Eline sat on the bed, the silence stretching longer than he could handle. His fingers pressed lightly into the mattress as he tried to make sense of it.
Why is he here?
And why isn't he saying anything?
Eline shifted slightly on the bed, the silence stretching longer than he liked. "Did you… need something to say?" he asked, a little unsure.
Lucien finally spoke. "Do you like being outside a lot?"
Eline blinked, thinking for a second. He took it the obvious way. "Yeah… actually, I do," he said. "More than I thought. It's nice to be outsid."
He didn't elaborate much. There wasn't that kind of comfort between them.
Lucien watched him for a moment, then added, "Do you like being outside in the garden a lot?"
Eline caught the slight emphasis but didn't question it. "Yeah," he said. "It's good. I mean, the mansion isn't bad or anything—it's big, it's airy—but… the air outside just feels better."
"Do you not like the ventilation in this room?" Lucien asked.
Eline paused for a second. What kind of question is that? he thought, but he didn't say it out loud. "It's fine," he replied instead. "I just think the air feels better outside."
Lucien didn't respond to that immediately.
"Do you like eating strawberries a lot?" he asked after a moment.
Eline let out a small, confused breath. "Yeah… I guess."
Internally, he frowned. Why are you asking so many questions? This feels like some kind of interview.
Lucien continued, as if it made sense to him. "What kind of places do you like to go?"
Eline shifted slightly, answering anyway. "I like being outside," he said. "Before… I used to like going to places like malls or restaurants, but that was mostly because I didn't get to go often. Now I think I prefer farms or places that… mean something."
Lucien nodded once, almost to himself. "That makes sense."
There was a short pause.
"I guess you should go out more," he said. "Let me know when you want to go out. We can go."
Eline looked at him, a little surprised.
Lucien didn't stay long after that. He stood up, said nothing more, and walked out of the room.
The door closed quietly behind him.
Eline stayed where he was, staring at the door for a second longer than necessary, confusion settling in.
What the hell was that?
Why was he asking all of that all of a sudden?
Eline lay back on the bed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. The room was quiet, almost too quiet, and for a while he just stayed there, unmoving, letting the stillness settle around him.
What the hell is happening?
The thought came and went, not as sharp as it once would have been. Whenever he found himself staring at the ceiling like this, his mind had a habit of drifting back. Back to the first days in the mansion. Back to how desperate he had been to leave. He had been certain then, completely certain, that he would find a way out. Every thought, every plan had led to that one goal.
Now the urgency didn't feel the same.
His expression tightened slightly as he realized it. The mansion didn't feel as suffocating as before. The air didn't press down on him the way it used to. It felt… more breathable.
He shifted his gaze slightly, though he was still staring at nothing in particular.
Was it because of today?
He went over it again without meaning to. The time outside, the garden, the simple act of sitting there and eating strawberries. There had been nothing special about it, nothing that should have made a difference, and yet it had. The day had felt lighter than the others, almost normal in a way that didn't fit with everything else.
That thought lingered longer than he liked.
Then, without effort, other words surfaced in his mind. Darian's voice. Carlson's voice. The same idea repeated in different ways.
Take it as a surrogate.
He let out a slow breath, his chest rising and falling steadily.
You'll get more than anyone would give for something like that.
A small part of him responded to it, quiet and almost hesitant. It didn't argue or push, it simply existed in the background.
Maybe it's not that bad.
The thought didn't feel right, but it didn't disappear either. It stayed there, faint but present. He could go along with it. Stay here. Get through it. As long as he kept a distance from what mattered most.
As long as he didn't get attached.
That was the only part that still sat heavily in his chest. The idea that the child wouldn't be his to keep. That was the line he couldn't cross, the one thing he couldn't accept.
Almost immediately, other thoughts rose against it, stronger and more certain. This wasn't right. It wouldn't end well. He wouldn't be happy like this. Those thoughts came with more weight, more force, pushing back against that quieter voice without hesitation.
For a moment, both sides existed together, neither fully winning.
Then, slowly, the tension in his face eased.
Today had been good. That much he couldn't deny. Better than the others.
A faint smile appeared on his lips, small and unintentional, but real enough that he didn't question it. He let it stay for a moment, not thinking too much about why it was there.
His eyes grew heavier after that. The thoughts didn't stop completely, but they lost their edge, becoming softer, less defined.
After a while, he closed his eyes.
And this time, sleep came easily.