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Stolas isn't sure how it's possible to be so devastated and so happy at the same time.
It's not as if this is the first time he’s experienced conflicted emotions. The hatching of Octavia had been a strange mix of feelings, his chest full and warm with love as he gazed down at his daughter, while his skin crawled feeling Stella’s eyes, cold and pointed behind him.
But this time, it’s different. He's lost everything he’s ever had, but gained so much he’s ever wanted all at once. There's something open, raw, and gaping where his magic is meant to be, but his hand is warm, held in Blitzø’s sturdy, calloused grip. His home, his books, his plants, all of it is lost to him, but Blitzø has wrapped a worn but soft blanket around his shoulders so carefully that it nearly brought tears to Stolas’ eyes. He's not seen his daughter, not heard from her, has no idea if he'll even be able to, but Blitzø’s loved ones have all come to visit, bringing with them kind words and teary thank-yous and even a small houseplant.
Has it really only been a day since the trial? A day since everything fell apart? A day since Blitzø had held him and bathed him and brought him into his home?
He feels so lost. Untethered, undulating between crushing, all-consuming pain, unbelievable joy, and feeling absolutely nothing at all. He bounces between the feelings with no rhyme or reason. And with each one comes guilt.
Guilt that he can possibly be happy at all when he’s abandoned his daughter to Stella. Guilt when he senses Blitzø hovering behind him, worried because he’s been staring into a mug of tea for over an hour. Guilt that after all this time, he finally has what he’s wanted - Blitzø taking his hands, kissing his cheek, being sweet and soft and open, and here Stolas is ruining it.
He wants to scream. He wants to hurt something. Hurt himself. He wants the scythe to have fallen and taken his head, because at least then he wouldn’t have to live with this guilt, this uncertainty, this knowledge that he’s lost everything he is, and his daughter, and the magic that makes up so much of him. If he’d died, he’d not be here being a burden to Blitzø. Because now he’s nothing - he has nothing. It’s all been taken, leaving him useless and helpless in a world he’s never truly been a part of.
He almost wishes he could take his confession in the courtroom back - but no he’d never, could never take it back, could never see Blitzø killed because of him. But Octavia had surely seen everything broadcasted and hasn’t tried to reach him, hasn’t answered his messages, and he’s lost her. He has Blitzø but he’s lost everything else, and is it worth it?
He doesn’t know. He can’t think. He can’t string together a coherent thought, all the words getting jumbled up and crushing his chest, making it impossible to-
“Breathe, pretty bird.”
He does, taking in a gasping breath. Blitzø’s hand is on his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles in his feathers.
“That’s it.” Blitzø’s voice is so gentle, and tears spring to Stolas’ eyes. “I’ve got you. It’s gonna be alright.”
“Via.” His voice cracks, and there’s so much more he wants to say. How scared he is that he’s truly ruined his relationship with her - that even if he hasn’t, he’ll not be permitted to see her. That even now Stella is poisoning her against him, twisting what happened to suit her own designs.
“We’ll fix it,” Blitzø says. His words are a promise and Stolas clings to them. “We’ll figure it out. Loona and her talk, you know? She’s working on it.”
Stolas slowly turns to face him. Blitzø looks tired - his eyes are weary but warm, and his smile is so soft. For him. “She is?” he asks.
Blitzø nods. “We’ll figure it out together. Can’t promise it’ll be smooth or easy, but we’re going to get her back, Stols. Not gonna let this happen.”
Stolas nods. His neck feels heavy.
Blitzø reaches for his hands, and Stolas allows the touch. Something in him lightens as Blitzø squeezes. “Look,” the imp says, eyes flicking away for a moment. He bites his lower lip, looking unsure for the first time since he’d brought Stolas home. “I know this is…everything is real fucked up right now,” he says. The words are clunky but soft. Soft in a way Stolas hadn’t known Blitzø was capable of being. “But I. I mean I figured out that. A while ago, not just yesterday - I just thought it was too late. And. Fuck; why is this so fucking hard?” Blitzø’s hands squeeze, tighter, and he takes a deep breath. “I love you. I’m gonna take such fucking good care of you, okay?”
He’s imagined these words from Blitzø hundreds of times - but after the disaster of their final full moon meeting, he had never imagined Blitzø would ever actually say them. And despite the horrible, roiling darkness in his chest, the hopelessness of all of it, that spark deep in his heart that he’ll always have for Blitzø ignites, chasing the darkness away - just a little bit. “I love you too,” he breathes.
And it’s not okay. He’s not okay. But at least he has this. At least, after everything, he has Blitzø.
Stolas has been living in Blitzø’s home for a few days now - at least, he thinks it’s been a few days. He knows he’s slept on the couch at least a few times, though he has no idea what day of the week it is. Neither Blitzø nor Loona have left the apartment for more than a couple of hours, so he thinks they must not be going to work.
He knows it would be polite to ask about I.M.P, to offer to help out around the apartment, but he finds he doesn’t have the motivation or the energy. All of it sounds like so much.
Besides, what does it mean if he gets up and starts trying to put his life back together? It feels too much like an admission that this is really happening. That this is his life now.
He’d much rather stay here in the quiet and simply exist, just listening to the cars revving down below and watching the streaks of sunlight shifting across the floor. Focusing on the sensation of the couch scratching against his feathers and the drone of the TV in the background. Listening to the sound of Blitzø breathing, of his claws on the floor, of his heartbeat when they share the couch. Alive, because of Stolas. At least that’s one thing he’d gotten right. If nothing else can be fixed, at least Blitzø is safe.
He knows Blitzø is worried. He can hear the hushed words he exchanges with Loona, see the way he keeps his phone tilted so Stolas can’t see. He simply can’t bring himself to care.
At some point, Blitzø kneels on the floor in front of him, expression unsure. “Hey Stols,” he says. His voice is careful, but steady, despite his clear nerves. “You’ve not gotten up all day.”
Stolas blinks, forcing his eyes to focus on Blitzø’s face. “Oh.” The room is getting dark - has he really been lying here since morning?
“Yeah. How about we get up? We can go get something to eat?”
The idea of getting dressed and leaving to be seen sucks the air from his chest. He doesn’t want to go out there and face the people and the cameras. He wants to stay here. At least here, he feels safe.
“Okay,” Blitzø says quickly, lifting his hands. “No going out. That’s fine. We can order in! Get some takeout.”
Stolas nods. Better. That sounds better.
“Good,” Blitzø says, offering an encouraging nod in response. “So how about we get up and look at some takeout menus?”
“I’m fine with whatever you want,” Stolas says. He doesn’t much care what they eat, and Blitzø is the one paying. Why should he have any say in it?
Blitzø’s hopeful smile fades slightly. It’s happening again - already he’s disappointing the people around him. At least when he was a prince, he knew what the expectations were. Now he has nothing - he is nothing - everything he was has been taken from him, and he has no idea what he’s supposed to do now that he has no script.
“Stolas?” Blitzø reaches out and takes one of Stolas’ hands in both of his own. “Look. I want to ask you something.”
“Of course,” Stolas says. “What is it?”
Blitzø hesitates, staring down at their clasped hands. “I’ve seen…sometimes when I visited I mean, I saw your prescription bottle. I haven’t seen you take anything since you got here - do you need those?”
Oh. Of course Blitzø would have noticed - he must have seen the prescription even if he didn’t know what it was for. He’s thought about asking Blitzø for help with his Happy Pills, but he’s been too embarrassed. Blitzø is already doing so much for him - he doesn’t want to ask for him to buy his medication for him too, which hardly seems to help anyway. He doesn’t even know how much it costs. He’s never had to think about it before.
“Stolas?”
He blinks slowly. Oh, right, he should answer. “I’ll be fine,” is what he settles on.
Blitzø frowns. “Is that what you’d say if I was the one going without my prescription?”
“What? No,” Stolas says.
“Okay, now that we’ve settled that,” Blitzø says, giving his hand another squeeze. “What’s the prescription? We can order some more and I can pick it up, if you’re not up for it.”
There’s so much he wants to say. That Blitzø is already doing too much for him. That the medication may be too expensive. That he doesn’t want to inconvenience him, or take advantage of him. But he’s sure that Blitzø will argue, and he just doesn’t have the energy. “Happy Pills.”
And Blitzø simply nods. “Okay. I’ll get them today.”
And a couple hours later, he does. He shakes out two pills and passes them over with a glass of water. He sits with him, watching Stolas as he takes the pills and offering a pleased little smile once he’s swallowed them down. And, more to see Blitzø’s smile than anything, Stolas asks if they can order chinese for dinner the next day. Blitzø’s answering smile is luminous, and Stolas finds himself smiling back at him for the first time in days.
It’s been two weeks since the trial, and Stolas finally finds it in himself to ask why Blitzø and Loona aren’t going to work.
The two of them exchange a quick look with each other. After a moment, Loona says, “I need some air. I’m running to the store.”
It’s not a subtle exit, but Stolas doesn’t think it’s meant to be.
Once the door closes behind her, Blitzø rocks on his heels, eyes darting to the kitchen. “Want some tea?” he asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer, crossing to the kettle he’d bought once taking Stolas in. He tugs out the four separate tea flavors he’d bought and holds them up, until Stolas chooses one. “I never really understood tea,” Blitzø continues as he works, grabbing two mugs. “But it’s nice! This peach one especially.”
Blitzø is stalling. Stolas doesn’t mind - he gets the feeling he’s not going to like where this is going.
But soon enough the tea is ready, and Blitzø is handing him a steaming mug and taking a seat beside him on the couch. The imp stares into his mug for a moment, sighs, and looks up at him. “Millie and Moxxie have been handing I.M.P,” he says finally.
Stolas sips from the mug. It’s a strong black tea - just how he likes it. “But why?”
“Well…I just.” The imp worries his bottom lip. “I’m just not sure if you should be alone right now,” Blitzø says. He’s still not meeting his eyes.
“Why?”
“Come on, Stols.” When he says nothing, Blitzø sighs again. “Look. You were off your meds for a while, okay? And you’ve lost a lot, and believe me I know from experience how it feels when your life falls apart.” Blitzø’s hands clench around the mug. He takes a steadying breath before continuing on. “And I wish someone had been there for me when it happened. To help and…look out for me.”
Stolas stares down into his own tea. “You think I’m going to do something. Hurt myself.”
He can see Blitzø cringe in his periphery. But why beat around the bush? It’s what Blitzø is implying, after all. “Fine. Yes. I’m worried,” Blitzø says, voice strained. “And we went through way too much shit for me to lose you or see you hurt again.” Blitzø’s hands are trembling. Tea jerks over the side of the mug and onto the imp’s fingers. Without thinking, Stolas lifts a hand, prepared to levitate the tea away before it can scald Blitzø further.
But as he reaches for his magic, that horrible, heavy chasm opens wider. The emptiness where his magic should be overwhelms him, cold nothing shooting through his veins. His hand hesitates in the air before he drops it heavily at his side.
Blitzø turns to him with pained eyes. He sets his tea down and reaches for Stolas’ free hand, holding tight. “I was thinking,” he says slowly, “that you could come work for me.”
Stolas blinks at him. “You…want to hire me?”
“Why not?” Blitzø asks. “We’ve got more clients than we can handle. You’re great with words and paperwork, and if we had someone helping with that we’d be able to take on more clients. Plus it’ll get you out of the apartment and help you stop stewing in your own shit all day.” The imp looks up at him with a smile. “Don’t you think you could use a distraction?”
He’s never considered what it would be like to work. At least, not at a traditional job like this. He’d been born and molded for a very specific purpose. Would he really be of any use at Blitzø’s company? Or is this just an offer so the imp can keep an eye on him while he’s running his business?
He’s such an inconvenience. Blitzø pities him enough to offer him work, even though he’s already taken him in. Is already paying for his meals, for preening oils, for things like tea, which Blitzø would never buy unless Stolas was here. And now he wants to pay him? If Stolas accepts, he should be doing it for free to make up for everything Blitzø is doing for him.
“Hey.” Blitzø’s hand squeezes and Stolas drags his gaze back to the imp. “You can say no if you don’t want to,” Blitzø says. “But I think it would be good for you. Get out of this shithole of an apartment, get some work experience, see someone besides my dumbass.”
“I like your dumb ass,” Stolas cuts in.
Blitzø chuckles. “Well I still think it’ll be good for you. And me, cause fuck if we don’t have a constant backlog of paperwork. I don’t have time for that shit, and Moxxie’s not the best at math, so…”
Blitzø looks up at him with such a hopeful expression. Stolas isn’t sure about this - that he wants to leave the apartment for work, or accept this pity job offer. But if it will make Blitzø happy…
“Alright.”
Blitzø grins. He’s already holding Stolas’ hand and begins to shake it. The motion makes Stolas let out a soft giggle, and Blitzø’s eyes light up. “Welcome to the I.M.P team,” he says, voice rising with enthusiasm. “The pay’s not great and the benefits are shitty, but we do have an office! You start tomorrow.”
The entire interaction jogs a memory - of Blitzø, much younger, dangling from a tree branch and talking about his dreams of being the boss. Of how he’d said he’d hire Stolas - if he felt like it - and at the time Stolas hadn’t been able to help but laugh at such a silly concept. That an imp would hire a prince.
Well. He’s not a prince anymore. But here Blitzø is, wanting to hire him. And for a moment, Stolas feels light. Maybe, he thinks, as he gazes down at Blitzø’s smiling features, something in the stars had foretold this would happen, and Stolas had simply missed the signs.
And if it was meant to happen, maybe, someday, it could be alright.
On his first day, he steps into the office to find a banner strung across the wall, the words ‘Welcome to the Team, Stolas’ painted on the banner in large, blocky letters.
Millie claps when he enters and rushes towards them. To his shock, she wraps her arms around his legs in a very tight hug. “We’re glad you’re here,” she says. Her Wrathian twang is warm and it makes some of the tension in his shoulders ease. “And thanks again,” she adds softly. “For savin’ him.”
Her words are so earnest, and he simply has no idea how to respond to them. “Always,” is what he says in the end, as he had to Blitzø all those nights ago. Millie’s smile brightens even further, and she turns her smile on Blitzø, who, Stolas realizes, is blushing.
Moxxie steps forward to join them in the doorway. “We really will appreciate your expertise your high-”
He cuts himself off, even before the glare Blitzø shoots his direction strikes him. Stolas feels himself wilt - the lightness that had been filling him at Millie’s words buried almost immediately. Here he is, playing pretend at being an employee when everyone knows what a disgrace he is. When everyone knows how useless he truly is, and that his presence here is only because of Blitzø’s kindness and nothing else.
Loona pushes past the small imp, heading towards the kitchen. “You’re in for a shitty first day,” she says over her shoulder. “Blitzø’s filling system is pretty much stacking paperwork based on who has the coolest name on top.”
“It’s a great system,” Blitzø protests. He wraps an arm around Stolas’ hips and guides him further inside. “It means the most boring people are at the bottom! Makes them easy to find!”
“As you can see,” Moxxie cuts in, wringing his hands in front of him, “your help will be much appreciated.”
Stolas musters up a smile for the small imp. “I will do my best.”
Blitzø looks up at him, a comically unamused expression on his face. “Are you implying you’re gonna change my objectively good filing system?”
Stolas can feel his lips quirking up into a genuine smile. “How do you feel about alphabetical order?”
“Boring,” Blitzø says. “Predicable.”
“Organized,” Stolas counters.
“As overused as a midlife whore’s pussy,” Blitzø says. Behind them, Moxxie groans. Stolas’ smile widens, and so does Blitzø’s.
“By date?”
“Uninspired! You can do better than that!”
“A predictable filing system is literally the goal of a filing system,” Moxxie grumbles from the doorway.
Blitzø ignores him, and leads Stolas towards a desk, gesturing with a flourish. It has a computer of course, but also a potted plant and a nameplate. There’s a pack of post-it notes in the shape of stars, and a stack of hand-written business cards with his name on them.
All of them are such small gestures, but all deliberately for him. He can feel stinging in his eyes and he tries to blink it away. It’s a silly thing to get worked up over.
Blitzø hops onto the desk and leans up to slot their lips together. It’s a short kiss - little more than a peck, but it’s gentle and sweet, and the look in Blitzø’s eyes as he pulls away is enough to steal Stolas’ breath.
“We’re glad you’re here,” Blitzø says simply. Behind him, Millie and Moxxie chime in their agreement. Loona doesn’t say anything, but he recognizes her handwriting on one of the post-its, which is stuck to the potted plant.
It feels…good. And even though he doesn’t deserve it, he lets the feeling settle over him. At least for a little while.
Sinsmas will be here in a couple of weeks, and Blitzø has insisted on Stolas helping him decorate the Sinsmas tree.
‘Insisted’ may be too strong a word, Stolas concedes to himself, because when Blitzø had turned those big shining eyes on him, it had been impossible for him to offer even a token of protest.
It’s how he finds himself standing in front of a Sinsmas tree nearly as tall as he is, watching Blitzø do his best at trying to untangle a strand of red lights. His ‘best’ mostly consists of swearing and tugging at the strands without attempting to deal with the knots, so Stolas gently takes over. Blitzø beams at him and pulls out his phone to turn on a Sinsmas playlist. “I love Sinsmas,” he says. “The food is great, there’s presents and decorations and Hellnog! Have you ever had Hellnog?”
“I haven’t,” he says.
“Spicy as all Heaven,” Blitzø says. “You either love it or hate it.”
Blitzø continues his chattering as Stolas finishes untangling the lights, and they begin wrapping them around the tree together. It doesn’t take terribly long, and soon Blitzø is dragging a box of ornaments out. “Do you usually decorate for Sinsmas?” Blitzø asks.
Stolas watches as Blitzø opens the box, with far more care than he treated the lights. “No. The palace was decorated, but the servants always did it.”
“Half the fun of a Sinsmas tree is decorating it,” Blitzø says.
“Well, we were meant to ensure it looked a certain way. For guests.”
Blitzø scoffs. “Even when you were an adult?”
Stolas nods. As an adult, it hadn’t been his father’s expectations, but Stella’s. A Sinsmas tree was certainly not a battle he wanted to fight with her. Not when there were so many others that were unavoidable.
Blitzø gently lifts an ornament from the box. It’s a pentagram, made of what must be dozens of small red and black beads. The ornament isn’t perfectly even and one of the points is missing most of the beading. It’s clearly homemade, and Stolas can tell from the way Blitzø handles it that it’s extremely important to him. Blitzø meets his eyes and nods at the ornament. “My mama made this,” he says. “She…”
The imp looks away, eyes glassy. “It’s alright,” Stolas says. “You don’t need to-”
“She died,” Blitzø says, voice rough. “Long time ago now. There was a fire and almost everything burned but a couple things survived. Like this.”
Blitzø has never talked much about himself, but especially his past. And Stolas can see from the set of his shoulders and the tone in his voice how difficult this is for him to talk about. “I’m glad it survived,” Stolas says.
“Yeah.” Blitzø gives a sharp nod and turns towards the tree. “Help me find a spot for it?”
“Oh,” Stolas breathes, touched. “Yes. Of course.” He follows Blitzø to the tree, gaze assessing. “I don’t really know what makes a good spot for an ornament,” he admits.
Blitzø snorts and holds out the ornament. Stolas hesitates, but takes it in both hands. “There’s no such thing as the perfect spot for it,” Blitzø says. “Just pick somewhere.”
Stolas looks at the branches, trying to spot one that seems extra thick, so it won’t even twinge under the ornament’s weight. He takes the hook and slowly slips it over the branch and-
“Not there.”
His head snaps to face Blitzø, but the imp is wearing a shit-eating grin. Stolas rolls his eyes and lets go of the ornament, eyes tracking it to ensure it doesn’t slip. When he’s sure the branch will hold its weight he steps away from the tree. “How’s that?”
“Looks good, Stols.” Blitzø pecks him on the hip.
They continue decorating. Blitzø has a story to share about almost every ornament. This one he got when he adopted Loona. This one was a gift from Millie and Moxxie last year. This horse one was a collectible. One, shaped like a balloon animal, Fizz had just gotten for him. None of them match each other, but each one is sentimental. It makes the tree all the more beautiful. It’s a privilege to hear all these stories from Blitzø. To be included in his life.
Stolas’ talons linger on a neon pink ornament that’s almost the exact shade of Octavia’s eyes. It will be the first Sinsmas he’s spent away from her. Possibly the first of many.
What if last year’s Sinsamas was the last he’ll ever spend with her? What if she never wants to see him again? Last year had been a particularly rough Sinsmas - he’d been fighting with Stella more than ever, and Octavia had spent most of the season in her room, blasting music. On Sinsmas they had gathered for the traditional family photo, exchanged gifts with a sharp, heavy tenseness in the air, and sat down to a holiday meal in silence. Was that the last Sinsmas holiday he would ever have with his daughter?
His eyes burn. Sinsmas for him had always been about functions and appearances, but he’d done what he could to make it a nice time for Octavia. And now he’s ruined it, just like he’s ruined everything when it comes to her.
“Stols?”
Stolas sucks in a shuddering breath and wipes at his eyes. “Sorry,” he says. He tries to push the tears down, but along with his title he seems to have lost all of his training, because the tears won’t stop. Blitzø takes his hand and leads him to the sofa, curling up beside him and wrapping his arms around him. Stolas leans into his touch, dropping his head onto the imp’s shoulder. “I miss her.”
Blitzø cards a hand through his feathers. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
“We never decorated,” Stolas says. It suddenly seems important to speak their traditions aloud - because what if they never do them again? “But we would go ice skating every Sinsmas season and. And Via and I would make hot chocolate and eat too many cookies and watch Sinsmas movies.” He buries his face fully in Blitzø’s shoulder, heart throbbing. He has no one to blame but himself. He’s lost her. He’s lost the most important part of his life. All he’s ever done is let her down, despite trying his best, and now she’s gone forever.
A full body sob crashes through him. He distantly can feel Blitzø’s arms around him. They hold tight, and it’s the only thing he has to keep him grounded. Because at least he has this. He’s lost everything else, but by some miracle, he has Blitzø.
He hears keys in the front door and the padding of Loona’s feet. She must hesitate, because the footfalls stop suddenly. He keeps his face pressed into Blitzø’s shoulder, cheeks hot with shame at Blitzø’s daughter seeing him like this.
After a few long moments he hears her footfalls again, her nails clicking against the kitchen tile. He tries to tamper down on the sobs still looming in his chest and use the last of his willpower to cry silently, to himself, as he’s learned to do over the years.
Loona doesn’t seem to be going to her room. He can hear her shuffling about the kitchen. There’s the hiss of the kettle, and the clink of mugs. Stolas sniffs and finally lifts his head to wipe at the tear tracks on his face, for all the good it does. His feathers are a wet mess and there’s no hiding that.
Loona comes around the sofa holding two mugs. She avoids his eyes as she holds them out. Stolas reaches out, taking it with a soft ‘thank you.’ It’s not until it’s in his hands that he realizes it’s not tea - it’s hot chocolate, with a few marshmallows bobbing along the top.
His eyes fill with tears all over again, but a small warmth blossoms in his chest. Loona’s expression drops, and he rushes to assure her. “Thank you.” His voice is hoarse and cracked. “This is very kind, Loona. Thank you.”
“It’s no big deal.” She hands the other mug to Blitzø and hovers for a moment, looking unsure. In the end she turns without another word, tugging out her phone and heading for her room.
“You don’t need to drink it if you don’t want,” Blitzø says once she’s gone. “If it’s too sad, or…”
Stolas leans in and places a gentle kiss on his cheek. His chest still hurts, and he still can’t get the tears under control, but at the same time…
“It’s nice. Thank you.”
They finish their drinks in relative quiet, Blitzø making a comment every now and again. But mostly, they watch the twinkling red lights on the Sinsmas tree. And he can’t say he’s happy, but with the Sinsmas tree and the sweet hot chocolate and Blitzø’s warmth against his side, he’s able to feel at least a little bit at peace.
On Sinsmas Eve, Blitzø closes down I.M.P for the day in order to hold a Sinsmas party. Everyone convenes in the afternoon at the office, where Blitzø has arranged a spread of food and, at some point in the night, snuck out to set up decorations and gifts. Everyone else brings gifts too, and Stolas finds himself panicking that he’d missed a memo, but Blitzø assures him that he’s put Stolas’ name on the gifts the imp had picked out.
Stolas feels a prickle of shame that Blitzø feels the need to include his name on gifts, instead of Stolas buying his own, but pushes it down. He has, after all, only gotten one paycheck, and he knows Blitzø is trying to be kind. And Stolas had picked up something for both Blitzø and Loona for the next day, once he’d gathered the courage to go out on his own.
He thinks word must have spread that he and Blitzø are together, because he’d not been harassed in the streets nearly as much as he’d expected. He had, however, received a lot of curious looks.
Over the course of the afternoon, Stolas finds himself genuinely having a good time. Blitzø plays Sinsmas music far too loudly, there is far too much food, and they play some absolutely inappropriate party games. Stolas’ favorite is Dicktionary, which involves drawing a series of inappropriate pictures that leaves Moxxie boiling red in the face.
Each of them presents him with a gift, even though Stolas knows for a fact that Blitzø has gifts for him and Loona under the tree at home. Millie gives him a cozy warm sweater, and Moxxie gets him tickets for a delightful musical in a month - stating that he “finally has someone who appreciates the arts to attend events with.”
Blitzø and Loona give him a joint gift, a galaxy projector so he can still watch the stars, with a promise from Blitzø to take him topside to see them in real life soon. It’s one of the most touching gifts he’s ever received. He’s grateful when Millie drags Moxxie off to dance with a knowing look. It gives him time to compose himself.
By the time they part ways with the others for the night, Stolas is feeling light in a way he hasn’t in a long time. And almost as soon as he realizes it - realizes how much happiness and safety is bubbling in his chest - it’s gone.
Because what right does he have to feel happy after abandoning Octavia? How can he allow himself to feel safe and at peace when his daughter can’t stand him? When she thinks he doesn’t love her?
The guilt bears down on him from all directions. What is wrong with him that he can feel such happiness? He doesn’t deserve to be happy. Doesn’t deserve any of this. He must truly be a monster if he’s able to be so happy after losing his daughter. He loves her, of course he does, but clearly not enough or as much as he should. If he did he’d not be able to be happy right now.
He’s failed her in every way a father can. He’s failed to prepare her for Stella’s manipulations. He’s failed to help her socialize with people her own age. He’s failed to keep their family together because of his own selfish desires. He’s failed to put her first, as he should do, as a father should do. He’s failed to love her as much as she deserves.
He deserves this. Deserves her hating him. But she deserves so much more. So much better than him.
He doesn’t even notice they’ve made it back to the apartment until Blitzø is holding the door open for him. He drifts in, standing aimlessly near the door as Blitzø locks up. It’s only been a month or so, but already he’s started thinking of this place as home. As if ‘home’ is so easy to replace. As if his daughter is so easy to replace.
“Stolas?” Blitzø asks. “Did I…was the projector too much?”
Stolas looks down at him. “No. No, darling. I just…” There was a time where he’d hide it - a time where he’d try and keep his pesky emotions to himself, as he’d always been taught to do. But that’s not his life anymore. And Blitzø genuinely wants to know, and hiding them is just too difficult. “I was…I was happy.”
It’s not an explanation. Not really. But Blitzø nods, as if this makes sense to him. And maybe it does. Stolas still doesn’t know the details, but he does know that Blitzø has experienced horrible tragedy in his life. So maybe he really does understand what Stolas means by that.
“Want to watch some trash TV?” Blitzø asks.
Stolas looks to the Sinsmas tree, to Loona, who’s texting away near her bedroom door but has an ear quirked in their direction. Blitzø had talked about watching a Sinsmas movie, and Stolas doesn’t want to take that from him. Blitzø’s quality time with his daughter shouldn’t suffer just because of Stolas. “No, the movie sounds fine.”
Blitzø frowns. “You sure?”
“Yes. Please don’t ruin the evening because of me.” I can’t take ruining anything else, he doesn’t say.
Blitzø watches him for a long moment, but eventually he asks Loona to make some popcorn. Soon the three of them have settled onto the couch, Blitzø half in his lap, the light of the TV casting shadows across the apartment. Stolas isn’t paying much attention, but he does point his face at the screen.
At one point, Loona gets up to make another bowl of popcorn and Blitzø takes the opportunity to nuzzle close. “I’m sorry,” he says softly against his feathers. He doesn’t say it’s okay. He doesn’t say it will be alright. And Stolas is grateful for that. Because it’s not, and it might not be.
They finish the movie in near silence and Loona spends most of the time on her phone. It adds just another layer of guilt. Blitzø had been looking forward to Sinsmas Eve and watching movies with Loona, and now Stolas has gone and ruined it. The light joy of the day is long gone and there’s no ignoring the discomfort in the air.
Blitzø can’t enjoy an evening with his daughter because he has a pathetic, broken owl taking up space in his home. Not only has Stolas ruined his relationship with his daughter, now he’s ruining Blitzø’s with Loona.
After the movie Loona bids them both goodnight, and the two of them get ready for bed in silence. Stolas finishes up first and settles on the couch, scooting to leave space for Blitzø. Tomorrow, he vows to himself, he will keep his feelings to himself. He’s not going to ruin Sinsmas for Blitzø or his daughter.
His phone vibrates. That’s odd - not many people text him, and it’s pretty late to be getting a message from anyone he knows. He picks up his phone and chokes.
Octavia. He has a text from Octavia.
His hands are shaking so badly he needs to set his phone down. He stares down at her name, taking in shallow breaths as his heart races. Octavia has texted him. Why? Is she in trouble? Is she hurt? Is it something angry - about how he’s left her for the holiday? Could she want to see him? Could she be saying she never wants to see him again?
His head is spinning. Octavia. He needs to open it. To read it. But he can’t make himself move to open the message. Because right now, there’s hope. Just the faintest hope that it’s not something awful. And if he opens it to see a message about how much she hates him…
He can’t breathe. He couldn’t bear it. It’s been hard enough as it is, but if she confirms it…
He doesn’t even realize Blitzø has left the bathroom until the imp has sat beside him. Blitzø is looking down at his phone too. He’s quiet for a moment, then says, “want to read it?”
Stolas swallows. His saliva is thick and seems to stick in his throat. He can’t find his voice, so he nods. Blitzø picks up his phone and hands it to him. Stolas reaches out to take it, eyes fixated on his daughter’s name. He forces himself to open the message.
Octavia: I’m still mad at you. But I’m glad you’re alright.
Relief floods through him, so forceful and sudden that he drops his phone. Blitzø turns to him, face twisting with alarm, so Stolas gestures to the screen.
Blitzø leans down to read it, and Stolas watches as the pressure in his shoulders eases. Blitzø looks up at him, a small smile starting on his lips. Stolas reaches for him and pulls him into his arms. The tension drains from his body, and that mixed with the sheer relief leaves him feeling exhausted. His smile is so wide his face hurts.
It’s not forgiveness. It’s not a promise. But it’s enough for now. There’s hope for them. Somehow, despite everything Stolas has done, there’s still some hope.
And knowing that there’s hope for him and his daughter, and knowing that he has Blitzø by his side, that they love each other…
He can survive this. He will survive this.
He texts back that he loves her, and that he’ll be here when she’s ready to talk. He holds onto Blitzø who is laughing and warm and alive in his arms. He thinks of Loona on her phone, how Blitzø says they text each other, and the warmth in his chest grows brighter and brighter.
And for the first time in weeks, he allows himself to simply be happy.
And there’s nothing complicated about it.