New To The Neighbourhood
A/N: Oh look. A fanfiction. Been a while since I wrote on of these. This is featuring my very good friend @fractured--historian‘s oc. For information on him, click her url & check out her links. I’m sorry, I’m not very good at writing fanfictions, never have been, but I’m trying. Sorry if I ruin Lucas, I tried, Elizabeth. If it goes okay, I might make more chapters.
Chapter One.
It was the typical Saturday Afternoon. Warm, sun beating down hard on Damien as he worked in his garden. Dark hair was pulled back into a messy bun, pale hands covered by khaki colored gloves that were stained with dirt. How long had he been out here? At least a good hour, no doubt; but he wanted his new flowerbed to be perfect, & so far, it was starting to come along incredibly.
Damien was soon brought out of his working trance when he heard the sound of a large truck pulling up, its tires squeaking to a halt just across from Damien’s house. Curious as to what brought this sound on, Damien stood from his kneeling position, pulling off the gloves & dropping them on the patio table as he walked past it & into the cool, crisp air of his home. God Bless whoever invented the Air Conditioner.
By the time Damien made it to the den, Lucien was already leaning against the window frame, glancing out at the commotion. “Son?” Damien called, his hands finding the teenager’s slim shoulders & giving an affectionate squeeze. “What’s going on outside?” He asked, but his eyes soon fixed themselves on the source of the noise: moving trucks. Ah, that nice house that had been for sale for months across from his own home must have finally sold. “New neighbors! How delightful. Shall we go greet them?” This question was answered with an exasperated sigh & a groan. Clearly, Lucien was not up for social interaction. Deciding not to push, Damien merely pat his son’s head & walked into the hallway to grab his cloak and regular high-laced boots from the closet. Once he was dressed, he made his way out of the front door & began his walk across the street, ignoring how hot he was in long sleeves & a cloak.
“Hello~,” Damien greeted the young man who was becoming evermore flustered as he plead with the movers to be careful with what looked like a rather heavy sculpture. “You must be the new neighbor. I’m Damien Bloodmarch, it’s a pleasure. I hope you find yourself able to adjust to the new place alright. If you need anything, my house is the one across from here, the Victorian one.” Damien chimed softly, offering a hand to the newest member of the cul de sac.
Blue eyes immediately shot up to meet brilliant, bright violet ones, a look of confusion soon being replaced with a look of joy. “Ah! Hello! It’s so nice to meet you, the pleasure is mine,” The man spoke in a thick German accent, & it made Damien wonder if he was just new to the neighborhood, or if he was also new to the country itself. “My name is Lucas Seiler. I was hoping someone might come up to me first, as I’m not entirely sure how to approach people myself.” Delicate hands put themselves on the metal guards of his wheelchair wheels, wheeling himself back a few inches & turning himself to face the tall & dark figure before him. “I will keep your offer in mind, thank you, Mr. Bloodmarch.” Lucas beamed, taking the cool hand within his own & shaking it enthusiastically.
Damien smiled at the feeling of Lucas’s hand within his, gripping gently & shaking. He hated to think such, but it was almost like shaking hands with a little kid: gentle & enthusiastic, in no way strong or firm. It was...endearing. “Mr. Bloodmarch is far too formal, please, call me Damien.” Truth be told, things like ‘sir’ & ‘mr.’ made him feel old. He allowed it when he had to, but if he could help it, he would almost always tell people to just call him by his first name. It felt more casual & far less awkward in his mind. Soon enough, Damien’s eyes spotted a few oil paintings being hauled into the house. He must have gotten a bit excited, because soon enough, Lucas winced & called out a stuttered ‘careful!’. It was then that Damien remembered he still had hold of Lucas’s hand. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry! I got a bit distracted by your paintings...”
Lucas retracted his hand when it was released, checking it over. All seemed to be in tact. “It’s no problem. & If we’re going to do first names, just call me Lucas, if you’re okay with that.” At the mention of his oil paintings, Lucas turned his head in the direction of the moving trucks. “Oh! Do you like them? Many of them were made by Steve Henderson, he’s a really wonderful artist. I enjoy his works quite a lot, to be quite honest with you. I wish I had more places to put more paintings, if I’m being truthful.” Before Damien knew it, the two of them wound up discussing art & modern-day artists. They must have been talking for quite a while, because finally, a teenager who looked almost like a carbon-copy of Lucas came over to break up the conversation that the two had been having for God Knows how long.
“Dad? The movers are done. They’re waiting for you to pay them, I think...plus, it’s getting kinda late. Can we go get something to eat? We haven’t ate since like noon.” The boy looked about fourteen or fifteen, with a mess of wavy brunette locks framing his triangular face. He leaned against the back of his father's chair, doe-eyes glancing up to meet Damien’s own (seemingly) stoic ones. “You’ve been talking to the new neighbor for an hour...” He muttered. His accent was just as thick as his father’s, but his English was a little more broken. Obviously, he was likely still learning his way around the language.
“Oh, Christofer. I’m sorry, honey; I guess I got distracted. This is Mr. Bloodmarch-- ah, I mean, Damien. He’s across the street from us. Won’t you introduce yourself & say hello~?” Pulling his son by the hand, Lucas practically dragged him to stand before the tall gothic figure looming over him. “This is my son, Christofer. He’s fourteen. Fifteen in September.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Christofer. I have a son only a few years older than you, perhaps you two could get along, hm? You two are free to come visit anytime you want. As a matter of fact, would you like to join us for dinner tomorrow evening? I promise, it’d be my pleasure to have you & your son over. I’m sure Lucien will be happy at the potential of a new friend, too.”
Immediately, Lucas agreed, before Chris could even voice his own concerns about meeting an older kid. It rarely went well for him, older kids liked to pick on him. This was bound to be the start of a very, very long road ahead of them. A new country, a new home, & a new life. Not to mention a new school. Lucas seemed to be a bit jet-lagged, but other then that, he seemed sure of his choice to move out to America. Austria was all they knew, & now here they were, in America. He knows his dad had been here before for business, but Christofer had never left Austria. This would take a lot of adjusting, for both of them.
