Drake had never thought of himself as 'in love'. Love was for the weak, the pathetic. And you could call Drake many things, many terrible, awful things, but weak wasn't one of them. He didn't need anyone, especially a girl.
Not until Lux, at least.
The day he found her, locked in her small apartment she shared with her selfish bitch of a mother, seemed almost dream-like. Looking back on it now, without her to hold and kiss, it seemed like all of it was just a strange trance. A wonderful, nightmarish dream. Silvery princess curls, wide sky-colored eyes, and wintery skin marked with delicate swirls of blue veins. She was perfect, and it killed him.
He felt unbalanced around her. Like he was falling, tumbling deeper and deeper and deeper into something that he didn't entirely want. Because, like he said, he never wanted 'love'.
((what an awful word))
After months of being with Lux, stuck in that horribly beautiful fantasy world, he couldn't deny it anymore.
He was in love.
Of course, this realization rocked him to his very core. He didn't ask for this, didn't want this, but somehow, here it was. The problem was, though, Drake didn't know how to be in love. He never had someone care for him his entire life, and now suddenly he was so filled with it, it made his head spin. So he struck out. At her, at Lux.
Maybe he went too far, that night. Maybe he should have heard her out. Listened to her excuses. But he just couldn't. Because Lux belonged to him. She was his, and she tried to leave.
And now here he is, alone and miserable, because no matter how much he tried to show her he was sorry, she left anyway.
He wondered if this is him waking up.