath, lifted his chin ever so slightly and pressed a faint, gentle kiss to the side of Feo's neck. Yeah, impossible was a great way to describe him. |
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Winter 
Night 
