It felt strange to be back on British soil.
The weather here wasn't much different from where he'd just come from; Buenos Aires. The name translated as "good air" which was hilarious considering he struggled to breathe most days. Lucas cut an imposing figure as he strode down the street, dressed in smart black trousers and a pale blue button down shirt that was open at the neck. It was like his feet were beating out a familiar rhythm and he was on autopilot.
When had he last been home? Two, three years? Luke was a pretty normal guy but after a while, he grew bored with the mundane. He'd had enough of the rain, of not fitting in, of treading water. This was his time to break free and he hadn't looked back, not even once. Not when his awful mother screamed at him for "ditching her". Not when his tearaway younger sister pleaded for money. Not when his bullying older brother needed Lucas to help him out of another tricky situation. No. No. He'd had enough.
Did he miss home?
He wasn't sure. The hustle and bustle was warm and comforting and familiar. He saw children with their parents, excited for the new school year in a few weeks. There were couples, young families, friends catching up in the summer sunshine. His freedom, however, came at a price. He'd been lonely ever since he set off for the continent.
One of the reasons he was keen to get away was a certain girl. Well, no. She was a woman now, he imagined. They'd shared a moment, or at least he thought they had, in the aftermath of the Battle. She'd clung to him fiercely and in that embrace, he saw his future. She was his future. Lucas wanted to marry her. He wanted to move to the suburbs and settle down if that was what she wanted. They'd adopt a dog, maybe have kids, whatever she wanted. The illusion was shattered, however. It was like breaking a mirror. Shards exploded as he realised it was completely one sided. She hadn't felt the same way about him as he did about her.
It wasn't the main reason for Lucas leaving but it was certainly a catalyst. He hadn't stopped to consider her feelings because he was sure she felt as though he was just a one-time friends with benefits. His long legs walked the familiar cobbled and everything came screaming back to him in one go; her smile, her touch, her perfume, the way she made fun of his glasses but not in a bad way. Instinctively, he reached up to adjust them and shook himself, as though trying to shoo those skewed memories away.
Travelling had been amazing. Lucas had been so immersed in so many different cultures that he just hadn't had time to miss home and when he had a minute to think, it felt uncomfortable and claustrophobic. He'd had a string of girlfriends since he'd left but nothing serious. The South American girls found his accent funny and charming and he went along with it, despite a very small part of him was resisting on some level. He'd been off the grid, heading far and wide. Luke was a travel writer now but for a Muggle publisher. It was freeing and he was away for months and months and he loved it.
His previously pale skin was sun kissed and healthy, his freckles fading rapidly. His curly hair needed a trim. He'd beefed up, too. This version of himself was unrecognisable, except for the glasses he still had to wear. But it was good. He'd been able to reinvent himself in a glamorous manner. People didn't know that he sometimes stammered when he was nervous or that he used to be a Prefect. They didn't know of his superior intellect which made it hard for him to connect with other people. They didn't know about his uncomfortable upbringing or the lengths he'd gone to to keep his family together before realising it was just best that he let everything fall apart. He wasn't Lucas anymore. Now, he was Luke. Tall, tanned and athletic with a passion for culture and travel and a way with words. But then he saw her.
It was impossible not to, he'd never forget that face. Luke pulled up short, causing a small backlog of people who tutted and bumped into him. Her hair was lighter, he noticed. By sun or potion? He swallowed as his bright blue eyes trailed over her skin, vividly remembering that it was warm and felt like silk beneath his fingertips. She seemed preoccupied and he didn't want to intrude. He was caught between tearing open old wounds or leaving her in peace. The latter seemed the better choice, he was sure.
Blinking his eyes back into focus, he looked around. He was a tall man so he couldn't fit in anywhere and hide. He was also about to break a promise that he'd made to Angharad; he'd once said that he'd never avoid her. He just couldn't face her now. It was all water under the bridge. Years had passed but the idea of her maybe being engaged turned his stomach. She'd never been his. There was a dull ache in his chest as he watched her. She was so close but he felt like she was an ocean away from him. They were perfect strangers.
When her head was down, Luke made his move. Bolting, he rushed forward, accidentally jostling a passer by which sent him tripping -- right into her table. He hadn't banked on the lightning bolt that shot through him as he met her eyes and it was clear he needed to talk. Instead, he offered her a small smile. "Hi."