Disclaimers: The characters, events, and organizations portrayed in this narrative are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events or individuals is purely coincidental.
All characters and plot are purely of my own imagination and design. Do not steal/modify. If you ask nicely, I may let you play with them. (As long as I get to watch)

Author's Notes: Written about Lucas Halstead a month or so after the death of his boyfriend, Ethan.


Lucas groaned. Someone had opened the windows, letting in more light than he had seen in days. Slowly, he opened his eyes.
"Wakey wakey, sunshine," Beth said. "You need to get out of that bed."
"I'm not going anywhere," Lucas grumbled. All he wanted to do was stay under the blankets and sleep. "And shut that fucking window."
"Not a chance. You need some fresh air. It smells rank in here," Beth said, picking up dirty clothes from the floor. "When was the last time you did laundry?"
His stomach growled. He hadn't eaten anything for almost 2 days. Longer if you didn't count junk food. Normally, he wouldn't touch that pre-packaged garbage. Then again, his normal self also did laundry on a regular basis. Just thinking about how far he had fallen made him want to curl up and pass out until he stopped hurting.


Love it? Hate it? Wish it would spontaneously combust? Tell me with a comment