Lucas’ POV
Three days had passed.
Day three in life without Nicholas. I knew I said I wouldn’t message him or try to find him, but him not reaching out to me had me worried.
I sent him a message in the night, one which he did not view, so I planned to go to the academy the next day, not to talk to him, just to see how he was.
The second part of the royal meeting was going to be held first thing in the morning. The 2 a.m. air, with the taste of alcohol, had its way with me. The taste lingered longer than I wanted it to. The room felt larger than I wanted it to. And I wanted his presence more than anything. But I had my priorities, palace before academy.
What I really wanted from Finland was to find how and who was involved in my mother’s death. The council. It wasn’t just a Norwegian thing; I was just more tied to Norwegian politics, but that could only get me so far.
Finland, that was the goal, but I couldn’t keep my mind on that. It kept returning to the man who wouldn’t reply to my texts.
At 6 a.m., I left the couch to take my bath and get ready for the meeting. A different suit, a different look in my eye. They were dull, they always were. The spark in Nicholas’ always compensated for that.
I met Phillip after. We went to the palace with the two other randoms.
The meeting was basically the same as the first. I paid attention to nothing, thought about nothing, looked into nothing. Did nothing pertaining to Finland.
Things moved fast and slow at the same time. One minute felt like forever, then hours flew by like minutes.
I thought about Nicholas. It felt like forever, then I was brought back to the world and time had left me behind.
A mini-break, they said. With no context whatsoever, officials left the inner court. “Forty-five minutes,” the apprentice said.
Different rooms were available during the break: the courtroom itself, a room called the coffee room, and the courtyard. I chose the courtyard. No one else did.
Standing at the edge where flowers had bloomed, I lit a cigarette. Smoking in the Finnish palace, scratching that off my bucket list.
The smoke rose to the sky, and like the day had been, I didn’t know how long I was there. The only reason I thought about how long it had been was because of the presence I felt behind me.
Someone walked in, not in the casual way an official would. Footsteps I was trained to be familiar with. One became two.
“Come with us,” one of the voices said.
“And who are you?” I asked as I turned. Masked men, that was who they were. I stubbed my cigarette and let it fall to the ground.
“That’s not important. We were sent to collect you,” the first said with slow steps. The second followed behind.
“I’m guessing I don’t have a choice.” I scanned the yard, actually letting myself look at my environment for the first time that day, wondering if there was an escape route I hadn’t noticed.
“We can do this calmly.” The first reached for me. I stepped back. His hand went for my side. I ducked.
I dragged my feet under his; he tripped. Almost falling, he used his arm to twist himself back up and landed a hit to my jaw in the process. I stumbled back, then turned to the exit where the other was ready to land a blow. I landed one instead. The second was slow compared to the first, who twisted my hand backward immediately after.
They hauled me out of the courtyard and dragged me through the hallways. Three rights, then two lefts. The walls looked familiar on each side, with no specific distinction. They stopped at a door which looked like the one to the inner court, but wasn’t.
They opened it and took me in. The room looked like a bedroom, but too big to be one. It was more like a library, a boxing ground, and a classroom, with a huge bed at the corner.
The room smelled familiar. Comforting was the better word for it. The two guards released me and walked out of the room. I didn’t bother following.
Nicholas walked into view with a quirky smile on his face.
“With the judo lessons you take, you should be able to handle taking on two opponents, don’t you think?” The sound of his voice was the only reason I didn’t start with voicing my disdain.
Why haven’t you been talking to me?—just on the tip of my tongue. But I didn’t say it. I had him with me then. I had all I’d been wanting.
“I could. I just didn’t want to,” I said.
“You can’t even take me on.” His smirk widened.
“I can,” I said. He walked closer.
“Prove it.”
I threw a lazy punch. His palm met my fist, then he turned it around. With a not-so-light push, my chest was sprawled on the wall, his being the reason why it was so.
“Why are you here?” he whispered as he pressed me to the wall.
“For reasons,” I said.
His hand went between my thighs, up and down. Up and down. Up. Down.
Are you checking for weapons or just touching me?
“What reasons?” His tongue was on my neck. The warmth I needed, but it came too early, too questioning, too questionable.
I wanted to look at his face, talk to him, but instead my dick was pressed to the wall.
“I—ngh.”
“That’s not a reason, Luca.”
“M-mph, stop,” I said, almost in a whisper. His hand left my thigh. His lips left my neck. He gave me space to turn, but we were still indefinitely close.
His face hovered above mine, and I said, “You’re so handsome,” even though it had nothing to do with what he asked.
“Now that’s not why you’re here, is it?” Just take that, please? This shouldn’t have been hard. He was touching me, so he should have eased up.
“No,” I said, then turned it into a kiss. “I missed you,” I added.
“I missed you too,” he said before letting my lips go. “But how are you here?”
“The meeting. I’m here as the representative.”
“I see.”
He took me to the couch and asked me to sit. I did. He had an intercom in his room.
His room. I was in his room.
He rolled the dial to call someone. They picked up.
“I have a hostage,” he said.
Silence.
“It’s who you think it is.”
Silence.
“He’s going to be dead in a few minutes.”
Silence.
“You know what to do.”
Silence.
“Good call.”
He dropped the phone back down, then sat beside me.
“You should probably go back to the meeting.” He reached for my hand.
“I should.” He held my hand in his.
“Can I see you tonight?” I asked.
“No.” He took his other hand and caressed the side of my face. “Not tonight.”
“Tomorrow then?”
“I can try,” he said, then his hand left my face. “You’ll see me soon enough, but you need to leave now.”
He called in the people that brought me to his room, and they took me back. Two lefts, then three rights, and I was back in the courtyard. They left the way they came, and I found my way back into the meeting.
The room was tense. I walked in, in the middle of a discussion. Nobody comes in after the King. Well, I’ll be damned.
My day couldn’t be worse. I woke up for the third morning without knowing what to expect from Nicholas, came to a meeting I couldn’t listen to a word in, then saw Nicholas just to be used as bait for whatever he was baiting for.
I was such an idiot for telling him I missed him. I had a real reason to shut him out. Getting soft? No. I was turning into a different person.
I didn’t really explain or excuse myself for interrupting. I just walked to where Phillip sat like it was the norm.
The inner court was divided into two stands. It looked like supporting and opposing sides. The right had the Emperor, King, and the rest of Finland’s officials who came. The left had Phillip and the officials we came with.
They resumed their meeting without any comment on my entrance. Everyone forgot my presence with time—everyone but the one man who looked familiar from the first meeting.
The Baron’s eyes were plastered on me until I looked at him directly. Then he turned to his subordinate to swap places.
I intimidate people, but not that much. And especially not in the mood Nicholas had me in.
The meeting proceeded with the theatrics from the previous one. The Emperor acting like a dictator, Phillip laughing with him, the King adding absolutely nothing to the direction of his country. Nobles had more influence than the King himself.
What was Finland even about? Meeting after meeting, it was still the same things they said, things they’d still outwardly declare. But something big was going on. Lurking, but not obvious enough to pick up.
The meeting came to an end with time. Whatever change or deal they made made no difference to me.
The day was practically over. Night came in no time; so did the next day, and the day after. Another meeting was scheduled, but I didn’t go. I wouldn’t focus on anything with Nicholas on my mind anyway.
He said he’d try to come. He didn’t.
Then more days passed. More days with the silence of my home and the taste of alcohol.
I still sent him messages, when I was sober or drunk. Apologizing for what I didn’t know I did and begging for what I didn’t know I wanted.
He used to send messages every morning. He used to ask me about myself. He used to make me talk to him. He used to stay by my side even when I didn’t. He did everything.
He’s stopped.
One week became two. Days stretched with no meaning.
I held everything together for one moment. I was good—not drinking, not constantly thinking about things I couldn’t fix, not alone. Now I’m left with the imagery of how he sat beside me when I drank.
Another week went by. My beard started growing out. I wasn’t able to step out of my condo. I probably smelled like shit.
You did this to yourself.
I tossed the can I had in hand into the dustbin, which was full. It landed on the floor. I usually kept a little alcohol in the kitchen or fridge, but my main collection was under the bed and in the bathroom. I was getting used to waking up there, with my phone in hand, hoping to see a reply from him.
Three weeks of my life flew by without meaning. Three weeks I spent in my condo. Alone.
I saw him in the palace. I told him I wanted to see him. I left messages for him everyday. So why? Why is he not here?
Three weeks of my life gone because I couldn’t stop drinking. Because I couldn’t try to get to him physically. Because I was afraid he’d tell me to leave.
I sent another one of my daily messages.
L: I really want you with me now.
Then I closed my eyes again, and when I opened them, I saw a reply.
N: I can’t.
And that was all.
It took me two hours to think up a reply. I needed to sound cool. Different from the pile of apologizing and begging messages I’d sent for three weeks.
L: Come.
I just needed to match his energy. I just needed to be more him.
N: Why?
Because I’m breaking down without you.
But this obviously wasn’t about me.
L: Do this for me.
N: You’re making it hard for me to say no right now.
L: I know. So come.
N: I will.
And instead of a smile forming on my face, tears rolled down my cheek. I didn’t know if I was happy or sad. Victory. He was coming, and that was all I wanted.
I got up and went to wash my face. I looked at myself in the mirror. I needed to change. I needed to look less like texts. Composed. He doesn’t like needy.
The next thing I did was shave, clean the condo, get the alcoholic smell out, clean myself off, then wait. Wait for him.
When the door’s beep came through, my chest constricted—not in the butterflies-in-my-stomach way. It kind of hurt.
You can do this, I coached myself.
He stepped in. I stood in the doorway. I shouldn’t have been standing in the doorway. Would composed Lucas wait?
His hair shined—the blonde I missed so much, right in front of me. The eyes I missed were on me again.
“Hey,” he said.
“H–i,” it came out more ragged, more stressed than I wanted. I hadn’t talked in so long.
He walked a few steps closer, then asked, “How are you?”
I cleared my throat. “I’m alright. How are you?”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not,” he said, still a few feet away from me and for some reason, I couldn’t close the gap. I couldn’t walk over to him. I couldn’t trust him. I couldn’t trust me.
“Can you hug me?” I managed to ask in a whisper. I shouldn’t have been saying that. I don’t know what I should have been saying. All I know is that he closed the distance and wrapped his arms around me.
Tears rolled down my cheeks. I didn’t want them to. I was done. I wanted it to stop. Everything needed to stop.
He shouldn’t have seen me like that. I wasn’t helping. He’d leave again. I needed to stop before he left again—but I couldn’t.
And I couldn’t help but apologize for it. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Please don’t say that,” he said, then patted my hair. I missed his touch so much. I missed his warmth so much.
“Don’t—” I couldn’t even get my words out with my weeping. “Leave.”
“I’m here with you,” he said, still holding me in his arms. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He held me that way for what felt like hours and kept reassuring me. Till I stopped crying. Till I pulled myself away from him. Then he sat me down and got me some water.
I drank it, dropped the cup on the table, then waited. Waited for him to say something. But he didn’t. He stood above me, brooding.
Maybe a change of topic and we could both move on. “You got taller.”
“Why didn’t you try to find me?”
“I didn’t think you wanted to see me.”
“All I needed was to see you.”
He held my palm in his hand, then went down on one knee. My eyes were a little above his.
“I was wrong for not coming here. I was wrong for not replying to your messages. I can’t promise I won’t do it again, but I will fold the moment I see you.”
“I’m sorry that I made you go through that. I’m here with you now.” He held my hand tighter.
My hand in his. I wouldn’t have wanted it any different.
ns216.73.216.141da2
and then Add to home screen.