A Long Road

3

Lucian

( trying out 1st POV to see if i prefer it or not sorry in advance if i keep switching it up)

(also sorry if this seems rushed; the thing is, nothing really happened between last chapter and this chapter. the only thing that really happened was  them meeting weekly and talking, mostly Lucian about themselves, because Vince is a very shut off character right now

I walked quickly down the dirt path that I usually followed, but today I didn't have time to examine the details of the path I ventured down. I was supposed to meet Vince here every week, and I was running late. He was a mystery to me, but I didn't want to give up on him. I knew just from what little I could gather that he needed help, and badly. But I couldn't just butt in on his life like that; he had to want me to be apart of it and... he didn't. Sadly, even after I thought we had become friends, he still regarded me as just a pest and, yeah that kind of hurt, but it was something i had to accept and get over. 

I guess.

I checked my phone again, the minutes ticking by and filing me with dread, fear. I was worried about him. 

And as I finally approached the bench where we usually met, he wasn't there. 

Oh no.

I couldn't even begin to imagine what might have happened to him; I already knew he was so reckless and careless with his life and didn't have a single care for what happened to him. But I do. 

I felt panic flood my veins, adrenaline bursting through me, and suddenly I was running deep into the woods, shouting his name louder than I ever thought I could.

Looking back, it really does seem like an over reaction, but... I already knew he took this as a betrayal.

Out of nowhere, a gunshot rang out, and my attention snapped toward the noise, and I followed it, deeper into the woods, following one of the many paths that led through it. I wanted to scream but the noise got caught in my throat over and over again, no matter how much I tried.

When I made it to the clearing, where I was sure I heard it, I saw no one.

Upon closer inspection, I found Vince, lying in a growing pool of his own blood, and I couldn't tell if he was breathing or not. The only thing I knew to do was call the police, and I did. I gave them my information, and gave them details on where we were in the forest. The seconds ticked away and with each one that passed my heart sank further. He could die.

When they finally arrived, one of the responders asked if he had an emergency contact and it dawned on me then. Vince didn't care about anyone because no one cared about him.

Except me.

After explaining the situation, how I was the only friend Vince had (which was an assumption, but a logical one), they agreed to let me ride in the ambulance with them. I held his hand the whole ride, noticing the scars that littered his rough, calloused hands, taking in what could be the last time I would ever see him. And, if he did die, what would I do then? We couldn't have a funeral. I don't know any of his family, and he'd never talked about them before, so what would I do? Would I cremate him?

All these thoughts kept swirling through my mind. It was only when the doors opened that I snapped back to reality, remembering that this was happening and this was real. 

 They pulled him out of the ambulance and I followed them, unsure of what to do next. Since I was the only person who really knew him I didn't want to just leave. One of the staff members led me to the room he would be in during recovery, and I took a seat, and waited.

And waited.

A few hours passed and they finally brought him in.

I watched him sleep for hours. I didn't leave his side, I just couldn't leave him alone. What would he think if he woke up to nothing, to another betrayal? I couldn't do that to him. 

I cried.

I couldn't do anything else, I couldn't rest, couldn't even stand up from my chair. I sat there, next to him, watching, my heart aching. There was nothing I could do to help and that's all I wanted to do; perhaps it was my fault he was in this situation to begin with.

Every experience we had shared together flashed through my mind.

  

Vince had his hood on today. It was the first thing I noticed about him. After a few conversations with him, I knew already not to ask about it. If he wanted me to know, he would tell me, and he didn't, so I wouldn't pester. It was a miracle that he even met up with me. I knew he didn't like it, so I was ecstatic every Sunday when we would meet.

I sat down next to him, greeting him as I usually did. He wouldn't look at me, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet, as if he was afraid of saying too much. I think this is the first time he'd ever willingly been vulnerable in front of me, for what it was.

As our conversation continued, Vince reached his hands up, removing the hood. I don't think he was trying to be inconspicuous, but he was still trying to pretend like it was casual, as if it wasn't a calculated move. 

The shadows cast from the hood left with it, and I finally saw his face. He looked a little sick, more so than usual. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy. But I didn't pity him; Vince didn't like pity.

"Why didn't you sleep?"

It was a bold question, one I knew I shouldn't have even asked, but this time, instead of blowing it off, he answered.

"I had a rough night."

It was so strange to hear him say something so honest. I couldn't even contain the smile that lifted the corners of my lips, and he immediately squinted at me.

"The fuck are you smiling for?" Vince hissed, though I shook my head.

"You're being more open today." I answered him with a soft tone. I'm not sure why. Maybe I just wanted him to know it was okay. I wanted to be gentle with him. I don't think he's ever been shown such a kindness and, if he had then... not for a long time.

Vince continued to glare at me, but I kept smiling. 

"Well," I started, realizing it was probably time to change the subject, "I'm heading to get food if you want to come with me." It was around dinner time anyway, and I hadn't eaten since my break several hours before, so I might as well invite him. We usually got ice cream, so this wouldn't be so abnormal.

He didn't answer for a moment, but then stood, taking me by surprise. "Let's go."

He sounded determined, so I followed him as he took off down the street. It seemed like he was excited.

When we finally got to the diner, we sat down at a booth and ordered. I talked for the majority of the few minutes until our food arrived, as we started eating, I caught sight of a small smile on his face. It was the first and only time I had ever seen him smile.

That day, I walked him home. That day, I walked him to the door of his apartment. That day, I told him 'good night' instead of 'have a good night'. 

And it meant everything to me.