Happy Together

HI_REN

Lucius’s pacing turned frantic, his boots crunching against the gravel as his body coiled like a predator caught in a trap. His breath came in ragged gasps, the fury in his eyes blazing as he glared at the hallucination—or was it more than that? Alistair stood there, arms crossed, a look of quiet disapproval etched across his face.

“It’s my birthday too,” Lucius growled through clenched teeth, jabbing a finger at the image. “You don’t get to take that from me. Not this time.”

The phantom of Alistair didn’t flinch, his expression unyielding. His calmness only fueled Lucius’s rage further.

“You think you’re better than me, don’t you?” Lucius spat, his pacing picking up speed. “You think you’re so f*****g noble, playing house with your little coffee shop crush. But you’re nothing without me! You’re weak, you’re scared, and you’d still be a sniveling coward if it weren’t for me.”

The voice in his head spoke again, soft but insistent, a steady drumbeat in the chaos of Lucius’s mind. Calm down, Lucius. She doesn’t deserve this.

“She doesn’t deserve you!” Lucius roared, whipping around to face the vision of Alistair. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, his knuckles white. “She’s not your savior, Alistair! She can’t fix you, and she sure as hell can’t fix me.”

Alistair’s image remained silent, staring him down with a look of pity that made Lucius’s blood boil.

“And Germany?” Lucius continued, his voice rising to a fever pitch. “You know I had no choice! She was onto us—onto you. She would’ve exposed everything!” His voice cracked, turning guttural as he paced faster, his movements growing more erratic. “I saved us, Alistair! I always save us!”

You’re spiraling, the voice said, still maddeningly calm.

Lucius stopped abruptly, his chest heaving. He looked up at the sky, the stars above blurring as tears of frustration welled in his eyes. “I wasn’t going to hurt her,” he whispered, his tone softening, though his hands trembled with barely contained energy. “I wasn’t. She’s different.”

Then let her go, Alistair’s voice urged, the calmness giving way to something more desperate. If she’s different, prove it. Let her go.

Lucius’s breathing hitched, the war within him tearing at his mind. He turned and glanced back at the car, where Victoria sat motionless, her silhouette barely visible through the window. For a moment, guilt pierced through the haze of anger and violence, and his hands slackened.

“She’ll run,” Lucius said, his voice a mix of defiance and uncertainty.

Then let her run, Alistair replied softly. You’ve done enough damage. Let me fix this before it’s too late.

Lucius growled, his hands rising to clutch at his head as if he could physically pull the voice out of his skull. “I can’t... I can’t let her go. She’ll tell someone, and then—”

She won’t. She’s terrified, but she’ll stay quiet. She just wants to survive. Let me handle this, Lucius. Let me protect her.

The plea hung in the air, cutting through the storm of Lucius’s thoughts. He staggered to a stop, his body shaking as if an invisible force was wrestling him to the ground. He could feel Alistair pushing harder now, not with strength but with resolve, chipping away at the cracks in his psyche.

“She’ll hate you,” Lucius muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “She’ll see what you really are.”

Maybe she will, Alistair admitted, his voice steady. But that’s my burden to bear. Not yours.

Lucius stumbled forward, falling to his knees in the gravel, his head hanging low. His breathing slowed, his shoulders sagging as the fight began to drain from him.

“Fine,” he muttered bitterly, his voice breaking. “But don’t think this is over, Alistair. You can’t get rid of me.”

I know, Alistair replied.

Lucius let out a shuddering breath, his body going still. When he finally raised his head, his eyes were different. The feral gleam was gone, replaced by something softer, more human. Alistair had returned.

He got to his feet slowly, his body trembling with exhaustion. Turning toward the car, he saw Victoria’s wide, terrified eyes watching him through the window. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, before walking over and unlocking the door.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice raw and full of shame. “I’ll take you home.”

Victoria sat frozen in the passenger seat, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. She didn’t move, didn’t even flinch, as Alistair opened the car door and stood there, his frame silhouetted against the moonlight. His voice, softer now, tentative and raw, broke through the suffocating silence.

“I’ll take you home,” he repeated, his eyes darting away from her as if he couldn’t bear to meet her gaze.

Victoria’s mind raced, every survival instinct screaming at her to get out and run. But something about him now—this subdued, almost broken version of the man who had just screamed at an invisible entity—made her hesitate. The rage was gone, replaced by guilt and something that almost looked like sorrow.

Her voice came out in a whisper, trembling. “What the hell was that, Alistair?”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping as he stepped back from the car, giving her space. “It’s... complicated,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I—Victoria, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

She stared at him, her chest tightening with a mix of fear and confusion. “You were talking to yourself,” she said, her voice growing steadier, sharper. “You were yelling at yourself. Who... who were you talking to?”

Alistair flinched at the question, his jaw tightening. “It’s... it’s hard to explain,” he said, his voice barely audible.

Victoria’s heart pounded in her chest. She wanted to scream at him, to demand answers, but she also knew she needed to be careful. Whatever had just happened, whatever was wrong with him, it wasn’t normal—and it felt off almost fractured.

“You scared me,” she said, her voice cracking despite her efforts to sound calm. “I thought you were going to—” She stopped herself, unable to say the words out loud.

Alistair’s face crumpled, and he looked away, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “I would never hurt you,” he said firmly, though his voice wavered with uncertainty as if he was trying to convince himself as much as her. “Not me. Not the real me.”

“The real you?” Victoria repeated, her fear giving way to anger. “What does that even mean, Alistair? Who the hell am I even talking to right now?”

He hesitated, his silence stretching on so long that Victoria felt a fresh wave of panic rise in her chest.

Finally, he took a step closer, his hands raised as if to show he wasn’t a threat. “It’s... it’s not just me,” he said, his voice shaking. “There’s... someone else. I hear him inside my head. There are times when I can see him. I know he is a hallucination but he feels so real. When I feel like I can’t…don’t have control, he steps in and takes it. He makes himself big. Takes up space. Like he is the biggest threat in the room.”

Victoria’s breath caught, her eyes narrowing as she stared at him. “What are you saying? Are you trying to tell me you have—what, a split personality or something?”

Alistair swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he nodded. “Something like that,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “His name is Lucius. And... and he’s not like me.”

Her stomach turned at the name. Lucius. She had heard him scream it earlier, but she hadn’t understood what it meant. Now, hearing it explained, the puzzle pieces began to fall into place, and the picture they formed was terrifying.