Some people are very obvious when they get a new obsession. Sometimes, people will talk about nothing except a particular game, film, series, etc. Sometimes, they'll make a ton of fanart for it. Sometimes, they'll impersonate their favourite character. And sometimes they name guinea pigs after fish.
Did yours truly really buy and name an expensive and rare colour of guinea pig after a mutant salmon JUST so I could technically give said character a hug? You're damn right I did.
Anyway, here's Moreau. I will introduce him to romance movies soon enough. Until then, he's innocent, fluffy, and not infected. I think.
Arrow what cool things are you working on at work right now? Tell it like you're explaining it to a three year old. I haven't taken a science class since 2004...
Hmm, cool things...it's all pretty routine right now, lol, so I'll just pick something to blabber about!
So I've mentioned before that the bulk of my work is analyzing samples for common pollutants like pesticides. And as regulations change, we have to, too!
Right now we're working on lowering our "limit of detection" for a common pesticide. That's exactly what it sounds like: we need to be able to see it at really low concentrations, lower than anyone used to care about.
One of the reasons that's hard is that it's difficult to isolate just one thing to detect, so we end up with a "background" signal that can be so high it's like the thing we want to see isn't even there. We can try to fix that in different ways.
We can try to clean our samples: remove as much other stuff as possible so nothing interferes with the signal from what we care about. That's on the wet lab side, and can involve changes in how we extract the chemical (soaking it in different solutions to dissolve what we want and leave the rest), adding other chemicals that will react with what we don't want and leave what we do, things like that.
But even if that's perfect, we can be limited by what our scientific equipment can do. So on my side, that's what we have to work around.
Usually, we push the sample through a column that's lined with a known material. Different chemicals will interact with that material differently, so they will take different amounts of time to come out on the other side. Then, they go through the mass spec.
Inside that, we separate them again. We set the first part of the mass spec so that only compounds with a specific mass can go through. Then, whatever makes it through at a given time is blasted with electricity, which breaks it into smaller pieces. We look for the change from one mass to another, that's hopefully specific to our material, to rule out even more stray signals.
Selective extraction followed by three separation steps--that sounds complex enough that what we get out must be pretty much what we want, right?
Wrong😭
Even with all of that, there can still be enough things with exactly the same response that the signal of something only present at less than 1 part per billion parts is still obscured.
So we have a new instrument does even more! It's called ion mobility, and while it's been around a while, in industries beholden to regulatory agencies that don't embrace change quickly it's just starting to be more common.
With this, we can add even more separation variables. Maybe two compounds made it through the column at the same time, and even have the same mass, but are shaped differently enough that when put in an electric field and bombarded with a gas, one will slow down more than the other! Then, we can limit even more what goes through the remaining steps.
There are a lot if variables here to optimize, obviously. It can take a while to get it just right, and then you have to prove to other people that it works. But when you aren't in a major time crunch (which we are of course lol) it can be a fun puzzle to solve!
Hi, if it's okay with you may I ask for 3, 48, 71 please. Thank you so much 💖
3. “Please don’t walk out of that door,” 48. “Why are you crying?,” & 71. “You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?” // also on ao3 (½)
((okay anon, I feel like you really wanted angst so, here you go! probably not what you were expecting, but I got (extremely) carried away and this is what happened 💙 also don’t worry - there will be a part 2))
––
It doesn’t happen how Lucas thought it might. Seeing him again. He’d thought about it a lot in the months directly after they ended things – what he’d be doing, where it would happen, how he would act. He’d even rehearsed a few speeches or at least plausible conversations. He forgot to account for his racing heart.
When it happens, it’s in the last place Lucas had ever imagined. It’s not at the grocery store, or at a cafe. It’s not even just a chance encounter on the street. It’s at a restaurant, at his boyfriend’s fancy work party.
Lucas isn’t quite sure how he ended up here, standing there in that restaurant. He knows that Oliver had made him promise weeks ago to be here, convinced that showing up with his boyfriend would help him seem more serious to his bosses, which might lead to some kind of promotion. At the time Lucas had been more than happy to say yes. It made Oliver happy, and making Oliver happy made Lucas feel good. It was enough.
But he’s had a long week and there’s a dull ache just behind his temples and he’s tired. He hasn’t really been sleeping well again. It’s like it was a year ago, when everything imploded. He pushes the thought out of mind quickly before it can consume him again.
Lucas had considered feigning some kind of illness earlier that day to avoid having to come at all, but then he thought of Oliver’s sweet face and how accommodating he would have been and it felt a little too much like he was taking advantage. So Lucas had come home from class, gotten dressed and made an appearance. It was for his boyfriend after all.
But he’s uncomfortable – his shirt and jacket are tight against his body making him very conscious of the sweat gathering at his back and his tie is pressing tightly against his throat. He pulls at it with one hand, holding his drink in the other. Even though it’s winter, just towards the end of January, Lucas is hot and the room feels suffocating. So Lucas sticks to the edge of the room, content to just watch the party unfold around him rather than participate himself.
He looks out across the crowded room and spots Oliver talking to someone he assumes is important – probably his boss. He knows he should go over and join the conversation, play the part of the supportive boyfriend, but frankly, that just sounds exhausting. Instead he leans back against the wall, feeling the cool brick against the back on his head.
He’s looking across the party but not really seeing, people fading into shapes and colors, the air around them dancing with the buzz of conversation. Lucas allows himself to be pulled by the loud sounds coming from the other side of the wall. The party is being held in a semi-private section of the restaurant that Oliver’s company has rented out, but the rest of the space is filled with families and first dates and friends getting together after work. Lucas drifts over to the booths that separate their space from the rest of the restaurant. And he allows his mind and eyes to wander.
He’s content to do that until Oliver is ready to head out. He actually sort of prefers the soothing hum of other people living their lives as he fights his fatigue and the headache that threatens to get worse.
But then his heart drops to his stomach, his pulse quickens and he forgets how to breathe. It takes a second for his brain to catch up with what’s in front of him.
Because there’s Eliott – Eliott – sitting at a table with people Lucas doesn’t recognize and he looks almost the same as when Lucas saw him last, almost a year ago.
He’s wearing all black and Lucas feels his eyes rake over him because he can’t help it – it’s like he’s seen a ghost – and his eyes land on the black jacket hanging on Eliott’s chair. And Lucas almost loses it right there, in the middle of a busy restaurant on a Friday evening in the dead of winter.
Because the last time Lucas had seen that jacket was when he’d handed it over to Eliott a week after their breakup. Eliott had come by to drop off the last of Lucas’ stuff and then he disappeared from his life with a whispered bye Lucas and the black jacket slung over his shoulder.
Lucas stands frozen to the spot, unable to tear his eyes away from Eliott but panicking at the thought that Eliott might look up and see him. He simultaneously wants to disappear, melt into the floor and vanish, and scream Eliott’s name as loud as he can muster, forcing Eliott to see him and acknowledge what they used to be to one another. It’s that battle, between fight or flight, that keeps him rooted to the floor.
In the end, Lucas doesn’t make up his mind fast enough because there’s a crash behind him as a waiter drops a stack of dishes and Eliott whips his head up to seek out the source of the noise. His eyes meet Lucas’ and something flashes across Eliott’s face that Lucas can’t quite place.
Lucas feels his eyes go wide and he contemplates spinning on his heel and running back to Oliver, disappearing into the crowd. But Eliott is leaning over to the people he’s with and saying something Lucas can’t quite make out. Then he’s standing and Lucas realizes a beat too late that Eliott is making his way over to him.
Lucas quickly turns behind him, finding Oliver in the back corner still in deep conversation with his boss. There’s a slight wave of relief because the last thing Lucas needs right now is Oliver being involved in whatever conversation is about to occur. He steps around the rope that the restaurant had put up to separate their private space from the rest of the customers and moves to meet Eliott by the wall that leads to the bathrooms.
It’s strange, really, how utterly unprepared Lucas feels in that moment. Despite the hours and sleepless nights he had dedicated to imagining how this would go, there’s nothing that can prepare him for how it feels to have Eliott standing there in front of him again.
He approaches Lucas with his head down, shoulders hunched, and hands stuffed into the pockets of his worn black jeans. And so when it happens – when that moment that Lucas has thought about for months happens – it’s at the wall between the toilets and the kitchens at 9pm on a Friday in a crowded restaurant.
Lucas had prepared speeches, he’d imagined a thousand times what he would say if he ever got the chance to stand in front of Eliott again, but when the moment comes, his mouth goes dry and his mind goes blank and he’s quiet.
Because it’s Eliott. Eliott with his ink-stained hands, and black jacket and messy hair. Lucas wonders if he still smells like sandalwood and his lavender shampoo. He wonders who the people he’s sitting with are. Lucas wonders if he got into art school, if he moved into a new place, if he’s…well, if he’s seeing anyone. And then Lucas thinks he shouldn’t be wondering about any of that. Because Eliott isn’t his to wonder about anymore. He hasn’t been, for a year. And Lucas has Oliver. So it should be fine.
They stand there in silence for what must only be a few seconds but to Lucas feels like years, the thrum of others’ conversations pounding in his ear. He can’t even bring himself to meet Eliott’s eyes and instead he finds his gaze flitting between Eliott’s face and the space just behind his shoulder.
It’s Eliott who speaks first.
“Hey.”
Hey. Hey. Lucas feels a slight twist of anger in his chest. Because it’s ‘hey’ – one word and no attempt at conversation and Lucas feels like he wants to scream at Eliott because there were so many things he wanted to say and they used to be more than that. They used to be everything.
A year ago Eliott knew him better than anyone else in the world. Now, in that one word, Lucas sees how they will finally end – be rid of each other for good – with half-hearted greetings and a lingering discomfort that makes them seem more like casual acquaintances than first loves.
“How are you?” Lucas manages to say back. Eliott sways slightly, his hands still in his pockets.
“Yeah, I’m good,” he says. “How are you?”
I was doing fine and then I saw you again, Lucas thinks.
“Oh, I’m great,” Lucas says.
“Good, good,” Eliott says, removing one of his hands from his pockets and running it through his hair. Lucas swallows. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, um, it’s a work party,” Lucas says, and he doesn’t want to elaborate, not really, because he can’t bring himself to say for my boyfriend to Eliott when the boyfriend isn’t him.
“Oh, cool.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Oh you know, here with friends.”
And there it is, the limit of their conversation, the limit of what they can muster in this new space of used-to-be. There’s a beat and Lucas looks up to find Eliott staring at him. It’s a look that’s a little too familiar and Lucas sudden feels his heart swell involuntarily. “You look good,” Eliott whispers.
And Lucas doesn’t know what to say to that because he wants to say that Eliott looks good too, but that kind of quiet familiarity might actually kill him. So he just nods. “Thanks.”
Eliott makes no move to leave and Lucas is left wondering how exactly to exit this interaction quickly because it’s starting to be too much, too much. Eliott looks like he’s battling the thoughts in his head and he opens his mouth to say something. A pause and then: “Look, Lucas…”
But that’s all he gets out because then Lucas feels an arm slide around his waist and he turns to find Oliver standing there, looking Eliott up and down with a slightly concerned expression on his face. Eliott is taller than Oliver, but in this moment, at the sight of Oliver’s arm wrapped around Lucas’ waist, Eliott seems to shrink.
“Hey babe,” Oliver says, pressing a kiss to Lucas’ temple. “Missed you in there. Wanted to see where you got off to.”
Eliott is standing stiff and his jaw is set tight and Lucas feels the shame of being caught begin to spread across his chest (though he can’t quite decide if it’s Eliott or Oliver he feels more caught by).
Lucas feels an urge to reach out and grab Eliott’s face and smooth the crease of his brow that’s appeared with Oliver. He’s surprised at how violent the urge is, even now, after all this time.
“Hey,” Lucas says to Oliver and then gestures towards Eliott. “I ran into Eliott, so we were just, uh, catching up.”
“Eliott,” is all Oliver says but Lucas knows he immediately recognizes the name. Lucas had told Oliver about Eliott fairly early on, not because he really wanted to, but because he had to. Eliott had been his whole story up until that point and Lucas felt Oliver deserved to know.
Oliver gives Lucas a look then, and Lucas is brought back to the situation in front of him, his worst-case-scenario for how this could have played out really, and realizes Oliver is waiting for him to introduce them. It’s bizarre and Lucas hates it but he knows he should, so he does.
“Oliver, this is Eliott. Eliott, this is Oliver,” Lucas says.
Oliver sticks out his hand towards Eliott and adds “his boyfriend.”
Eliott clenches his jaw tighter at the words but reaches his hand out to shake Oliver’s.
“Nice to meet you,” Eliott says.
“Nice to meet you as well,” Oliver says.
There’s silence then, drenched in awkwardness. Lucas wants to disappear.
“Well, um, I should be getting back to my friends,” Eliott says. “Good to meet you Oliver and um, it’s good to see you Lucas. Really.”
With those words, Eliott’s voice grows slightly softer and he gives Lucas a once over, meeting his eyes for a beat, only a beat, but Lucas’ heart skips. And then he’s gone.
Lucas is staring at the spot Eliott had just occupied and he notices that Oliver is looking at him. “You okay, babe?” he asks and Lucas finds it in himself to give a sharp nod.
“Yeah, let’s get back to the party.”
––
It’s a few weeks later and Lucas is trying to get back to normal. Or at least what had been his new normal in the wake of Eliott. He’s trying, he really is, to push Eliott out of his mind, focus on all the good things he does have, the life he built in the wake of their collapse. But it’s hard when he sees Eliott everywhere in all the things that used to remind him of Eliott, blaring loudly like symbols of what he lost.
He sees Eliott in the lattes the people next to him order. He sees him in a tattered notebook on a table, in the people sketching in the park, in the box of tea Eliott had bought once when he was sick that’s sat collecting dust in Lucas’ cupboard since he left. But mostly he sees him in tall strangers with messy hair and black jackets and every time he spots one his heart leaps into his throat. Until Lucas realizes it isn’t him, it’s never him.
And now it’s another Friday night and he finds himself at a party with his friends and Oliver by his side and he really just wants to be in bed, but he’s gotten better at putting on the mask when he feels like this. He doesn’t want them to worry.
The party has been going on for a few hours and all of his friends are around him, drunk but fairly in control compared to what he’s used to. Emma is leaning sloppily on Daphne’s shoulder as she tries to continue dancing to the music. Arthur and Basile are yelling frantically about something Lucas had tuned out a while ago. Yann and Oliver are standing next to him dancing and trying to speak above the music. And Lucas is standing there, nursing his beer, unable to get himself to really join the fun.
He knows that Oliver has noticed. Yann too. But Lucas realizes gratefully that they seem to be giving him the night off. Because he can’t talk about it, he really can’t.
So it’s unfortunate then, that it happens again like this, on a Friday night at the end of winter at a party where everyone is having fun but him. Because Lucas sees him again.
Only this time Eliott doesn’t see him.
Lucas hadn’t noticed him come in, and really, it’s the worst possible way this could have gone down. Because when Lucas does notice him, when he sees Eliott for the second time in a month, some guy has Eliott pinned in the corner, his tongue down his throat.
Lucas thinks he might be sick. And suddenly, he can’t be here anymore. He really can’t be here, he can’t face that. He tugs on Oliver’s shirtsleeve, getting his attention and whispers a frantic can we get out of here, please and Oliver is looking at him with those concerned, kind eyes, and he nods.
So they leave. Lucas tries his best to keep it in, to sew up the ragged tear that sight had made in his chest, and he really should be good at it with all these months of practice. But as soon as they’re in a cab on the way back to Lucas’ apartment, the tears start to fall.
He turns, looking out the window, trying to hide his face, willing the tears to stop before they have to get out of the car. Oliver doesn’t say anything – just finds Lucas’ hand and gently strokes the back of it with his thumb.
When they get to his apartment, Lucas tries to quickly dry his face and compose himself as he unlocks the door. Lucas notices that Mika’s shoes are gone and Lisa is out of town this weekend with her family. He knows that Oliver notices too.
So the atmosphere in the empty apartment should be different. So different from the somber concern that’s radiating off Oliver in waves. And Lucas is trying to hold it in, but it’s not working.
“Lucas, why are you crying?” Oliver asks softly, reaching to wipe a tear off Lucas’ cheek. Lucas flinches away from his touch.
“It’s nothing,” Lucas answers, quickly, too quickly and Oliver only sighs and sits down on the couch, leaving room like an invitation for Lucas to join him.
“That’s clearly not true,” Oliver says. “You’ve been quiet all night and now something made you upset. I just want to know what happened.”
Lucas’ mouth clamps shut and he can’t talk about it, can’t tell the truth. Because if he gives voice to the emotions he’s feeling right now, if he airs them out where they can be heard, then he’ll have the acknowledge the way his heart still raced when he saw Eliott, even a year later. That his heart felt like it broke again at the sight of him kissing someone else. And he knows that shouldn’t be the case.
But now Oliver is looking at him, peering into his eyes and trying to decipher what might be the problem, what it could be that is so clearly bothering Lucas. What had made him so upset that he practically dragged Oliver from the party without so much as a goodbye to anyone else.
Lucas knows he’s going to have to tell him, is going to have to say it’s Eliott, I saw Eliott again and that’s not going to go over well. Because it shouldn’t have affected him so much. It’s been a year since they broke up, a year, and it shouldn’t hurt so much anymore. But it does.
Lucas knows he has to say that and he knows that when he does it will hurt Oliver. Gentle, sweet, perfect Oliver who has done nothing but be there for Lucas. Oliver, whose only flaw is he isn’t Eliott.
The thought jolts Lucas back to his apartment with Oliver sitting there, looking at him. The silence hangs thick and Lucas tentatively makes his way closer to Oliver, thinking about sitting next to him on the couch, holding his hands, stroking his cheek with his finger while he talks to him. But Lucas knows he can’t do that, not really. He sits on the chair instead.
“It’s Eliott. I saw him again.” And then it’s out there. Lucas is hit, for a moment, with how small this thing is, how much it shouldn’t be bothering him, how much it’s thrown him despite it being two quick moments over a month. But it’s Eliott.
“Eliott, your ex. The ex,” Oliver says, his voice soft.
He’d told Oliver about Eliott in the first few weeks that they started dating, wanting him to know Lucas’ past, know about the intensity Lucas had been coming from. Oliver had been surprisingly understanding about it but Lucas hadn’t told him much – just that they’d been together for a long time and he’d taken it pretty hard when it ended. That was all he could get himself to divulge. And now he’d been with Oliver for a little over three months and that should feel solid. But talking about Eliott with Oliver is shaky ground.
And something is bothering Lucas, but it’s not what he expected it to be. Oliver is looking at him sympathetically, too sympathetically, like he’s going to be understanding and sweet about the pain that comes with seeing someone again who used to be such an important person in your life. Lucas knows he could nod and Oliver wouldn’t ask him about it and they could move on, but his brain is stuck on the words. The ex.
The ex. To hear his and Eliott’s relationship reduced down to that. Two words. Not even a sentence. They’d been together for two years – two years where Lucas had found a family, reconnected with his mother, graduated from high school, started college, and experienced his first love (and at the end, his first heartbreak). Eliott had been there through it all, knew him better than anyone else and now, sitting here a year out, their relationship was only that. The ex.
Lucas sighs and fights back a fresh wave of tears. It’s so stupid, to be here a year later and still crying over Eliott. He thought he’d left that behind months ago. He looks up and wills the tears not to fall. He meets Oliver’s eyes and can tell he’s trying to assess the situation, figure out what Lucas needs, how to help him. For some reason, Lucas feels irritation run through his body.
They’re quiet for a while. Lucas is looking around his empty living room, noting the mess, the tattered couch and chairs, the DVD he hadn’t put away, the wind making the curtains flutter, the light from the lamp casting a sideways glow on the wall. Oliver and his shadows grow large on the wall and make Lucas feel small. He wants to shrink, hide in the darkness they provide. But he knows he has to be honest if he wants his heart to stop feeling like a lead weight in his chest.
“What happened?” Oliver’s voice is soft, too soft. Lucas hadn’t realized the tears had started to roll down his cheeks. He wipes them away quickly with the back of his hand.
“He was at the party. He was kissing someone,” Lucas says and Oliver’s face hardens.
“He was kissing someone,” Oliver repeats and then he stands from the couch and walks towards the window, his back to Lucas. “So that’s what’s bothering you?”
“What?”
“That he was kissing someone else,” Oliver says and he turns around again to look at Lucas. “That’s the thing that’s bothering you, that made you so upset you had to leave the party?”
And yeah, when you put it like that, Lucas knows it doesn’t sound great. Because it shouldn’t bother him that much – Lucas is literally dating someone else. But it was so unsettling to see Eliott with someone who wasn’t him.
“I just wasn’t expecting to see him,” Lucas says lamely.
“Yeah I know,” Oliver says. “But you’re gonna run into him sometimes and this, the way you’re acting? It’s like it’s still fresh.”
It had still been fresh when Oliver and Lucas met. And maybe that’s ridiculous because it had been almost ten months at that point but it had taken Lucas six months to even contemplate looking at other people and another three getting the first few first-kisses-that-weren’t-Eliott out of his system. So when Oliver and he met, it had still felt fresh to Lucas. It was the first time Lucas had felt like maybe he could date someone else.
“It hasn’t been that long,” Lucas whispers because he doesn’t know what else to say, how else to justify his behavior.
“I mean, it’s been a year. That’s a while Lucas.” Oliver’s voice sounds sharper and when Lucas looks up Oliver’s jaw is set tight, his teeth clenched and he’s looking down at his hands.
“I’m sorry,” Lucas says. “I can’t help it.”
Oliver sighs. “You’re acting like he broke up with you last week, Lucas. I mean, I get being a little thrown, but is this going to happen every time you see him? Shouldn’t you be over it by now?”
And that’s not fair, not really. Because this is Eliott they’re talking about and he’s, well he was Lucas’ first love, and it ended abruptly and Lucas had been confused, so confused because he’d stopped imagining a future without Eliott in it, and then suddenly he had to live in one.
“It’s complicated,” Lucas says, because he doesn’t know how else to explain.
Oliver is looking at him then, his eyes sad, and he sighs. “I don’t think it is. I think you’re still in love with him.”
It’s not a question. Lucas still tries to protest.
“With Eliott? I’m not…I mean I can’t…” He’s not convincing.
Oliver shakes his head. “Or at least you haven’t found a way to move on. And that’s okay Lucas, it takes time, but that’s not fair to me.”
Lucas says nothing because he can’t. He wouldn’t know what to say.
Oliver takes a deep breath and looks like he’s choosing his next words carefully. “Lucas, if you wanted to be with me, you would have had your moment to process and moved on. And, as I think we can both tell, that’s not the case.”
Lucas tries to think of something that will turn this conversation around, turn it back to the way they normally talk – gentle and kind. Nice. Lucas can do nice. “But I do want to be with you,” he tries.
“No,” Oliver says gently. “No you don’t.”
They sit in the quiet for a moment and Oliver looks at Lucas and gives him a weak smile.
“You know you never told me why you two broke up,” Oliver says and okay, Lucas was not expecting that.
Lucas thinks that it’s probably because he doesn’t really know himself. “It just sort of happened,” Lucas says. “And by the time I realized it, I was too scared of the answer to ask.”
Oliver nods. “Well, that might be the problem. You’re holding onto it because you want answers.”
And Lucas has never thought of it that way but maybe Oliver is right. He’s quiet, thinking it over.
“I think I should go,” Oliver says and Lucas jumps up.
“No, Oliver, please,” Lucas goes over to him, tries to touch his arm but Oliver flinches away.
“I can’t be with you if you’re in love with someone else,” Oliver says. “That isn’t fair.”
There it is. Those words again. Lucas doesn’t know what to say but he tries anyway.
“Stay, please.”
“I can’t.” Oliver reaches out and gently grasps both sides of Lucas’ face, looking at him intently. “You haven’t denied it, you know, which just makes it feel true. So I’m going to ask you once, just for the record – are you still in love with Eliott?”
Lucas should be able to say no. Say no and Oliver stays and his life goes back to the way it was. Neat and clean and nice. Nice. There’s nothing wrong with nice. Just say no, he’s not still in love with Eliott and it’s over.
But, for some reason, he can’t bring himself to say it.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know,” Oliver repeats and drops his hands from Lucas’ face. “I can’t do this, Lucas.”
Lucas watches as Oliver walks neatly around him and towards the entryway pulling on his coat as he goes.
“Please don’t walk out that door,” Lucas pleads as Oliver reaches it. He’s not sure he can do that again: the silence, the loneliness. He was good at being alone before Eliott. Eliott ruined that for him forever.
Oliver turns suddenly and makes his way over to Lucas leaning in and gently kissing him on the cheek.
“Goodbye Lucas,” he whispers. “I hope you figure it out.” And then he’s gone with a rushed step and a slamming door.
And Lucas is alone again.
––
The next time it happens, the next time Lucas talks to Eliott, is later that night and it’s because Lucas seeks him out. And it’s with help from the vodka he found stashed in the bottom of his closet away from Mika’s greedy hands.
When Oliver leaves, Lucas finds the bottle and crashes to the floor, his back propped up against his bed as the hot tears he’s been trying to hold back for the past few hours begin to fall.
He brings the bottle to his lips and takes a long drink, reveling in the burning feeling as the alcohol hits his throat. He takes two more swigs in quick succession, and then sits there, bottle close to his side.
Stupid Oliver, he thinks. With his stupid ideas about Lucas, and his deciding to break up with Lucas because of Eliott. And oh, perfect stupid Eliott with his dumb messy hair and ink-stained hands and his perfect face and that stupid boy who had walked out of his life and left a gaping hole in his chest and hadn’t told him why…
The warmth from the alcohol has started making its way up Lucas’ legs and into his thoughts, making everything fuzzy and more distant. Normally things hurt less here. And yet, Lucas thinks, bringing a hand up to his chest and feeling for the heart that should be beating there, the dull ache that has been there since Eliott left (that hasn’t gone away, just become something he learned to live with) is more pronounced now that it has a name.
Love. Lucas had managed to convince himself it was gone, that part of his life was over, but Oliver knew better. His stupid heart is still in love with Eliott. Even thinking his name makes his heart beat faster. Eliott. Lucas takes another drink.
Somewhere in the haze of alcohol and the darkness setting over the city, Lucas has a thought. Just a thought at first, but his alcohol-soaked brain latches onto it (though Lucas can’t be sure it’s not actually his heart calling the shots) and won’t let go.
He stumbles out into the hallway, pulling on his shoes and his jacket, grabbing a scarf to be safe. He laughs when he realizes it’s the scarf. Yann had eventually stopped asking for it back and Eliott had always said it looked good on him. Lucas has been so blind really. It’s been a year and he even kept the fucking scarf because Eliott said once that Lucas looked good in it.
But when he throws open the apartment door into the night, it’s snowing heavily, too heavily for a February night. Lucas can’t help but laugh a little bitterly. It had been snowing that day last January too, right after the start of the new term, when he and Eliott decided to part ways, call it quits, break up. He’d told himself it was a mutual decision but he’d never been able to look at snow quite the same way again.
It’s just, he’s never really understood why he and Eliott broke up. It had been a hard year, sure, and Lucas’ first semester at university had been stressful for them both. It was a lot, it was always a lot, but Lucas never thought it’d be too much.
It’s just that Eliott had kept looking at him like he was waiting for something to snap and Eliott had been good for so long and Lucas had been looking for a sign that something was going wrong, but there wasn’t anything to point to, nothing to name.
Christmas and New Year’s had been good, sure, but after the forced magic of the holidays, things felt flat. They fought here and there, just bickering and apologizing and doing it all over again. And then Eliott had looked at him one day as they sat on his couch having not spoken in the two hours they had been sitting there and he’d said the words Lucas had been dreading: I think we should break up.
Lucas hadn’t had the strength to fight it. He’d simply said okay and looked out the window, watching the snow swirl in the streets and feeling a new chill invade his body.
Thirteen months and four days. That’s how long it’s been since they broke up. He keeps saying a year because he knows that people don’t care for specifics. But Lucas does and he knows. He always knows.
The harsh slap of the cold sobers Lucas up just enough to realize that he can’t go out in this, can’t stumble drunk around Paris in the middle of the night just to go to him. So he heads back inside and does the next best thing. Laying in the middle of his bedroom, scarf still wrapped around his neck, Lucas presses a button and puts the phone to his ear.
It rings and for a minute Lucas thinks he won’t pick up. Or it’s too late and he’s asleep and then Lucas is regretting this decision and almost ends the call. But then he hears his voice.
“Lucas,” Eliott says. And then: “Do you know what time it is?”
Lucas does not. It assumes he’s late but the vodka had blurred the hours together.
“Why are you calling?” Eliott asks.
“I needed to talk to you,” Lucas says, because it’s true. It’s been true since last January. It’s been true for thirteen months.
Eliott is silent on the other end of the line and then Lucas hears him sigh. “You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” Lucas says, because he needs to be honest for once. It’s time to start being honest. “But I do need to talk to you.” And then it all comes out in a rush because Lucas can’t hold it in any longer. “I need to know why we broke up. Why you broke up with me, why you left. I thought I was doing better and then I saw you and it all came back. And I need to know what went wrong. What I did wrong.”
It’s quiet on the line and all Lucas can hear is the sound of Eliott’s breathing. Finally Eliott speaks and his voice sounds thin and ragged.
“Oh Lucas,” Eliott says, “it’s not like that.” A pause. “I think we need to talk. But not tonight. And not over the phone.”
“Okay.” Lucas feels a little nauseous.
“I’ll text you in the morning,” Eliott says. And then: “Goodnight, Lucas.”
Lucas can barely breathe and by the time he can bring himself to speak the line is already dead. But he whispers it anyway: “Goodnight, Eliott.”
And somehow he falls asleep like that – curled up on the floor, wrapped in his scarf, clutching his phone to his chest, with the promise of seeing Eliott again enough to let his fatigue overtake him.
If Nott had died what would they have even done? There wouldn’t even be a body to bury, she’d just be ash sinking into a river of lava. Irretrievable.
And they couldn’t really go back the way they came--not immediately anyway. They blew everything they had on getting past the giants to begin with.
Plus, I’m pretty sure they'd all be committed to seeing their quest through. After all, Yeza would be no less captured, and I can’t fathom any of the Mighty Nein being able to turn their back on that. They’re not going to give up on helping one of their own, even in death.
But Jester’s been sending Yeza messages to reassure him, she’s confirmed that his wife is alive and on her way. Would Jester curl up in the hut at night, sobbing, trying to decide what to say? Would she still try to send words of encouragement? ‘We’re on our way, help is coming.’ Would she lie? ‘Your wife loves you, she can’t wait to see you again.’ Would she try to tell the truth? ‘We’re still coming, we’re on our way. But... Nott--I mean Veth, you knew her as Veth, right, you don’t--there were giants, and lava--’ Would she try to send another message after running out of words? Maybe sit with Fjord and Caduceus as they helped her count the words she’d need to break another person’s heart?
(Would Jester have another crisis of faith? What good are these diamonds if they can’t bring back her friend--her partner in mystery-solving and mayhem?)
How would Fjord and Cad have reacted? Fjord, who was out of spells, too far to help, who’s just realized how upside-down his understanding of Nott has been. Caduceus, who wouldn’t even have the chance to cast Spare the Dying before her body disappeared before his eyes. Caduceus, who has watched his entire family walk away, with no idea of where they’ve gone or how they’re doing, now realizing he has a second family that can leave him too.
Or Yasha, who is so sure she’s cursed, so sure that everyone she loves will die and leave her. Who’s only just maybe (maybe) started to believe she can open up her heart to these loud, chaotic fools. Who has so many flowers to bring her wife. Flowers Nott gave her.
Or Beau? Beau, who was ready to run in at the first sight of her friend, but not fast enough to reach her before she was nothing but dust. And that’s just one more way she’s not enough.
Or Caleb? Oh, Caleb... He’s killed another part of his family. He knew it would happen; knows he’s doomed them all. He’s watched another part of his life go up in flames. (’Don’t run,’ she’d said. And he’d listened. If only he hadn’t listened...)
And Yeza...can you even imagine? Thinking your wife has been dead for months--nearly a year, maybe more--and then getting this glimmer of hope that maybe she’s alive. A glimmer of hope you’ve tried to smother and muffle, because it must be some cruel joke. But then this voice in your head--soft, and joyful, exactly like someone your wife would love--tells you that she’s alive, that she misses you. And against your better judgment you believe it. Because you’re desperate, and at the end, and you have to. Have to believe that even if you don’t make it, that there’s still someone who will be there for Luke. And then days or weeks later, you look up and see the most colorful collection of people you’ve ever met. But they all look at you like their hearts have been torn out. Like they’re about to tear yours out too. And you know, you know...
