Don't Tell My Brother

Chapter 48 - Ugly Crier

Damien had already set off down the path, forcing Lucas to once again have to jog to catch up. It was too dark to see his face, especially when he wouldn't look at Lucas.

"Damien, wait."

Damien didn't wait. He reached the street corner where he'd parked in seconds, hand on his bike by the time Lucas managed to catch up.

"Damien." He said again, firmer this time. He put his own hand out, putting himself between Damien and the bike. "What're you doing?"

Thankfully, Damien paused at that. Now that he was facing him, Lucas could just make out his expression, half shadow but readable. It was worryingly still. Blank. It made him uneasy. Damien was a liar, a good one, and he knew this face was only another mask. Something was so clearly wrong.

"Get out of my way." He even sounded calm, which was just as unsettling.

"No. You left your helmet inside, and I don't think you should be riding a motorbike when you're like this." Lucas put his hands on his hips, planting his feet in place on the pavement.

"Like what?" Damien asked coolly, leaning back on his heels to survey Lucas. He looked as if he was trying to find a way around him.

"You're upset."

Damien laughed. There wasn't any humour to the sound. "I'm fine, Lucas. Just let me get on the bike."

"I told you, no. You don't have a helmet and you're very obviously shaken. It's not safe."

"Fucking hell, Lucas. I'm fine. Everything's fucking fine. I just want to go, and maybe get a drink, and be left alone."

There it was. A small crack in his calm façade. Lucas hated that he was lying to him, hated even more than Damien wouldn't – or perhaps couldn't – talk to him about it. But he could picture a smoking, mangled motorbike, Damien bleeding and broken in the wreckage. Maybe he was catastrophising, like he often did, but Lucas knew there was no way he was letting Damien onto that bike. Not without a helmet, not when he planned to drink, not when he felt...however he was feeling.

"Everything's not fine. Shouldn't we at least talk about it, I mean—"

"Right, because talking about it went so fucking well. You're a goddamn genius, Lucas." Damien reached up to rub his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. "I told you. I'm fine. Just let me go."

Angry. So, so angry, and even though Lucas knew the anger wasn't directed at him he felt his own temper spark. He just wanted to help. Wanted it so badly, because Damien was hurt, and Lucas felt useless.

"Don't you dare do that." Lucas said softly. "I'm your boyfriend, you've got to let me in. At least a little. I know you're not fine. You have every right to be upset, what happened back there was—"

"No big deal. It doesn't fucking matter."

Stupid, stupid Damien. He didn't have to do this. Lucas couldn't figure out why he was so determined to shut him out. "Stop doing that."

"Fuck's sake, Lucas, just let me go. I'll call, or text, or something." Damien stepped towards him, as if he were about to physically move Lucas out of the way.

And if he was going to be so stubborn, he left Lucas with no choice. Lucas stepped forward too, wrapping his arms around him, burying his face in his chest and holding on tight. It was ridiculous, he knew, and a little childish, but currently it was the only solution his brain was providing. Damien was warm, despite his cold demeanour, and since Lucas didn't have the right words to comfort him he decided he'd try no words at all.