… that time Lucas realized, he didn't have to face his nightmares alone.
Set not long after Lucas arrives at Konzern Estates, and can be read in the same timeline as Early In The Morning

TW for abuse

Lucas grew restless, as the evening went on, as the clock ticked closer and closer towards time for bed. It wasn't the sort of restless where he was active, but rather, he couldn't get his mind to stop working. There was an itch, like bugs crawling under his skin, that left Lucas feeling like he wanted to tear off his own skin to get rid of it.

Unfortunately, Lucas knew just what all of this meant. As the clock ticked closer and closer to when the group would retire for the night, the young teen braced himself for a night of little to no sleep. Still, he tried everything he could to quell the roiling of his stomach, the itch of his skin- running on the treadmill so long he thought his legs were jelly, a hot bath, hot chocolate (earning himself a few weird looks, but whatever), tea, rubbing lavender oil on his temples, before he finally resorted to the one thing he was trying to avoid, his sleeping pills.

God knew Lucas hated his sleeping meds. It seemed to him, whenever he took them, he was out for the entire night. And if Lucas' suspicions were correct and he was indeed on his way to having a night full of nightmares... well, the last thing he needed was the inability to wake up. Of course, there was the potential of falling asleep so hard that he didn't have any dreams of any sort, so maybe the risk would be worth the reward.

Of course, Lucas had lived his life with a thundercloud that followed him. So of course that meant it was time for it to rear it's ugly head and strike him down just when he was feeling relaxed.

The door banged open, and with the rising sense of despair and fear, the stench of alcohol filled the air. The boy bit his lip to bite back a whimper as he scrambled out of bed, and fell to the floor, scrambling desperately to hide under the bedframe. He didn't get far, before a cold, tight hand gripped his ankle and yanked.

"Where do you think you're going?" Caspian McKandless hissed, eyes bloodshot and words slurred, "Don't think you can run away from me, boy."

"Father- Father please-" Lucas pleaded, stumbling backwards and pressing himself against the wall, trying desperately to make himself small, "Please."

"Shut up," Caspian snapped, staring down at his son with cold, heartless eyes. He fisted the neck of the vodka bottle, swaying on his feet, before he took a swig from the glass. He regarded Lucas with a sneer, before his hold on the bottle shifted, "If you scream, you'll be wishing for death, boy."

"Father-" Lucas tried, eyes wide with terror, "Don't!"

"I said... SHUT UP!" Caspian roared, and with a snarl, he brought the glass bottle down on Lucas' head.

Lucas yelped in pain as the bottle shattered on impact, glass shards raining down around him and cutting his skin. His vision blurred from the force of the impact, before he felt hands grabbing him by the shoulders and yanking him to his feet. He was forced to stand for a moment, disoriented, before he was thrown back to the hardwood floor, knocking into the wooden frame of his bed. His vision swam, and then cried out as a fist slammed into his jaw. He slumped to the floor, curling up into the fetal position as blows rained down on him.

"Father... father, please... stop..." Lucas cried. But, just as many times as this had happened before, his cries went unnoticed, unheard.

Lucas' broken sobs soon turned to fearful screaming, "STOP! Stop, please!"

"Lucas."

"I'm sorry! Please, I promise- I- I'll be good, just- Stop!"

"Lucas!"

"JUST STOP, PLEASE!"

"LUCAS!"

The shout, combined with the sharp shaking of his shoulders, snapped Lucas from his nightmare. Half gasping, half screaming, he bolted straight up, covered in sweat and tears running down his cheeks. He kicked the blankets off his body, feeling like they were too hot, too constricting. His stomach churned as someone ran a comforting hand through his hair, and he felt a familiar burn rising in his chest and throat.

"I- sick-" Lucas gasped.

"Trashcan," A voice said, curtly, and there was the rustling of plastic before the wastebasket was passed over and into Lucas' hands.

Lucas retched violently as he emptied the contents of his stomach into the trashcan, which turned to dry retching as he no longer had anything to vomit.

"Easy, bud, take a breath," Wales' voice, calm and soothing, was in Lucas' ear. Fingers rubbed circles over his back as Lucas slowly straightened up a little, wiping at his mouth with a shaking hand.

"I'll take that," Klaus murmured, snatching the basket away and setting it aside, right as Julian walked in with a cup.

"Here," Julian handed Lucas the cup, half full of water. Quietly, the teen took water, gulping it down with great enthusiasm. In mere seconds, he'd drained it, and once he had, he hesitated, holding the cup and not meeting anyone's eyes. Julian took the cup back and set it on the bedside table.

"Want to talk about it?" Wales asked, still calm.

Lucas shook his head, turning to bury his face into the crook of his brother's neck, shivering violently. Someone draped a blanket over his shoulders, which was followed by the sound of soft humming. Wales continued to draw circles over Lucas shoulders, or run his hand through his hair. The movements were repetitive, soothing, and before long, it lulled Lucas back to sleep.

When Lucas woke up, the sun was just peeking over the horizon and the sound of someone snoring reached his ears. Confused, Lucas tried to sit up, only to find he was held in a tight grip. For a brief second, panic closed Lucas' throat, before he realized it was Wales who was holding him. Said teen was propped up against the headboard of Luke's bed, with his arm wrapped tightly over Luke's shoulders. Slowly, Lucas relaxed and took stock of his room, confusion growing.

Nero was passed out cold on Lucas' right side, sprawled out like a starfish and blankets spilling to the floor beside him. On Luke's left, curled between Wales' legs and Luke's body, was Sophie; she had one arm wrapped around Luke's stomach. Curled in the armchair in the corner, was Julian, a throw blanket draped over his body. Sitting at Lucas' desk, cheek propped up on his fist and eyes focused on a book, was Klaus. As if sensing his gaze, Klaus' eyes flickered up and met Lucas'. He sat up, then, when he realized Lucas was awake.

"Morning kid," Klaus drawled, quietly, as he marked his place. "How you feel?"

"… Rested," Lucas answered, just as quiet. "Did you… all…?"

"Well, Wales wasn't going to leave, then Nero just crawled in with you and it just… spiraled from there," Klaus waved a hand, amused. He set his chin in the palm of his hand, "No more nightmares last night?"

"… No, thanks," Lucas shook his head.

"Hm… you know, we were discussing it after you passed out again…" Klaus' gaze turned into one of concern, "You knew you wouldn't get any sleep, didn't you?"

Lucas was quiet. He didn't want to discuss this—he'd rather bury himself under the blankets or escape into the bathroom and wash the misery away in a shower. But he couldn't risk moving without waking the other three that were, frankly, latched on to him like octopi.

"Julian was actually the first to mention it," Klaus continued. "He said he could've hit himself, considering Nero did a lot of the same things after Hades City and the forced arrangements. Lavender oil, tea, extensive exercise…"

"Who said I didn't hit myself when none of you were looking?" Julian murmured from the couch. Slowly, he stretched out under the blanket, yawning and cracking joints, before he sat up. It was an odd thing to see Julian Konzern, as he was just waking up, with his blonde hair in every direction and sleep in his eyes and clothes rumpled. He squinted against the sunlight and muttered a curse in Italian, before fixing a slightly glazed look on Lucas, "How bad are they?"

"… They're more memory, than anything," Lucas replied. "I can't… It's nothing I haven't dealt with before."

"Doesn't matter," Julian said. "Have you considered a therapist?"

Lucas scowled; eyes narrowed at him. Julian just cocked an eyebrow back at him, apparently in no mood to be dealing with Lucas' distant attitude.

"What does it matter?" Lucas finally asked, "How is talking going to help my problems?"

"Instead of letting it fester and affect your health," Nero announced his presence then. He stretched his arms over his head before he sat up, yawning, "You won't develop any nasty coping mechanisms if you talk about it." He turned his head to look at Lucas, his hair messier than it normally was, "Trust me. Talking helps."

Lucas looked away. Subconsciously, he burrowed deeper into Wales' arms, seeking comfort. It was then that Sophie started stirring, awakened by the movement and voices around her. She blinked, green eyes bright and aware, as she sat up.

"Ah, is it morning already?" She asked, glancing around the room.

"Didn't mean to wake you, Soph," Nero grinned at her. "We were just talking about how Lucas would benefit from talking to someone about his trauma instead of bottling up."

Luke's anger spiked, and before he could stop himself, he was grabbing a pillow and throwing it at Nero. The sudden movement had Wales waking up with a shout, and Nero yelped as he rolled off the side of the bed.

"Hey!" Nero shot right back up and threw the pillow back. Lucas ducked, and Wales was hit, flailing as he tumbled off the side of the bed, "I'm only spitting facts here!"

"I don't need to talk to anyone about my problems!" Lucas spat, eyes narrowed, "I'm fine!"

Nero frowned, eyebrows dipping. It was a look Lucas had seen before, when Nero was about to deliver a particular scathing insult or call someone out on their bull, normally aimed at Julian.

"Right," Nero eventually drawled, voice full of as much disdain and malice as he could probably muster. "Lucas, I'm saying this with every intention of trying to get through your thick skull, but from where I'm standing—not talking about your trauma is going to turn you into your dad."

Lucas bristled, "What."

"You're not listening to reason, and you've got a bit of an anger problem," Nero continued, crossing his arms over his chest. "And everyone in the room doesn't want any of that, Lucas—for you to turn into your dad, or for you to be bitter bastard when you grow up… You never had anyone before, and… all of us are here, right now, willing to help you in any way we can, but you need to let us in. You can't just keep bottling up and expecting to get through life like that. It… it will weigh you down. Turn you into someone you don't want to be."

Lucas' throat clicked, dry as he attempted to swallow. Nero… Lucas knew he had a point but—

"E—Everyone else I ever tried to… tried to talk to…" Lucas whispered, "He… He pulled me away from or… or beat… beat me into silence. Or… Or they… they were willing to help one day, but then the next… they didn't… didn't want anything to do with me."

"That won't happen here, Luke, I promise," Wales said, as he sat on the edge of the bed, just behind his brother. "We've been through this before… We won't leave you behind, no matter how much those negative thoughts will come in to try and convince you otherwise."

"They're both right, dear," Sophie smiled gently at him. "We're here for you, and if you don't feel like talking to us, I'm sure we can help you find someone you can talk to."

Lucas pulled a pillow close to his chest, winding his arms tightly around it. He didn't dare meet anyone's eyes, but he was well aware of their gazes on him. Eventually, though, it was Wales who spoke again.

"You don't have to decide anything right now," Wales stood up, patting Lucas on the shoulder. "But, it might do you good to know that—"

"Wait," Lucas reached out, grabbing his wrist. He swallowed, thickly, and looked over at Nero, "Did… did talking really help you after…?"

Nero sat down, and nodded, "It did. Even months after, I still find it more helpful to talk about whatever's eating me, rather than keeping it in." His gaze softened, "It's by no means easy, and, speaking from experience, you will have days you'd rather shut the world out rather than try to let it in, but it's worth it." Nero glanced briefly over at Julian, a flicker of recollection on his face, before he looked back at Lucas, "It's at your own time, really, Lucas, but in the long run, you'll benefit from it."

Lucas blinked slowly, absorbing Nero's words, taking in the glances Excalibur was sharing. There… there was a story here, on how Nero was taking the lead in convincing Lucas to speak up. Klaus had said something, earlier, about forced arrangements and Hades City—did that have something to do with it?

At the moment, that wasn't important.

"Luke, bud?" Wales leaned down to meet his brother's gaze, "You okay?"

"I…" Lucas swallowed, "Where… Where should I start?"

Wales sat down again, "With where ever you feel like starting."

Hope ya'll enjoyed!

If you're curious on the whole: Hades City-forced arrangements-Nero being an emotional sorta BAMF here, well that's being explored in a fic over on my Ao3 account. I'll get it uploaded here soon, but for now, just know that there's going to be some Konzern angst to soon grace my fic list.

Drop a review and let me know what ya'll thought!