Luna hadn't slept properly in days.
The shadows beneath his eyes were practically luggage-sized, and his room looked like a crypt—curtains drawn, laundry abandoned mid-fold, sketchbooks splayed open like fallen birds.
Over the next couple of days after the incident, Luna had confind himselve to his dorm, missing classes, unable to bring himself to see Rachel, still so wracked with guilt.
Ryan had tried to call him several times but it all went to voice mail, and when Rachel tries to call him, he feigned illness and begged to be given time to recover. Judy and Anna also tried to reach out but were met with the same excuses, leaving them all thinking he was sick, with only Ryan knowing the truth about what happened to him.
Friday came along and with it, a long forgotten engagement that Luna was supposed to atten withLuka; The Lovewin's luncheon.
When the soft, gentlemanly knock came at the door, Luna barely responded. He expected a ghost, or worse, Ryan again.
But it was Luka in a pressed suit and a jolly smile, expecting Luna to be ready as well.
"Darling?" Luka's honey-smooth voice called through the wood, sweet with concern. "Open up, or I'll have the building evacuated for suspicious smells."
Luna shuffled to the door, cracked it open, and immediately collapsed into his cousin's arms.
"I can't go," he mumbled into Luka's scarf.
Luka blinked, catching his balance, arms going around him with immediate, feline grace. "Go where?"
"The luncheon. The stupid Lovewin luncheon. I can't—what if he's there?"
Luka paused. "He?"
"Ryan," Luna whispered, wrecked. "We—we did something. And Rachel knows. She heard. I feel sick just thinking about it. Please, Luka. Say I've got mono. A flesh-eating rash. I'll owe you forever."
Luka blinked again, slower this time. Internally, he was doing math. Emotional calculus. Rage carried to the third power. But outwardly, he only offered a gentle shushing sound and stroked Luna's hair like one might soothe a frightened cat.
"Common, let's take a seat on the couch and you can tell me all about it" Luka suggested softly.
Luna nodded stiffly, closing the door behind his cousin and leading them both to the couch, where he collapsed back into the cushions, his hands covering his face as he tried to calm himself down long enough to explain what had gone wrong.
Luka sat for an hour and a half, not saying anything, just listening while Luna recounted from start to finish, what had transpired between himself and Ryan. By the end of it Luka looked shellshocked, and as much as he tried his best to hide how he really felt, internally a storm was starting to build and at the centre of it was the need to protect Luna from whatever toxic entanglement he had gotten himself in with this Ryan.
"Do you hate me?" Luna asked, his voice shaky and vulnerable as he ran his hands through his hair, trying to deal with the guilt and shame he felt.
Luka sighed and reached over to his cousin, gently rubbing his back in soothing circles.
"There, there," he said. "Of course I'll go in your place. And no I don't *hate you*. I could never hate you. I do hate a certain soemone though…anyway you just stay in bed, drink something disgusting and herbal, and try not to self-immolate. I'll handle everything."
Luna looked up with damp eyes, grateful and hollowed out. "You're the best."
"I know."
Luka stepped out of the dorm fifteen minutes later, eyes hidden behind round tortoiseshell sunglasses, his lips set in a hard, graceful line. His tweed coat flowed like a storm cloud. He clutched his clutch bag like a weapon.
If Ryan Lovewin was at that luncheon, Luka was going to find him.
And then he was going to ruin his week—politely, devastatingly, and with the full force of a cousin's righteous fury wrapped in cashmere.
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