Kissing Lucas felt good.

Again.

Like I was supposed to be doing this.

He grabbed my face with both hands, pulling me in closer. A low grunt escaped him — deep, rough — and it sent heat curling low in my stomach.

Before I knew it, he’d gripped my waist and lifted me up, setting me on the kitchen counter without breaking the kiss.

I gasped — a soft, startled sound.

He moved in again, closing the space between us until there was none. One hand slid down the curve of my spine, pressing me into him, dragging me closer.

He was standing between my legs now, and the height of the counter had us lined up just right — hips against hips, breath against breath.

And then he ground into me.

Desperately.

Like he couldn’t help it.

“Ah—”

The sound slipped out before I could stop it. My lips parted, and I froze.

God. Embarrassing.

But Lucas just answered with a sound of his own — low and broken and just as needy.

I started to get dizzy.

Was this really happening?

It felt…

Good.

So good.

Lucas leaned in, his forehead pressing gently against mine. His breath was unsteady — just like mine.

“We can stop,” he whispered, voice low and rough. “Just say the word.”

That made my chest tighten.

Because he was giving me control in a way nobody else has.

Not like that.

Not when it counted.

“I don’t want to stop,” I said. My voice was small. Honest. “I just… don’t know how far I can go.”

Lucas nodded, like he understood more than I could say. His thumb brushed across my cheek.

“I will try to go slow. You stay in control. I mean it.”

Then he kissed me again — softer this time. Less desperate, more… grounding.

His lips moved against mine like they were learning me. And I let him. Let myself sink into the warmth of it, the steadiness of him. His hands didn’t wander. They held me — one at my waist, the other at the back of my neck — like I was something fragile.

I clung to his hoodie. Pressed my forehead to his collarbone, breathing him in.

His fingers gently traced under the hem of my hoodie, not lifting it — just feeling, just asking. My skin twitched beneath the touch, but I didn’t pull away.

“I’m okay,” I whispered.

Lucas kissed my temple. “Tell me if that changes.”

God.

How was he still like this?

Patient. Gentle. After everything.

I nodded.

He leaned in again, lips brushing my jaw, then lower. My heart stuttered. Every nerve in my body lit up — not from fear this time.

From want.

He kissed down my neck — slow, reverent. And when I made another sound, barely audible, he only smiled against my skin and said:

“That was cute. Do it again..”

I let out a shaky breath, half a laugh. “Shut up.”

Lucas chuckled — and the sound melted something in me.

It was still terrifying.

Letting someone in.

But maybe, just maybe…

It didn’t have to hurt.

Lucas didn’t pull away this time.

He kissed me harder—hungrier—and then his hands were everywhere at once. One second I was clinging to his hoodie, the next he had his arms locked around my waist.

“Lucas—” I barely got his name out before he lifted me.

I gasped as my legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t stumble. Just held me like I weighed nothing and started walking.

My back hit the mattress a heartbeat later.

The bed dipped beneath us as he leaned over me, breathing hard, eyes dark. He tugged his hoodie over his head and tossed it aside, then pulled his shirt off in one smooth motion.

I froze—not from fear.

From the sight of him.

Broad shoulders. Defined chest. Muscle earned, not just pretty. The kind of body that looked strong because it was. My mouth went dry.

Lucas climbed over me, bracing himself on either side of my body. The mattress creaked softly.

His hands slid down my arms, then lifted them gently—pinning my wrists above my head, not rough, but firm enough that I felt it everywhere.

My breath stuttered.

His mouth dropped to my neck.

Slow. Hot. Open-mouthed kisses that made my head tip back into the pillow.

“Do you like me on top?” he murmured against my skin, voice rough—barely holding together. “Desperate. Eager. Letting every fucked‑up fantasy I’ve ever had about you take over…”

My body arched without permission.

“Or,” he continued, kissing lower, teasing, “do you want to be on top of me?”

His lips brushed my collarbone. Then lower.

“In control with me at your mercy.”

I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

He slowly removed my hoodie and then my shirt. Then his hands returned to pinning my wrist.

“Lucas—” I gasped as his mouth closed around my nipple, heat shooting straight through me.

I cried out his name.

That’s when he sat up.

Still straddling me.

Still close enough that I could feel him.

One hand released my wrist and slid down my stomach, fingers working the button of my jeans—

And then he stopped.

Completely.

His breath hitched.

His hand froze.

“—Noah.”

The word wasn’t breathless anymore.

It was sharp.

Concerned.

He grabbed my wrist—not to pin it this time. To look at it.

My chest went tight.

“No,” I whispered, too late.

Lucas’s eyes dropped to the inside of my wrist.

The cuts.

Not fresh enough to be bleeding. Not old enough to be healed.

His face drained of color.

“What the hell—” His voice broke. “Noah, what is this?”

He released me instantly, sitting back like he’d been burned. His hands hovered, shaking, unsure whether to touch me or not.

“Did you do this?” he asked. “When? Why didn’t you tell me?”

I tried to sit up, dizzy now, the room tilting.

“I’m fine,” I said, automatically. “I just—”

Lucas’s hands came to my face, gentle but urgent. He looked at me properly now. Not like someone he wanted—but like someone he was terrified for.

His eyes narrowed.

“Hey,” he said softly. Too softly. “Look at me.”

I blinked.

The world felt thick. Sluggish.

“Oh my God,” he breathed. “You’re high.”

The words hit harder than the stop.

My stomach dropped.

“No, I—” My tongue felt heavy. “It’s just—”

“What did you take?” His voice was shaking now. “Noah, what did you take?”

Silence.

Understanding crashed over his face.

The lust was gone. Completely gone.

Replaced by horror.

Lucas slid off me, pulling the blanket up around my shoulders like armor. His hands trembled as he tucked it in.

“We’re stopping,” he said, voice firm but breaking. “We’re done. I don’t care how far we were.”

He cupped my face, forehead pressed to mine.

“I will never touch you like that if you’re not fully here,” he whispered. “Do you hear me?”

Tears burned behind my eyes.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” he said. “And that’s what scares me.”

He pulled me into his chest, holding me tight—protective, not possessive.

“You’re not okay,” he said quietly. “And I should’ve seen it sooner.”

And for the first time since the drugs, since Dylan, since everything—

I felt how close I’d come to losing control.

Not because I wanted to.

But because something else had taken it from me. 

I thought I wanted it in that moment.

But the drugs didn’t give me courage.

They took away my ability to stop.

“Get dressed,” he said quietly. “We’re going to the hospital.”

I blinked. “What? Wait… I don’t—“

“I’m not asking, Noah.”

He grabbed his keys. Then my shirt and hoodie. He walked over and handed it to me without looking me in the eye.

“Please,” he said. “Don’t make me carry you.”

Oh god! I can't… What if I get in trouble? I'm on drugs! What if they call my mom? Will this make Dylan mad? 

“Lucas,” I shivered. I’m scared…”

“I’m not going to leave your side. You will be okay. I need someone to look at your wrist too.” 

I tucked my wrist away. Shame covering me. If I wasn't under the influence I could have continued to hide this from him.

“It's okay. I'm not made and I don't think any less of you. I just want to help. Let's go.”  

“Okay…”I whispered. 

Lucas drove me to the hospital. I didn’t even know he had a car. He doesn’t seem to ever leave campus. 

The hospital was cold.

Not the air. The atmosphere.

Sterile. White walls. Soft beeping monitors in the distance. 

I sat on a paper-covered bench while Lucas paced in the corner. His hands were jammed in his pockets,.

I stared at the floor.

“You’re dehydrated,” the nurse said gently. “And your blood pressure’s a little off.”

I nodded, not speaking.

“We’ll run tox screen, okay? Just to be safe. Is there anything you want to tell us now? What you’ve taken? Anything we should know?”

I shook my head.

Lucas looked like he wanted to speak. But he didn’t.

Not yet.

They drew blood. Hooked me up to an IV. Asked me more questions I didn’t really hear.

When the nurse left, the room got quiet again.

Lucas walked over to me leaving the car he had recently sat down in. 

I could feel it building inside him — all the things he wanted to say. All the things he was holding back because he didn’t want to scare me more than I already was.

Then he said: “What did they give you?” “

I didn’t answer.

Lucas’s voice stayed soft, but firm. “Noah, I need to know.”

My throat tightened. “I… I don't know. They never told me.”

Lucas’s eyes went wide.

I hesitated.

“It’s not one thing I don't believe. It’s been different things. Drops. Syringes. Sometimes I don’t even know I took anything until I wake up. He's given it to me in my sleep before. Sometimes I would black out. ”

Lucas’s hands balled into fists on his knees.

“And you don’t remember anything after?”

“Not everything.” My voice dropped. 

We sat in silence for a second.

“I think I liked it, Lucas. That’s the worst part.”

“You were drugged.”

“Yeah… maybe the first couple of times. I'm sorry I accused you the night of that party when we first saw each other.”

Lucas looked me straight in the eye now. “What you felt doesn’t matter. What matters is you didn't consent at first. After that it was in your system. Of course you would want more. None of this is your fault.”

I tried to hold on to that. But it slipped through me like water.

Lucas didn’t push after that. He just stayed.

They moved me to an overnight room from the emergency room. 

He still stayed. 

Once in the room a nurse did ask me if I wanted them to reach out to any emergency contacts and I declined.

“You don't want to notify your mom?” Lucas asked.

“No… I worried her enough in high school. She thinks I'm okay here and thinks I'm happy. I—”

Finally, the tears I had been holding back all this time.”

“I told her I was making friends, joining clubs, getting good grades, going to parties. She thinks I'm having the time of my life. I'm no longer her depressed fragile son.”

I wiped the tears from my face with my sleeve before pulling my knees up to my chest hugging them tightly.

Lucas came back over to me wiping my tears with his hand. 

Lucas paused for a moment.

“I’m so pathetic,” I mumbled.

Lucas shook his head and wiped the last of my tears with the back of his hand. “I don’t think so. And even if you were… I’d still like you.”

He met my eyes. “Any version of you. I’d take every version. Even the broken ones.”

I swallowed hard.

“Lucas…” My voice was barely there. “Since you started bullying me once we hit high school… because of that crush you had on me…”

I looked at him.

“When did you first know? That you liked me that way?”

He didn’t speak at first. Just sat there, eyes searching mine like he was weighing how much truth to give me.

Then:

“Freshman year.”

My breath caught.

“I didn’t realize it at first,” he went on. “I just… hated how you made me feel.”

“Hated?”

“I didn’t know what to do with it.” His voice was rough, quiet. “You were soft-spoken. Smart. Careful. I’d never met someone like you. And you knew me in ways no one else did.. You made me feel seen and invisible at the same time. The way my heart would beat around you…”

I blinked. “So your response was… to make me miserable?”

“I know,” he said quickly. “It was messed up. But I didn’t know how to like you without resenting you too. I thought it was wrong. That something was wrong with me. You were so comfortable in your own skin, and I wasn’t. I couldn’t even admit it to myself. So I lashed out.”

He paused, then added, “I think about it all the time. The shit I said and did.. The way I made you feel. And the worst part is, you still looked at me with kindness, even after everything.”

I didn’t know what to say.

So I whispered, “That’s not fair.”

“No,” Lucas said. “It wasn’t. And the last thing I deserved from you was kindness.”

His voice cracked a little.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me. Not all the way. But if I can be the one you lean on now—if I can be the person you need instead of the one who made things worse… I want that chance.”

Tears welled again, but I wasn’t ashamed of them this time.

Not here. Not with him.

He reached for my hand, gently this time. Fingers lacing with mine.

“Stay with me,” he said. “Let me keep showing you who I really am.”

I nodded, quietly.

Because even if I wasn’t okay yet…

This?

This felt like a beginning.