The Wedge to my Luke (closed-see description)

[Lucien DeChain]

{OOC: A project to introduce the PNPC that I have planned. No, I don't have enough Charisma right now, but this will go on for a while, so you don't have to worry. I will post an individual section at a time. WARNING: SUDDEN AND ABRUPT FLASHBACKS. Also constant references to FEED. Enjoy.}

Far away, in a distant apartment building...

Marcus sat on the couch, picking at the remaining stuffing in the arm beside him. Absent mindedly he looked over to the door, that door that hadn't opened since Luc left. To think he had been so excited, so eager, that he stayed up all night that night, packing everything he needed, for when Luc came for him...

That was three months ago.

His bag was still packed, over in the corner. Occasionally, at first, he had looked through it to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything. Every morning, he had opened up the small bag, took out what he needed for the day, and put it back after using it. Every night he did the same.

Some nights he cried. Some nights, he didn't do anything. About a month ago, he started to ration his food more carefully. If not for Luc's stockpiling of canned tuna, I'd be dead, Marcus thought idly. And, it was true. But at the same time, this was slowly killing him. He knew it, too.

The last of the cotton was ejected from the couch's arm, and the soft fabric was so deflated that it hung over the side, like a popped balloon. Marcus sighed, laying down, his head resting against the hard wood base of the arm.

“It doesn't even matter. He's not coming back.” Marcus stated, voice flat. Tears started to fall down his round cheeks, as the young man silently whimpered. It was hard to imagine, being reduced to this. My father wouldn't have given this two seconds.

[Lucien DeChain]

”Luc! Oh, God, Luc!” Marcus ran towards the bed, a horrified expression on his face. To think, he might have caused this...

And there he was, looking up from the bed, white sheets covering his form. Tubes and needles sticking out of his body, a mess of wires and cords hooked up to machines. There was no recognition in those eyes, no comprehension. He looked... Glazed over.

Marcus looked down at the boy. At his friend. “Lucien. Luc, it's me, Marcus. Come on, man, you have to remember!”

Still nothing. The doctor had told him earlier, that the overdose had caused his brain a massive output of hormones. That didn't mean anything to Marcus. Hell, I wouldn't have even passed Biology if not for him.

A twisted expression came over his face, then. Starting to tear up, he softly spoke to his friend. “Luc, why did you do this? Why the fuck did you do this to yourself?!” His words broke into sobbing, and he rested his head on the side rail of the hospital bed.

A hand was placed on his shoulder. A large hand, with tough skin. It wasn't often his father would do anything gentle. But, now was the time, and here was the place.

[Lucien DeChain]

To pass the time in the small apartment, Marcus did many things. He had a tennis ball, and he threw it up against the wall, catching it in his hand. He had read every book they had owned, at least twice, including his old University textbooks. Hell, I could have gotten my degree by now...

Even though every thought in his mind told him that Lucien wasn't coming back for him, he still waited. Everyday, he waited.

Somedays people came by to see if there was anything worth scavenging. It was for this reason that Marcus kept the blinds closed over, and the door locked with a chain. Even if they did notice him inside, there was a few extra countermeasures in their way before they could get in. And then, there was Marcus himself. Who, normally, would have been the most energetic person in the world, and eager to defend what was his with his life.

But, lately.

Lately, there was nothing to do but wait.

He ran his hand through his hair, and cursed himself for being so obedient. For being so trusting, to believe that his friend was coming back for him.

Getting dark. Time to go brush my teeth.

[Lucien DeChain]

People had come to visit, yeah. Teachers, classmates, concerned parents. There was bunches of flowers overflowing on the small side table.

But three people stayed by his side. Marcus, and Lucien's parents. And Marcus is the only one who spoke, before Lucien woke up.

And he did. After uncounted hours, Lucien woke up. Opening his eyes, he saw the white ceiling. And he knew what he had done. What he didn't know, was why he felt... sober.

There were restraints on his wrists and ankles. He was in a hospital bed. Everything was so surreal. The IV in his arm itched uncontrollably, and the mere sensation of it, it was so... There.

“Hello?” He croaked, afraid to look around.

And immediately, movement. Lucien could hear, see, feel. Faces. In focus, above him. Three faces.

Oh God.

Tears began to roll down his cheeks, and he hated them. Why did he hate the tears? People were talking to him, but all he could think of was the tears, and the sensation they made as they contacted the skin on his swollen face.

He looked back up at the people, noticing once again that he was drawn suddenly to very specific things. His mother's teeth needed brushing. His father's hands and arms were dusty, like he had just gotten off work. Marcus's face...

Marcus? Why is he here? What is...

”Get AWAY from me!” He shouted suddenly. All three figures paused, and backed away, with shocked looks on their face. He heard. Two seats rattle. A door opening and closing. Sobs.

He hated it all.

[Lucien DeChain]

”I can't even believe you'd say something like that.”

Marcus blinked. ”Why the fuck not? You're sick, Lucien.” He responded, in an aggressive, but caring voice.

”I don't know what you're talking about. I feel fine.”

Really? Was there no convincing him?

Marcus noticed the people coming in and out of the library, and tried to keep the tone hushed. But he was still fervent.

”Look man, I've known you for a while now. And you know how many times I've seen you smile? Or frown? OR DO ANYTHING AT ALL BESIDES STARE BLANKLY?!” Whisper shouting was quite a feat.

At that, Lucien took pause for a moment, his eyes widening ever so slightly.

”Of course I smile. And frown. I'm very dynamic...” He said, not entirely convincingly, looking around at the gathering number of stares and whispers around them.

”I need to get going, study period's almost over.”

”Oh no you fucking don't!” Marcus exclaimed as he pinned the boy up against the wall with both his hands. Looking him dead in the eye.

”Luc. What the fuck is wrong with you? I'm worried, man. Worried you're gonna hurt yourself.” His tone changed to soft, but his gaze never wavered.

The large boy was obviously fearful at this point. But Marcus couldn't read his emotions at all. It's almost like he doesn't even see the world...

The whispers around them. They grew.

“Hey, isn't that the freaking quarterback? What's he doing with fatty Lucien?”

“Oh God, are they going to make out?”

“What's he going to do?”

Lucien looked around nervously for a few seconds, and then smacked Marcus' arm down. He ran.

But Marcus was faster. Down the halls they raced, and Marcus raced after and flew through the air, tackling the boy, even if Lucien had 100 pounds on him. They fell to the ground, Lucien flat on his face, and Marcus on his back.

”Alright then, if this is how it's gotta be, you're coming with me and we're getting you some fucking help!”

But Lucien wouldn't have any of that. And from the ground, nose bloody from the fall, he began shaking. And he screamed. Loud.

”GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!”

Lucien lifted himself and Marcus off the ground, bucked him off, and ran. Marcus was still in a state of shock from the outburst, and eventually was left standing there, surrounded by people. And their whispers.

Marcus walked the other way.

[Lucien DeChain]

There was a knock at the door.

There was often sounds, often people rattled the door to try and raid the contents of the small apartment. Sometimes they screamed, stabbed, smashed, fought amongst themselves... But no one ever knocked on the door.

At first, Marcus thought he was going insane. That no one would possibly knock on his door. No, there was no way that someone just--

Knock, knock, knock.

"Ah..." He let out a little gasp, a reflection of his inward trepidation and unknowing. A small part of him just wanted to be left here, with his couch, and his canned food. With no knocks on the door.

But that was only a small part. And there was, indeed, a knock on the door.

And then, it took all of Marcus' strength to get up from that couch. Like every muscle in his body, every fiber, was suddenly trying to ache him back down to the waiting. His mind tried desperately to convince himself that he was crazy. But, before long, his wobbly leg took a step forward, and his atrophied body carefully sauntered towards the door.

A shaky hand reached forward, but stopped inches from the door's lock. The hand wouldn't budge. It was too scared.

Stay away from the unknown. Stay away from me for a while, unknown...

The hand moved. The lock clicked. The hand moved to the doorknob. The knob turned. The man took a breath. The door opened a crack.

And then it swung open.

[Lucien DeChain]

Eyes open.

Was there a change? Was it safe?

Lucien sat up in bed, in this strange, new world. It was clearer, and therefore full of more danger. He turned his head before he noticed the flexing of certain neck muscles to allow for such a turn. His bones ached with every beat of his heart. But he could see. He could hear. He could feel.

Everything.

None of this was safe. Not the IV needles sticking out of his arms, not the bedgown they had obviously forced him into. Not the fact that he was in a hospital bed. Or alone.

None of this was safe.

His voice croaked as he tried to speak. Swallowing saliva to coat his parched throat, he groaned out a soft, but resounding, ”Hello?”

Thirty eight seconds later, a doctor walked in to the room. Lucien could tell he was a doctor. He didn't know how. It was the subtle way he walked. Or the shine of his shoes. Or the coffee breath, but white teeth. The doctor sat down in a chair beside his bed.

“Hello, Lucien. Do you know where you are?” The doctor spoke in a soft voice, looking directly at him.

After a few moments that were filled with wide eyes, flashing from detail to painstaking detail, Lucien finally mustered up the strength to respond.

”I am on Earth, in the United States of America, in Colorado, presumably in Denver, in a Hospital. In the intensive care unit. In a bed.” He blurted out, with a frustrated tone of voice. But why?

The doctor's eyes did not waver. “Yes, Lucien. All of those things are correct. Do you know why you are in a bed, in the intensive care unit, in a hospital?”

Lucien paused for a moment. His brain was all over the place, he couldn't concentrate on anything... Nothing was filed correctly. Wait, why was that thought there?

“I... hurt myself, didn't I?” The voice was shaky. Uncertain. Doubtful. Nervous.

“Yes, Lucien. You took a drastic overdose of your prescribed medication. This caused your body to go into shock. You started to seize, and fell on the floor. Your mother found you and called the hospital. We got you here as soon as possible, while trying to keep your heart beating. We flushed your body of the medication, and kept you here until you recovered.”

Another long pause. ”Which means... I am not currently on medication?”

This time, a pause from the doctor, as they both kept their gaze steady on each other's eyes. Lucien didn't dare move a muscle otherwise, as it was still not safe in this new world.

“That is correct. Your body had to be flushed of all traces of the SSRI drug you were taking, and will have to be for the next few weeks to repair your liver.”

And then, Lucien started crying. And he felt the salty tears sting his face, leaving streaks of absence. And he hated them.

The doctor asked why he was crying. If he was uncomfortable. If his body ached, or he was hungry or thirsty.

Lucien didn't know how to respond. He hadn't cried in so long, it seemed so alien to him. But then, maybe he had and he didn't know it. That delirious dream?

More tears. The doctor moved to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder. A germy, untrimmed, calloused, doctor hand. And Lucien looked up to the doctor.

”I'm awake.”

And I've been asleep for years, now.

[Lucien DeChain]

”I said, I've decided not to take medication anymore.”

His parents blinked in unison. It was silent for a moment. Lucien tried to find the look on their faces, to see what their reaction was.

His mother was the first to break the silence. “But... You've been fine for years before this, honey. It's just been a bad year...” She didn't seem entirely convinced himself.

And, just as Lucien was going to open his mouth, his father spoke up. “He hasn't been fine. Have you, Luc?”

Lucien shook his head, trying to keep his gaze in line with his father's, and not towards the dusty carpet.

”I think that a lot of the issues that caused this, namely the depression, the isolation, the weight gain,” His voice shook. ”They're all side effects of the medication I've been taking. And, it can't be healthy for my body to be taking drugs for years at a time, all through adolescence... The bottom line is, I need to figure out how to live with my disorder, and not mask it with drugs.”

His father leaned forward in the wooden chair. The one he had built by hand. “You see what you just said there, Luc? You need to learn how to live.” He turned to Lucien's mother. “Now, isn't that a worthy goal for our son?”

His mother's gaze was on the floor. A few tears rolled down her cheeks before she spoke up, raising her eyes again. “We'll try it out. And if it's too much for you, or you have another episode,” It was her turn for shaking. “Then, we'll reconsider our options.”

His father smiled, wrapping one of his large burly arms around Lucien's mother. She wiped away the still-remaining tears, and leaned in closer to him.

“I have every confidence in you, Lucien.” His father smiled at him. And, it was sincere.

[Lucien DeChain]

A long time ago, Marcus had decided something for himself.

In fact, it was shortly after those days when Lucien was hospitalized.

What he had decided was this:

”I'm going to keep that kid healthy, no matter the cost.”

Which is why the man celebrated the day that Lucien had been without medication for three months...

”Hey, Luc, I got something for ya.” He said, walking up to Lucien's locker, where he was standing.

Lucien turned around, a bewildered look on his face. From only three months, Lucien was looking a lot less plump. The skin on his face was hanging slightly, and though the effort of his skin's elasticity was valiant, in some places, he looked like a dog with hanging chops.

”You mean to say that you have something for me.” Lucien corrected.

”Right, right. So, here ya go!” He said cheerfully, as he held up a plate, holding a small piece of vanilla cake and a spoon.

Lucien looked slightly nauseous as the smell of the sugary frosting hit his nostrils. He tried to back up slightly. ”Well, thank you for that. But really, you didn't have to...”

Marcus looked to him with a puzzled look. ”I wanted to, man. Do you know what day it is?”

Mechanically, Lucien responded. ”Wednesday, April fifth. Two thousand and six. Fifteen days after the Spring equinox, making today the Qingming Festival in China. Year of the Dog. First Quarter waxing crescent moon.”

Marcus blinked. A few times.

”No... I mean yes, but... You've been off pills for three months, man!”

”Oh, well why didn't you say so?” Lucien chuckled as he took the plate, and put a small sliver onto the spoon. Sliding it into his mouth, he chewed and swallowed, and then handed the plate back to Marcus. ”Wow, that's very sweet, isn't it? That's all I needed, thanks.”

Marcus took the plate back and smiled sideways at his friend.

”Hey, what are friends for, right?”

”You know, I have never understood that particular colloquialism.”

[Lucien DeChain]

The door opened. The light shone through. And, from the glare of the sun, low in the sky, a silhouette stood in front of the door. Marcus couldn't see from the light, it shadowed the figure, but somehow he knew. He knew it was Luc.

He shifted, and raised his hand to block the light, to maybe see his face...

...But there was no one there.

Marcus blinked. Was he seeing things again?

”Hello...?”

No response.

And, Marcus broke.

Falling to his knees, the door still wide open, he stared ahead, as if in a daze. There was still no one there. No one to knock on the door. No one to take him away from this awful place. No one to save him.

”Please, please, I've got nothing else to give.” He pleaded. Marcus himself wasn't sure if he was talking to anyone in particular. Maybe to Lucien, maybe to some sort of God. But, he pleaded.

”I can't take this,” He whimpered as he fell forward onto his hands and knees, tears streaming down his face.

”No more. Please, no more. I need him. To come back and get me.”

“YOU PROMISED, LUC!” He screamed.

The scream echoed for a few seconds, and Marcus felt truly alone in that moment.

”How did you know it was me?”

[Lucien DeChain]

Lucien smiled.

He hadn't smiled for a while. Not this way. But, he smiled. And what he was smiling about was no mystery. At least, not to Marcus.

The names were called in alphabetical order. Which meant Lucien was near the top, and Marcus near the end. Still, the boys managed to be able to maintain eye contact as they waited in line behind the podium.

Then...

“Lucien Henry DeChain.” The voice over the loudspeaker intoned.

Lucien walked through the makeshift arches, looking quite different from most of his years at High School. He was significantly slimmer, about 180 pounds, and only slightly chubby. His face was full of colour, and though there were a few stretch marks on his skin, they were masked well by the tuxedo he was wearing. Black straight tie (because bowties didn't suit him, apparently), white dress shirt, black vest and tux jacket. Shined black round toe shoes. A fancy new haircut, and a giant grin on his face.

And damn if he didn't look dapper as fuck.

The auditorium cheered as he crossed the stage to shake a hand, take a scroll of paper, and look at a camera.

Then, he sat and cheered for the rest of his peers. But he was really just there for one.

“Marcus Antony Samhaign.”

And Marcus appeared on the stage, looking as he always did, with a smile on his face. Of course, the full suit didn't hurt. As he, too, crossed the stage, the auditorium cheered loudly, some people yelling their support at him.

And then he sat down right next to Lucien.

”We did it, man.” He whispered as they clapped for another person.

Lucien grinned and looked over to him. ”Yes, we did.”

”I couldn't have done it without you.”

Lucien kept his eyes on Marcus for a few moments, silent for a time.

And then, he turned back to cheer on more classmates.

But, under his breath, and the roar of the crowd, Lucien might have been heard saying, ”I feel the same way.”

[Lucien DeChain]

Marcus was alone.

Sitting on the couch. Nothing to do but wait

Bag packed, door locked. Waiting.

-Day 24-

Canned tuna. Canned beans. Multivitamin. Take with water. This was the breakfast of those who might have been champions. If only he was doing something besides waiting.

This was like every other day. Exactly the same, save for one event.

This was the day that Marcus broke down.

Sitting on the couch, he felt a surge of feeling come over him. It welled up from his stomach, a lump of feeling that swelled and expanded to encompass his whole being. It all started with one thought.

I'm in love with him.

Tears burst forth, with them came sobs, and Marcus let them flow. After a while, he stopped trying to quiet himself, and just cried openly. For him, this was about feeling all the things he had repressed for so long, that had been pent up for years. The idea of being in love with Lucien was a twofold revelation, as Marcus had never felt this way about anyone before, let alone a guy. But, it was the most true thing he had ever thought.

He was in love with Lucien. And he cried. Not because of shame in himself, not because of any thought that he shouldn't be. He cried because he waited. And continued to wait.

For so long.

[Lucien DeChain]

Marcus looked up. And there, where no one had been, someone was. Like he had appeared out of nowhere.

”Lucien...” He whispered, eyes full of wonder.

”Yes, it's me. How did you know? I was cloaked.” The voice rang out.

Marcus shakily stood up, paused for a moment, and reached his hand out to touch the boy's arm.

”Marcus, why are you touching me?” Lucien said, with a little annoyance, and a little worry in his voice.

Marcus stayed still, feeling the boy's shoulder.

”I... I had to make sure you... were real.” Came the whisper from the shaking man.

Lucien gave him a confused look, and then smiled a little.

”Yes, I'm real. I'm sorry it took me so long... to come back for you.”

Lucien stepped forward, and pulled Marcus into a hug. Marcus immediately noticed a weight difference, and just how dense Lucien felt... The hug felt good. Warm. Comforting. Loving. He stayed silent, just enjoying the embrace. He knew in his heart it wasn't the time to confess his feelings, but that didn't mean he had to go on denying them.

”I've... I've come back for you, Wedge.”

/thread