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Eliott doesn't see him on Monday or on Tuesday. But he hears about him. All day long. Everyone is talking about Lucas.
Either about the fight, that has probably been blown out of proportion. At least Eliott hopes so. Or the other whispers, the ones that for some reason don't seem to mention his name once. Lucas is gay. It drifts in and out of Eliott's ears all day long.
Then on Wednesday he finally sees him. He finally sees Lucas and when he does he wishes he hadn't.
Lucas is wearing so many layers it's like he's trying to drown his tiny body in clothes. A scarf is wrapped around his neck, his hoodie peeking out from beneath his coat, both hoods pulled over his hair.
Eliott can see a fading bruise on his left cheek, a greenish yellow. But it's his knuckles that Eliott finds himself staring at. His beautiful hands. That had played the piano with such grace and emotion are now blue and red. Scabs forming, cracking slightly every time he moves his hand.
When Eliott's eyes make their way to Lucas' eyes they look right through him. Like he isn't even there.
Eliott wants to reach out and grab him. Pull him into a hug, kiss his tears away, kiss his bloody knuckles and the bruise on his cheek. Give him all the soft touches he deserves.
Tell him why he was at that party with Lucille, why he backed away. How he didn't want to hurt him. Didn't want to ruin another perfectly beautiful thing, so instead, he did exactly that.
He wants to tell Lucas all the things inside his chest. Show him all the drawings that he's drawn since they met. Show him how much he cares. How Lucas consumes his thoughts all day long. How he was just trying to protect everyone but in the end once again all he did was break things.
So Eliott doesn't reach out his hand. He doesn't call Lucas' name.
Instead, he slowly backs away, retreats down the hall and leaves.
Nobody needs him anyways. All he does is ruin things.