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Alva digs through everything he’s gathered. Newspaper clippings, manuscripts, everything he could find and whatever God could retrieve for him.
It was his one request— because no matter how much Alva thought on it, something didn’t add up. Someone had stolen Alva and Luca’s work and sold it to a competitor. Alva was devastated, but Luca protested his innocence. He claimed that he had been in his room all night, and Davidson confirmed it was true because he could hear Luca mumbling through the door, and though Alva wanted to trust Luca, because Luca was his son and Alva trusted him with his life, it wasn’t a strong alibi, and Cox said he heard Luca in the lab all night. Then Alva caught Luca working on a dangerous experiment, one he’d told him not to work on a hundred times. He tried to shut it down. Then, suddenly, Luca accused him of stealing his father’s work and plagiarizing it. And to be fair, that part was Alva’s fault. He wasn’t far gone enough to think that he was sinless. He did keep Herman’s work to himself, in hopes no one would ever try to replicate it. But then Luca said Alva was just like his father, and Alva saw red at that accusation, and he screamed at Luca like he never had before, said things he never wanted to say. And then he stepped towards Luca, and Luca picked up a live wire and told him not to come any closer, said that he wouldn’t let Alva kill him and steal his work like he did with his father. And there was such fear in his eyes, his son was so genuinely terrified.
That’s when things stopped adding up. The rage fled from Alva, and he started trying to calm Luca down instead, because he didn’t want his son to get hurt. Luca was so scared he was trembling, and it seemed like he was starting to see reason— but then the voltage kicked up suddenly, and Luca stumbled, and Alva dove to tackle him, to take him out of harm’s way—
Then he awoke to a cult calling his name.
It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t adding up. Luca knew better than to think that experiment would work. Alva had told him a million times that it wouldn’t, thoroughly proved it to him, and Luca said he understood. Why would he come back to it? Nothing Alva ever had in the house would have ever pointed to him killing Herman. There was no reason for Luca to be so genuinely terrified that Alva would kill him. Neither of them were near the controls, the voltage shouldn’t have kicked up, it shouldn’t have exploded. Luca was listening to reason— he was starting to calm down. He protested his innocence the entire time, said he’d never sell Alva’s work to competitors as his own, unlike Alva. And Luca had always vehemently hated anyone who plagiarized work and sold it for money, so it was out of character for him to turn around and do the same thing. Alva couldn’t rest until he got to the bottom of this, until he knew for sure what had happened. If he didn’t, the possibility that his son was innocent and in danger somewhere would haunt him.
And so here Alva was, in a ruined and abandoned lab with every piece of evidence he could find.
The basics. He had three assistants. Davidson, Cox, and Luca. Luca was his clear favorite, as he was the only one Alva called by his given name, and he lived with Alva full time, unlike the other two. Luca had been with him longest, and had accomplished the most things. It was because of the two of them that so many places in Italy were starting to run on reliable electricity. Alva made it no secret that Luca was his favorite, that he saw him like a son, and that he trusted him with his life. Davidson and Luca were best friends, but they both got on well with Cox.
Alva began pouring through the documents. The first one had been found in Luca’s room and was taken into police custody. The second was a police report of the incident. It was by God’s will that Alva got ahold of them. The third one was more complicated, though it was also by God’s will. Apostle said that it was recreated from ashes.
The first one was something he’d never seen. It was a journal in Herman’s writing, badly burnt. It seemed normal at first, but the very last pages made his heart drop. Over and over again ‘Alva Lorenz betrayed me.’ Over and over again it claimed Alva stole his work, stole his money, stole everything from him. He blamed Alva for everything— the fortune being spent, his wife dying, Luca leaving him, the experiments not working— everything. It was baseless accusations— Alva had published nothing of Herman’s under his name, but instead kept all his research locked up where no one could find it. Still, with this being the last thing Herman ever wrote… and with Luca finding the manuscripts he’d hidden away… it was easy to see why Luca might have assumed that it meant Alva killed his father.
But that wasn’t quite right— Luca knew Herman was a liar. Herman lied to Luca constantly. Why would Luca believe something written by him?
He hasn’t had a chance to read the second one, the police report. He knew the basics of it, though. 3 dead— Alva, Davidson, and the maid, Doe, two severely injured— Luca and the butler, Robins, the latter of which died to injuries, and one with minor injuries, Cox. Cox was the only one able to report on what had happened, as Robins died of injuries and Luca had amnesia and did not remember the incident at all. Cox said it was attempted murder.
Alva started to have a terrible feeling about this. No one had seen Luca starting to calm down, no one had seen that he wasn’t near the controls, so Cox couldn’t have known that it was actually an accident, but— why was Cox so far away from the lab when he was supposed to be working?
The third one, apparently made from ashes, was completely new to him. It was an anonymous letter to Luca. The contents of the letter were all about the fire that killed Herman, about how Alva was there, with news clippings attached confirming he was there. It seemed to claim that Alva killed Luca’s father. It went on, claiming that Alva was just like Herman and was using Luca for his ideas, just as Herman used Luca and his mother for money and abandoned them at the slightest inconvenience. It said Alva would do the same to him if he wasn’t careful, just like he did with his father once he ran out of money. It also empathized that the experiment Luca wanted to try was possible, that there was a chance of it working, despite the danger, and would Luca really let a fraud who killed his father tell him what to do?
Suddenly, Alva understood what was going on.
Luca was manipulated by an outside source using his years of trauma living with Herman. This writer appealed to Luca’s petrifying fear of a parent abandoning him again, of a parent hurting him again. But very few people knew what Herman did. The only ones Luca had told were Alva, Alva’s wife, Edgar, and Alva’s other two assistants, though the latter two didn’t know all the details.
Everything clicked.
There was a rat, and Alva could guess who it actually was. He looked at the fourth document, and saw what he suspected. All of Luca, Alva, and Davidson’s work had been passed onto Cox.
Alva grabbed the final document, the news clipping—
‘Luca Balsa is set to be hanged for his crimes on…’
Alva’s heart plummeted into the darkest depths when he saw the date. That was more than a year ago.
This couldn’t be. This couldn’t be. Alva couldn’t have failed Luca like this— he couldn’t have. Luca couldn’t have been killed in his name. He couldn’t have lost his son over a misunderstanding— over a traitor sabotaging them both and using Luca as a scapegoat!
Alva grips the clipping, and drops to his knees in front of the cat who’d been watching him silently all this time.
“Bring him back.” He wheezes. “Bring him back!! My son, bring him back!! I don’t care what the price is, I’ll pay it, I’ll pay any price, JUST BRING HIM BACK!!” He’s screaming now, at the top of his lungs.
Apostle stares at him, and gives no answer. Still, Alva knows what it means. It’s too late.
Alva shakes on the floor of the ruined lab, sobbing as he mourns the one person he truly adored more than anything, the one person he couldn’t bear to lose. Herman’s death devastated him, his wife’s death killed him, but Luca’s completely and utterly broke him beyond repair. What did he have to live for, anymore? This was all his fault. He never told Luca what happened to Herman, and refused to talk about it, he always tried to hide him from the ugly truth. He’d hidden away those documents out of a twisted sense of vengeance for himself and Herman’s family, and all it’d done was end in Alva losing the last piece of Herman he had. No, more than that, it ended in Alva losing the only one he could ever truly call family, his beloved son. What was the point of his life, if Luca was murdered for his mistakes?
“I’ll give you my life in exchange for his.” Alva breathes. “Please… I can’t go on without him.”
Finally the cat speaks. ‘You can, and you will. Your work is not yet done. But… you will meet again.’
Alva nods rapidly. It’s true, he supposes, though he never believed in an afterlife until he died himself. All he can do now is move forward, until Apostle lays him to rest again. Until he can see Luca again, in the afterlife.
—
Apostle had promised that this would be the last mission. That Alva had already fulfilled his end of the bargain over the years with his tinkering and improving the cult and helping indoctrinate others. Now, he simply had to fulfill this mission: to follow this invitation. The invitation promised God something it couldn’t refuse, and there was an incentive for Alva, included, too. The letter promised Alva would encounter ‘someone he knew.’
Everyone Alva loved was dead. Herman was long buried, and Alva would probably kill him again himself if he ever rose from the grave. His son had long been hanged, and no matter how much Alva begged and pleaded and bargained, Apostle would not bring him back to life like he brought back Alva. Alva’s wife had died of heartbreak shortly after Luca’s execution because of the news that the boy she loved like a son had killed her husband.
It was because they were all dead that Alva was ready to be done with this second chance at life. He was ready to reunite with his wife and his son.
There was only one person he could think of that fit the category of ‘someone he knew’. Cox, that traitor who manipulated him into thinking Luca would betray him, and manipulated Luca into thinking Alva had killed his father and would kill him. Cox, the reason his wife and son were dead.
Alva entered the manor, and he kept an eye out for that traitor, ready to put an end to all of this. But for his first day in the manor, he was mostly on the hunter’s side, and had no matches. He greeted everyone on his side of the manor as they tried to talk to them, but he kept them at arm’s length. After everything he’d been through, he just couldn’t trust people anymore. Not after he’d lost everything.
Alva decided to stop stalling, and spy on the survivors. The hunter’s wing of the manor was on the third floor, and there were many areas that oversaw the first two floors, allowing the hunters to observe the survivors as they went about their daily lives. Alva found one of these walkways, which overlooked the survivors’ dining room, and waited. He saw many survivors pass by, none of which he cared anything about. That is… until he saw a familiar face, one he hadn’t seen in ages.
Edgar Valden…?
Alva hadn’t exactly had the chance to check up on Luca’s fiancé— he wasn’t sure of what became of the painter. The last Alva heard, Valden’s mentor was acting unsavory, and Alva had offered his home to Edgar as a safe place to stay if things got bad. But… that was right before the night where everything went wrong. He was gone when Alva woke up— his mentor was found dead and he’d disappeared. Alva wasn’t even sure Edgar was alive— he wouldn’t have been surprised if the man died of heartbreak over Luca’s execution like his wife.
But here he was. He was with two other men, one dressed in complete black with a purple flower tucked in his pocket, and the other blonde and wearing a postman’s uniform. The two men were smiling, and Edgar had his arms crossed, frowning and speaking harshly, though inaudibly to someone out of view.
Suddenly, a man in a prison shirt and jeans ran up to the three, and if Alva’s heart could still beat he swore it would’ve stopped when he saw the side of his face.
Those endless grey eyes. That little fang. The tanned skin. He’d recognize them anywhere.
Alva was trembling, gasping, gripping the balcony.
Luca. Luca was alive. How? How could this be? He was set to be executed. Nothing he could find said that his bail was paid— Alva stared hard at his son, trying to figure out what could have happened, why he was here.
Luca was smiling brightly at the three men, slinging his arm around the albino, which caused the much taller man to blush and shyly put an arm around his waist. Alva couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but they seemed very happy. The blonde postman and Valden walked out of sight and came back with plates of food, and Alva couldn’t help a chuckle as he saw the food handed to Luca. Avjar. His boy certainly hadn’t changed at all. But yet…
Something was different. This Luca wasn’t acting like the boy he knew. His Luca was much more reserved. He wasn’t so cheerful or happy. Even more so, why was he so happy at all? Something ugly like resentment built up in Alva. Alva had spent the better part of five years miserable without Luca, thinking he was dead and that it was all his fault for not seeing the signs— and yet… Luca looked completely unaffected.
At the same time, the mourning father in him was at war with the resentment, insisting that it wasn’t Luca’s fault. He had brain damage, for God’s sake, and it was confirmed that he had amnesia of the event. But at the same time, Luca was questioned. He was put on trial. He knew what happened. And yet he acted so carefree now.
Alva couldn’t decide whether to be furious or to sob in relief that his son was alive at all. He was leaning on the side of sobbing, though. All he could do for now was keep observing.
It was a wonder, how brain damage and memory loss changed a man. The Luca in front of him was a far cry from the boy he knew before. This Luca was cheerful and chipper, talking extensively to anyone who would listen, greeting everyone like a friend. He was charming and extroverted, and though many in the manor treated him with disgust simply because of his attire and title, many more cared immensely for him.
It was… an immensely complicated emotion that seeing this brought in him. This new Luca, so familiar but unfamiliar, was very popular in the manor. Whenever he walked into a room with people, many often yelled greetings. It was a far cry from before, where Alva and that Valden boy were the only sole companions he had besides his mother.
It hurt, to think that Luca’s life and mind being ruined was the catalyst for people to finally see how brilliant his boy really was. It made the bitter rage against his boy grow stronger, but it made the grieving father within him that knew that this was all at least somewhat his fault cry out in agony.
Alva knew he shouldn’t blame himself but… Luca never would have assumed that Alva killed his father if Alva wasn’t so obsessed with taking care of him and doing everything for him. If Alva wasn’t so obsessed with sheltering him from pain. Luca couldn’t have been manipulated if Alva wasn’t so suspicious and secretive. And yet… he couldn’t blame himself entirely, either. Luca chose to believe Alva had betrayed him. And yet still— after what Herman had done to Luca, and Alva’s history with Herman, who could really blame Luca for not trusting the man who allowed his father bring their family into ruin, even if Alva had given everything for Luca to make up for it?
It was complicated, and neither side could be completely blamed. Cox had manipulated both of them, but it was only because of their shared trauma and Alva’s inability to communicate that there had been anything to manipulate. It was all a misunderstanding, in the end.
Still, it hurt him to think that there could be any good to be had after their lives were ruined and their family torn apart. It hurt to think that maybe Luca had moved on from him like he meant nothing while Alva spent years wishing for death so that he could see Luca again.
“Well hello, Professor Lorenz.” A friendly voice speaking his native language appeared, and Alva turned to see one of the hunters he’d managed to get along with, somewhat. Diruse.
“Ah, hello, Diruse… I have a question. Survivors only know us by our titles, yes?” Alva asked hesitantly.
“That’s correct, unless we tell them our names. Let me guess, you’ve ended up having a reunion you’re not ready for?” Diruse chuckled.
“Not yet, but it will likely happen eventually.” Alva sighed. “Do people reunite badly here often?”
“Oh, all the time, though I’ve never experienced it myself. Ms. Woods and Mr. Beck are daughter and father and thought the other was dead, Keigan and Ms. Lester are sisters in law and close friends who never expected the other to come here, don’t get me started on all the people the Feaster’s been trapped with. The most interesting reunion I’ve had is meeting an old friendly colleague who I’m surprised isn’t on our side.” Diruse chuckled. “Whoever you’ve found doesn’t know you’re here, at least not yet, but they’ll know soon. It’s only a matter of time before you get a match with them. Are you ready?”
Alva winced. “I’ll never be ready.”
—
Alva hid out of sight as the matching took place, so Luca wouldn’t be able to see him. He should have figured that fate would be cruel enough to assign his first match to be with him. He wouldn’t be able to avoid him forever. Luca would eventually see him, in this match.
The resentment insisted on punishment, on finding him first and making sure his son understood what he had done wrong.
But the agonized father wasn’t sure he could raise a hand to his son without immediately and having a breakdown and apologizing.
The match started, and fate was cruel— because taking just a few steps he encountered the person he could never be ready to see.
Luca shrieked as he saw Alva, truly terrified. “Y-y-you! You’re dead! You died and it’s all my fault! You can’t be here, how are you here?!”
Alva watched him, conflicted by his words. “I did die.” He found himself saying simply, feeling a war wage inside him between the part of him that adored Luca and the part that hated what had become of them both.
Luca fell to his knees, gripping his hair, pulling it, face twisted in agony. “I’m sorry.” He spits, words anguished as he begins to hyperventilate, unable to breathe. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did it, I’m sorry, I don’t remember why I did it, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry— I don’t want to hurt you, I’m so sorry, I don’t remember—“ His voice pitched higher, heaving and sobbing as his body shook violently. “I didn’t want to, I didn’t mean to— I don’t remember why I did it— why did it have to be you instead of me— All I wanted was to take it back, I wanted to take it back, it’s all my fault, I wanted it to be me instead of you—“
Alva wanted to be angry. He wanted to be furious. Luca looked before as if before he’d barely thought of Alva, and only now did he show regret? But all Alva could see was his son in agony. Luca didn’t remember. He had no idea what Alva did to him. He had no idea what had happened, what had been done to them. His son was in pain, and deep inside them he knew that he was the cause, that he could have at least tried harder to prevent this. Luca wanted to give his life for him to bring him back. Luca wanted to take it all back. Alva wanted the same thing— to atone for the mistakes that led Luca to believe that Alva wanted him dead.
How awful was it, he thought, that Luca’s reaction to his return was not fury but fear and sorrow?
All Alva could think of was when Herman showed up to his house after disappearing over seven years ago. Alva had reacted with fear and sorrow, just like Luca did now. Alva thought that he had run Herman off, somehow, that he was at fault. And Herman let him think that. Herman took advantage of his fear and sorrow.
For years, Alva thought that Luca accusing him of killing his father felt just like Herman. Because right before the fire, the scenario had played out exactly the same, if not reversed in a few places.
Alva had confronted Herman over all the horrible things he’d done to Luca. Over stealing the money Luca earned working jobs too young for him, money that was supposed to be used for medicine for Luca’s mother. Alva screamed at him for letting Luca’s mother die, for leaving Luca to take care of both himself and his mother at twelve, for wasting so much of their money that Luca was forced to eaten rotten food to survive, for forcing Luca to arrange his own mother’s funeral because his father still wouldn’t stop working on that blasted machine even when his child was left completely alone with no one to take care of him. Alva screamed at him out of fear and horror and sorrow, because he was terrified for Luca.
Herman blamed Alva for everything, then. Said he was the source of all his problems. He accused Alva of ruining his life— that’s where the similarity lie. Both Luca and Herman accused Alva of ruining their life.
But Herman accused him out of pride, out of being unable to accept that he’d done wrong.
Luca had accused him for the same reasons Alva had accused Herman. Out of fear and horror and sorrow, because he was terrified for himself.
Luca had raised a live wire against Alva because he was afraid Alva would attack him.
And Alva… when Alva had proved to Herman that it was impossible for him to have ruined his life, Herman blamed Luca instead. Herman made an empty threat against Luca—
And Alva raised his hand against him, out of fear that he would attack Luca.
Alva did not kill Herman, no. The fire was caused by Herman’s own negligence, and Alva barely escaped it with his life. But by god, did Alva want to kill him for what he said about his son.
In the end, Alva had always and could always see one single truth that never changed, even if he was occasionally blinded by his emotions and his regret: Luca resembled Herman superficially, but deep down he would always be more of a Lorenz than he ever was a Zeeman. Luca was more of his son than he ever was Herman’s.
Alva kneeled, and he did what the anguished father in him had wanted to do since he realized his son was alive.
He pulled Luca into his arms, and hugged him crushingly tight.
“It’s my fault too.” Alva’s voice was shaking, too. “I shouldn’t have accused you, I shouldn’t have let my bitterness over your father color how I treated you. I should have told you everything. I shouldn’t have hidden it all from you. I shouldn’t have let you come to your own conclusions, and let you hear it from an unsavory source. I shouldn’t have tried to shelter you.” Alva’s grip grows tighter, and Luca’s arms grip around his middle. They’re going to bruise each other with how they crush each other, clinging to each other like a lifeline. Alva wouldn’t mind at all if he did. It would be simply another scar left on his body by the one he adored.
“Luca, what do you remember?” He asked softly, as they clung to each other.
“The last thing I remember is going to the ball with you. Where I fell asleep at the table and you carried me to bed. Where you told me I would always be your son. Edgar says that’s where we met, but I don’t remember meeting him.”
Alva sighs. “Do you remember Davidson and Cox?” He asks gently.
“… I remember Davidson. I mourned him. He’s dead because of me.”
“No. He’s not. He’s dead because I refused to tell you what was going on. He’s dead because Cox manipulated us both, and used what Herman did to us against us. He’s dead because Herman left lies behind that fueled your fear of being hurt by the ones you love most again. And you… you almost died because of me. I almost lost you because of my own mistakes. I almost killed my son. For years, I thought that I killed my son.” Alva’s grip tightens.
Finally, Alva lets out the emotions he’d held in ever since he went back to that lab, ever since he dug through newspaper after newspaper desperately searching for what happened to his son. Ever since he saw that the execution date had come and gone.
Alva can feel his shirt getting wet, but it’s alright, because he can’t stop his tears either. “My boy,” he chokes. “I am… so relieved you are alive. You have… no idea how happy I am that you’re alive. I thought… I thought my mistakes killed you. My mistakes killed both of us.”
“Our mistakes.” Luca finally grits out, still shaking violently as he clings. “Our mistakes. It was my fault, too. I killed you.”
Finally, Alva sees past the rage and into the clear vision of the past. Luca never killed him out of malice, but because all he’d ever known all his life was betrayal. Luca genuinely thought Alva was going to kill him. What a horrible excuse of a father he was, to allow Luca to think he was going to kill him. To scream at him when Luca was so scared. Why was it that the only time he could ever bring himself to get angry at Luca was at the worst possible time?
“I love you, Luca. I never stopped loving you. You are my son. I don’t care that you are not my blood, you are more my son than Herman ever was your father.” Alva tells him solemnly, voice intense and grave, hoping that this time he could do it right, that this time he could save Luca from his and Herman’s mistakes.
Luca grips him even tighter, clawing him, and a hysterical laugh bubbles out of him, in sync with his pained sobs. “I love you too. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…”
“It’s alright. It’s going to be alright. There’s nothing between us that can’t be fixed. We can’t undo the past, but we can mend the future.” Alva assured.
Honestly, Alva knew from the start that he’d never be able to get revenge on Luca. He knew he’d never be able to lay a hand on his son, not without hurting himself just as horribly. Love had always made him such a weak man, and it’d continue to make him weak in the future. He’d lost Herman because he loved him too much to stop him from sending himself and his family into ruin, and he’d lost Luca because he loved him so much that he wanted to hide him away from the ugly past like a sheltered child.
But he couldn’t give him up, either. He couldn’t stop loving him. Not even death had stopped him from loving Luca. Not even a god could stop him from wanting his son back. And he’d keep loving him, and he’d keep trying to make this right, even if it destroyed them both again.
For a long time, they cry together in the middle of this match. Eventually, they shift so that Luca is in his lap, Alva holding him tightly like a child, like he used to when Luca was a teenager and he saw his mother die in his dreams.
Eventually, Luca goes still against his chest, breath evening, and Alva’s heart aches as he realizes his boy has fallen asleep in his arms. It made him so happy that Luca still trusted him so much, but hurt because he knew he could never deserve it.
—
Alva had carried the sleeping boy all the way to the couch in his room and held them tightly as he slept.
“Alva?” Luca asked tentatively as he woke. His head was ducked, posture hesitant and timid. It hadn’t been long since their reconciliation— Alva was afraid he may have forgotten it, but it seemed they were alright, at least for now.
“Luca, my boy.” He smiles warmly, still refusing to let go of him. It was awkward, and it was tense, but they were on the right track. They were finally on the right track. And this time, Alva would keep them on the right track.
Luca smiled tentatively, leaning his head back on his shoulder, allowing himself to be held. “You’re… you’re really not mad?” He asks in a small voice. “You… you should be. I killed you. I-I don’t know why, but I did. I didn’t want to. All I could think about in jail was how I could have killed you when you and your wife were the only family I had left, when you were the only real father I ever had. You should be mad. You should hate me.”
Alva paused, trying to think of how to word it. “I was. But… I think you’ve paid quite enough for what you did. You’ve paid too much, if you ask me. You’re still paying far too much. You’ve recognized what you’ve done wrong, and it wasn’t even truly your fault, so there’s no need to torture you.” He tells him, finally, gazing at Luca. His son is entirely covered in scars, and it makes Alva’s heart break. If he had survived the accident, he wouldn’t have sent Luca to jail. He never wanted Luca to go to jail. Hell, knowing himself, he’d have paid the bail and squirreled his son away at home until he could recover, answering all his questions and trying to make things right. “I know you didn’t mean it. It was only because you were scared. You thought I was going to kill you. It was a misunderstanding and an accident. You were manipulated. We both were.”
“Besides, it’s not just your fault, Luca. You deserve to know the truth.” Alva sighed. “I accused you, too. And while I didn’t steal Herman’s work, I did do things that didn’t paint me in a positive light. Your father betrayed me, ruined you and your mother’s life and caused her death and I took his work and hid it away so no one could ever use it in a petty sense of revenge. I never published it, and I never said it was mine, but I kept it. And then I refused to tell you the truth, I refused to tell you anything about the relationship between your father and I and how he died, and of course you were forced to seek answers from an unsavory source. I let my heartbreak and bitter hatred of your father get the better of me. I should have never done it, should have never taken his work, and I should have stopped him sooner before he sent your family into ruin, before he caused your mother’s death. I spent those years with you as my student trying to make up for what I allowed to happen to you, trying to be the father Herman refused to be for you, at first out of duty to your mother and then out of genuine adoration for everything about you. All I wanted was to protect you from mine and your father’s mistakes. All I wanted was to take care of you, my precious son. But I should have come clean sooner. This is my fault too, and you don’t have to forgive me. It’s okay if you never forgive me. I don’t deserve it. But… I want to continue being in your life, Luca. When I thought you were gone, that you had been killed for my mistakes, I… I was a broken man. I want to make things right, now that I have the chance. And… if you want me to get out of your sight and never see you again, I will. You deserve at least that.” Alva finally finished his confession.
Luca had begun to hug himself tightly, shaking. “…I never knew why I did it. Thank you for telling me. But… I still don’t want to let go. Even if you did that… I want to stay with you. I want to try to make things right too. I want to be your son again. If you… if you would ever be willing to accept me again.”
“I will always be happy to welcome you back, Luca, no matter what happens. You will always and forever be my son.” He wraps an arm around his son’s shoulders, and Luca tenses for a few seconds before relaxing immensely. Luca buries his head in his shoulder, and Alva pulls him tighter to his side.
“You know that this doesn’t fix everything. There’s so much more I want to know, and… so many awful things have happened to me. I don’t know if I can forgive you, yet, but… I want you to stay with me like this. I want you to keep taking care of me like this. I want my dad back.” Luca tells him solemnly, and they both know he doesn’t mean Herman.
Alva smiles sadly. “I know, my boy, I know. And I’ll spend a lifetime making it up to you for letting it get this far.”
“What if I forget? I’ll write it down, but what if I don’t read it? What if I hurt you again?” Luca asks in a small voice.
Alva goes quiet, because he knows. He knows that Luca has already hurt him so much, over and over again, constantly tearing open old wounds without even trying. He’s a constant reminder of Herman’s betrayal just by existing, his agonizing empty promise, and it hurts because if Herman hadn’t betrayed Alva, Luca wouldn’t exist at all, and that in itself would break Alva’s heart even more because Alva adores Luca as his son infinitely more than he could have ever loved Herman as a lover. Luca hurts Alva over and over, constantly, usually without meaning to, usually because of the scars Herman has left on him, and Alva knows deep in his soul that even if he’s given up on humanity, that he will never be able to stop letting Luca hurt him. He would let Luca kill him a thousand more times if it meant his son had a chance to be happy and free, and he knows that deep in his soul, under all the surface level rage and grief.
“If you forget, I’ll remind you again, over and over, until you remember. And if you never remember, I’ll still remind you, because just one moment of happiness with you is worth all the pain.” Alva finally tells him, and he means every word.
Luca smiles, wobbly. “…Being your student was the happiest time of my life. All I ever wanted was to go back to that.”
“It was the same for me. You are the light of my life, Luca. You still are. I thought you were dead. I was ready to die with you. Now that I have you back, I’m never letting you go. I’ll always take care of you, and I’ll always remind you.” Alva promises. “I’ll make it all up to you, I promise. I’ll do everything I can to make it up to you.”
“I’ll make it up to you too. I’ll do everything I can to make it up to you.” Luca hugs onto him tighter, and Alva pulls him into his lap to fully hold his son like he was the center of his universe, just like he wishes he could have done when he was a child and was forced to be the man of the house because Herman was never home, was always wasting their money.
Finally, for the first time in years, as he holds his son in his arms, Alva feels at peace.