Chapter Seventeen
Preston is woken up by the same voice as yesterday, the same routine that he needed to get out of. He keeps telling himself it will be soon, Mitch said it would be soon – but the walls seem to be getting smaller, and the shit they were giving him was making everything so loud and Preston so aware. Click, click, click. The pills are on his plate, two white capsules staring him dead the face, the man dressed in white is giving him them, trying to pull Preston out of his bed. He wants to wear his own clothes, Preston want to be himself. He wants to go home. This prison, its enclosing him in. Preston needed to be at home, Lachlan and Mitch are waiting, they need him. He needs to get out.
Preston does as he is told, he doesn't want the prick-of-a guard to bust his ass again, but he needs to leave today. Maybe there is a door Preston can quickly squeeze through – maybe an exit he can disguise himself to go through. No way can Preston see that woman today, all she chats is bullshit. Preston loves Ruby. He would do anything for Ruby, she doesn't know shit. They call him his dad, they all do, he can feel them whispering his name. But Preston knows he is not. He is Preston, why can't they see that? There is nothing wrong, he didn't do anything wrong.
Now Preston's got to wait. The hours drag long and he concentrates on getting out of there. Click, tap, click, tap, click, tap, "checkmate!" It all goes on in a blur, but he doesn't care, once Preston is out he won't have to take them anymore. Preston feels sick, the pills they give him make him sick, what are they trying to prove? Preston won't have to wear these ugly clothes and walk around not knowing anyone. Preston can go home. Preston can go home to Mitch and Lachlan – hell, even Jerome. Preston can show them that he is okay, that he doesn't need help, that he did what he did for a good reason.
Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock. Preston knows Mitch is coming in today, the woman told him. Preston knows that this could be his chance of getting out of there, this could be his way out. At the moment he can't really see the clock on the wall, its all blurred, Preston's hands are in focus, his white bracelet wrapped around his arm. Preston wants to pull it off, rip it off, shove it in the faces of those in there who feed him bullshit. Breathe, Mitch will be here soon. He will take Preston home.
He would never let him down.
They tell Preston he's here, they bring him through the double white doors. His brother is sitting impatiently in the green chairs, foot tapping so loud it almost hurts. Preston walks forward, slow, he doesn't feel like walking, not until he gets out of there. Mitch brings Preston into a crushing hug, patting his back as he pulls him apart. Preston doesn't move, he just watches. When movements are too fast Preston can almost see nothing and Mitch's face is the only thing in focus. He smiles, like he pities Preston, he doesn't need to have pity. There's nothing wrong with him. A mumble comes out of his mouth and he guess Mitch wants to sit down because he's already sitting by the table. Preston takes a seat, eyes wandering for the opportunity to run.
"How you doing?" Mitch asked, trying to catch his eyes but Preston won't let him. Preston won't let him see what they have done to him. He doesn't answer, he just shrugs, Preston is not entirely sure himself, he just knows he can't be here. That Mitch has to take him home. That he is fine, just one blip doesn't make him crazy, why do they think he is crazy?
He carries on talking anyway, Preston know its what the nurses told him to do. "How's the med's?" He looks at Preston dearly, concern in his eyes just like Lachlan's the day before. Why are they concerned? Why are they looking at him like he is going to break? Preston is fine.
"Can you take me with you? Can you get me out of here?" Preston asks him, desperate for him to say yes because all eyes were on him. Everyones eyes are on Preston – they want him to get better from something he doesn't have. Why Preston? He's never done anything bad, never hurt anyone, never done something that questions his sanity, have you?
"Wait what?" Mitch bites his lip, Preston knows what he's thinking. He knows what they are all thinking. Just like his father. Well he's not like his father. They don't know shit. Mitch moves closer, he rests his hands on Preston's shoulder, he tries to look away because the room is starting to spin and Mitch's voice is getting louder. "Preston, they want to help you, you get out after tomorrow – you'll get the right treatment and you'll be better." Better from what? What was wrong with him?
"I shouldn't be here. I should be at home. They keep giving me these pills, I don't need pills." Preston can tell he is whispering, he knows because Mitch is trying to hear everything he says. He is getting quieter and the room is getting louder. Click, tap, click, tap, click, tap - "checkmate!" "Lachlan- he just got it wrong. You – you know me, you know I wasn't hurting Ruby, I love Ruby." Preston has said this so many times and no one understands. Preston signed those papers, but he did it for them. He always does it for them.
Pity. Again. Stop with the fucking pity. Preston doesn't need it. "I know. I know, but this will help you. They know what they are doing, man. You just gotta stick it till after tomorrow. Then you can go home, see Lachlan, see Ruby." It all seems so simple coming from his mouth, but it isn't. Where is Lachlan? Lachlan would help him get out? Wouldn't he?
"Do you think I'm crazy?" Please say no. Please fucking agree with me, Preston wants him to tell him he is not alone with all of this. Preston looks around, they are watching him – they are always watching him. He wants to leave, he wants his clothes – Preston doesn't feel safe in this yellow shirt, he doesn't feel like himself.
"Preston, you kidnapped Lachlan's kid." Mitch muttered, Preston knows he feels guilty – he can see it in his eyes. These pills, they make Preston see clearly, they make him want to puke but he can see the way Mitch's eyes flickered with the same pity they all have been giving him.
"I love Ruby, I was taking her to Orlando. I just- I just, I don't need to be here, Mitch." He pleads with his eyes, Preston knows he's fucked. He can tell, he can sense that Mitch is going to make him stay. All of them would.
"Just let them help you." Mitch speaks softly, Preston wants to thank him – he wants to shout at him, but he is just so tired. His limbs feel shaky, they aren't the same, they are trying to change him. Why does he have to change? Is he so shit that he needs to change? What about Lachlan, does he want him to change? Is Preston not good enough for him. Wait – that's stupid, obviously he's not good enough for him. But fuck it.
Preston stands up, he doesn't want anymore pity and Mitch wasn't going to help him leave. Preston knows his brother, but not this side. He's looking at Preston like he used to at their dad, he's speaking like Preston would to him, Mitch is giving Preston the same treatment that would be used to talk to his father. You are not him. Why do they think he is?
"Preston?" He asks, trying to speak to him more. But Preston can't take it. He is just so, so tired. He wants to go home, he wants to sleep in the bed he shares with Lachlan, he wants to see his family and just go as normal. Preston is normal, he doesn't need shitty pills. He has to find another way. Stick it out? How can he stick it out if they are feeding him pills that he doesn't even need?
"I'm tired." Preston mumbles, just as he did with Lachlan and Jerome. Preston only realized later that Lachlan might had been crying; but then again, how can he know what's real when they are dosing him up with shit he doesn't need? Preston walks back to his room, head looking at his feet because he can't yet block out the click of doors, keys, trays...pills. He slides his head against the wall, breathing in and out, he skims his head against the plaster, breathe, skim, breathe, skim. They are watching him, but soon they won't. Preston gets out in one day, he gets out and he won't have to take those pills, he doesn't have to. He can go home and prove he is not sick, that his father and Preston are different people.
Preston is not his father.
And he is not sick.
• •
There's still laughter on Jerome's lips from his night out with Mitch down the street, but he almost instantly sobers at the sight of Lachlan crumpled on the floor. Jerome gulps and bends down to place his half-empty beer bottle on the ground next to the couch leg.
"Lachlan," He calls. Fuck, the silence doesn't sound good. "Shit."
Jerome stumbles past his brother and briskly walks up the stairs, checking every bedroom for any occupants. The house is deathly quiet besides the usual creaks of the aged foundation. He doesn't know where the hell Rob fucked off to, and without him there, he doubts anyone else would be present. He runs his hand through his hair and shakes his head to try and clear the buzz of alcohol completely.
He trudges back into the living room and eyes his brother and how he's cocooned in one of Preston's jacket. He walks right up to him and lightly kicks him to wake him up.
"Dude, get up," he orders, features set in a concerned frown. When Lachlan doesn't move right away, he kicks a little harder.
Lachlan lets out a low groan and bunches up the material closer to him, burying his nose under the collar and breathing in. Fuck, this isn't good. Jerome can smell the alcohol on Lachlan, and he knows it's Lachlan because Jerome hadn't been chugging anything other than beer tonight. The smell coming off Lachlan is straight whiskey . He spies a quarter-full bottle leaning against the pillar a few paces away from them.
"How much did you fuckin' have?" Jerome chuckles. His laughter soon dies down as he focuses more clearly on Lachlan and how his knuckles are white with how hard he's gripping the coat, how there are a few damp patches on it from what Jerome's guessing are tears, and how he's still dressed in the clothes he'd put on to visit Preston. "Jesus, what the fuck happened earlier?"
Lachlan smiles slightly, but it looks more pained than anything. "Everything's fucked." Jerome snorts humorlessly and kneels down next to Lachlan, putting his arms around him to try and haul him up. "Yeah, when isn't it?"
"Nnnn-nah, don't," Lachlan protests, weakly shoving at Jerome. He purses his lips and tries again to lift him up. "Fuck you, fuck off!" Lachlan spits, blindly reaching behind him for his bottle of whiskey.
"Don't be fucking stub or ," Jerome wheezes as Lachlan struggles as much as possible, fingers making purchase on the bottle whilst still cradling Preston's clothing to his chest. It takes a few more seconds before Lachlan's protests start to simmer down until he's stopped completely, his forehead resting on Jerome's chest. He clears his throat and starts to say something along the lines of getting Lachlan to bed, but he starts speaking first.
"I don't know what to fucking do," Lachlan says hoarsely, his sudden grip on his brother's arm loosening, his body slackening. Jerome presses his lips together and looks down at the top of Lachlan's head.
"C'mon, you gotta sleep this off in an actual bed," Jerome says, trying once again to pick Lachlan up off the ground. He hears the bottle of whiskey Lachlan had been holding hit the floor with a dull thump. "Shit. Hold up," he mutters, placing Lachlan back down on the floor and hurriedly grabbing the bottle before it's completely wasted.
He sighs as he carries the almost empty bottle over into the kitchen and notices a note resting on the counter.
Took the kids with me to a friends for night, be back in the morning — Vikk
He doesn't know how the fuck to deal with Lachlan in this shape. He's always been good with dealing punches and then stitching him back up again, but this shit goes deeper than that. It's way past surface wounds, it's emotional, and Jerome doesn't know how the fuck he's supposed to make it better. He collects himself, dragging a hand down his face.
When he finally makes his way back into the living room, he allows himself to watch Lachlan grip at Preston's jacket again. He looks desperate and helpless and so fucking lonely.
"Lachlan," he says quietly.
He doesn't respond, his only movements being the run of his fingertips over the material of the jacket.
"Lachlan, you have to get up."
Jerome's not sure he's hearing it correctly at first, but then a first sob's followed by a second, followed by a third and he knows he's not imagining things.
"Fuck."
"He didn't even fuckin' look at me properly today, just sorta... blankly stared," Lachlan says thickly, voice half muffled through how he's buried his face in the coat. "Fuckin' sedation, or whatever."
"Exactly," Jerome mumbles, gradually making his way further toward his brother's slumped form. "Preston's not all there right now."
Lachlan laughs and it's coated in hysteria. "Where the fuck's he gone, man? He's fuckin'... gone."
"Hey, he'll be back here in a couple days, right?"
"He didn't even talk to me," Lachlan growls, scrunching his fists tighter around the fabric. Lachlan curls further in on himself and Jerome has no idea how he should respond. He's never really been put in the position where there's nothing that can be solved with a joke. He has a feeling a joke right now would really fuck Lachlan up.
There's a long pause that's only filled with the hitch of Lachlan's ragged breath and the quiet beat of Jerome tapping his foot as he deliberates. Finally, he breathes out deeply and takes the last few steps over to Lachlan, sinking down to the floor next to him, lying flat out on his back and staring at the ceiling. He can hear Lachlan shuffling about on the floor next to him, trying to get comfortable again whilst still soaking the jacket with muted tears.
Jerome fishes around in his breast pocket and draws out a battered pack of Marlboros and a lighter, sticking a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it. He watches the smoke waft above him and stays quiet as Lachlan finally ceases moving.
"I miss him. I fuckin' miss him."
Jerome hollows his cheeks, sucking on the filter, holding it in and letting the smoke slowly stream out of his mouth. He decides he's going to act as just an ear for Lachlan, rather than vocally responsive. He figures it'll be better on both ends; Lachlan can vent as much as he fucking wants and Jerome'll listen, and he will feel more comfortable not having to think up half-assed replies that probably sound stilted and fake.
"I tried so fucking hard to- We nearly got there, we nearly fuckin'... Fuck!" Lachlan suddenly yells.
Jerome doesn't jump – he just calmly breathes in more of his cigarette and listens.
"I wanna kill that fucking asshole because he's not fucking here, he's not fucking here!" He screams before throwing Preston's jacket over his face and upper torso, the clothing rising and falling with his heaving breaths.
Jerome exhales more smoke before putting the cigarette between his lips and then gradually reaching out his arm until his hand's clasped around his brother's upper arm. He hopes Lachlan gets that he's there for him and that he's trying even if he can't articulate his support. He figures the way Lachlan's sobs morph into ripping, wounded moans after the contact gives him his answer, tells him that Lachlan trusts himself to not be okay around him.
They don't move until the sun starts to come up and Lachlan is on the cusp of sleep. After he manages to transfer Lachlan to his own bed, Jerome watches as Lachlan arranges Preston's jacket so it looks like another person's in the bed with him. As Lachlan rests the arm of the coat so it's around his waist, Jerome thinks he knows how much Lachlan loves Preston.
• •
Preston followed Mitch and Jerome out of the hospital and already wished Lachlan was there. He'd at least walk next to him and not stare at him like he'd grown another head.
He slid into the backseat of the car Jerome was using—probably their neighbors. They didn't even wait until they were out of the parking lot before talking about Preston like he wasn't even there.
"You think he's going to try to off himself like your dad?" Jerome asked Mitch quietly.
"God I hope not," Mitch said. "I can't handle that again."
Preston wanted to point out that he could hear them, but there was no use. He knew that as soon as he'd gone to that place, they weren't going to see him anymore.
If he was honest, it started before he was forced to go there. It was just easier to ignore before because it was all talk. But now it's going to be how they acted around him, how they treated him.
His life as Preston was going to be over. Maybe it already was.
• •
The edge of his vision is still foggy but Mitch's arms around him are solid and real. Over his shoulder as he hugs him, he can see Jess grinning and holding a distracted looking Ruby. He looks to Jess' left. He grips Mitch tighter. He looks to Jess' right. He lets Mitch go.
"Where's Lachlan?"
Jess swallows and looks down at the ground.
"Where's Lachlan?" he repeats, more firmly. "I thought Lachlan was waiting for me."
Mitch rubs his arm comfortingly but the touch just feels like thorns grating against his skin. "Jerome tried to- Well... You'll be able to see him soon, okay? We'll talk to him. He's at work."
"Yeah," Jess says, smiling again. She walks forward and shifts Ruby so she can hug Preston properly. Ruby grabs onto Preston's hoodie and joins in. He wishes he felt warmer from the comfort of them, but all he can feel is the ice burn of Lachlan's absence.
• •
He knows that Mitch has been elected to talk to Lachlan because Preston watches him hand his pills over to Jess. She doesn't go into too much detail, and Preston figures it's because he wants to try and cover up where he's going for Preston's sake, but he'd be stupid not to know where he's headed.
"Preston, you think you're gonna give these meds a go, then?" Jess asks sunnily, rattling the orange bottle. Vikk sits at the kitchen counter with Alfie, chewing on leftovers from breakfast and not giving a fuck about his surroundings. Jerome looks on with some interest, but doesn't intervene. Preston doesn't know where Rob is, and he hasn't had a chance to ask.
Although there's a swirling in his belly making every cell in his body want to protest, Preston smiles and nods, standing up from his seat at the breakfast table. Jess looks so fucking happy that he almost tells her the truth. He tracks the bottle's descent from Jess' fingers into the palm of his hand and stares down at the pills through the plastic.
"I gotta go to work, okay?" Jerome suddenly announces, blinking at Preston like he wants to do something but can't make himself go through with it. He slaps Preston's shoulder as he passes and his whole body jerks with the contact. Jerome strides past him and picks up his bag off the sofa, heading out the front door. Jess looks disappointed, and starts to look even more worried as Vikk and Alfie announces they're leaving as well, more through actions than words, a brief wave before taking off out the back door with half a piece of toast hanging out of his mouth. Jess is scared to be alone with him.
There's a silence between Preston and Jess that's only filled by the drip of the faucet. Jess rubs his shoulder and startles him out of his stare-down with the medicine.
"They'll make you feel better," Jess says.
"You don't know that," Preston automatically replies.
She makes a tiny noise in the back of her throat like she's stuck on what to say and drops her hand. "Please, Preston."
He tongues the pills and Jess trusts him enough not to check if he's swallowed them. He wishes he felt more guilty.
"Shit," she mutters, looking at her bare wrist. "Gotta find a hairband before going to the gym," she tells him, nudging his arm.
He wishes he could smile.
As soon as she's disappeared up the stairs, Preston spits out his tablets into his hand and stares at them with wide eyes. He shifts his gaze to the pill bottle Jess had left on the counter. It doesn't take much time at all to empty them out onto the countertop. It takes even less time to sweep them into his palm.
Six steps and he's standing in front of the toilet door. Two more and he's inside with the door locked. One more and the toilet seat's up.
"I'm not bipolar," he mouths as he empties the mound of white tablets into the toilet bowl. They fall from his hand like a toxic flood.
Lachlan wants you to get help.
"Yeah? Well where the fuck is he?" he asks the pills as they disappear down the u-bend.
• •
Preston turned his head because he heard someone rummaging around in his room. He just wanted to sleep, but the others couldn't understand that.
"Don't mind me," Vikk said from the floor. "Just looking for some clothes to wear."
Preston didn't respond and checked his phone. He couldn't figure out if he was surprised or not that Lachlan hadn't texted him.
"So you have what your dad's got, huh?" Vikk asked.
He didn't say anything.
"Can't fight genetics," Vikk said. "It'll be easier for you to embrace it. Hiding away from your problems only makes them worse."
"Okay," Preston said. He wasn't going to get in an argument with Vikk. He turned over and closed his eyes, trying to will himself to sleep.
• •
"Preston!"
Preston turned to face Jess who was running out of the house.
"Oh my god! There you are."
"Here I am," Preston agreed as Jess rushed toward him.
"What happened to all your pills?" She asked.
"They're gone," Preston told her, taking a puff from his cigarette.
"Yeah. I can see that they're gone. But gone where?" Jess pushed her hair behind her ears. "Did you swallow them?"
Preston turned to look at her and could hear the unspoken acusation in her voice: Did you try to kill yourself, just like your dad did?
If Jess knew him at all, she'd know that he'd never kill himself. He was there when his dad did it; he still remembers the blood. Her first thought shouldn't be concern that Preston would try that.
"No," He told her. "They're flushed."
"Preston... why would you do that?" Jess asked quietly, her voice wavering.
Preston wished he could answer her honestly, tell her that he wasn't about to be given a life sentence like that when he was feeling fine. Yeah, sometimes he was down a little more than usual or he was a little too energetic and wasn't entirely feeling like himself, but he was still normal. He was still fine.
"They make me feel awful, Jess. Like life is not worth living," He explained. "I feel so much better knowing that they're gone."
He wished they would understand that. Getting rid of the pills was a good thing for him. Maybe tomorrow they would understand. Maybe they'd actually ask what he was feeling and wanting instead of assuming they knew.
• •
"Flushed your pills?" Mitch's voice caught Preston's attention and he watched him walk down the stairs toward him. "You get that that's a full on dad move, right?"
"I'm not our dad," Preston said. He wished that his family would see that.
"Come on, let's go to the clinic. Get you a new prescription," Mitch said.
"No."
Mitch brushed his hair out of his face with his hand. "Jess feels like it's her fault because I left her in charge—"
"Now you're trying to manipulate me like we used to do with dad," Preston said and looked down.
"Preston," Mitch started.
"I'm not our dad." Preston felt the hurt come rushing back that his brother, his family could throw him aside so quickly. One little incident and they all swoop in announcing that they know best and deciding that he became his dad overnight. It's not fair.
"I didn't slash my wrists over Thanksgiving dinner," Preston said. "I went for a drive."
"You took a baby," Mitch argued like that somehow made him their dad.
"I took Ruby...for a drive. And yeah, I guess it was a really long drive and I didn't plan ahead." Preston looked up at Mitch. "But I did not hurt Ruby. I took care of her. I fed her. I sang to her. I love her. I get why everyone's freaking out but you pulled some serious shit not too long ago and I didn't try to turn on you. And permanently medicate you," Preston said bitterly. It wasn't fair that he was the one they decided to lock up in that psych ward.
He'd always been there for everyone in his family. He was the one who always had a job, who stayed out of trouble, who was there whenever someone needed him. Where were they when he needed them to just be there and not try to medicate him and change him?
"I'm not our dad any more than you are."
Mitch's lecture when he comes home without Lachlan just serves to rile him.
When Mitch goes inside and leaves him to it, he stands up and walks over to their pool. He lies in the dirtied water, surrounded by leaves and deflated inflatables and lets the cold filter through to his bones. He closes his eyes and forgets himself, at least for a moment.
One comment filters through to the front of his brain, and it's a faint memory even though it only just happened. He hadn't fully been paying attention and he's not sure if he regrets that or not.
Lachlan's not doin' so good either.
• •
Preston heard someone come in and glanced over to see Rob.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you," Rob said quietly.
"You got any water?" Preston asked, his mouth dry and making it hard to swallow.
Rob grabbed a bottle of Gatorade and passed it to him.
"Thanks," Preston said, opening it to take a drink.
"What's it feel like to be crazy?" Rob asked.
Preston sighed. "Like I'm under a wet blanket. Cotton mouth," he told him before taking another drink.
"They give you shock therapy?" Rob asked.
"No," He said.
"You ever think about painting yourself and running around naked? I think about that," Rob told him. "Or flying? I dream about that."
As much as he didn't want to have this disease, he didn't want to see him suffer the same fate. After all, he was the only person who'd actually asked Preston about what he was feeling. Yeah, it was strange but it was Rob.
"That doesn't make you crazy, you know," Preston told him.
Rob then rattled off about a few things but it was nice to have an actual conversation with someone.
• •
Night time and Lachlan's still not there. Preston just feels hollow about it now. He'd thought Lachlan would be there but he understood why he wasn't. He stares at the wall and trails his eyes over the colours on his posters. They don't seep through into him. He still feels dull. And trapped. And alone.
"Hey."
He bites his lip at the sound of Lachlan's voice. For a second he doesn't think it's real. He doesn't reply, but rolls over, looking towards the door. Lachlan's biting his lip, too, and they stare at each other not knowing what to say. Preston doesn't know if he's disappointed about Lachlan's absence up until now, doesn't know if he's relieved, doesn't know if he feels guilty for the fact that Lachlan still wants him when he's acting like this.
"What happened your face?"
His cheek was bruised, a long gash around it.
Lachlan shrugs. "It looks worse than it is."
"Well, it looks pretty bad."
They stare at each other for a moment. "When you weren't there this morning I thought..." Preston twists his mouth and looks away.
"You thought what?" Lachlan prompts, still rooted to the spot.
"You know what I thought," He insists. "But I was wrong, wasn't I?"
Lachlan nods. "Yeah, you were wrong."
Preston smiles weakly and bows his head. "I have to rest apparently," he explains when Lachlan stays quiet.
"Oh right, I'll just-" Lachlan gestures vaguely towards the door.
Preston's eyes follow Lachlan as he paces in front of the door. He takes in the bruise on his face, he takes in the bags under his eyes, he takes in the slight catch in his step.
"I'm sorry I wasn't there earlier," he mumbles, finally ceasing his movements. Preston gulps and shifts a little more on the bed so he can more easily look at Lachlan. He looks unsure for a moment before taking the last few steps over to the bed and dropping to his knees. Lachlan's so close, Preston can see the exact point where his bruise blends back into normal skin colour. He wonders where Lachlan got it. Preston reaches out slowly and brushes his thumb along his cheek, being careful to avoid pressing too hard or going too close to the cut. Lachlan closes his eyes and tilts his head forward slightly.
After a moment, Lachlan lets out a soft gasp, like he's letting go, and surges forward, pressing his lips to Preston's. He's shocked for a moment before he allows himself to kiss back, closing his eyes but dropping his hand so his only contact with Lachlan is where their lips are connected. The kiss isn't desperate, it's not intense or heated, it's just Lachlan saying he's sorry, it's Lachlan saying he's there.
When Lachlan pulls back he wipes a hand down his face like he's collecting himself, wincing slightly when his fingers drag against his scab. It barely takes a second before Lachlan's climbing onto the bed and lying next to Preston, stroking his thumb over the skin of his arm and pressing his forehead against Preston's.
"I'm here now, okay?" Lachlan says, smiling. He's so close, so, so close and all Preston can do is hold his gaze.
Preston doesn't feel like he has to say anything, but at the same time it feels like he hasn't spoken to Lachlan in fucking ages. Lachlan sighs shakily and shuts his eyes again, carrying on his thumb movements. It's soothing and starts to patch up the hole in Preston's chest that was screaming his loneliness.
Preston breathes in. Preston breathes out.
He's not alone.
• •
I kept writing everyone as shameless characters. When I realized I was doing it I was like FUCK ARE YOU KIDDING. SHAMELESS WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME. There's probably so many mistakes in this chapter, whoops.