Catch the Thunder

Return Home

"Any reason for your return?" Llewellyn asked without any emotion or hint of interest, a facade too forced to be natural.

Hesitantly, Freed replied, "I felt it to be necessary." It was obvious: he was here, Laxus was not, so something happened between them.

A long silence fell between them.

Evergreen sighed and muttered to herself, "Well, this isn't awkward!"

They ate with a tense atmosphere. Finally, plates were taken away, and all three just had their drinks: a mimosa for Evergreen, a latte for Freed, and tea for Llewellyn.

Finally, Freed looked up. "Father, can we speak in private?"

He glanced over, saw the weariness in his son's face, and set his tablet down. "Of course. My office."

"Thank you," he said with a formal bow.

The two left, and Evergreen sipped her drink.

"Seriously! Men!"

Freed followed his father's firm steps. The man always had an air about him, dignity and importance that could be intimidating even to his own son. Freed had been expected all his life to emulate this demeanor. So when they entered the office and shut the door behind them, he did not take a seat. He stood firmly even when his father sat behind his desk.

"I assume you wish to speak about Laxus," Llewellyn said, cutting straight to the issue.

Freed had been debating about asking his father for guidance. He knew no one else with whom he could speak, no one else in this lifestyle, and no one who knew Laxus in that sort of way. Still, knowing his father's connection to Laxus made this far harder.

He weighed his words carefully. "How do you convince a sadist that they're not abusive?"

Llewellyn looked stunned. "Are you serious?" he cried out, which caught Freed by surprise. "Laxus thinks that?"

"Yeah," he whispered, and his head dropped in sadness.

Llewellyn hated to see his child in such anguish. He tried to come up with the perfect answer, just like how he had always had answers for his son when he was a boy asking questions far beyond his tender years.

Not this time, though.

"I'm honestly not sure," he admitted. "If that's something they're worried about, if it's dom-drop or just lack of confidence, you have to keep convincing them that you want it."

"I did!" he shouted. "I ... I tried." He finally sank into a chair and covered his face as the anguish that had been building over that whole week tormented him. "I told him. I kept telling him. He said ... he doesn't want it anymore, that he's just being abusive. The problem is ... there's history," he admitted, really not wanting to get into that issue. "He has a right to be worried, but ... but it's not abuse," he insisted. "I told him over and over, but ... Dammit!" he yelled, slamming his fists against the chair's arms. He took a deep breath, battling against the emotions.

Llewellyn gave him a moment to calm down. Once he saw Freed's shoulders loosen up, he spoke again. "Did something spark this?"

Freed nodded, struggling to speak through the frustration tensing up his throat. "Someone ... noticed my bruises," he answered quietly, as if this was a secret he had to hide despite them being alone. "They ... questioned the health of the relationship."

Llewellyn said it bluntly. "They accused him of being abusive."

"She..." He wanted to defend that safe house matron. He knew it was unfair to hate her. "The accusation was not made directly toward him," he clarified stiffly. "I happened to tell him about it, and now he's second-guessing himself."