Flowers from a lover [rewrite]

6.0

The reason Lucas bought the house he lived in was because he was young and did not have money for a newer, furnished house. The fact that it was never repainted or even cleaned showed that Leo or any of his family were the people that lived in the house last. Most of the furniture was taken except for an old sofa, some junk in the attic, and, of course, the telephone held in his hand, waiting for a call.

- - -

Leo was crouching against the wall, his hands digging into his hair. Drunk. He did not normally drink, but tonight was an exception. He clutched a bottle in his hand, and the phone in the other, contemplating whether to call Lucas despite his faltering mental state, or not to call, leaving Lucas lonely for the night. Daniel had been at his house earlier, doing his best to send words of comfort. Leo had put on a brave face to assure him, then broke down as soon as Daniel closed the door behind him. Alcohol was never a problem for him, it was more of a problem for his father. He had promised never to go down that same path but here he was, bottle in hand and mental state out of control.

He knew who he wanted and needed to talk to, but he was terrified. The situation would induce anxiety in everyone, talking to somebody from the future. But when he spoke to Lucas , it was easy to ignore the absurdity of it all. He loved to hear him talk about things almost as though he had never been asked about them before. He loved to hear his voice in general. And so, he put the bottle down on the drawer next to the wall with such a force that it shattered, splattering the few of the contents inside onto the floor and walls, leaving only the telephone in his hands as he dialed a number.

- - -

Lucas sat on his floor holding the phone and scrolling through his Twitter news feed, looking at what was trending when he sighed and put the phone down. He glanced for a second at the wall, which housed an unfamiliar stain. It was dark and absolutely stood out against the vintage, flowery wallpaper. It was definitely made by Leo. His initial thought was that it was blood, which scared him. He wanted so badly to ask Leo if he was okay but dialing from his end never worked. Only Leo had the power to call Lucas . Right on time, the phone rang and he answered in an instant. "Leo, are you alright?" He asked frantically.

"Yes, why do you ask?" Leos's words slurred a bit but he still had the confident straight speech he usually had. Lucas ran his hands on the wallpaper, "The wall stained, I thought you'd gotten hurt or something." Leo looked at the wall and broken glass scattered around the desk and floor and understood, "I spilled my drink." "On the walls?" Lucas asked skeptically. "I can be clumsy." Leo laughed slowly, "Oh, I can be quite clumsy." He let out a bigger laugh. "Leo," Lucas raised a brow, "are you drunk? Was the drink alcoholic?" Leo sighed in surrender, "Yeah." "But you told me you don't drink."

"I don't." Leo said truthfully, "It's just-" "Just?" Lucas crossed his legs and waited for a response. "I've just had a bad day." Leo sounded defeated, "I have better ways of dealing with bad days but I wanted to see what it felt like to suppress it with a drink like my father did. If it worked." Lucas had never heard Leo talk about his father. He had gone on and on about his mother and sisters but Lucas had never bothered to ask about his father, as he took the hint not to from Leo's refusal to speak about him. "Maybe it does," Lucas told him, "but you sober up and you start feeling it again. The most it does it numbs you. I don't drink so I can't speak from experience, and I'm not against drinking, but if you can't use it to solve your problems."

"I know." Leo said, and he did know. He had seen the lasting effect it had on his family when his father took another bottle from the fridge. "It's like putting a band aid on a wound that needs stitches." Lucas hit him truthfully. "There's better ways that work long term." "Like?" "Like talking to someone. You said you have your friend Daniel. You can write a diary, let it all out, or you can talk to-" "You." Lucas let out a breath, "Me." "I'm sorry I don't really feel ready to talk about it yet, but I know I have you, and that soothes me." Leo did not mean to say that much, but his drunken self didn't know better.

"You should get some sleep, Leo." Lucas said in a comforting way. "Lucas ?" Leo whispered. "Yes, Leo?" "I-" Leo began but he sighed, he was sober enough to fight off anything impulsive he wanted to say. "You..?" "I- should get some sleep. You're right." Leo saved himself. "Goodnight, old man." Lucas chuckled. "Goodnight, wrong number." Leo whispered so close to the phone George swore he felt a breath tickle his ear. He waited a while before putting the phone down.