If only Ardan wouldn’t have followed him down with his careless footsteps on the stairs. At least Locklann had made a real attempt to stay as quiet as he possibly could and he was pretty sure he wouldn’t have attracted attention until it would’ve been too late to stop him, but Ardan was complicating matters. His footsteps were quick, as well as heavy, and his shouts–although hissed–were louder than they should’ve been.
It was no wonder that their father had rushed into the hallway, before Locklann had managed to outstretch his hand to the doorknob. He’d almost made it, but was then pulled back, away from the one thing he’d needed.
His father’s hand was tight around his lower arm and Locklann could practically feel the worry in it. It was overpowering whatever anger his father felt, because he knew what it meant when Locklann ran away and it often didn’t mean coming back in one piece. But Locklann had no time to comfort him, or make him feel better, because he wasn’t feeling anything himself. Nothing besides rage, that was. And so he yanked his arm back, no caring that he nearly sprained his wrist in the process, as it pulled free from his father’s hand.
He was backing away, closer to the door once more, trying to think faster than he really could. His father was stepping forward, but before he could reach out to take hold of Locklann a second time, he exploded.
“NO!” he yelled, while he pulled out of reach and a split second later he’d shoved both his hands against his father’s chest with as much force as he could manage. It wasn’t a lot, but considering the motion had come as such a surprise, his father was momentarily staggering. It didn’t matter that none of this could lead to anything better. It didn’t matter that he was only making things worse. All that mattered was that he was feeling too much of one thing and it had to get out.
Ardan was frozen for the moment. He was almost at the bottom of the stairs, watching how their father suddenly stepped into the hallway and stopped Locklann. He felt grateful, for a moment, but then his stomach turned with nausea. He should have been quieter. He shouldn’t have been so obvious... but then Locklann would have run out and then what? There was no way that could have lead anywhere good, especially not considering Locklann had this bizarre capability of running much faster than Ardan did, if he needed to.
“Locklann--” but it was already too late. Locklann had shoved his hands against their father’s chest and Ardan remembered what had happened the last time he himself had done something like that and not apologised immediately, or at least soon enough afterwards. It hadn’t been good. In fact, the outcome had hurt for days.
“Locklann--” he started, his words almost being followed by ‘stop’, not because he thought Locklann ought to, but because this was only going to make things worse. The reason they didn’t, was because a moment later their father had a firm grip on Locklann’s upper arm and the look in his eyes was a mix of betrayal and anger and panic and that never meant any good. Ardan shot forwards, his hand moving out to Locklann’s other arm.
“It’s okay,” he said, looking up at their father. “Daddy, it’s fine, I’ve got this.” He didn’t, but if Locklann would play along, then maybe their parents would believe that he did and they’d leave him be. Not that that would happen, considering their father just knowing that Locklann was in this state to begin with was enough to lose his temper. “Please.”
