He did as I asked, perching on the edge of my bed like he was afraid he might contaminate it just by being there. The sight broke my heart a little more.
I stepped back outside and made my way down the hall to find my adoptive parents, who were hovering near their bedroom door, clearly worried.
"Mum?" I called out softly. "Do you have any spare toothbrushes? And maybe Dad could lend some clothes? Lucian needs to get cleaned up."
"Of course, sweetie," she said without hesitation. "Let me grab some things."
She and my dad disappeared into their room, and I could hear them moving around, pulling things from drawers and closets. When they emerged a few minutes later, they had a small pile of clothes and toiletries.
Dad's joggers and t-shirt would be a little big on Lucian, but they looked clean and comfortable. More importantly, they didn't smell like blood and fear and self-hatred.
