Chapter 7 Remnants #3
A small part of her broken Soul yearned for him.
She would never forget Kit—ever. So long as her heart beat in this life, wherever she went after, he would always own a piece of her.
But she couldn’t deny that Lucien had always been there for her, too, in a reserved, quiet way.
Long-sufferingly watching her, waiting for her.
Rin turned her hand in Lucien’s hold, her fingers tangling with his. His breath caught, and she looked up at him. The cafe around them grew even more distant—it was just the two of them, as she said:
"You’ve always been there for me, Lucien. Thank you."
His thumb smoothed over the back of her hand. "I am here as long as you want me."
"I’ll always want you," she said before she realized how it sounded. The softest of blushes darkened her pale, lifeless cheeks.
"Come stay at my apartment," he stressed. "You need to get out of that house."
She wanted to ask why, but bit her tongue—she knew why. She saw Kit everywhere, in everything. He haunted that place.
Maybe every corner of that house was haunted with the remnants of him.
She saw him, head hung low in the dimly lit glow of the kitchen at midnight, when the fridge was cracked open and his head tilted back, sipping on a cold glass of water; lounging on the couch with his phone in his hand, chain of his dog tag between his lips as he stared at nothing, deep in thought.
Maybe it was time to run from the ghosts.
"Okay… I’ll stay with you."
Rin wasn’t surprised to find that Lucien lived in a towering high-rise in downtown Solar City. Opulent marble floors, a balcony overlooking the cityscape, and the pale crystal blue of the ocean glimmering in the distance from the floor-to-ceiling windows.
She leaned over the edge of the balcony, staring out at the brilliant sky.
Golden sunlight of early evening cut across the spread of glass buildings, turning it into a crystal oasis.
Overhead, a few Stars twinkled, the occasional contrails flickering across the sky as ships traveled to other planets.
It made her think of him. Her eyes searched the sky, and it took her a few minutes to realize what she was doing—looking for a shadow that made her feel calm…
The sliding doors to the balcony opened with a soft whoosh as Lucien stepped outside.
"I put your bag in the guest bedroom. The takeout is here—you didn’t eat at the cafe, and I doubt you ate at home before I picked you up, so I will not compromise on this.
You’re eating, Vesperin." His cool voice washed over her, leaving tingling in its wake.
She turned, finding him leaning against the doors to the balcony, green button-up tucked into his black slacks.
After Rin had agreed to stay with Lucien, she hadn’t thought he meant now, but he had.
Rin had gone home to pack an overnight bag, telling Sabine and Talor she was staying with Xara, who had dropped by a few times in the past month with a quietly understanding and remorseful Keir.
Rin understood better now—if she had met her Soulbond, she would want to savor every second with them before it was ripped away.
"Thank you," she murmured dazedly.
His hand twitched by his side, as if he wanted to reach for her. "Come inside."
She followed after him, the balcony doors sliding shut, keeping out the bustling city sounds.
It was quiet inside Lucien’s apartment. The couch was impeccable, dark leather.
Not one mark or wrinkle, like it had never been used.
Low-hanging lights dripped over the kitchen island as Rin leaned against it, watching as Lucien meticulously spooned a healthy portion of white rice and steamed vegetables onto a porcelain dish.
He placed it in front of her, tapping a long finger against the fork resting near her elbow.
He sat on the barstool next to her, a hand braced on the back of hers, watching her intently.
Her eyes flicked to the spot on the table in front of him.
"You’re not eating?" she asked.
Lucien appraised her. "I will once you have finished."
He stayed true to his word, watching as Rin ate as much as she could stomach. It wasn’t much, barely a few spoonfuls of rice, but he didn’t push her for more, merely tugged her plate toward him and reached for her fork.
Her eyes went wide. Was he going to…
Lucien brought the fork she had used up to his mouth, steamed broccoli and carrots speared onto the prongs. She watched him as he ate, trying to focus on him and the quiet air in his apartment, instead of the dread clogging her throat.
The kitchen was sparse, just like the rest of his apartment, like he didn’t stay here long enough to actually live.
What was she doing here?
Lucien fit perfectly with the untouchable dark tones of the kitchen.
The steel lights hanging above their heads gleamed warmly, matching the sleek, black leather couch and massive flatscreen television.
He was impeccable, and she had bags under her eyes and wore an old, faded shirt that didn’t even smell like Kit anymore.
The dog tag hung under the neckline, warm from her body.
She had brought her depressive grief with her, clouding the room and darkening everything it touched. She was so sick of it.
She needed to do something.
It was like she finally understood, after a month wading through sludge, that she could not keep living like this.
She had to continue. If not for her, then for the man sitting by her side, who had held her up when her bones wouldn’t work.
In a soft, secretive way, Lucien had given her a reason to live.
When the sun dipped below the cityscape and the moon took its rightful place in the night sky, Rin and Lucien sat on the leather couch.
It creaked under her, unused to being used.
Lucien’s fingers tapped along his thigh, as if he were unable to sit still.
It made a weak smile threaten her downturned lips.
Lucien flicked the remote, flipping through channels, until he settled on a movie she had never seen.
Rin tugged her feet up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. Her back was stiff, and she eyed the plush, grey throw neatly folded in a basket near the coffee table. Lucien followed her gaze, grabbing it and gently draping it over her lap. Her fingers rubbed against its softness.
"Thank you," Rin said, feeling like she had too much to offer her thanks for—more than just a blanket.
There were only a few inches of space between them, but it seemed like a chasm.
Would you mind, she wanted to ask, if I rest my head on your shoulder? Can you keep me safe? Can you chase away the nightmares?
Lucien’s arm landed on the back of the couch behind her. "You never have to thank me, Vesperin." Behind his glasses, his green eyes darkened.
The singular weight of his attention was too much to bear, so she turned her face to the screen, eyes unfocused. Her lids drooped, the settling weight of the food in her usually empty stomach making her drowsy.
She was so exhausted, she never even knew when she fell asleep.
Lucien held his breath, so afraid to disturb Vesperin as her head fell against his shoulder, nestled in the crook of his arm.
God, he cared so deeply for her. All the years of holding himself away, keeping his distance, it never mattered. It had accomplished nothing except pain.
The soft light of the television flickered over her sleeping face. She needed the rest. He had seen the bruising on her arms, knew the pattern could only be caused by needles. He had seen the report of her bloodwork the other day. Somnocept.
It had already started. Sabine and Talor were experimenting on her again. Kiton had helped Lucien to see the signs, but now he was not here to keep her safe from them, so the responsibility fell to Lucien alone—the weight of it made his shoulders curve inward.
They had been threatening him, too. A week ago, Lucien had found an unmarked envelope slipped under the door to his office.
Inside was a detailed list of the documents he had forged and manipulated for them.
Changing Vesperin’s Stella level, clearing any documentation of Somnocept in her bloodwork report, and the gravest offense:
Aiding in their illegal experimentation on Aetherborns.
In years past, Lucien had been forced to run simple tests on collected samples, supply Sabine and Talor with Vesperin’s data, and compare it to the tests they gave him, from nameless subjects, all of whom eventually disappeared, replaced by new subjects.
Blackfall Industries was killing the Aetherborns. And Lucien still truly didn’t know why they wanted to study them so desperately. Besides being the rarest Stella type…
When Vesperin’s breaths evened out and his arm grew numb from how long she had lain on it, Lucien carefully picked her up, cradling her in his arms as he walked to the guest bedroom.
She smelled like cherries, even though he knew she used Kiton’s body wash, which she had packed away in her small overnight bag, stuffed under a pile of worn shirts.
Lucien wished he could turn back time and make it so Kiton never got on that ship…
Lying her down, he gently tugged the soft, cream comforter over her body, hands stilling against her.
"I will keep you safe, Vesperin," Lucien uttered in the quiet of the room. "I swear it."
Rin’s dreams had been dark and filled with flashing lights. Red and black and specks of white. It made her feel strange, as though, even now, she was wading through the thick fog still clinging to her. A pit was slowly forming in her stomach, curling dread and heavy melancholy.
But after a week of staying with Lucien, her head cleared…