Vatican

Chapter 12

Luka

I frown at how quiet the apartment is as I enter. It was dimly lit and I wondered if he was even here. I was about to call out when he walked from the bedroom, his skin ghostly in the low light. His eyes emotionless. He kneels before me, his head pressed on the floor. Confusion circles me for moments. What has happened here? Was this the same boy I had looked forward to seeing? Where was that grateful smile?

"Good evening my lord," he drones, his voice echoing around me. It would have been adorable if not for his cold voice.

"Get up," was all I could say, still confused at his behaviour. He does, standing slowly as if it strained him, his head bowed. I searched desperately for those beautiful eyes. I tipped his chin up, not liking how cold his skin felt. The eyes that met mine held no warmth making my heart sink. What had happened to this boy? Was it my fault? Was it the withdrawals?

When I could find nothing in his gaze, I sighed, walking to the couch area. I poured myself a drink thinking this day could not get any worse. I drink heavily, letting the alcohol warm my throat. He joins me on the couch, his body stiff. It was alarming at the contrast to how I saw him earlier. Was he afraid of me? Did someone hurt him? I put my arm around his shoulders, determined to heat his body. Were those clothes making him cold? Was he ill?

"Here...drink this, I think you need it more than I do," I mutter. I watch him knock it back quicker than I did and raise an eyebrow. This truly was strange. I didn't peg him as a drinker.

"Thank you, my lord," he mutters, his voice showing no signs of any soreness. I take the glass from him, getting irritated. What was this bullshit? If I had done something wrong, he needed to say something.

"Are you frightened?" I ask quietly, stroking his soft hair. He shakes his head, eyes empty. I hold in a growl. What the fuck? What is his problem? "Something's wrong lapan, tell me," I whisper, pulling him closer. He looks at me a long time, an internal war reflecting in his eyes. He was haunted by them and my heart sank again with pity. What had this boy seen? What had he been through to feel this way? What lowlife destroyed my Mari's spirit?

"I angered you, my lord, I should be punished," he mutters, looking away ashamed. My chest pounded with dismay. So it was my fault. I had done this. He thought I was angry at him?

"It was not you. What happened was not your fault," I say quietly, stroking his cold face, desperate for the warmth to return. This ghost of the boy I knew. He looked tired and older than I remembered. A single tear falls on the cheek that I stroked.

"It is my lord, I wanted to see the floor. I asked Katze to show me," he croaks, emotion breaking through the cold shell. I pull him to my chest, unable to see him upset, especially knowing it was out of fear from me. How was he to be punished? What had he been accustomed to? I felt the drink rippling in my stomach at the thought. I could never raise a hand to this boy, the thought alone terrified me. Where was the dark and dismal Luka Vatican? Reduced to mush by a crying faerie.

I soothed him quietly, stroking his white locks. He cried quietly in my chest, my heart surely pounding to comfort him too. "Hush lapan, your guilt is punishment enough. It was my fault for not establishing the boundaries sooner. It was irresponsible of me," I soothe kissing his wet cheek. He turns to look at me, the liquid eyes giving me more relief than the cold empty ones. He sniffs, playing with my tie. "What did you think of the floor?" I ask, determined to take both of our minds from the stress of today.

He smiles at me shyly. "It was really good. Everything is so shiny! Much like this," he says gesturing around us. I chuckle.

"That's why I became Vatican you know? So I could have shiny things," he giggles at me. "Truly! Ever since I was a babe, I thought, when I grow up I want shiny things," I say, erupting more giggles from him. The sound warms my heart, relief washing over me. He sighs reflecting my relief, nuzzling my chest.