An hour later, I’m on my couch in my favorite heart print pyjamas, eating a massive bowl of ice cream WITH sprinkles and sipping wine that Lukas insisted on buying. It’s far too expensive for me to properly appreciate, but Lukas seems happy with it. Julian is sitting cross legged on the floor, his brow furrowed as he tries to process everything I’ve just told him about Aunt Daisy, Solem, and the mysterious necromancer. It’s clear he doesn’t have any new information to offer, and he’s been sitting there for what feels like forever, looking utterly defeated. Meanwhile, Roxy has appointed Julian her personal entertainment. She keeps trotting over to him with a neon ball Lukas picked up earlier, dropping it in his lap, and staring at him expectantly until he gives in and throws it. This would be fine, except Roxy has all the grace of a wrecking ball and nearly flattened Princess the first time Julian hurled the ball too close to her perch on the couch. Now Princess is firmly stationed behind me, her tail flicking as she glares at Julian. She’s staying well outside Roxy’s ‘danger zone’ and is shooting Julian icy looks that seem to say, ‘One wrong move, buddy.’ She warmed up to Lukas almost immediately, which seems unfair since Roxy is HIS dog, but nope. Julian is apparently taking the blame for that incident. I glance at Julian, sitting there with the ball in his lap and an expression that screams he’s completely out of his depth. I know I should probably say something to comfort him, but what am I supposed to do? Hug him? Give him a pep talk? I’m not sure we’ve ever had that kind of sibling relationship. Besides, I’m shoveling ice cream into my mouth like it’s a life preserver, and I’m pretty sure he’s picked up on the fact that I’m not exactly feeling confident about our plan to deal with this whole mess.
Eventually, Julian sighs heavily and pushes himself to his feet, the ball still in his hand.
“Well…” He says, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Today has sucked… Apart from the part where we’re actually getting along. So I’m going to go meet Ali early for dinner because, frankly, I can’t think of anything better than that.” He announces. I blink, caught off guard by how sweet that was. Adorable. I totally want to meet Ali now. Before I can say anything, Julian steps closer and, to my surprise, gives me an awkward one armed hug. Okay, so maybe we DO hug. Who knew?
“Let me know if you need anything.” He says gruffly, like he’s embarrassed by the display of affection. Then he waves goodbye to Lukas, mutters something about Roxy being exhausting, and lets himself out. As the door clicks shut, Lukas drops down onto the couch beside me. He’s shed his jacket, undone his tie, and rolled up his sleeves, looking more relaxed than he has all day.
“Today could have gone worse.” He says, draping his arm casually and not at all subtly over my shoulders. I can’t even be bothered objecting.
“Could have been better too.” I grumble, scooping up another way too big spoonful of ice cream. Lukas raises an eyebrow at my unrepentant attitude, then nods in agreement.
“Fair point.” He grabs his glass of wine off the coffee table and then grabs his own spoon.
“Hand me some of that.” He says, because apparently the spoon he’s holding isn’t for show.
“Hey, get your own!” I protest, clutching the bowl of sugary goodness closer to me.
“You’re right.” He smirks and pulls the bowl slightly toward him anyway, taking a giant bite.
“But sharing is caring, and I’m making an effort to be a caring boyfriend.” He says with a smile. I roll my eyes.
“Fake boyfriend.” I remind him.
“Details.” Lukas says with a shrug, leaning back against the couch like he’s won this round. I sigh, deciding it’s not worth fighting over ice cream, and lean against him instead. After all, if I’m going to spiral about my aunt possibly working with a necromancer, I might as well do it with good wine, good ice cream, and someone whose life is just as screwed as mine, if not more.
The problem with having ice cream for dinner is that it does absolutely nothing to soak up the wine. By the time I’m officially ‘done’ with dessert, I’m also very much tipsy. Okay, fine, drunk. The good news is I’m already in my pyjamas, safely at home, and there’s no one around to judge me for my questionable choices. Well, no one except Lukas, but I think he’s right there with me. We’ve been watching movies, though I’ve barely paid attention to the last one. Lukas is holding it together better than I am, but he’s definitely not sober either. I know because his clinginess has only gotten worse since we left my parents’ house. Somehow, I’ve ended up sitting on the couch with Lukas sprawled out behind me. I’m between his legs, leaning back into him, and he’s practically cocooned me with his arms around my waist. His head is resting on my shoulder, and his grip is firm, like I’m a lifeline he has no intention of letting go. It’s not particularly romantic or inappropriate or anything. He’s just there. It’s… Comforting, if I’m honest. The kind of physical closeness I didn’t even know I needed. But, because I’m drunk and have absolutely no filter right now, I can’t just enjoy it in peace. Nope, I have to ask.
“You’re clingy as hell. Why is that?” I blurt out. Oops, that was probably too blunt. The words tumble out bluntly, even by my standards. I half expect Lukas to let go or get defensive, but he just sighs softly and tightens his hold on me, pressing his chest against my back. I guess he’s been listening to my drunken thoughts for a while now. He can hardly be surprised by the question.
“Because it’s nice.” He says simply.
“Being able to actually touch you sometimes is one of the nicest experiences I’ve had in a long time.” He says sincerely. I blink, surprised by how honest that answer is. It’s not what I expected. What does that even mean? Is he hitting on me, or is it something deeper?
“People don’t touch me much.” He continues, his voice quiet but steady.
“At least not people I know. I don’t think I’ve ever just… Sat and held someone like this.” His arms around me feel a little tighter, like he’s emphasizing his point.
“Well… I guess I get that.” I say after a moment, still processing.
“But it’s not like you never hug anyone. What about your family? You were close with them… Until recently, anyway.” I say awkwardly. Way to go Clare. Lukas lets out a heavy sigh, and for a second, I feel him slump against me.
“Nope.” He says flatly.
“Even before all this, I didn’t really get hugs. Or hand holding. Or any kind of physical affection, really. My mother… She was too worried I’d learn something I shouldn’t if she let me get close. And now? I’m pretty sure it wasn’t about that. She just didn’t want me to figure out how little she actually cares about me.” His voice cracks slightly at the end, and then he buries his face in my shoulder. Oh… Well, that’s… Devastating. I don’t know what to say to that. What could I say? That sucks? You deserve better? None of it feels adequate. So instead of speaking, I reach up and rest my hand on one of his arms, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Well, your family’s missing out.” I say eventually.
“You give good hugs.” I say, and it’s not even a lie. Lukas sits up slightly at that, and I can feel the grin forming on his face before I even turn to look at him.
“Oh? Are you flirting with me, Clare?” His tone is a little too enthusiastic for my liking, and I immediately regret saying anything.
“No.” I say firmly.
“Really? Because it kinda feels like you might be.” He continues.
“Nope.” I reply, shaking my head for emphasis.
“Not flirting. I don’t flirt. It’s not my fault everything I say is smooth as hell.” I announce. Lukas laughs, loud, genuine, and so contagious that I find myself laughing too, even though I’m thoroughly embarrassed.
“Well, alright then. If you insist. He says with a smirk. I yawn, the combination of sugar, wine, and exhaustion finally catching up with me. I shift slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the couch suddenly feels lumpy and uninviting. My bed is only a few steps away, and for a brief moment, I consider retreating to it. Then I remember that Lukas has been sleeping on this same couch for days now, and I feel a pang of guilt. His back must be killing him by now. Hmm. It takes me a moment to decide if I'm drunk enough to do what I have in mind.