Scott. What would Scott do? He didn’t know anything about my past. Though I knew he could see that I was broken, but I didn’t want him to see just how fucked up I was. But if he found me bleeding in the kitchen—or if he saw what I did to myself—he’d know.
It was that thought that finally gave me the strength to stick my foot out and kick the knife away, out of my line of sight. Because I couldn’t bear to see that look of pity and disgust and horror on his face. Couldn’t bear for him to avoid me, to not talk to me. To be repulsed by me. To hate me.
I couldn’t. I couldn’t. I couldn’t.
6 | Scott
I woke up at six-thirty like every day, stretching my arms above my head as I sat up. I loved this time of the day, when the sun was just peeking above the horizon and my room was lit in the faint glow of the dawn light. I’d gone to bed a lot later than usual yesterday since Dylan, the guy I’d lent our couch to had arrived just shy of midnight, drunk off his ass. I had wanted to send him away right then, not wanting him anywhere in our house or near Luke, but I’d made a promise. I hoped he was already gone, even though it was highly unlikely.
Freshening up, I made my way to the kitchen, debating whether Luke would prefer some pancakes or eggs and bacon for breakfast. I was pleasantly surprised to find that Dylan was indeed gone when I walked into the living room. He could’ve been in the bathroom except his bag was gone too, so I didn’t think so. Thank god for small mercies.
I walked into the kitchen and frowned, coming to a stop just inside the doorway. Something was off. My eyes immediately fell on the knife lying in the middle of the kitchen floor. Who the fuck dropped the knife there?
Shaking my head, I walked over to the knife and knelt down to pick it up. That’s when my eyes fell on Luke. Somehow, he’d stuffed himself in the narrow space between the counter end and the wall. His eyes were trained on a spot near his feet and he wasn’t moving at all. I might not have even noticed him if I hadn’t knelt down. What the hell was going on?
Standing up, I placed the knife on the counter before approaching him. I tried to be as noisy as I could so I wouldn’t startle him but he paid me no attention as if he wasn’t even in the room. I knelt in front of him, and still, he didn’t move.
Cautiously, I placed my hand on his knee, shaking gently, “Luke?”
His eyes snapped to mine, widening slightly before he started shaking and looked away again, as if he couldn’t bear to meet my eyes. “Come on, let’s get you out of here,” I urged gently, getting to my feet with my hands gripping his shoulders so I could pull him up with me even as I tried to figure out what had happened. Had something spooked him? Had he had a panic attack or something?
Luke stumbled as he stood up and I knew he’d been there for a long time by his unsteadiness. What the hell had happened? It seemed like that was the only thing running through my head at the moment. That and the fact that I needed to take care of Luke.
I led him to the couch and made him settle down, grabbing the throw blanket and wrapping it around him. “I’ll make you some tea, okay?” I decided to give him some privacy, just in case. I wasn’t sure what to do. Should I stay with him? Should I leave him alone? Tea was a good idea, right?
He didn’t say anything, so I walked back into the kitchen. There was water in the kettle and Luke’s tea box was lying open on the counter. Had Luke come here to make tea, then? What went wrong?
Shaking off the questions bubbling up in my mind, I put the kettle on again and chose the lemon and honey tea to make. I’d seen Luke make it for himself on the days that his eyes got this haunted look in them, when they turned to smoky gray from their usual bright shade. He didn’t know I noticed when he was having a bad day, but I did. In the past few weeks, I’d started recognizing his tells pretty well.
When the tea was done, I grabbed some of his cookies to go with it and walked into the living room. Luke was exactly where I’d left him, curled up into a corner of the couch, his eyes squeezed shut and his hands clutching the blanket tightly in his fists.
“Here, drink some tea. It’s honey and lemon.” He looked up at me then, though his face remained expressionless. He released the blanket slowly and took the cup from me, immediately taking a sip and closing his eyes. A shudder went through him but when he opened his eyes, they looked a tad calmer, though they still had that haunted look in them, the dark circles underneath only highlighting his pain even further.
I took a seat in the armchair, not wanting to crowd him. “Did something happen, Luke?” I asked softly, itching to touch him, to pull him into my arms and protect him from whatever demons haunted him but I didn’t. He didn’t need that right now.
He looked at me again, and this time, I could see something in his eyes. Fear, anxiety and something else.
He opened his mouth and then cleared his throat. He took another sip of his tea, closing his eyes. With his eyes still closed, he said, “I’m not usually that jumpy. Last night…I don’t know what happened.”
I chewed my lower lip, a habit I’d apparently picked up from him. I’d known something had happened to him. Something that had dulled the spark I saw more and more of in his eyes. But what?
“I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d make some tea and read for a bit. I forgot...I forgot that you had a guest over. I would’ve stayed in my room if I’d remembered. I’m...I’m not so good with strangers.”
Did Dylan do something to him? My hands clenched into fists and I wanted to ask him but I stopped myself. I needed to let him talk at his own pace, to take his time.
“I was looking for the tea and then I felt him in the room. I turned off the kettle, thought I’ll just go to bed and then…he was there. H-He grabbed me from behind and I lost it. I was so scared. And I pushed him away and grabbed the knife. I told him to stay away and then he left...but I couldn’t move and I just…” He drifted off with a shrug and it took everything in me to push that anger away. I pushed away the part of me that wanted to find Dylan and beat the crap out of him for doing that to Luke. But I’d deal with Dylan later. Right now, I needed to be there for Luke.
“I’m so sorry, Lu.” The nickname slipped out unintentionally but I let it go, hoping he wouldn’t mind.
He frowned at me, shaking his head, “It’s not your fault.”
“But it is. I won’t let anyone stay here from now on, I promise. Mike can lend his own damn couch if he wishes.”
Luke shook his head again, “This is your home, you can do whatever you want.”
“This is your home too, Luke. And you should be able to feel safe in your home.”
Luke stared at me for a moment, before his eyes shuttered and he whispered, his voice cool, calm and absolutely scary in its lack of emotions, “What do you want from me?”
My eyebrows scrunched together as I tried to figure out what he meant. “What do you mean?”
“Making me breakfast, spending all that time with me reading, caring for me,” He waved the teacup in emphasis. “Why are you doing all this? What do you want from me?” The matter-of-fact way he asked the question, as if he expected me to have an ulterior motive hit me hard. My heart broke a little at the thought that this beautiful man had never had anyone care for him just for the sake of his well being. That he expected everyone who did something nice for him to have a motive. What kind of hell had he survived through? What kind of hell was he still living in?