Private Finished The whole truth is nothing but a good excuse

Lochlann didn't want to die. He liked being alive. It was the worst part about him. If he was a better person, a stronger person, maybe he'd give in and stop fighting so hard.

But Emily wanting him alive was different than him wanting to be alive. It made him feel..

Uncertain.

He didn't know what to do with this strange feeling. It was small and tentative, flickering like a light from a match. Lochlann didn't know if he should cup this feeling and hold it close against the bitter wind or to blow it out before it had a chance to incinerate him.

He looked at Emily and he wanted to brush her tears off her cheek. He had a brief, panicked moment where he wanted to lick her tears off her cheek. They'd taste like the ocean.

He did not like that he wanted to eat her. His other hand went to his pocket and gripped the pack of cigarettes in them. He wanted to light one right now, just to have something to do with his mouth, because otherwise he was going to do something bad. He was going to kiss her. he was going to lick her tears like some kind of weirdo.

"Black coffee and toast," he teased. It was a feeble attempt. "Burgers and hot dogs are for special occasions only."

When she said that she wanted to help him, Lochlann jerked as though he'd been shocked. His eyes widened and his fingers twitched and it was a second before he was calm. Emily would not hurt him. Help did not always mean rehab. He had to remember that. He gave her an embarrassed smile and shrugged his shoulders inward again and said, "Thank you."


He asked her the question that had been bothering him throughout the entire exchange.

"Aren't you afraid of me?" he asked her.

Lochlann considered her answer.

"I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or worse," he admitted after a moment. This time, the smile he gave her wasn't so sheepish. It was genuine, but it was tired.

"I want you to be afraid of me because it would make things easier," he said. He wanted to take a step closer to her, and he started to, but he stopped at the last minute, just leaning further against the bookshelf. "If you looked at me and were afraid, maybe it would make it easier not to get so close. But.."

He glanced down at their feet, and then back up at Emily.

"I like that you're not afraid of me, too."

He did and he didn't. Because it meant maybe there was some part of him that she could see, some part of him that wasn't filthy and terrible. Or, maybe, it was because she hadn't really seen it in person. He could never be sure. The doubt would never go away.

"But you should be," he said. "I don't want you to ever forget what I might do to you, okay? Please at least promise me that?"

Emily pressed her head against his chest and he flinched a little bit despite himself. It wasn't that he didn't want her close. He liked this. But it was the fact that he had stitches on his chest, too. Fucking Guin.

He didn't want to talk about them so he lifted his good hand and gently stroked her hair.

It kept him occupied when she asked if she was the first.

"Yes and no," Lochlann said.


Who was the first one, really? Guin, maybe, but he didn't try to drown her immedietly. She was the first one that Lochlann realized he couldn't kill. Addy was a close second. He'd tried to kill her. But she hadn't been there to deal with the fall out afterwards.

"You're the first one to still be here after," he said. He didn't mean alive. There were a few others that lived. But he meant...here. Talking with him. With her head on his chest and his fingers in her hair.

"It's unfamiliar territory," Lochlann said. "The mistakes I make usually don't leave room for second chances."

He was glad she wouldn't forget but she was crying again now, and he felt horrible. He wanted to stop her from crying but part of him thought that he shouldn't. If she was miserable, maybe she'd avoid him.

He didn't know what answers she was looking for. The answer to fixing him? Lochlann didn't think he could be fixed. The thought that she'd even try was beautiful as it was devastating.

"Oh," he said. He kissed the top of her head without thinking about it. "Don't, it's okay. It's, it's just the way that it is."

Did he have a name for what he was?

There were so many names. So many possibilities.

"Cabyll-ushtey," he said after a moment. No point in hiding it. It was his last name, after all, but he put the lilt into his name when he said it, made it the title. His voice brimmed with disgust. The loathing was undisguised. "Water horse. Kelpie. Each-usige. You can take your pick, but they're all monsters."

He swallowed.

He said, "Emily, if I ever come to talk to you in the rain, don't answer your door."

"I'm not mad," Lochlann said, once he sorted out the peculair feelings this conversation had started to pull from. "Just...worried."

He worried that this seemed too much like a fairy tale. That he was a dark, ugly thing that lived in the waters and Emily was the beautiful light that was going to try to pull him out of the darkness.

Only Lochlann grew up on the other end of fairytales. He was the wolf in little red riding hood, the dragon in sleeping beauty. He was supposed to learn from the mistakes of others and be a better monster.

"I think it's a bad idea, Em," he said. "But if you need to do it, I'm not going to stop you. I would never stop you. I'm just...please remember to be safe."

He stroked her hair for a few minutes, just enjoying the presence of having her this close while in the library. This was dangerously close to forbidden territory and he knew they'd have to pull away soon.

Lochlann was surprised by this.

"I've always considered you human," he confessed. He didn't know if she was telling him that she was a demon or that people thought she was and it was difficult. There was a thin line with some of the older fae between what was a fae and what was a demon. Some, the ones who used to be like gods, chose to be demons now. Lochlann wished it worked the other way. He wished he could be human. "I didn't know that."

The last bit send another deep pang of guilt racing through him.

He didn't like the idea of best not to tempt you. It made it sound like she was doing something wrong, that she was somehow at fault for him being what he was. That was ridiculous. It was as though Emily where wearing a short skirt and she was at fault for Lochlann deciding to look up it. He shifted uncomfortably.

"It's more of a...warning, I guess, so I don't make the same mistake with you only in real life. I can be very, very persuasive," he explained.


He made another confession. "It might be easier for us to just, not see each other but...I want to see you. I was surprised that you still wanted to see me. I thought after all of that it would be the end."

Lochlann's lips twitched into a wry smile when she said experimenting with him.

Lochlann didn't want Emily to hurt, and he didn't want to hurt, either, but if he had the choice he would always chose to hurt himself. He was just starting to feel better when she said the words.

Those

four

words.

I love you Lochlann.

If they'd been next to a window, he probably would have jumped out of it, right then. His brain went full animal, seeking out exits, reviewing the floor plan, the layout, trying to figure the most direct way to freedom for air, air, air. If he stayed here any longer he wasn't going to be able to breath.

He wanted to dive into the bottom of a lake and hide there in the mud.

A second ago, Lochlann had been on board with everything. He wanted to picture everything coming together, their paths eventually meeting. He wanted to share her optimism. But it all came crashing down.

Those words did it. Lochlann could not hear them. He could not stomach them.

Sometimes, Lochlann forgot Emily could read emotions. If he remembered, if he was thinking of anything besides escape, he would have done his best to try and tide back from the unexplained rush of sadness that sunk over him. This went beyond sadness. This was despair.

The weight of everything he'd done, everyone he'd ever tasted in his jaws at the bottom of the lake, crushed him. He thought of the dream, of how the thrill he felt when he pulled Emily's body into the river wasn't horror but anticipated delight.

"Emily," Lochlann said. The voice coming out of his mouth didn't feel like his own. It sounded shut off and quiet, like he was reading words from a script.

"I want this," he told her. "This future you're describing but..."

This was a 180.

What was it called? Being cruel to be kind?

It didn't feel kind at all. He was relieved a moment ago that she still wanted to be friends with him and now he was terrified.

"But I'm leading you on," he told her. "I shouldn't give you hope or lead you to believe things might be different. i'd like them to be, but this is a story that can't be rewritten."

He took a step back, opening the distance between them once more.

"I'm really sorry Emily, but I can't," he said.

He was looking at her face but he was picturing it covered in blood from when she hit her head that night. He was holding that image in his minds eye.

"I think I might have a girlfriend now," he told her.

This wasn't exactly a lie so he could say it. He had talked to Cat. She let him know it had to be exclusive or it wouldn't be a thing. He couldn't look at her eyes because he didn't want to see her cry. This was tearing him apart, too.

But what kind of man would he be if he didn't look at her eyes?

"I'm sorry I can't be the person I need to be to be with you," he told her.

It's not you, Emily, it's me.

He meant that with every fiber of his being. He stuck his hands back in his pocket so she couldn't see him shaking. He felt like he was drowning in fear, in regret, in despair.

This was Lochlann trying to go cold turkey and he was already feeling the pangs of withdrawl.