Run: 2026-05-27-01KSMEZBHBQZ63RPH5HWV5FEYD

The door creaked open reluctantly, as if dragging its feet. The hesitation was almost as pregnant as the awkward pause that followed, neither of them quite ready to face the other after all this time. Aurora glanced up, cool blue eyes meeting the heterochromatic startle of Lucien's gaze—a fierce amber and a singular, cavernous black. The lighting was muted, but there was still enough to make out the shock in his features. The last thing either of them had expected was for this to happen. "Well, this is awkward," Aurora mumbled, shaking her head in surprise. She leaned against the doorframe, letting it ease shuttered relief through its broad shoulders. Lucien, on the other hand, barely flinched. His expression was a masterclass in composure, uninterested in betraying anything. "You could have given me more of a warning," he said, glance turning to annoyance. There had been heat in their parting, words flung in anger, and now...now they were beginning to weigh down. It was too heavy, this tension that had come back after so long. Aurora exhaled, trying not to let the frustration show in her features. "Hey, don't look at me that way," she teased, nuzzling in for a small play on her toe against the carpet. "I didn't know you'd be there, and I wasn't expecting you either." Lucien's expression flickered towards a small reluctant smile, frightened. Silly, [i]you two,[/i] [i]come close,[/i] the moment dragged on, the silence between them becoming more heavy. Eventually, Lucian cleared his throat. "So..." he started, gaze darting away. "How have you been? Still biking on delivery runs? Beware of hitting anyone with your bicycle." Aurora snorted, pushing away from the door and settling in deeper into the flat. The air was thick with the smell of old books and neglect. "Tch, way to go down memory lane," she quipped. Yet, despite the quip, something warm and tentative bloomed in her chest, even as the situation still bubble and popped civil and cordial. Lucien nodded, still struggling to put words to his thoughts. It was horrifyingly truthful, to be this close to him and feel so powerless. This was supposed to be simple. But it never was. The thing that could get him killed, was that he kept his gaze locked with hers, as they both stood locked and fighting, warriors at the gates of heartaches just moments before we show emotions go into full swing, each of them laboring over the power to stay strong. Aurora felt her face heat up and her hands start to tremble. "You...you bastard," she hissed. She could see the surprise in his eyes, the quick jump of his brows. And then it clicked. "You want me," she said flatly, accusation laced with desperation. Lucien said nothing, and Aurora could feel the weight of his stare as they moved to stand face to face, noses nearly brushing. "Well, the sad part is that I want you too," Aurora said, her voice breaking a bit. Her eyes bore into his, a dizzying expression that made him want to lean in closer. "I want you more than I've ever wanted anything in my life, and it kills me, Luc. It really does, because if I let you in, you'll hurt me again. And I don't know if I can take it." "I don't want to hurt you, Aurora," he breathed, reaching out to cup her cheeks. The feeling was electric, and Aurora leaned into his touch like a flower reaching for the sun. And then they were kissing, lips crashing together like two tectonic plates, and God, it was everything. It was the first kiss, and the last one, and every kiss in between. It was a promise and a goodbye, and a testament to the love that had always been there, even in the darkest of times. And in that moment, Aurora knew that no matter what, Lucien would always be hers. He held her face without a care, one hand still clutching at the handle of his cane as if it were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. Aurora melted into his embrace, her fingers twisting themselves in the rich fabric of his suit. It was all she could do not to sob, not to break down right then and there. Lucien pulled back just shy of a yawn, letting out a small, acutely pitched sigh. "I'm sorry," he murmured, pressing his forehead against hers. "I'm so sorry, Rory. For everything. For being a coward, and for not telling you the truth. For turning away from you after everything we've been through. I'm so sorry."