Although Ansel hadn't planned on playing the doctor role, a part of him couldn't be held back from analyzing as Lucio attempted to counter him with denial after denial and a collection of excuses he used to explain away his prostitution. Lucio's insistence that what he did was a true profession was disheartening to Ansel. The professor had, perhaps incorrectly, assumed that Lucio would give up prostitution once they were together. Afterall, Lucio was only one year away from graduation. He wasn't stupid, and if he just applied himself he could get by, especially with Ansel's help. Perhaps Lucio believed himself to be the type who just wasn't good at school, maybe he was lazy, maybe he just didn't think he was smart enough to get perfect grades at such an exclusive university who only accepted the best and brightest. Whatever the reason, Ansel believed Lucio to be wrong. He could make it honestly if he tried. So what was wrong with his darling that he didn't want to even try? That the thought of doing so was so painfully daunting to him?<br/><br/>The professor's stern tone and defensive stance loosened as Lucio began to open up to him, the boy's voice coming across as so depressingly soft and somber. It was in that moment, as Lucio let his broken heart show through the cracks in his chest, that Ansel realized just how little he knew about the love of his life. He knew Lucio was beautiful, intelligent, charming, and a good actor. He could sing, his favorite song was "Lilac Wine" and he loved oysters. He had two younger brothers, beautiful like him, and he was an expert when it came to all things sensual. But who was Lucio, underneath the accent and beauty and the coy smile? He was someone damaged, lovely and dark with heavy emotions that colored his view of himself and the world around him. It wasn't so different from Ansel, really, who oftentimes found his own company to be tiring when Lucio wasn't around. It pained Ansel to see Lucio like this. All he wanted to do was hold him and tell him everything was going to be okay, even if it wasn't.<br/><br/>After Lucio had given his very tender confession, Ansel was quiet for a long moment. Unlike the beginning of the conversation, when he had opened his mouth without thought, he was very careful and deliberate with his words. He set his latte down on the table and sat forward in his chair, reaching for Lucio's hand and bringing it up to his lips. He kissed the soft skin and lingered there for a moment. "You can do whatever you want, Lucio. I do not say that with delusions, or some misappropriated encouragement. I genuinely believe that whatever career you choose for yourself, you will excel. Hell, you are a better model than both of your brothers. You would kill in the industry if you took it seriously. You might not like yourself, Lucio, but I love you." He stopped himself, looked down at the floor, Lucio's hand still in his. He hadn't meant to tell him like this, hadn't meant to say it, and now he regretted the words. Not because he didn't mean them, but because he thought Lucio would recoil from them. If anything ruined their weekend, Ansel believed it would be this.<br/><br/>He cleared his throat and dropped Lucio's hand pulling away and leaning back in his chair. "If you let me buy the plane tickets, you can get the hotel when we get to London," he said simply, returning to his phone and flipping idly along the screen.