The 18th Floor

Chapter Fifty Three

Thankfully the station that Lucien gets off at is step-free, but it doesn't stop Lucien from instinctively holding onto the chair just in case. The rain has at least stopped and the station is not too far of a walk from his home, but our clothes are still wet and it's a walk we do in silence.

Lucien opens the front door and waits for me to go in first, following closely behind.

"Do you have a cloth?", I ask and he looks at me. "The wheels are wet and muddy it's going to ruin the floor and the carpet", I explain.

He locks the door and takes off his shoes and jackets and instead of finding a cloth like I asked, he picks me up.

"Lucien?", I protest.

"You're soaking wet, your chair is soaking wet. You need to change your clothes and you need to let the chair dry", he says. With my hands wrapped around his neck and our faces so close to each other I feel like I've forgotten how to breathe all over again. He's standing still, both of our hair still dripping with water.

I nod, feeling his breathe close on mine, and he makes his way to the bedroom. He puts me on his bed as he goes over to the draw that he gave as my own, to fetch out a change of clothes to hand to me and then getting something for himself.

"Do you want to shower?", he asks.

"No."

"Ok, I'm going to take a quick shower and then... then we can talk", he says looking at me and the bed I'm on. I nod. He nods back and goes into the bathroom, reappearing a few seconds later with a towel for me.

"Thank you."

When I hear the shower turn on, I start to change my clothes. Out of my soaking wet trousers and shirt and into a pair of black leggings and an oversized t-shirt. I wrap my hair in towel trying to dry it off knowing that Lucien doesn't have a hair dryer and then sit and wait for him to come out. For the conversation we're about to have which I still don't know what to say.

I move myself higher up the bed and decide to get in under the covers, still not feeling warm enough. Fuck his bed is so cosy. I get my phone from my coat pocket and quickly text dad that I'm at Lucien's so he doesn't worry. He text's back ok and good luck when I hear the bathroom door open to see Lucien step out in a pair of joggers and a fitted t-shirt. This man is insufferable even when I am meant to be angry at him.

He comes over and gets under the covers like me on his side of the bed, and turns to face me.

"So", he begins.

I look at him waiting to carry on.

"Cyrene", he sighs out, "Cyrene, I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry, I shoul-"

"Stop", I cut him off and he looks at me confused.

"Let me talk, please"

He nods.

"You should have told me earlier. I don't know why, I'm still trying to figure it out, but it matters to me, so you should have told me earlier", I say and he nods, listening.

"I know."

"But you didn't and that's, I think that is fine. I've thought about it a lot since you told me. Why it made me so upset and I think it's because when the accident happened, my old life died with it. Everything that was there before, gone. I didn't have many friends anyway, so I only kept in touch with two and the rest I fell out of contact with. I didn't even get to make real connections when I was at uni before everything happened. I don't even remember it. So, when you were telling me all these things, these interactions we had that I don't remember I felt out of my depth", I say.