How To Fall From Grace [MxM]

Step 16: Fall into step (pt. 1)

"Frey?" Lucius frowned before glancing in the direction of Noah's room, a pitying smirk forming on his lips. "Apologising? How did it go?"

"Almost," Frey relayed, eyeing the pile of folded clothes in Lucius' arms. "Heading out later?"

"Just a meeting with the council." Lucius' face looked tired. "Still got to look the part."

"Right..." Frey nodded slowly in thought. "... Actually, there's something I've been meaning to ask you, if—"

"Could we take it while I get ready?" Lucius had already walked past him, to Frey's disapproval. "I like to prepare early, and if you want I can do your nails."

"Why don't you have your servants do all this?" Frey gestured at the vanity in Lucius' room, cluttered with makeup, hair accessories, and countless bottles of different sizes and colours. "You already let them close enough to help you with other things."

"They assist me if I need it." Lucius gave him a stern look. "But I like doing this myself. I know how I like it."

Frey understood that much. If he ever allowed someone to prepare him for an event only for them to mess things up he would throw plates at them until he ran out. It would be his tenth birthday all over again.

His eyes fell on a jar containing beige coloured paste on Lucius' desk, and after a moment of consideration he picked it up to inspect it as nonchalantly as possible. It was the same colour as Lucius' skin, without a doubt used to cover the numerous moles on his face in order to keep up his disguise as town chief, and since Lucius had been able to disguise himself for years it had proven to be more than efficient.

"It wouldn't help," Lucius said before Frey could open his mouth. "Not the way you want it to."

Frey's lip curled, and he scoffed before placing it down on the vanity again.

"It works on your moles, doesn't it?"

"Even if it could conceal such a large, discoloured area completely, people already know." Lucius pointed a hairpin in Frey's direction, specifically at his scar. "No one expects Lucia to have moles, so they don't look for them. Even if one would shine through just a little, it's unlikely people would notice."

Frey averted his gaze, brow persistently wrinkled.

"... But any attempt from me to hide it will call even more attention to it."

"It's like holding up a big sign telling people you're ashamed of it, and you know they'd attack that insecurity without a shred of mercy."

Frey thought back to Carrigan, who loved to point it out any opportunity he got. More people being aware of how much it bothered him would, to Frey's reluctant acknowledgement, be devastating.

"That's the problem with beauty," Lucius continued, adding a comforting tone to his voice. "The more you're praised for it, the quicker people will attack when something changes for the worse."

A sinking feeling grabbed hold of Frey. It wasn't fair. He could do his absolute best trying to move on, but others wouldn't forget, and they wouldn't let him either. That damned scar would haunt him for the rest of his life.

"So? Was that what you wanted to ask about?" Lucius raised his eyebrows while pinning his bangs back, seemingly done with the gloomy discussion. "Rare of you to want my advice."

"It's not that." Frey swayed from one foot to the other with a half-hearted shrug. "Not quite, at least."

"Go ahead then."

"Well, you've done a lot of stupid things over the years," Frey began, receiving an expected glare from Lucius. "But you're still the town chief. You keep going against society's expectations, but people still... Like you. You're still in your position despite everything."