Disclaimer: I do not own Tales of the Abyss or any of its properties.

Notes: This was written forever ago as a response to a prompt on tumblr. I've finally decided to update this account with something, though, and thought it this was still good enough to make it here.

3 AM Runaways

The Gardios manor, rebuilt in Grand Chokmah due to the absence of Hod, was much larger than it needed to be. Despite the fact that it only had Guy as the sole occupant, the manor had three floors and long, sprawling corridors, with wide, open rooms reminiscent of those in the manors on Hod. It was nice, and Guy enjoyed the sense of nostalgia it gave him, but there were times he felt more like he was exploring an ancient palace than his own place of residence.

The sprawling size meant that his bedroom was a good deal of distance away from the front door—in specific, his room was at the end of the third floor corridor, while the front door was closer to the east wing of the manor, down on the first. It was for this reason, Guy imagined, that he didn't hear the banging on his front door at first, even though he'd never been that deep of a sleeper. When he finally did hear it, it took him a few moments to tug his eyes open, blinking blearily at the clock he had sitting on the oak nightstand next to his bed. He scowled at the hour—it was only three hours past the new day—but when he still heard the banging echoing distantly through the hallways of his home, he tossed off his blankets and climbed out of bed, grabbing his sword and slinging it around his pajama pant clad waist more out of habit than anything else.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he grumbled, once nearer to the door. On his way, he'd activated the fonstones that lit his hallways and foyer, casting a soft glow on the entryway as he reached for the front door. He undid the latches and pulled the door open without preamble, only remembering that he'd forgotten to pull on a shirt when the night air—cool, by Grand Chokmah's standards—hit him flat in the chest.

But that wasn't what surprised him.

"L-Luke?" he said, aghast. Luke shifted his weight from foot to foot, scowling at the side of Guy's door, his short, floppy red hair disheveled. He had a bag slung over one shoulder, and while he was wearing familiar baggy, dark grey pants and his long, white short-sleeved coat, his clothes looked wrinkled and a bit dirty, as if he'd been wearing them for days.

"Jeez, that took long enough," Luke muttered. "What were you doing that made it take so long?"

"Sleeping," Guy answered, his tone a bit flat. The response was more automatic than anything else. "What are you—"

"Can I crash here tonight?"

Luke's words came out in a rush, as if he thought he might chicken out—or Guy might say no—if he waited much longer. Maybe it was the sleep fogging his brain, for a moment Guy just continued to stare at Luke, watching him until Luke's green eyes rose up to meet his own. It was only then that Guy stepped aside, allowing Luke entrance into his manor before shutting the door behind him. Luke looked around appreciatively, tapping his fingers against his leg, still shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"Nice place," Luke said appreciatively, and he made to drop his traveling bag on the floor before he thought better of it, readjusting the strap on his shoulder. "It's kinda . . . warm, and stuff. Lots of white."

"It was designed in the style of the homes on Hod," Guy said, and he raised one hand to ruffle his blond hair as he moved past Luke, heading down the hallway that extended out in front of them. "C'mon, let's go to the kitchen. You could probably use something to drink after coming all this way."

"Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks." Luke sounded as distracted as Guy felt, but Guy didn't comment on it as he led the way to the kitchen, still lighting fonstones along the way. Unlike at the Fabre manor, Guy's kitchen was connected to his dining area; while a nicer dining room existed in another room, there was a small table with a set of chairs on the other side of a long counter, the counter being the only barrier between the food preparation area and the table itself. Guy motioned for Luke to take a seat, and it wasn't until Luke dropped into a chair and Guy moved around the counter that Luke broke the silence.

"Don't you have any maids, or servants, or anything? You don't have to get me anything."

"Nah. Emperor Peony offered, but I told him it wasn't necessary. I'm pretty used to looking after myself by now." Guy swiped a couple of mugs out of a cabinet and reached into his fontech cold food storage, reaching for a glass bottle of milk before he shut the door. "This place is pretty big, but it's not like I make a habit of messing it all up. It's not really as big of a deal as you might expect."

"Oh." Luke started drumming his fingers against the wooden tabletop, tapping his foot against the floor. He was antsy and nervous, but Guy supposed that was at least better than silent and brooding. He poured the milk into a small pan and put it on his stovetop, and waited just long enough for it to start warming up before he looked over the counter at Luke.

"So, Luke. Mind telling me what you're doing here?"

Instantly, Luke's drumming fingers and tapping foot ceased, his entire body going still. His green eyes focused on Guy's blue only for a moment before he looked away, his shoulders drooping. "It's—nothing," he said finally, voice quiet. "I can leave. It's not a big deal. Sorry to bother you like this."

"You're not bothering me," Guy said, and when Luke looked back to him, he rolled his eyes, hoping that communicated just how stupid the idea of Luke bothering him was. "I'm just wondering what you're doing here, all of a sudden. Why aren't you at the manor in Baticul? Did something happen?"

Luke looked down at his knees, the only other movement he offered being a little shrug. "No," he said finally. "Nothing happened, I just . . ."

"Just?" Guy prompted, raising his eyebrows a bit as he moved the saucepan off the stove, extinguishing the fifth fonons with a little switch before he poured the warm milk into the mugs.

"I just . . . I don't really belong there, you know?" Guy glanced up to see that Luke was still staring at his knees, though he was now starting to toy with the hem of his coat, worrying it between his fingers. "I'm . . . a replica. No one really wants me there. They'd prefer Asch."

"Did they say that?"

". . . They didn't have to." Luke's response was so quiet Guy barely caught it, but his fingers tightened around the saucepan handle nonetheless. Rather than say anything, he dropped the saucepan into his sink and reached back into one of his cabinets for his jar of ground cocoa powder, mixing it in with the milk. "I just . . . I figured it'd be better to leave before I was . . . you know, asked."

"And you came all the way here?"

"Couldn't think of anywhere else to go. I didn't think you'd care."

"You're an idiot, Luke." Luke looked up, alarm in his eyes, as Guy walked around the counter and set the mugs of hot cocoa on the table, sliding one over to Luke's side. "Of course I care. That's why I'm letting you stay."

The alarm and fear in his expression faded into a tiny, grateful smile, as Luke wrapped his hands around his mug. "Thanks, Guy." Guy grinned back and dropped into a chair of his own, taking a sip out of his mug before he nodded to Luke.

"Anytime. You don't even have to ask." There was a look in Luke's eyes that suggested that maybe he didn't believe it, but before he could voice any such opinion, Guy asked, "By the way, where's Mieu? Wasn't he staying with you as part of his banishment?"

Instead of answering, Luke reached over to his bag, which was still sitting on the table, and unzipped it. Due to the way it was positioned, Guy got a clear shot of a sleeping cheagle, drooling a bit on the cover of Luke's leather-bound journal. He couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Sleeping. Can't really blame him, given the hour." Luke fidgeted in his seat, and gave a sheepish sort of laugh as he ran a hand through his floppy red hair, an action that mimicked Guy's from earlier.

"Yeah, sorry about that. The ship I was on actually came in earlier, but I . . . uh . . ."

"What?"

"I was . . . I didn't think . . . I kind of just . . . waited awhile." Guy continued to stare at Luke, waiting for further explanation, before Luke finally sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I was worried that I'd be bothering you, so I hung around that bar a few streets down until they kicked me out because they were closing. I thought about staying at the inn, but that would be stupid since that's not what I came here for, so I figured I'd give this a shot, anyway." Luke shrugged, and looked at his cocoa rather than at Guy. "I don't think I have enough gald on me for the inn, anyway."

"Why would you think you would be bothering me?" Guy asked, and he waited until Luke glanced, however briefly, up at him before continuing. "C'mon, Luke, we spent the last seven years together. I don't think it'd be that much different having you stay. Besides, I even invited you to stay in my letter, didn't I?" Luke looked up at him again, but this time, Guy saw confusion instead of nervousness or hesitant gratitude.

"Your letter?"

"Yeah. I sent it a few weeks ago. You didn't respond, but . . ." Guy trailed off as Luke continued to stare at him in blank confusion, and he furrowed his brow. "You never read it?"

"I never got it. I never got any letters, from anyone. I figured . . ." Luke huffed a little, mirthless laugh. "Well, it doesn't matter."

"No, it matters," Guy said darkly, and his fingers once again constricted, this time around the handle of his mug. Luke looked back at him in confusion, but Guy shook his head. "Never mind, don't worry about it. You're here now, and that's all that matters."

Luke still looked confused, but he went back to drinking his cocoa regardless, either knowing that Guy wouldn't elaborate or too tired to press the issue. They sat in silence for a time, and while Luke was lost in thought over his drink, Guy studied him over the rim of his mug.

Luke looked like a mess. Messy hair and disheveled clothes aside, his eyes didn't seem to have any light in them; none of the spark or fire that was usually there, whether Luke was elated or infuriated or anxious. His slumped shoulders matched his downtrodden eyes; it seemed that whenever he wasn't tapping his foot or fingers in nervous, unwarranted anxiety, he seemed to give up, the fight leaving him completely. Others might have passed it off for simple fatigue—Luke had been traveling for awhile—but Guy knew better. It wasn't normal—none of it was normal. Not his expressionless eyes, or resigned posture, or his acceptance that no one, not even Guy, actually cared about him or wanted him around. Given, if it was true that he hadn't received any correspondence from anyone (despite the fact that Guy himself had sent a letter, and had wondered why Luke hadn't written back), that would explain at least part of it, and for that, if Guy had three guesses of who to blame, he only needed one.

Father of the year, he thought, perhaps with a bit more malice than necessary as he finished off his cocoa.

Regardless, Luke clearly wasn't doing well. He'd only asked to crash for the night, but Guy figured—decided, really—that he'd be staying for longer. The vindictive part of him didn't even want to send a letter back to the Fabre manor to let them know, but he was at least adult enough to know that there was no reason to spark a war over Luke's disappearance when he was safe and sound. If nothing else, Jade would have his head for it, likely in the most excruciating way possible—and that was only if Natalia didn't get to him first.

"Thanks for the cocoa," Luke said, and he swiped his wrist across his mouth as he set his empty mug back on the table—an action that would have made Natalia cringe from the poor table manners, but that made Guy grin a bit as he stood up. He picked up both of the empty mugs, and carried them back over to the sink.

"No problem. You looked like you needed it. Ready to head to bed?"

"Yeah. Thanks again for letting me stay. Sorry it was so sudden." As Guy walked back around, he put his hand on Luke's head, ruffling his bright red hair.

"Stop apologizing. I told you, it's no trouble. We'll send a letter back to your parents in the morning, okay? That way they won't worry." Luke's expression said that he didn't think they'd worry, anyway, but Guy didn't comment on it as he led Luke back toward the stairs, shutting off the lights as they went along.

Sending the letter aside, there was a lot they had to work on. But when Luke gave him a tired, half-hearted little smile before he slipped into one of the guest bedrooms near the end of the third floor corridor, Guy told himself that it would be all right. If nothing else, they would just handle it one step at a time, starting in the morning.