Flash

.5

Lafayette was a bit... embarrassed on how he'd acted a few nights back. So far, he hasn't gotten out of bed, and he'd only been living off of coffee, toast, and mac-n-cheese since then. He eventually gets off the couch, still dazed in his own icy storm of thoughts. A whirlwind surrounded him, made him feel twisted and dizzy inside. What was he thinking? He'd probably hurt Herc doing that. Did he still love Hercules? Did he know what he wanted to happen next?

Well? Yes. He really, really did. But he knew what he'd done was unforgivable, and he knew that even if Herc wanted to take him back, he couldn't let him. He'd cheated. It didn't matter that John had manipulated him. That's an end-all for relationships, no matter what. As much as he did love Hercules, he wouldn't allow him to fall in love with himself again. It was a suicide mission, and he didn't want to have to watch Hercules' heart bleed out onto the floor again. He didn't want to watch his beautiful, warm eyes turn cold, a spike in the floaty, frozen slide they'd been on for a while. Laf felt like things might actually get better between them, now, and he didn't want to ruin any progress they were making. So far, though, Laf wasn't getting better, not by his standards. Herc didn't look like he was either. At least he didn't have anything to drink in the past few days. Well, that was a step forward. Not a huge one, but a step. It was progress.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder what Herc had been doing. Had he been doing the same? Had he been drinking to avoid thinking? What was Hercules doing?

Why did he still love him?

Lafayette sighs, shuffling his feet towards his room gently. The male wanted a drink. But, he knew he needed to get off the alcohol. He changes, takes a shower, and then heads out the door. Still seeming pretty tired, dazed, with glossy eyes, he goes to the only cafe in town that he'd ever felt comfortable in. It was surprisingly crowded today, and he blinks as he walks in. It was a bit too crowded, and he ends up having to sit at the bar, instead of his usual table. He orders a shot of espresso, staring up at the ceiling and letting himself think and dream. It was nice out today, yet Lafayette had chosen a long sleeve and pants.

Why? Why did he still love Hercules? Was it actually his love? Or was he just strung up on the way his face looked. The way he'd most literally run out the door. The way he'd disappeared for years, and the way Laf didn't want to let go now that the tailor was back in his life. Lafayette felt a pang in his chest, like someone had stabbed him through the heart with ice.

Laf felt cold, and not cold in the sense of, 'I need to put a jacket on'. Cold. His heart was freezing, feeling like he'd just watched a loved one bleed out, die in his arms. Overwhelming. Terrifying. Self-loathing. Hurting. Straining. Annoying. Gut-wrenching. He felt torn apart, and he could feel the pressure build up like a dam.

Why did he love Hercules?

Lafayette gets his coffee, after a few minutes of dazing into space. He drinks slowly, nothing like his usual self.The barista asks him what happened, but he acts like nothing was wrong. What was he supposed to say? There was nothing that would truly make sense. The male places the glass down, shaking his head, and looking up at the woman with a soft, sad, trembling smile. He felt cold. Snow was covering his eyesight, as his thoughts blurred the line between his mentality and the real world. He felt so, so cold. He wanted a drink. Alcohol. He wanted to float down a river that couldn't freeze, he wanted something to keep him warm. Herc could do that, yes, but Hercules could also turn him into a cold stone, tear apart every piece of his being until there was nothing left of him. He could do that on his own. He wanted warmth.

"Another, please." He says, holding up the glass and staring up at the ceiling once again. He couldn't go back to square one. He was a terrifying ice-slide of emotions, yes, but he wouldn't allow himself to completely be torn apart. Hercules knew he didn't mean what happened. Laf knew that he knew that. But he'd never forgive himself, if he let Hercules or himself hold on. It wasn't a possibility, not an available option. Not written in the cards.

He was cold, like ice. Shaking, but still, looking like he could break at any second. An avalanche waiting to happen. He doesn't notice when the barista places a second coffee down, too lost in his own swirling storm of icy emotions, covering every inch of his mind-space and tearing him apart. Drip by drip, slowly coursing over the icicles of his mind, growing ever slowly. A terrible tundra, icy winds howling in his ear. No tears would cascade down his face, despite how terribly freezing and hurt he felt. Nothing would come out of it, anyway. He would just embarrass himself.

Why do you love him?

He zones into the ceiling, trying to focus his attention back into the real world. The ceiling was covered in cracking drywall, worn down from the amount of time it'd been up. It was pretty, too, crackled designs layered over the smooth wood. Lafayette could only make one comparison. It was like ice. Cold, beautiful, and about to break.