Setting his water glass on the desk, along with the ice pack, he glanced over at the boy. Mr. Brennahan felt a smile pull up, and sighed softly. Lucas really did look more relaxed, and he could tell. Nodding a bit to himself, he ducked out to get back to work.
(I'm sorry but this father son bonding time is too good)
Lucas slept for another couple of hours and then suddenly woke with a start. He sat up quickly, his heart racing and his face pale. He glanced over at the clock. He's going to be on his call, and I really shouldn't bother him anyways… He got up and pressed himself into a corner to sit in for a while, digging his fingernails into his bandaged arms as he stared blankly at the floor.
(Honestly- he definitely needed this. I'm not specifying. I think they both might have.)
Glancing at his watch. Mr. Brennahan drummed his fingers on the desk. He should probably go check on Lucas. "I do have enough time…" He mumbled under his breath, knowing he had about fifteen minutes. If Lucas was awake, he had enough time to make him lunch. So getting up, he ran a hand through his hair before slowly making his way up to Melissa's door. Knocking lightly, he started to push the door open. "You awake, Lucas?"
(It's so cute)
Lucas didn't look up at Mr. Brennahan's voice. He couldn't really hear him. He had drawn his knees up to his chest by now and had crossed his arms on top of them. He had his face buried in his arms, and he was still digging his fingernails into his forearms, which was causing small trails of blood to trickle down his wrists.
"Lucas?" Mr. Brennahan asked softly, noting her wasn't in bed. Slowly, he glanced around the room, trailing his gaze to the corner where Lucas was sitting. He had been taken by surprise, and slowly made his way over to him. Kneeling down, he saw the blood running down his arms and started to worry. "Hey- what's going on? Are you alright?"
Lucas seemed to snap out of his daze at that and looked up at Mr. Brennahan, his gaze shifting in and out of focus. He glanced down at his arms and quickly pulled his hands away when he realized what he was doing, paling at the sight of the blood and the realization of what he'd done. He was noticeably shaking and still didn't seem to be fully there.
Very gently, Mr. Brennahan reached out and tipped Lucas's chin up. "Lucas, can you hear me?" He asked in an incredibly soft tone. "Do you want to tell me why you're bleeding? So maybe I can try to get you fixed up?" While he specifically avoided mentioning his meeting, he pulled away from Lucas a little. Sitting on the floor in front of him, Mr. Brennahan rested a hand on his knee to try and relax him a little.
Lucas whimpered quietly. "T-They won't leave me alone…" He whispered. "They… they just keep d-dying over and over and over and over…" Tears stung his eyes as he looked down at what he'd done. "I-I didn't mean to, I… I'm s-sorry, I'm… I-I'm s.. s-so sorry…" He started breathing more quickly and pressed himself up against the wall.
“Hey, it’s alright Lucas.” Mr. Brennahan whispered, reaching out and gently taking his hands. “I still don’t quite understand, but I do know that you don’t have to apologize. Come on, just breath for me kiddo.” He continued softly, loosely holding on to him, so he could pull away if he needed.
Lucas closed his eyes and tried to force himself to take deeper breaths, allowing Mr. Brennahan to hold onto his hands. He hardly noticed it anyways, and it prevented him from hurting himself any further. "I-I keep doing this… I'm just pathetic…" He whispered shakily. "T-They won't leave me alone… why… w-why won't they leave me alone…? They're already dead, I… I-I shouldn't have to watch… over and over again…"
Mr. Brennahan gave him a worried look, watching him in silence for a minute. Once Lucas had finished, Mr. Brennahan gently gave his hand a squeeze. “This is a lot more serious than I thought. I’m assuming you’re talking about your family, correct?” He asked softly, trying to piece the little information he had into the full picture. If what he thought to be true, was, then it was starting to become worse and worse. He had known about all of this, but didn’t realize to what extent it was effecting him.
Lucas nodded shakily and rubbed at his eyes, drawing in a wavering breath. "Is… is my dad dead?" He asked weakly, turning his watery gaze up to Mr. Brennahan. "I-I keep seeing him die when I'm sleeping and I'm not sure anymore… I… I-I can't lose him… I can't lose anyone else…" He looked down at his bloody arms again. "Melissa is gonna be mad at me…"
“No… you’re dad is still alive. He’s safe, and kept away from you. He isn’t going to die.” Mr. Brennahan said softly, starting to stand up. “And Melissa won’t be mad at you. I’ve seen the way she looks at you, she’s too in love to be mad. Concerned, that’s a more logical assumption. But mad? I seriously doubt that.” He told him, still holding on to one of his hands. “Why don’t we get you cleaned up, hm? So Melissa won’t have anything to worry about.”
"Mmkay…" Lucas was still very pale and shaky, but he allowed Mr. Brennahan to pull him to his feet. He swayed as soon as he was up, both very unsteady and not very present. He leaned against the wall for support and closed his eyes. "Concussions aren't very fun…"
“I’ll make sure not to get one.” Mr. Brennahan mentioned with a light smile. Once Lucas was standing up, he carefully pulled his arm over his shoulder so he could lead him on. “After we get you fixed up, do you want something to eat? I’m sure you’ve gotta he hungry.” He said gently, supporting him as they carefully made their way on.
"Sure… sorry you have to deal with me, sir… I'm kind of a mess." Lucas laughed weakly and stumbled after Mr. Brennahan. "Don't you have work to do, sir? I wouldn't want to drag you away from that or anything… I'm kinda wasting your time… I'm sorry…" He sighed.
“Hey, you’re not wasting my time. Helping you is my choice, I wanna make sure you’re alright. I can explain why I was a little late, you’re clearly more important right now.” Mr. Brennahan insisted, keeping up a light smile. “Besides, I’ve been working for a couple of hours at this point. I needed a break from that. This is honestly more important than that.”
Lucas sighed softly and nodded. "I'm still sorry… I shouldn't be bothering you like this…" He winced when Mr. Brennahan started cleaning off his wounds, finally able to take in the extent of the damage he'd done. He had a lot of scars on his arms that seemed to be from similar incidents.
“It’s really alright, Lucas.” He said softly, trying his best to be gentle. “I know you’re not doing this on purpose. It’s all in your head, telling you what you’re suppose to do. Or, at least that’s what I think. If you’re hurting yourself on purpose, then I think we need to take a deeper look into this.” Mr. Brennahan said lightly, glancing up at Lucas.
Lucas shook his head. "No, I try not to do it on purpose anymore… I-I mean, there's still a ton of things seriously wrong with me and theoretically I could do it if I was in a really bad head space, but usually I'm kinda zoned out and dissociated and lost and when I snap back into reality… I'm bleeding." He sighed, watching his blood trickle down the sink.
“It’s still serious, clearly, but it could be worse. I’m assuming you don’t typically move from place to place when you’re in that state?” Mr. Brennahan asked softly, finishing cleaning the cuts on his arms. “Not yet at least, I’m hoping.” He added on, turning to wash his own hands free of blood.
Lucas shook his head again. "Typically I kinda retreat to a corner and sit there for a while… obviously, the episodes usually start when I'm laying down somewhere, like a bed or the couch. I don't feel very safe when I'm just laying down like that, so that's probably why I always end up in a corner. Then you have your back and both sides covered, so people can only come at you from the front. Obviously it's also preferable to be facing towards the door so you can see better, so I do that, but it doesn't make much difference… I'm usually so dissociated by the time someone comes in that I can't even hear or see them at all."
(You know, normal, mentally stable person things to think about)
(Oh of course. Only natural to think about.)
Letting out a soft sigh, Mr. Brennahan nodded as he patted his hands dry on a towel. “Well, it’s not good, still. But better than what I was worried about. So I’m assuming you won’t want to go lie down again, correct?” He asked softly, turning back to Lucas with a mostly expressionless face. “It would probably be better that you sit up for a little while as well. If you could walk, I’d offer to let you spend some time outside.”
"Uh… right. I'm fine to go outside as long as I don't fall down the stairs again…" Lucas sighed softly and firmly wrapped fresh bandages around his forearms. "I'm already starting to feel sore from that. I'm assuming I'm going to have some extra bruises tomorrow."
“I can’t do much about that. The best I can do is hope it doesn’t hurt too badly.” Mr. Brennahan said softly, leaning back against the wall and watching him wrap his arm. “But I can help you down the stairs. You might be stuck out there for awhile, because I’ll be in a meeting. But like I said earlier, Melissa will be home in a little bit.”
Lucas nodded a bit, tearing the bandage and tucking the end under the other bandages. This was clearly a process he was very familiar with. "Alright… I might sit on the porch so I can just wait for Melissa to get back. She might get worried if she goes up to her room while I'm outside and sees that I'm not there."
"Sounds like a good plan. After I make you something to eat, I'll help you on outside." Mr. Brennahan hummed, not wanting to ask how many times he had done this by himself. Quite frankly, he didn't want to know. "Do you need anything from your bag, before we head downstairs?" He asked as he pushed off the wall and offered a hand back to Lucas.
"Um… I'll probably bring my sketchbook. Typically it's a good distraction." Lucas allowed Mr. Brennahan to support him again as they made their way around. He pulled his sketchbook and a pencil out of his bag when they reached it, trying his best to stay upright.
Smiling softly, he watched him with a close eye. Mr. Brennahan didn't want him tripping and falling. "Alright, ready to head down stairs?" He asked softly, willing to help out if he needed it. Though he thoughts he would try to let him walk on his own.