Page 108 of Top Shelf

Lucian has been my safe place more than once. Now, it’s my turn. Whatever pain is clawing at him, it’s old, buried deep, and bleeding through the cracks. I know that kind of storm. I’ve lived in it.Drownedin it. And if all I can do is sit here and hold his hand, then I’ll hold on for both of us.

I’ve lost track of how much time has passed. Lucian hasn’t moved or spoken a word. His fists remain clenched, his breathing shallow, and his body is so rigid it may as well be carved from stone. He might be physically present, but his mind is clearly elsewhere. Locked someplace dark and private, someplace only he knows how to reach.

I remain close, my hand braced on his arm. A quiet reminder that he’s not alone. That I’m here, even if he can’t hear me through the storm.

Eventually, we are interrupted when the door into the lecture hall is pulled open. A fresh wave of students starts to file in, laughing and chatting as they move toward their seats. Theirpresence pops the bubble we’d been sitting in. Lucian flinches, almost imperceptibly.

“We should go,” I whisper, keeping my voice low.

He blinks once, his gaze slowly refocusing. His jaw ticks, anger still tightening his muscles, but after a moment, he nods.

I slide my fingers down to his wrist before entwining them with his. With a squeeze of his hand, I get to my feet. He doesn’t resist. Doesn’t react, but he stands with me.

He’s on autopilot as I lead him through the building. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look around. Just puts one foot in front of the other as though the direction itself is irrelevant. If anyone looked twice at him, they’d see danger. Rage. A man on the brink of detonating.

But I see something else: Agony given flesh.

We step outside into the cold. The breeze does nothing to flush the tightness from his face. He’s in no shape to attend his next class. Hell, he’s in no shape to be anywhere near people.

Making a split-second decision, I tighten my grip on his hand and veer us off the main path. He doesn’t ask where we’re going, just keeps pace beside me as I lead him off campus and toward my apartment.

Once inside, I drop my keys into the dish by the door and toe off my shoes. As if unable to remain still now that he’s started moving, Lucian paces the length of my apartment like a trapped animal. His chest rises and falls in shallow, angry gasps. His hands keep flexing, clenching, as though he’s fighting the urge tobreaksomething.

Gone is the numbness from the lecture hall, and the Lucian in front of me is unraveling right before my eyes.

“ARGH!” he suddenly roars, the sound emitting from him like the dying cry of a fatally wounded animal. Like he can’t bear to keep the pain bottled up inside any longer.

He crumples in on himself, bending at the waist andclutching his head. I have never seen him so unhinged. So…broken. I’ve caught glimpses of his pain. Hints at his trauma. But never this. He’s always done such a stellar job of keeping it all locked up, the emotions shut down, but the Lucian before me is truly unraveling, and I don’t see any way of stopping it.

I’m not even entirely sure Ishouldstop it.

I feel like he needs this.

His shoulders rise and fall as air saws into his lungs. His breaths are loud in the otherwise silent room.

“You shouldn’t have brought me here,” he eventually rasps, still bent over and not looking at me.

“Lucian—”

“You think you’re helping, but I’m not safe to be around.” His voice breaks, jagged and raw as he slowly moves back to his full height. The look on his face as he stares at me with dull, flat eyes, is utter wretchedness. “I’m a fucking grenade with the pin halfway out, and I don’t want to blow up onyou.”

“You won’t.”

Hesitantly, I edge closer. Well, as close as he’ll let me get.

“You don’tknowthat,” he spits. War wages in those steel gray eyes of his. “Why aren’t you afraid of me? Youshouldbe. If you know what is good for you, you’d stay away.”

He scoffs before looking away.

Helpless, all I can do is stare at him.

“I guess I’m not very good at knowing what’s good for me.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing half the time,” he continues as though I never spoke. “I—I black out in a rage. I forget how to breathe. I hate everything and everyone?—”

Taking a bold step into his space, I grab hold of his arm. “You’re in pain.” I wait until his eyes meet mine. “You’re in so much pain that you don’t know what to do with it,” I murmur softly, staring up into his face. “So let me help you hold it.”

“You should be running in the opposite direction,” he rasps,voice thick. Broken. “Because whatever you think I am, you’re wrong. You think I’m whole? I’m not. I’m fucking bleeding inside. You don’t know what the hell you’re doing getting close to me.”