Standing at the sink in the empty boys’ bathroom, Lucian splashed cold water onto his face, letting the coolness of it bite his skin. He needed something to shake him from the ache gnawing at him, something that might somehow freeze the emotions he knew were slipping through the cracks. As he took a deep breath and gripped the edge of the sink, his hands shook; he couldn’t deny the tremor running through his entire body.
He’d ignored Avey. Walked right past her without so much as a glance. His body shuddered as he thought of her voice calling out to him, soft and vulnerable, the faint hope he’d seen flicker in her eyes. That single moment was branded into his mind.
“What have I done?” he whispered to himself, his voice hoarse as he buried his face in his hands. Every instinct in him had wanted to turn around, to give her at least some reassurance, to tell her he was sorry but he couldn’t.
No, he couldn’t. He knew exactly how this story ended. He knew what it meant to hope and to try and fail endlessly. The ache of rejection, of always being the one who tried harder, had been his only reality before. He’d spent a lifetime yearning for her approval, trying to become the kind of man she might want, only to have his heart shattered time and time again.
Lucian’s hand fell heavily onto the cold tiles of the wall, his knuckles pressing hard against it, and he muttered, “Why… Why do I still care so much?” His voice trembled, barely holding onto composure. He looked up at his reflection, meeting his own haunted eyes. “She never cared about me the same way, did she? She rejected me… hurt me, over and over, and I kept going back. And now? Now I’m the one walking away. I’m the one putting distance between us.”
A quiet sigh left his lips, but he couldn’t hide the pain behind his eyes. I still care… but I can’t keep doing this. His heart, bruised and battered, wasn’t something he could keep offering. I just can’t.
Leaning his back against the cool wall, he closed his eyes, feeling the weight of his unspoken apology to Avey settle over him like a heavy fog. “Forgive me, Avey,” he murmured softly, his voice cracking. “But I don’t think I can love like that anymore… it hurts too much.”
The hollow pain he tried to keep hidden forced its way to the surface, and he felt a warm tear escape, tracing a line down his cheek. A single tear, but it carried the weight of so many unsaid words, of so much heartbreak. He’d loved her deeply, a love so ingrained it felt more like devotion, and yet here he was left with the bitter remnants of a heart he’d tried to rebuild.
“I’m scared…” he whispered to no one, his voice shaking with a vulnerability he usually buried deep. “I don’t want to feel that again. That pain it’s like it’s still there, like I’m still right back in that moment… It took everything in me to try again, and now…” he trailed off, pressing a fist to his chest as if trying to hold himself together.
Maybe I’m just… not made for love, he thought bitterly, his eyes focusing on the faint scars on his wrists, reminders of the dark places he’d been. He couldn’t do that again. He couldn’t go back. For all his strength, for all the walls he’d built around his heart, it took just one memory of her smile, her laughter, to make him question everything. And yet… it had to be this way.
He drew in a shaky breath, closing his eyes to gather whatever fragments of his resolve he could find. Lucian swallowed hard, trying to push down the raw ache clawing at him. Maybe this time, I can finally put her behind me, he thought, but his heart, ever faithful to its wounds, knew better.
Another tear slipped free. “Forgive me, Avey,” he repeated, this time barely a whisper, but it lingered in the air like a confession, a wish, and a farewell all at once.
Lucian could hear Max’s voice, steady and mechanical, cutting through the whirlwind of his thoughts.
“Host, you’re becoming such a disappointment,” Max’s voice rang, with an almost compassionate undercurrent. “It’s alright. Ignore things like these. I’ve given you a second chance to enjoy your life, to grow, not to repeat the same painful mistakes. Love those who give back, who care for you. Love is about trust and care, not a one-sided sacrifice. They didn’t deserve your hurt the first time don’t hand it over so freely again.”
Max’s words stung because of how true they were. They resonated in Lucian’s mind, like a bell tolling over and over, each word embedding itself deeply. He knew Max was right, and yet…
“But Max…” Lucian’s voice broke, barely a whisper, as the familiar ache began to gnaw at him. “I just don’t know how not to feel it. I try to tell myself it’s over. But when I think of her standing there, all alone, that broken look in her eyes…” He paused, his hands clenching tightly, his knuckles turning white. “My chest feels hot, Max, it’s like there’s this tightness that won’t go away. I know she’s probably suffering right now, even though I know I shouldn’t care anymore.”
Max’s voice softened, mechanical but filled with unexpected wisdom. “You can’t expect yourself to stop feeling overnight, Lucian. Love and loyalty aren’t bad things, but they become toxic if poured endlessly into a bottomless well.” Max paused, as if contemplating its own words. “Sometimes, the ones we cared for most deeply are those we have to leave behind. That doesn’t mean you’ll never feel that connection again but to heal, you need to let them go.”
Lucian looked down, fighting the storm raging inside of him. He wanted to be free of this the memories, the guilt, the endless ache that gripped him every time he looked at Avey. But it was so deeply woven into him that he didn’t know where it ended, and he began. “I thought I was strong enough. I thought I’d be fine. But… I don’t know how to move on. The pain, Max… It just keeps building. Sometimes, I wonder if it’s better to keep hurting than to face the emptiness left behind.”
“Pain is comfortable because it’s familiar, Lucian,” Max replied gently. “But comfort doesn’t mean growth. Living a new life means embracing the uncertainty of it and with that, the chance to find happiness you can’t yet imagine. You don’t have to abandon the part of you that cares. But you owe it to yourself to find a future where caring isn’t a punishment.”
Lucian swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat that he didn’t know how to release. “But what if I can’t…? What if I’m never able to stop caring? It’s been the only way I’ve ever known how to be, Max.”
Max’s words were patient, almost soothing. “Then learn. The hardest lesson is to let go of what doesn’t serve you anymore, Lucian. Let the memories remind you, not define you. And let love be a gift, not a weight. You don’t have to be perfect to be deserving of joy.”
Lucian took a shaky breath, letting the words settle. “Alright, Max,” he finally whispered. “I’ll try… I’ll try to let it go.”
For the first time, Lucian felt a small, tentative sense of relief, as if he was taking a step forward, however difficult. The weight he carried might not disappear in a day, but maybe, just maybe, he could start moving toward the life Max envisioned for him a life where he could be free.
—–
