Hollow House
The door creaked as I pushed it open, and the quiet hit me like a slap. The moment I stepped into the apartment, a ghost of warmth greeted me—but it wasn't real. Just a memory. Lucien's laughter still lingered in the air, like perfume on a pillow, but the scent was old now, fading. The couch was slightly out of place, like someone had sat there and then stood too fast. The blanket we used to curl under was half-crumpled on the floor, and the mug he'd once stolen from me sat cracked on the table.
Everything looked… wrong. Off.
Empty.
The silence inside was heavier than the hospital. This place had once been our little sanctuary. Our crooked little paradise. Our mess. Our madness. Now, it felt like a tomb. My body moved on its own as I stumbled deeper in, blinking back the sting in my eyes.
I didn't even know what I was looking for.
Maybe I thought he'd be here. Sitting on the kitchen counter, legs swinging, smirking like an idiot, arms wide open.
"Hey, little tiger."
But no. Just shadows. Just echoes. Just the thunderstorm in my chest that wouldn't calm down.
I threw my keys across the room. They hit the wall and dropped like a broken promise. My bag followed next. Then the lamp. I didn't stop. Couldn't stop. I grabbed whatever I could find—books, cups, a photo frame with our picture—and hurled them to the floor. They shattered, cracked, splintered, just like me.
"WHY?!"
My voice bounced off the walls, hoarse and useless.
"WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME?!"
I wanted the pain to stop. I wanted it to make sense.
I wanted him.
I clawed at my chest like I could dig the ache out with my bare hands.
The apartment was a disaster now. But I couldn't care. Rage, grief, guilt—it all spiraled into a storm I couldn't contain. I screamed again, kicked over the coffee table, then sank to my knees in the mess.
And that's when I saw it.
A torn edge of paper sticking out from the kitchen bin.
I don't know why I noticed it.
I don't know what made me pause.
But my trembling hand reached for it.
In that dirty dustbin..
Something about the handwriting caught my eye. Slanted. Sharp. Familiar.
Lucien.
I froze. My fingers clutched the crumpled paper with shaking urgency as I pulled it free. It was smudged, bent, stained at the edge with coffee maybe. Dust clung to it like time had tried to hide it from me.
My legs gave out as I collapsed to the floor, back pressing against the cold wood of the bed frame corner. I sat there, my knees pulled up, the letter in my lap.
I stared at it.
Scared to open it.
Scared it would hurt more than anything I'd ever felt.
But I had to.
I unfolded it slowly, carefully, like it was made of glass.
And I began to read.
---
My little tiger,
If you're reading this, it means you came back. You always come back, don't you? Even when you say you won't.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being a coward. For walking away. For pretending I can survive without you when I clearing can't . I thought leaving was the right thing. I thought if I went first, I could protect you… from everything. From your father. From Silas. From the war I dragged you into just by loving you.
But the truth is, Arin, I'm not strong enough to fight them both. Not when my sister's life is hanging in the balance. And you… you're the light they'll destroy just to make me fall.
So I ran.
But every step I take away from you feels like a knife in my chest. Every time I breathe without you beside me feels like I'm suffocating.
The time I spent with you… it was the most precious time of my entire life. The laughter, the fights, the way you'd glare at me before you melted in my arms—every second is carved into my soul. If there's another life, I'll find you. I swear. I'll find you when there are no fathers, no threats, no chains. When I can just love you without fear. When no one can take you away from me. Or take me away from you.
Arin… baby… Fuck I wish I'd called you that before when you were in my arm. I wanted to. Every night. Every morning. But my throat always closed up. Maybe I thought you'd laugh. Maybe I thought you'd leave. But now, I'm the one who left. And I hate myself for it.
I'm begging you for one thing—please take care of my sister. I know you don't like kids. I know you glare at them in public. But she's just like you. Small. Stubborn. Beautiful. She's all I have. And now… she'll be all you have of me.
If—
If we meet again in this lifetime… I want to confess properly. I want to get down on one knee. I want to give you a ring that shines like your eyes when you're mad. I want to ask you to marry me.
Will you marry me, Arin?
Always yours,
Lucien.
---
I didn't feel the first tear fall.
Or the second.
But by the time I reached the end, my vision was blurred, my hands were wet, and the paper in my lap was stained with salt. I sat there, clutching it to my chest, the sobs silent at first—just trembling gasps.
Then they burst out.
Ugly, raw, uncontrollable.
Louder than thunder.
Sharper than glass.
Worse than death.
I screamed into the quiet of the apartment, screamed like I had when my lover died the first time. But this—this was worse. I hadn't just lost Lucien. I'd failed him. Failed to protect him. Failed to see his pain. Failed to stop my father. Again. Again.
Why did this keep happening to me? Why did everyone I love get taken away?
I cried until my throat gave out.
Until there were no more sounds.
Only shivers.
Only the breaking of a heart that had already been broken once before.
The letter slipped from my fingers.
I reached for the only thing that still smelled like him—his shirt. The one he wore the last night he held me I was conscious for a moment I saw him holding me close I wish I could stop him that time I wish I won't let him hold me if I know that was the last time he's holding me.
I pulled it close, buried my face in it, and breathed in like an addict.
Lucien.
Lucien.
Lucien.
His name repeated in my mind like a prayer, like a curse. I pressed my cheek to the cold floor, shirt clutched in my fists, letter under my elbow, and cried until there was nothing left.
Eventually, I fell asleep like that.
Surrounded by wreckage.
Cradling the last pieces of him I had.
The silence wasn't cruel anymore.
It was mourning with me.