Appearance: Somewhat tall (6,1") a bit lanky and thin, dark black eyes with jet black hair, bangs that seem to naturally flip outwards. Pale skin but it looks healthy. Not very strong at all, soft hands and low pain tolerance.
Personality: Timid young man, shy around new people he meets. Seems to be embarrassed easily. A sheltered individual. With anyone else these traits could be somewhat annoying or exasperating. But he has a natural charm though makes you want to be near him. Takes everything in stride and has a positive outlook on life not one to dwell on things. A bit feminine but that could be attributed to his lack of father figure or maybe he was just born that way. Unsure about his sexuality as well.
History: Father died when he was young (approx: 6) and his mother hasn't been well since then. Keeps herself cooped up in their home, not entirely mentally staple. Lucas wasn't close to his father, truthfully his father scared him, intimated him. But he'd never admit that to his dear mother.
Other: Enjoys cooking and he's quite good at it, but baking is his real specialty. Has a bit of a sweet tooth. A momma's boy, loves his mother dearly. Tries his best to listen to her and console her when needed.
Of course! This is a song my mother used to sing all the time...
So the lady diIIiiiid saaaAAaaAaAaaaay to her loveerrrrr,
What a wonderful life this could beEeEe!
I wiIiIish I could staAaAaAay foreverrrrrr,
But youuuu never give anything toOoOo meEeEeEeEe!
All this glass and rubble. My mother has been at it again. One of her "episodes", her control is slipping as the years pass. These shards seem to represent her broken heart. Maybe if it was more than just me or someone else...a brother or perhaps a sister that could mend her..
"I know you miss him mother but, he's dead now and he won't be coming back. You can't just sit here and wallow in your pain and misery."
I said that when I was 10 years old, then my mother hit me as hard as she could with something she picked up beside her. Knocked me down and I should of been out but, somehow I was barely conscious. My head was wet with warm blood, my mind was a mess and my vision blurry...but I can still hear her voice as clear as a bell.
"Don't ever talk about your father that way! If he hears he'll be furious... Then he'll never come home!"
When I woke up I was bed ridden. I knew then I had to mature quickly. My mother wasn't my mother anymore...she was a shell of her former self. When it came to me it seemed her heart was hollow.
It's funny how a single emotion named grief could change someone. Twist their features, take their heart and turn them into a monster. The mother I love is now nothing but a monster. A shallow empty monster...
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