PROBLEM - Anthony Lockwood

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

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xxxviii

omg look, they're so cute. im in a fanfiction

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"IT'S 10 O'CLOCK," George mused, checking the clock.

"So?" Lucy quipped.

"Lockwood had never slept past 9, the latest I've ever seen him wake up is 9:30, and that's because he went to sleep at 6am," George explained.

"Ew, he's one of those people," Lucy commented. She looked at the clock and frowned. "He hasn't been himself since Alice left."

"He's messed up in the head," George stated, scribbling on the thinking cloth, "He likes to put on a big show pretending he's not, but he is."

Lucy sighed, "Shall we check on him?"

George looked at the clock again, frowning, "I don't see why not."

10 minutes later, the two of them stood outside Lockwood's room with a cup of tea.

"You knock," George hissed.

"I'm holding the tea, you knock," Lucy snapped back.

George made a disgruntled sound of annoyance and knocked at the door.

Once. No answer.

Twice. No answer.

Three times. No answer.

Lucy and George exchanged a look.

George gently opened the door, and the two crept inside. The lights were off, but sunlight streamed in from behind the curtains, lightly illuminating the room.

Lockwood lay fast asleep, his arms around Alice, whose head was resting on his chest. She had an arm over his chest, her hand resting in the curve of his neck.

"Oh my god," Lucy squeaked.

"My eyes," George whispered in disgust. "Where the hell did she appear from?"

Lucy shrugged, beginning to drink Lockwood's tea.

"Hey," George hissed.

"What? He's clearly busy." Lucy squealed again, grabbing George's hand, "We're leaving, come on."

"But -"

"No."

Around two hours later, Alice woke up to find herself pressed against Lockwood's body as he spooned her. He had one arm around her, the other was over her, hanging over the edge of the bed. He was silent, but she could tell he was awake.

His breathing was steady, and his skin was warm.

Alice wanted the moment to last forever.

But there was something wrong.

The way he just lay there, the way his arm just hung. Alice didn't have to look at his face to tell that he was brooding.

There was a stream of sunlight that seeped in from behind the curtains, illuminating the room. But it didn't feel warm; it just felt sad, in a way.

"You're awake," Lockwood declared, sensing her change in demeanour. His voice was low and slightly raspy.

Alice wanted to bottle up the sound and get drunk on it. Hearing his morning voice was like drugs, and she was becoming hopelessly addicted.

"Mhmm," Alice replied. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" he inquired, mumbling into her hair.

Alice closed her eyes, trying to savour the moment. "Just." He hummed and lay there, in no rush to get up either. "Are you okay?" she questioned.

"Of course," Lockwood replied.

"Don't lie to me," Alice interjected, "Not after I told you the truth last night."

Lockwood stayed silent, not saying anything, but he stayed hollow, that usual happy spring in him was gone. This was the real Lockwood. The Lockwood without the mask. The hollow and miserable and depressed Lockwood.

He just held her, trying to get lost in the moment.

Maybe he could get so lost in the smell of vanilla and roses that he wouldn't have to face the world again. That he wouldn't have to face that door again.

"You already know," Lockwood murmured into her hair.

They stayed silent for a while, Alice had his hand in hers now, rubbing comforting circles against it.

"What's the time?" she mused, playing with his sliver ring.

Lockwood's eyes flickered to the clock on his bedside table, "Uh- BLOODY HELL!"

"What?!" Alice yelled, turning as Lockwood jumped into a vaguely perceptable standing position. She felt cold without his touch. "Lockwood?"

"It's almost 1pm!" he gasped.

"Hain?!" Alice hissed, she turned to see the clock, "That's not possib- fuck! Everyone's awake, did you have any jobs planned for today?"

Lockwood shrugged, grabbing a shirt, "Have you told anyone else you're here?"

Alice shook her head, "No, I'm gonna run before anyone catches me in here." She grabbed her cloak, bag and shoes. Before her eyes flickered back to Lockwood, "Not- not that I don't want be seen with you, just - uh-"

"George?" Lockwood guessed, now tying his tie.

"George," Alice agreed, tearing out of the room and running back to her own room.

It felt weird to be back there after so long. It had only been little over a week, but Alice felt as if it had been months.

She set her stuff down, petting Onyx, who was laying on her bed.

When Alice looked in the mirror, she didn't recognise the girl staring back at her. The circles under her eyes had subsided slightly, but her face looked hollow and almost skeletal. Like she was dead on her feet.

You might as well be, the voice in her head chided.

Onyx meowed loudly, tearing her from her thoughts.

Alice blinked.

Keep moving. Keep running.

...

"I missed you!"

"I missed you more!"

Alice grinned as Lucy wrapped her arms around her and the two girls hugged, giggling and staggering in the kitchen.

George rolled his eyes, looking up from the oven, where he was crouched and observing the skull, which he was experimenting on using heat. "Where'd you go?"

"Up north," Alice replied, avoiding George's eyes.

"To the Hills?" George guessed, giving her a pointed look.

He knew about Pendle.

Alice shifted uncomfortably, muttering a quick response and turning to Lucy, "So? Any developments with Strawberry?"

Lucy tried to keep down a smile, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Alice gasped, "Tell me everything!"

"After you have this," Lockwood declared, handing her a cup of tea. He'd been at the counter, listening in to their converstation and making himself breakfast - or brunch, really. But it seemed that - unbeknownst to Alice - he had been making it for both of them. He handed her a plate of choclate chip pancakes, still warm and drizzled with melted knockoff nutella.

Alice looked up at him, her face flushing. She smiled. "Thank you, love."

Lucy and George exchanged a look.

Alice watched as Lockwood smiled, sitting on the head of the table, nearest to where George was crouched and began eating his own pancakes, occasionally making converstation with George, who was trying his best to look as least exasperated and murderous as possible.

Lucy grinned at her and Alice internally groaned, realising that she was in for a very interesting and embarassing rest of the day.