How To Fall From Grace [MxM]

Step 4: Fall back in line

One thing was for certain; Frey was never letting anyone borrow his clothes again.

"I don't know if I should ask for a very good explanation, or if I even want one at all," he said as Luna awkwardly placed his clothes on the table in front of him, right next to his afternoon cup of tea. To make matters worse somehow, she'd folded them into an impressively neat pile.

Luna cleared her throat, gathering up whatever scraps of charm she could before opening her mouth.

"I, uh... Acknowledge they're in a different... Condition than when I borrowed them." She fiddled with a bracelet around her wrist, gaze awkwardly wandering to look at the fountain further away in the sun bathed garden. "But I did bring them back, and I'm sure someone who's good at laundry can restore them."

Frey still stared at the pile of formerly stylish clothes.

"Luna, they're completely drenched in blood."

"I know."

"There's no trace left of their original colours. It's just dried blood."

"I know."

"And someone's supposed to restore them?"

"Maybe with some very strong soap." Luna turned back to him, raising a finger as if she'd had a brilliant idea, and Frey's eye twitched. Unfortunately for everyone around her, whatever mortifying occurrence had caused the wardrobe malfunction was not that hard to believe when it concerned Luna. Her knack of screwing things up was remarkable.

"I don't know how to put this nicely," he said, wishing he could in fact, not be nice at all. "But this is disgusting."

Luna stared at him for a bit, chewing on her lip in thought before opening her mouth again.

"If you're grossed out by the whole blood thing, you should know that it's just my blood. No one else's."

Frey's eyes shifted between the girl and the messy fabrics in disbelief. With the ridiculous amount, and the girl standing there energetic as ever, it was hard to believe. That did not change the fact that they were repulsive though, and for complicated reasons, Luna's blood was the last kind of blood he wanted near him.

"There's also your sickness," he therefore pointed out, causing Luna's shoulders to slouch. "Even if I wasn't thoroughly disgusted by this, why would I risk having the scent of your blood out in the open where it might as well attract the entire supernatural population of this town?"

"Oh!" Luna held up a finger again, and Frey was certain he'd want to slap her soon. "Werewolf trap!"

Frey was indeed right.

"Just get rid of them." He finally dismissed the clothes with a hand wave. "I'll have your father pay for new ones."

Luna's gaze rested on the clothes for a moment while she pursed her lips, then she released a sigh.

"That's fair, I guess."

At first, Frey wanted to be content with that and thus end the conversation, but in a way he'd brought the topic of interest on by himself.

"So... How did it go with your father?" He inspected his cuticles in an attempt to remain nonchalant. "Did you figure things out?"

Luna made a face and began fiddling with her bracelets as usual, and to Frey's great regret, she sat down on the other chair by the garden table.

"In a way, maybe. I guess I understand him a little better now." She looked down at her hands. "At least he's not keeping a bunch of secrets anymore."

Frey's body grew cold, and he slowly dug his nails into his palms.