e i g h t
"Lupus non timet canem latrantem." - Uknown

UNWELCOME VISITOR

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When Lucian Harding woke up Saturday morning, he knew it would not be a good day. One might ask how he knew this, yet the answer was quite simple: his father.

Briar Harding was not a man of good days; he was a man of business days. Lucien had learned this the hard way. He'd never been offered warm, comforting hugs when things did not go his way, when he was sad. No, Lucien was taught a lesson-lessons that taught him how to manipulate and how to get ahead in any situation.

His father was a business man at heart; he'd raised his son the same way.

A shame then, Lucien thought, that he had no desires in becoming anything like his father.

Briar would be disappointed when Lucien broke the news to him, though not because he'd let him go so easily. But, because then he'd know Lucien's heart would never fully be in it like himself.

Lucien was not a businessman at heart; he never would be.

So, as he walked down the empty corridors, held held high, dressed perfectly-no visible flaw in sight-he built his facade. His walls went back up; Lucien became someone else entirely.

His mask was in place, and suddenly, Lucien Harding was his father's son once again.

His dress shoes clicked quietly as he strolled the hallways. Soon, he'd be with his father. Soon, he'd have to endure it. Soon, Lucien would be miserable-more so than he already was.

When he reached the Headmaster's office, he knew the person residing inside would not be Headmaster Clyde, but Briar Harding. Pushing down on the cool, metal handle, Lucien stepped into the devil's liar.

Inside, Briar Harding was seated in the large chair behind the pristine wooden desk in the center of the room, shoulders back, chin jutted outwards, and cold grin in place. He regarded his son as if he were merely a client, with feigned smiles and greetings.

"Son," Briar greeted. "How lovely it is to see you."

"How lovely," Lucien repeated, with just the perfect amount of sarcasm his father would admire.

His stare hardened, yet the edges of his lips turned upwards. "I do hope all is well at the Academy."

"Everything is marvelous," he lied with a convincing smile.

Briar seemed content. He didn't like trouble. "Very well," he said. "Very well indeed. I'll dawdle no longer, Lucien. I've come to chat."

Lucien pretended to be surprised, arching a single eyebrow. "Oh? About what, father?"

"About the future of course," he replied. "In a few months, you'll officially be an adult."

Lucien withheld the urge to grit his teeth; it wouldn't go unnoticed. "I will," he simply responded.

"We need to speak of the business and the topic you've so willingly put off."

Lucien clenched his fists at his side slightly, fingernails pushing into the palm of his hand.

Briar continued speaking. "After you finish the school year with perfect marks, you'll work at my side at the company-" Lucien braced himself for the words to come-"and you'll continue courting Ms. Emily Terron."

There it was, the dreaded issue. His father didn't understand why Lucien was so hesitant to court her. The answer, of course, was because Lucien did not want to court her. And, the answer to that question was simply because he was gay.

He felt nothing for Emily Terron. He'd tried over the summer, imagined himself loving her. She was pretty, he'd admit, with gold-red hair and little freckles everywhere. Though, to put it in simple terms, Lucien could not change who he was, and he could not imagine himself loving her in a romantic way.

"I can't."

Lucien regretted the words as soon as they fell from his mouth. He mentally cursed. He should've been smarter about it, should've simply agreed then come up with a plan later.

If he was his father's son, then that's what he'd do-manipulate his way out.

Briar appeared displeased. That much was obvious if one took in his appearance-the turn of his lips, the furrow of his eyebrows, and look of complete confusion. "You can, and you will."

Lucien couldn't respond. If he did, he knew the words that left his mouth would not please his father.

His father stood from his seat, stalking closer towards Lucien. "I do not understand. It is the obvious move, Lucien. Her father owns our rival company. Our linking will only further the business. What is so difficult for you to understand about this?"

Lucien felt his mask dissipate. "I can't," he repeated.

Briar frowned. "My word is final," he said. "You will marry her, and you will further this business or so help me God, I will-"

His mask fell. "Beat me? Toss me to the streets?" Lucien let out a cold laugh. "Go ahead, father."

"Lucien," his father scolded, eyes narrowing. "You have no choice in this matter, you-"

"You don't scare me anymore," he lied. "And you can't force me to do anything. I will not marry her."

Briar was yelling now. "Why the hell not? Is she not pretty enough? Is she not smart enough?" His father couldn't fathom the idea that none of those things mattered. "Is it because she isn't lady-like enough? There are classes-"

Lucien let out a wry laugh. His father finally guessed it, yet, he didn't understand. Not one bit.

"What?" he demanded, then took another step forward at Lucien's silence. "Why on earth are you laughing, boy?"

"It's funny."

His father was seething. Lucien imagined his blood was boiling underneath his pale skin. "Answer me," he bellowed. "Answer me."

"You won't like it," Lucien said. "You'll never forgive me."

"Answer me," he repeated. "No more games, Lucien. No more tricks. I want answers." He paused, taking another step closer. "Now."

"I warned you," Lucien said. "I-"

"Oh, for the love of God, spit it out!"

"I don't feel for her in that way. I don't feel for women in that way." He saw his father's stance shift in that second-there was no returning from this. "I feel for men in that way."

And, just like that, Lucien was slapped across the face, his head snapping back with the force of his open-handed blow. His eyes watered on their own accord, the sting of the red welt on his face painful as he staggered back, head turned to the side.

When Lucien turned to face his father once again, he was spat on. "You are not my son. You are not a man. You are a monster, and you will marry that girl."

"I won't."

"You will," Briar practically snarled. "You will change."

I won't.

"You disgust me," he spat. "No son of mine will act in this way."

Lucien watched as he marched past him, his face the perfect picture of disgusted. Well, he thought idly, that was one way to break the ice. He felt like laughing.

"I will send a driver to pick you up for Christmas break. You are not to leave the campus until then, I will make sure of it. We will discuss this further then. Hopefully by then you will have realized your sins."

"If I am sinning, what are you, father?" Lucien inquired. "Who are you to tell me this? Are you God, father? Do you deem what is wrong and what is right?"

"I will be back," was his response. "Until then, Headmaster Clyde will be watching you more closely. Do not step out of line, Lucien. You do not want to play this game with me."

"My life is not a game we are playing in."

"Then do not turn it into one," he sneered. "I will see you at the manor. You have been warned, so act accordingly."

The door slammed shut, and Lucien was left alone in the Headmaster's office.

---

Henry eyed the art project held in his right hand as he walked down the empty corridor towards Roy's room. It was a canvas, filled with dark tones of paint, and, if he was being honest, he had no clue what it was. A black blob? An endless pit of nothingness?

He wondered if he'd made it to symbolize something, or if he had made it then symbolized it. There was a big difference.

Shaking those thoughts from his head, Henry stopped short in front of the door he knew was Roy's room only because he'd asked around. He stood in the hallway, unwilling to simply knock on it so that he could hand him the project and leave. He frowned. Why was he such a coward?

"You can knock."

Henry whirled to face Roy, who stood at the end of the hallway with a coy smile on his face, head tilted slightly to the side.

"How long do you think you would've stood there, staring at the door?"

Henry stuck out his hand holding the painting. "I have your art project."

Roy stepped past him, lifting his eyebrows as he opened the door to his room and stepped inside. "Oh?"

Henry let his hand drop.

"Well, are you gonna come in or not, lover boy?"

He thought back to Elijah's warnings. He shouldn't go in, really, yet Henry was a curious person by nature. He stepped inside the room, the door shutting behind him with a soft click.

"I have your art-"

"Project?" Roy grinned. "So you've said."

Henry rolled his eyes, then eyed the painting once again with a frown. "What even is it anyways?"

Roy chuckled. "Surely you know what a painting is?"

"I'm not daft," Henry drawled, then pointed at the dried black paint. "I meant, what is the painting of?"

"It's a black circle."

"That's it?" Henry's lips parted open. "You're kidding, right?"

"Does it have to be anything else?" Roy questioned, smiling at him. Henry thought that his smile belonged to one of a wolf. "The different shades of black, blues so dark one might mistake them to be black." He paused, glancing up at Henry. "What else is it other than a black circle?"

"Why do I feel like you're testing me?"

"Am I?"

Henry sighed, rather loudly. "Why are you so difficult?"

Roy frowned playfully, placing his hand over his heart in mock pain. "Me?Difficult? How could you ever say such a thing?"

Henry shrugged. "It's not hard."

Roy simply laughed. "Red, you sure are something."

"Am I?" Henry mocked.

He smiled again. "You are." Roy sat on the edge of his bed. "And thanks for dropping it off. How did it go with Louis?"

"Fine," Henry said truthfully. He hadn't necessarily embarrassed himself, but he hadn't felt that something good had happened either. Louis has been nice.

Roy arched an eyebrow. "Just fine? He didn't fall head over heels for you?"

Henry choked on a laugh. "No," he said. "He has no reason to."

"On the contrary, actually," he said. "There's quite a variety of reasons."

Henry felt his cheeks flush, his hands grow sweaty, at those words. Was he. . . flirting with him?

"Lover boy," Roy said. "You've got to start acting more confident. You want to woo Louis, right?"

Henry wasn't so sure anymore.

"Let me help you."

Henry's eyes widened. "Help me?"

"Let me help you get Louis to fall for you," he said.

"Uh, I'm okay. Thanks."

"You sure?" Roy questioned. "I can help you."

"I-" Henry paused. Would getting Roy's help be such a terrible thing? He'd helped him back at the art classroom-saved him from embarrassment.

"Well?"

Henry felt his heart in his throat as he responded. "Yes?"

Roy smiled his infamous grin. "Alright," he said. "Meet me this Monday in the library then? After school?"

"I - sure. Monday after school. The library."

Roy took the canvas from Henry, then set it on his bed carelessly before he turned to face him once again with a teasing, lopsided grin. "Care to stay, lover boy?"

Henry's heart skipped a couple beats. "I've got to go actually. Uh, I'll see you later."

"Monday," Roy said with a small, genuine looking smile. "See you then."

Henry practically disappeared from his room in the next second. What the hell had he just gotten himself into?

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an // hi, lucien's father deserves death. that is all. also, hehe henry and roy's relationship is so fun to write. henry is a baby. i love him.

let me know what you think so far!!! love it? hate it? like it??

also, updates might be a bit slower the rest of this week and the next ): i'm sorry.

-Mg