Think I may have to up the rating on this puppy...

The room is bare with the exception of a chair in the center. The boy-man takes a seat, making himself at home. He has been here awhile. He is comfortable.

The other man scoffs at him, staying towards the back of the room, assessing the area with careful eyes. He thinks he will like it here. So much potential.

Luke doesn't talk a lot. It's not that he's trying to hurt anyone, or he's doing it on purpose, it's just that...he has nothing left to say, that hasn't already been said.

Yes it's horrible he died so young.

Yes we must remember how much he loved us.

Yes he was to good for this world.

Blah.

Blah.

Blah.

Blah.

He spends most of his time alone, lost inside his mind, lost inside his memories. When he does feel the need for human contact, its always Ethan he seeks.

It hurts Natalie and Faith that he doesn't seem to want them around. It hurts his mother. His father always has this look on his face, begging Luke to talk to him. But Luke doesn't want to talk. He doesn't want people feeling sorry for him.

Casey came by, trying to make him laugh. When that didn't work, he tried to pick a fight. Luke watched his friend with disinterest before heading to his bedroom, letting the door close naturally and locking the door with conviction.

He doesn't feel bad about locking everyone out, even through he knows he should. He knows that this, what he is doing now, is wrong. He should be leaning on his family for support. At the very least he should be reassuring them all he still loves them.

But he simply cannot bring himself to care.

It's not until three weeks later he sees the damage he is doing to his family.

Like a picture without sound the scene plays out before him - his mother sobbing into his father's arms, her chest heaving and the tears washing away so hard Luke wonders how he makeup is still as perfect as it was when he first came down the stairs.

His father is shaking his head, but he wont look Luke in the eye - like he's disappointed or something.

None of this is new. Hell, it's almost a daily occurrence as of late. What is new is the small child simultaneously wrapped around his legs and slamming his tiny fists into them.

Ethan is screaming and crying and blaming Luke. He wants to know why Luke is hurting everyone. He tells him to stop being so mean to mommy. To stop making Natalie cry. Stop scaring Faith (farther) away.

Without a word, he pries the small boy off of him, and heads to his room. The wailing gets so loud he can hear it as clearly as if he was still in the room. Or is it just echoing in his head?

He throws enough clothes into a bag to last him at least a week and leaves the house without looking back.

Out by his car, Holden is working on the pickup. He watches his son intently, but nothing shows on his face the entire time he packs up the car. Luke doesn't look in his direction until just before he crawls in the passenger seat.

Father and son regard each other with caution, unsure of what the protocol for a situation like this would be. Holden breaks the silence.

"You coming back?"

Luke shrugs.

"Will you let us know you're alright?"

Another shrug.

He has more to say, more to ask but...instead he pulls his stiff standing son into his arms. He doesn't let it pain him when Luke doesn't hug back.

"We love you and we want you with us, alright? You come back, you hear? Don't break your mothers heart."

When he pulls away, Luke is staring back at the farm house.

"Too late, don't ya think dad?"

And Luke pulls away.

From everything.

The other man makes his way up to the chair, determined to make it his, and his alone.

Before he can get there, the boy-man begins to sway.

The other man stops to watch.

One month and five cars (he'd like to at least make it a little difficult to find him if they should try to track him down) later, he finds himself in LA.

The city has a hustle and bustle that he thoroughly enjoys. So many people, just moving through life, soaking up the sun and not noticing him. Okay, that wasn't totally true, but Luke was a good looking guy so it made sense he'd get at least a little attention.

It was a particularly hot night when, after week of traveling and being by himself, Luke finally found himself lonely.

That was how he found himself at a club at 1am in the morning, sipping on a coke, watching the dancers. It wasn't exactly companionship, but it would do.

"Do I know you?" A voice came from the right. Luke looked up to see an older gentleman, probably late forties, focusing on him intently as if trying to place him.

"Uh, no. No I don't think so."

"I do. I know that face from somewhere." He scratched his chin, shaking his head. "Never mind. It'll come to me later. Can I get you a drink?"

Luke looked down at his coke, swirling it around. A drink? Yeah, that sounded...amazing, actually. He'd wanted nothing more than to take a drink for the past three months. He wanted to numb himself, free himself. But something deep inside of him, fought like hell to keep the alcohol out of his hands.

"I'm fine. Thank you.." Ever the charming business man, "And you are?"

"Doesn't matter." The man was staring at him again, like he knew a deep dark secret, if he could only remember what it was. It made Luke nervous.

"Oh, okay." He turned back to the dancers, keeping the elder man in his peripheral.

He was good looking, for an older type. He was tall, with dark brown hair. Rugged . Like he'd experienced the world thoroughly with a cocky grin on his face and lived to tell the tale. He was comfortable in his own skin in such away that had Luke jealous.

He bit his lip, tampering down feelings - any of them. All of them. Squeezing his eyes closed, he counted to ten, breathing slowly, calming himself.

Until he felt a hand on his chin and his eyes flew open.

"You have the most beautiful lips." The words were accompanied by a thumb brushing over his lower lip, pulling at it slightly.

Luke jumped, but not enough that the hand left him. He stared into the eyes of the older man, his heart pounding in his ears. It's the first time anyone has touched him since...God, it's been so long since he's been touched. That must be why his body tenses. Why he doesn't pull away.

Luke looks straight into the guys eyes, and sees something there he isn't sure he's ever seen before. It's hunger and fire with just a touch of detached coolness. This man wants him.

Luke can't seem to make himself pull away.

The boy-man looks at him with scared eyes, but all the other man does is shrug because even if he could help, he doesn't want to.

From beneath the boy-man the chair trembles, and bends. He holds on for dear life. He is scared.

The other man just waits.

He's not sure how he got here. If he had taken a drink, he would have thought it would have been a drug of some sort. But he hadn't, so being here, in this room, with this man, is completely of his own free will. He thinks.

His back is pressed hard against the door but by the time it occurs to him to freak out, the man's body slides up against him, a hand traveling southern. He's shocked to find he's already half hard. He has to stifle a groan as his companion begins to suckle his collar bone, and his hips buck.

He watches through a fog as he is moved away from the door and turned. Now the man is resting his back against the wall. A small pressure on his shoulders tells Luke to fall to his knees, which he does without thinking. He doesn't remember this guys pants coming off, but there they are on the floor.

Maybe hours, maybe moments later, Luke's jaw is sore and his scalp hurts from his hair being pulled and all he can hear is a litany of praise for his perfect lips, running through his head over and over.

Everything happens so fast, he couldn't stop it if he wanted to. His face hits pillow and he cries out as he's being slammed into from behind. His companion grunts and howls and Luke loses himself into the sensations. All he can do is feel his body pulsing, throbbing, begging for release.

He can't think and lets his body take the reins. When he comes, he comes so hard he sees stars. His companion lets out one last grunt, his face contorting before falling on to the bed beside Luke.

They only lay still for a few moments before Luke watches the guy pulling his pants back on. He doesn't move, just watches. His brain has still yet to catch up with his body.

He hears a small laugh as a hand ruffles his hair roughly.

"Luciano?"

Luke nearly jumps out of his skin.

"Wha-"

"That's who you are, right? Grimaldi's kid." He laughs to himself again. "Knew I'd remember."

"I- I'm not..."

"You look like him." The man ran his fingers through Luke's long hair. "Now it makes sense. Cute kid like you, all alone."

Luke has nothing to say because, really, what could he possibly add to this conversation. The man says something else, but Luke blocks it out.

What has he done? What did he do? This wasn't him! Random hook-ups with strangers? What the hell? He was the kind to wait, and be in love with flowers and candles and soft swaying music in the background, and slow getting-to-know-you lovemaking followed by a night full of cuddling.

He's all alone in the room by the time he even notices his companion is gone. He felt a little...used.

But as he sat up and his body hurt in all the right places he realizes, despite his personal protests against sex versus beautiful lovemaking...he feels good. He enjoyed him self. Immensely.

Yes, he feels dirty and guilty and all the other adjectives leading up to him not feeling nearly as pure as he had before, but everything that man gave him - it was exactly what he asked for. What he wanted. Maybe even what he needed.

And all the guilt in the world wasn't going to make Noah any less dead, so why dwell?