Thank you all so much for the wonderful and inspiring reviews!
It seems that many of you are curious about that 1.5%, so I've decided that I will add a third chapter to ensure that Lucifendi happens.
Anyway, I hope you all enjoy Lucy's POV in Chapter 2.
It was... interesting to write about...
Minute Details: Chapter Two
Disclaimer: Yup, there'd be a sequel in progress if I owned Layton Brothers: Mystery Room.
Lucy stared at the closed door and desperately tried to calm her pumping heart.
"It must be t' fever. It has to be," she whispered to herself over and over again. Lucy mentally flinched at how pathetic her wavering tone sounded.
Getta hold o' yourself, Detective Constable Baker.
No.
No, no, no! This was not what she wanted! Well, yes, Lucy did want it, but not in such a fashion.
In her mind, the scene always played out conventionally. She didn't care if there weren't any flowers, sappy romantic music, or scented candles. She didn't even care if it was in the middle of a murder case!
Lucy leaned against the door and covered her face with both hands. The Prof had done it. The Prof had finally made her dream become reality. Oh no, Lucy was not about to deny the subtle stirrings in her stomach whenever the Prof looked at her with approval in his eyes. She was not about to deny the nervous flutter of her heart when he placidly smiled at her when she fetched him a cuppa.
Lucy could not deny it anymore.
But this?
This was simply humiliating. Prof was hallucinating in his feverish haze, and he had done it.
By 'eck! I'll ne'er be able to lay me eyes on 'im again!
Lucy gently slapped herself on the cheeks and then clenched her fists in determination.
"C'mon, Lucy lass! Now's not t' time to drown yourself in romanticizing butterflies! Prof needs me!" she huffed to herself.
Steeling what was left of her functional nerves, Lucy quietly cracked open the door and peered inside (like a guilty criminal, she dryly remarked) with caution. Prof was still lying on the couch, but his condition seemed to be worsening.
Lucy suddenly felt disgusted at herself. It was only Prof. He was her friend, mentor, and partner. That was it.
Since when did you become so selfish, Baker?
But still she tip-toed quietly across the room. But still she held her breath as she gazed down at his pale face.
Lucy gently placed her trembling hand on his forehead. Prof's disheveled red hair was matted on his forehead as he sweated profusely.
Red hair. Blood red hair. Flaming red hair.
Potty Prof.
A shiver ran down Lucy's spine, but it was not out of cold or fear.
She was genuinely surprised when the initial trepidation finally disappeared; after all, Potty Prof had proved himself to be rather disturbing.
"Am I going to have to cut out your tongues to get you to shut up?!"
The first time Potty Prof made his appearance, Lucy loathed him. After all, he was everything she despised.
Arrogant. Narcissistic. Cruel. Merciless.
Each word was a dagger in her because before Potty Prof had paid Lucy an unwelcome visit, she had already found Prof, her Prof, a permanent space in her innocent heart.
The way he ruthlessly cornered criminals, the way he sadistically grinned when he scented their fear and defeat, the way he simply enjoyed murder like he was sipping freshly brewed tea while savoring the afternoon breeze… Lucy could not understand the real Alfendi Layton.
But at the same time, she could not lie to herself.
Since when did you become a liar, Baker?
In reality, Lucy had realized with a cringe, she did not understand- only because she chose not to.
Lucy did understand Potty Prof. And it scared her so much she wanted to curl up in a fetal position and bury herself in stale biscuits and crumpets.
And that thought scared her even more.
Lucy was always such a merry and optimistic person, even on her gloomier days, but the way Potty Prof affected her without even trying…
Oh bollocks, jus' wot is happenin' to me?
The real Alfendi Layton was high functioning sociopath, and she, Lucy Baker, could read him like a book, albeit it was a thick book filled with long words and complicated passages.
Why?
Lucy often pondered about that question and in the end, she came up with three possible reasons.
Potty Prof was Alfendi Layton, whether she liked it or not. She would just have to accept that fact.
Their professions were similar, so it would only be natural if she understood him, right?
Lucy did not like the third reason at all. But if she lied about it, it would be considered a false statement (Lucy knew about those all too well), and if it was a false statement, it could crack sooner or later.
She liked it.
Whatever Potty Prof was doing, Lucy liked it.
She didn't like it when Potty Prof threatened others with his violent thoughts or when he said despicable things just to see the culprit flinch.
She liked how impassioned the real Alfendi Layton was when he solved a mystery.
"The stage awash with crimson glory! Blood spilling everywhere!"
Yes, Lucy had to admit that Potty Prof was a tad too melodramatic, but it still shook her to the core. The way his golden eyes glowed with intensity and fervor made her heart race. The way his rich voice reverberated in the room when he uttered his near-theatrical convictions made her spine tingle. The way his red hair seem to flare, blaze, flicker, and dance like fiery embers made Lucy tremble.
Alfendi Layton, she determined, was like an inferno.
He was uncontrollable.
He was uncontained.
He was wild and free and overwhelming.
But he was her source of warmth.
He was her light.
Listen to me, gettin' all metaphorical and wotnot. If Prof could hear me thinkin' right now, he'd be in stiches.
Of course, Potty Prof would be the one smiling wickedly with a gleam in his eyes. Placid Prof would probably take it all in seriously, consider her feelings seriously, and then give her a serious answer. Either way, she loved both of them because Alfendi Layton would not be Alfendi Layton without Potty Prof's insolence or Placid Prof's gentleness.
They complete each other.
The thought itself made her feel a slight twinge of jealousy, which then made her feel rather silly.
Blimey, at this rate, aye might as well point at meself and have a good laugh.
Lucy gazed down at Prof with an unreadable expression on her face.
A smile slowly crept onto her face and she bent down.
Lower.
Lower.
Prof had kissed her in his feverish state.
Lower.
She hesitated for the slightest moment.
No regrets, Lucy Lass.
There.
Lucy Baker tenderly pressed her lips to Alfendi Layton's forehead.
She had kissed Prof in his feverish state.
Revenge is sweet.
Lucy frowned.
Potty Prof was rubbing off on her.
That was her justification for kissing Prof. However, her fluttering heart said otherwise.
"Guess aye'm going to have to take you back to me home, Prof. Can't have you sweatin' an ocean in t' Mystery Room, can we now?" she said out loud to no one in particular.
Just as Lucy exited the room to find someone to help her carry Prof, she glanced back.
Maybe it was the way the room was illuminated, or maybe Lucy had caught Prof's fever and started hallucinating, but she swore she saw Alfendi Layton's lips curve into a smile.
Since when did you fall in love with him, Baker?
One more chapter to go!
Thanks for reading!
(I wonder if anyone caught the super obvious Sherlock reference in this chapter?)