50: Us

**Tristan**

I gazed out of the car window in silence as a single thought rang through my head. *Why did he bring me here?*

“You’re upset with me?” Lucien questioned shattering the silence between the both of us.

“No… just confused… why are we here?”

Lucien scoffed before hooking his finger into the handle of the door and tugging at it. He tilted his head and motioned for me to follow him as he exited the car. I did, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of uncertainty coursing through every fibre of my being.

He dug into his pocket and retrieved from them a pair of keys but stopped just a few steps away from the gate. He bent over, picked up a rock from the ground and inspected it for a moment. I watched him carefully, engrossed in the nostalgic and yet pained expression on his face. He rolled it between his fingers once more before inhaling sharply and tossing the rock far off into the distance. It disappeared into the pine forest, and I doubted that even he could find it if he decided to go looking for it again.

“Was that something significant to you?” I asked.

“It was, yes. But I don’t think it has a place here anymore.” He said before walking to the rusted gate and unlocking it. It creaked as he pushed it forward and he held it open and motioned for me to pass him.

The grass on either side of the path towards the front door was badly overgrown and weeds invaded his garden. He’d really neglected this place.

Once we reached the front doors he bent down again, this time, tugging at a loose wooden plank of the patio. Underneath it, he pulled out a key and dangled it in the air with a smile.

“Sorry in advance. I didn’t really clean up before leaving.” He said softly before unlocking the front door and pushing it open.

I was greeted by overwhelming darkness and the scent of dust hung thickly in the air. For a moment, I searched for the light switch and once I’d found it, I was left disappointed. The lights here didn’t work.

I began to realise that here, Lucien was different. He was quiet and tense. It only further begged me to question why in the world he’d bring me here.

As I gazed around, I couldn’t help but think of how the house reminded me of him. It was cold inside, lonely, neglected and dark. It was a beautiful home, yes, but it looked so desolate and sad. I took another step, instinctively wanting to be closer to Lucien, but as my foot touched the ground, I heard a loud *crunch*. I looked down and moved my foot, only to see broken glass all over the floor. But that wasn’t all. Broken wooden frames were scattered everywhere, and beneath them, crumpled up photographs. I grabbed at the nearest crumpled photograph and uncrumpled it slowly. I froze immediately when my eyes caught sight of the two people within the picture. A much younger version of Lucien smiled next to Jasmine who had a sour look on her face. I suppose I should have felt some sort of jealousy seeing the two of them so close. But I couldn’t muster up any sense of jealousy as I gazed at this photograph. Instead, a sense of relief flooded through me, as if my first assumption of Lucien’s love for my sister had been confirmed. I saw nothing but two people who seemed more like siblings than lovers.

I set the photograph down and then gazed at the rest curiously. “I suppose you didn’t leave here with the best mindset.”

Lucien didn’t answer at all. Instead, he just stood in the passage, staring into one of the rooms.

“Lucien?” I called out concerned. Still, he did not reply. Instead, he began entering the room he was staring into. And so, I stood up and followed him. I waited at the doorpost and watched as he picked up a withered rose from the floor. And that’s when I saw it. Tears. They streamed down his face and glistened in the dim light peaking in through the curtains.

“You asked why I brought you here…” He uttered suddenly. My eyes were fixated on that pained expression on his face and how genuine it was.

“At first, I thought you were angry for what I’d done to your sister-” he then crumbled the withered rose between his fingers and the pieces fell to the ground, “-so I was going to bring you here and try to talk it out with you… because here was where it all began. I thought that if you came here, you’d somehow understand. But now that I’ve learned that you weren’t ignoring me because you were mad at me, but because you were afraid… I suppose I’ve still brought you here to understand me. I want to show you as much of me as I can because I want us to do this right, Tristan.”

I was caught off-guard when he said my name. In fact, I was caught off-guard with all of this- his tears, his pain, even the words he said. It was scary when he was this serious, because he seemed so *real*. He had real emotions, real pain, real scars. But I was just as completely obsessed with this *realness* of his, as I was completely terrified by it. It made me *feel* real too. And the next thing I did, was probably the realest thing I’d done in a while, and by real, I meant emotionally real. Genuine care and concern. Real.

It was done by instinct. My feet moved on their own until I was standing right in front of him, and his tear covered face. I reached up, never even giving my actions a second thought and touched at his cheeks. Immediately he grabbed at my hands and held them still against his face. Our eyes were set on each other in a locked gaze, both of us daring the other to move.

Lucien was always the first to make his move, and so this time, I thought it should be mine, I *wanted* it to be mine. I moved my hands, freeing them from his and began wiping the tears from his cheeks. He didn’t move, instead, his golden eyes watched me curiously. He was uncertain about my next move. I suppose I’d become unpredictable, and he was new to it. In all honesty, I was new to it too.

Again, he was even more attractive up close and the feeling of his smooth skin under my fingers was like stroking pure silk. Again, he grabbed my hand, but this time, he pressed it tighter against his cheek and leaned into it.

“You are so strange, Tristan.” He whispered softly before reaching out for me and pulling me closer towards him. I could feel his heart beating erratically against his chest. The fast thudding was soft and comforting and once again, *real*. He smelled good and familiar, and he felt warm. Slowly I began wrapping my arms around him and pulling him closer to me. My body wanted this. I wanted this. And as I stood there, wrapped up in his arms, I couldn’t help but catch sight of the torn curtains again. I wanted to fix this place up. Perhaps some part of me hoped that by repairing and refurbishing this place, I’d some how help ease his pain. It was hypocritical of course. I knew I had my own pain and scars to deal with, but still. I didn’t want Lucien to hurt. He’d promised me that he’d never hurt me. This was the least I could do for him. Then, perhaps with time, I’d be able to open up more to him, and to let him in just like he was doing now.

“Have you ever thought about… fixing this place up?” I asked softly.

Lucien gently let me go and stared down at me confused. “Fixing this place up? Hell, I *hate* this place.”

“From what I’ve observed in others, it’s better to face the past than to just let it sit there and rot at the back of your mind. So why don’t you try clearing up this place? Remove all of the memories you don’t want. I’m not saying you should move back in here… I’m just saying that you should clear it out.”

I then wrapped my hands around his neck before saying, “And I’ll help you.”

He stayed silent for a moment before quickly glancing around the room. “It’ll be a lot of work. I mean… look at this place.”

“But I think it will be good for you.” And I was dead serious. He was holding onto so much from his past, from *their* past. He needed to move on from this part of his life, just like Jasmine had moved on in hers.

Lucien chuckled and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re changing too. Maybe you’re right. Maybe fixing up this house could be good for me… for us.”

*Us.* Something about the way he said it made me feel warm and connected.

“So,” I began, “when do we start?”