April, 2019

The air glowed with a grassy hue as the light refracted off the foliage surrounding me. Greying and greening marble, slate, and granite headstones intersected the vegetation at various intervals, but, for the most part, nature was winning here. Vines wound their way around the plots, reclaiming the bodies that had been willingly given back to the earth. And my heart slowly began to sink as it dawned on me what he may have called me here for.

Now in the heart of the east cemetery, I started paying attention to the names on the tombstones—passing by the unmissable bust of Karl Marx sitting atop his sizable monument and the revered George Eliot, a writer I always respected—as I navigated my way to our meeting spot: ten rows down from Marx, and closer to the fence.

It didn't take long as I snaked my way around the plots to eventually lock eyes on him.

His hair was still the same shade of brown, though a little grown out. His eyes—grey and lifeless—were as shallow and murky as a creek almost drained dry. And when his head turned upwards as he evidently heard me coming, I couldn't help but notice the deep purple bags of despair shadowing his gaunt face.

I'd be lying if I said my step didn't falter then—that I didn't consider running away before things turned ugly between us. Because I was unable to deny anymore the one fear that had haunted me with every inch closer I had gotten to this place: would Stephen blame me... or worse, reject me?

But as our gazes met across the passages of signed death, at once all anguish disappeared from him, only warmth filling his expression. Immediately following were the opened arms and steps forward.

"Lukas, my boy," he breathed, the last indicator I needed that all hostility from him was an imagined construct.

At once, I bounded across the remaining distance, narrowly avoiding the upturned roots along the restricted path. Head sinking into his shoulder, we both wound our arms around each other, pulling the other tight as we felt each other's pain and became each other's comfort.

"I've missed you," Stephen breathed.

"I'm sorry," I quickly said back, already feeling the familiar sting brewing in my eyes as I no longer found myself able to repress the wall of built up emotions I had been trying to keep hidden since our last contact.

"Sorry?" he repeated, moving back to look at my face.

At once, I dropped my head, avoiding his searching stare.

"What on earth would you be sorry for?" he demanded when I said nothing.

With a shrug, I replied, "I let you down."

"How on earth—"

Gaze snapping up, I was no longer able to hold my composure. My bottom lip quivered as my vision of Stephen began to blur in the cloud of water, all the while I blubbered, "I didn't protect him. I should have paid more attention to him, but I was too caught up on her, and—"

"Hey," he said softly, face already constricting with reassurance as he tried to cut off my ramble.

But it was no use. I had more to apologise for. "And I'm sorry that I just... that you had to find him like that. That I didn't bury his body—"

"Lukas—" he tried again, but, still, I wasn't done.

"And I should have called you. All this time I should have called you, but... I was too scared you'd hate me. Too scared you'd blame me like I blame myself, and—"

"Lukas!" he said a little louder, hands shaking me until I stopped.

Mouth clamping shut, I met his doting grey gaze.

"I have never, ever blamed you for what happened. I'm sure you did everything you could that day and more that you don't give yourself credit for."

"But—"

"No, no. Let me talk now."

My jaw snapped shut.

"I'm just glad you did make it out okay. I don't know what I would have done if I lost both of you."

"But your real son—"

"You are every much my son as Ben was, Lukas. You know that."

I felt my knees begin to waver again as the water pooled in my eyes again.

Noticing I was about to break once more, Stephen pulled me into him as he continued to whisper in my ear. "I'm sorry I didn't get in touch with you sooner. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a wreck. I... it's no excuse, but I wanted to make sure I was composed when I saw you so that you didn't blame yourself for seeing me in that state."

"You don't need to hide your emotions from me," I mumbled, feeling the sobs finally coming to a slow.

"A parent's job is to protect their children from all pain. Even if it's their own."

Moving back from him, my mouth opened and closed several times as I thought of what to say back, a collection of arguments ready to throw at him.

But, as usual, he already knew. "You need one parent in your life who shows you that, Lukas. And from the moment I met you when you were a little boy, I promised myself I'd be the father, uncle, and mother you never got. Every child needs love. Every child needs to feel someone always has their back... No matter how old they get and seem like they don't need your help anymore."

With that, he wiped away the remaining tears on my face before patting my arms. A warm smile stealing his face as he searched me to make sure I was fine, eventually he let me go.

But it wasn't long after that he was placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder and tugging me down the way.

As we reached the mounded earth yet to be taken over by nature, but clearly already steadying out, Stephen breathed, "I've come here because his headstone is in its final stages, and I wanted to look at it in person before approving it. Pictures just aren't the same. I thought maybe you'd like to see it, too... and visit your brother."

Head turning up, I whispered, "He's here?" I gestured to settling soil.

"Right there, yes. I'm hoping one day I get to be buried near him... but we will see how long I live. There's not many places left here."

"If I outlive you, I'll empty someone's grave for you," I told him.

Stephen let out a chuckle, surprise almost tainting its vibrancy. It was enough to tell me he hadn't laughed since before Ben passed. "You don't need to do that... but I won't complain."

With a roll of my eyes, I replied, "How can you when you're dead?"

"Exactly my point!" Then he heaved a long-held sigh—one that he had probably been holding onto since August. "It was the perfect reason to leave Windeck without questions... and find a way to meet you in case I was being followed. But I'm sure no one can hear us here... There's no one as far as the eye can see. And you know what they say about bugging cemeteries..."

"The ghosts mess up the audio?"

"Indeed. And they will make your life a living hell if you disturb the dead with such technology."

"Is that really true?"

Eyes glancing my way, he cocked an eyebrow in a way that slightly shattered my heart—because Ben used to do it in the exact same manner. "Care to try it out?"

Shaking my head vigorously, I replied, "I do not want to be haunted by a random ghoul."

"Exactly. No one does, so no one tests it."

"So... why did you want to see me without anyone knowing?"

Stephen let out an audible swallow as he glanced my way. "This game of chess doesn't end just because the king has reached his checkmate. All of his pawns, knights, and bishops are still on the board, ready to continue the game without him."

As his words echoed in my ears, the world around became growingly silent, an eerie chill sweeping through the graveyard along with the wind, warning weaving into every crevice of my being. "What... what do you mean?"

"I'm sure you've heard of the... Dracula killer roaming London?"

With a brief nod, I said, "How could I not have? They're mades. We've been hunting them, but they spread so quick—"

"They're only in London."

"They're... what?" All explanations for our discoveries cut off at once as I anxiously awaited his reply.

His eyes swirled with sorrow as he seemed to already regret the news he was going to tell me. "They've been sent as a distraction, Lukas."

"A distraction for what?"

Painstakingly, he muttered back, "I don't know..."

"You don't know, or like... You can't say?"

Lips pressing together, he whispered ever so quietly, "As in, I know there's something else brewing in a part of the lab that has been closed for 'cleaning' since August... the same day the mades were let loose."

"But... you don't know what is in there?"

"I don't have clearance."

"You don't... But you have clearance to everywhere!"

At once, we both glanced around us, wary of the slightly higher volume I had just used.

But when only the squirrels sounded in the nearby trees and the butterflies continued to flutter in the streams of light breaking through the canopy above, we deemed it safe enough to go on.

"I used to," Stephen said. "But now I don't."

"Does my mum?"

His face didn't reveal anything as he said nothing.

"My dad?"

His brows flickered slightly.

The sinking feeling began to brew in me. "Why are you on the outskirts of this when dad helped you get the news to us about Rüdiger's original plans?"

"I don't know, Lukas. Maybe your parents just don't want to burden me right now because of what happened to Ben, but... I've never really pegged them as caring for mourning periods."

"No," I whispered. "Dad certainly isn't the type." I'd never forget his lack of care when I lashed out at him on my way out of Windeck after Anja died.

"Just... all I want to say is keep your head up and alert. Focus on figuring out the mades and how they've somehow been programmed to remain here. Try to wipe out their nest if you can. And... keep an eye out for anything else. If I get a lead, I will let you know."

I gave him a brief nod before my mind started to dip off, trying to figure out who and what was involved in this. Did my parents suddenly grow a heart to keep Stephen out of the loop of the research while he grieved? Or... did they know he'd inform me of anything sinister and purposely kept him out?

But if it were the latter... why would dad have helped Stephen leave in the first place to give us the initial warning about Rüdiger's plans?

"I have one more thing I want to ask you," Stephen then said, yanking me from my thoughts.

"Huh? What?"

His brows knitted together as his eyes skimmed over me. "You look good."

"I..." I glanced to the ground. "I am."

"Is it love?"

Gaze flickering up, one side of my mouth guilty turned upwards as I gave him a small shrug. "I don't know yet."

"You still don't know if you love her?"

But as his phrasing slowly mulled in my mind, I felt the crease begin to form on my forehead. Stephen and I hadn't spoken since before... so unless he was keeping tabs on me... "I've only been seeing her since December," I explained, wondering if he knew about Emma.

Though Stephen seemed to look as equally confused. "She took that long to open up to you?"

All ounces of joy dropped from my face as I caught up with his train of thought... with whom he had deduced was the source of my happiness. "Who do you—" I started to seek clarification.

But before I could get the question out, he interrupted me with, "I'd love to see her again, if she's open to it."

My heart tightened as my eyes glanced around his innocent face.

In my silence, he went on, "I know it may be weird for her... Especially considering it's been so long. But I am your dad too. Plus, if it doesn't bother you, I have some of Ben's things I'd like to give—"

"Olivia left, Stephen," I cut him off, her name feeling like agony coming out of my mouth.

For so long I've tried to ignore her past existence, to not think of what she looked like, to avoid even uttering or thinking a syllable of her... Because even now, even all these months on, and even with a broken bond and a new partner, my heart gave out a tiny aching throb at the taste of her name.

I shouldn't feel like this, I immediately thought as the repressed ache returned, a feeling I was convinced I had left behind as the new year began.

"Left?" he repeated, bewilderment marring his expression. "What do you—"

"At the start of October last year... she disappeared in the night, leaving only a letter." Guilt slammed through me as I knew I was withholding the full story. But did he need to know that even she blamed me?

And if he knew that... would he join her side?

I couldn't have that. Not now. Not that I knew he didn't hate me all this time.

"But why would she... you two were so close..."

Gaze dropping to the dirty, bumpy floor beneath our feet, I gave the best explanation I could, "She felt like she couldn't mourn him around us. And she didn't want to like me anymore..."

"But you two had a bond, didn't you? Before you wiped—"

Head snapping up, I firmly told him, "That bond is broken and in my past where it belongs. I'm with someone new now and I don't think of... Olivia." My teeth gritted again at the name that coursed through my being.

And it seemed he noticed my inner turmoil despite my attempts to hide it. However, rather than calling me out on how I was evidently not quite over her as I was trying to make everyone and myself believe, he said instead, "Very well. But does anyone have contact with her? I'd like to get in touch."

Shaking my head, I venomously forced out, "She wants nothing to do with us, Stephen. She removed every trace of her that she could and left with barely any word."

His face contorted in a battle of sympathy and pain as he watched me become evidently unhinged by the topic, but still wanting answers he sought. "Does Erica perhaps—"

"Yes. Erica figured out where she went, but... she doesn't want us to contact her, okay?" I wanted him to drop it. I needed him to. And right then I decided, if he continued on the matter, I might just walk away from this conversation. My hand began to shake and I tried to hide it under crossed arms.

Though Stephen was noticing all of my mannerisms. "Okay, I understand Lukas. But if she's ever back... can you please tell her to get in touch with me?"

The idea—the briefest hint at the concept—of her ever returning here sparked a myriad of emotions in me that demanded to be acknowledged. Nonetheless, I shoved them deep in the recesses of my memories, refusing to even unpack how I might feel about the prospect. "Yeah, sure," I muttered, before turning to look anywhere and everywhere but at his discerning gaze.

"Anyway, let's go look at the headstone. Then maybe we can get some lunch?" he asked, trying to shift the conversation away from the one that was causing my distress.

I returned his warm smile he was adorning and joined his merry ways, but I'd be lying if I said the whole day wasn't tainted by a growing knot in the pit of my stomach after that.

· · ───── ∘☽༓☾∘ ───── · ·

"What's wrong?" Emma said as she walked into my room and saw my expression, shrugging off her jacket along the journey to my bed.

"Nothing," I muttered, reaching for her the moment she was close enough.

Little resistance came from her as I tugged her onto my lap, immediately starting to plant kisses along her neck.

"Nothing at all?" she pressed as her fingers weaved through my hair, pulling me tighter to her as she opened up to me, giving me free roam to trail my mouth where I pleased.

"Nothing at all," I mumbled against her skin, its fruity scents making my mouth water and begging me to bite.

You're not allowed, a small voice in the back of my head whispered.

I know...

Ever, it emphasised.

I know.

So to distract myself from her intoxicating smells, to remove all ounces of the conversation with Stephen in the graveyard that had left a bitter taste in my mouth and aching hole in my heart, I instead turned my eyes to her, slowly caressing her from the top down with my gaze.

Her brown locks were a little dishevelled from her day of teaching, her once-ironed clothes now flawed with creases. But she was still dangerously gorgeous this close... and oh so tempting to touch.

Gaze finally settling on her irises, my hands came up and began to tug at the buttons that held her blouse together, searching for any signs of discontent or disapproval.

But she merely pressed her lips into a sultry smile as her eyes raged with lust.

With her visual permission, I took my time slowly stripping her from her clothes, removing her shirt first, then her bra, letting my mouth work over her breast as I tugged her skirt, stockings, and underwear off her.

Though she took no time at all unzipping my pants.

Then almost immediately, she lowered herself onto me as she straddled my hips, giving me the very distraction I needed from today.

· · ───── ∘☽༓☾∘ ───── · ·

Tracing my fingers up and down her spine as I admired her honey-coloured complexion, all earlier worries were forgotten in the moment of magic and magnetism.

Though of course she ruined it almost immediately with, "So I take it today didn't go well?"

At once, the knot returned to my stomach as I uttered, "What makes you say that?" My hand continued to trace along her back, but now with a tentative touch.

"Because that felt very much like 'make me forget my day' fucking."

At once, my fingers fled her side as I sat up, reaching for my pants. "I don't know what you're talking about," I lied as I eagerly started to dress myself.

But her arms were quick to wind around my waist as her naked legs joined her in hugging me from behind. "I'm not saying I hate it. Just... wondering if you want to talk?"

I knew I shouldn't have withheld it from her. I knew there were many things Stephen and I had discussed that eventually I needed to share with Emma that had nothing to do with my state of anguish. But every single thought was clouded with copper and emerald—with notes of her and wisps of woe. So, ridden with guilt but desperate to not go back to the conversation in the cemetery, I forced out, "There's nothing to talk about."

Head turning, I gave her a smile I knew she saw straight through.

But as I planted a kiss on her forehead and mumbled about seeing if dinner had been started downstairs, she thankfully didn't prod or pry. She merely reached for her own clothes, enclosed my hand in hers, and joined me on the descent to the kitchen... all the while we both knew I was starting to build a bed of lies in our relationship. 

Really proud of my imagery  in this chapter... Just saying.

Sorry again about the fortnightly uploads. Still not up to a point healthwise where I can write much but I should get there again soon!

Hope you're all well and still enjoying this story.