The incessant beep drives Patroclus mad. Unending- beep, beep, beep. Where is that terrible noise coming from?
Patroclus.
He blinks. Oh. The heart monitor. That damned heart monitor.
Achilles looked so weak, those last few days. It was wrong, the way the man who swept into his heart, always larger than life, could be brought so low. He should always shine, should always be happy. They were always supposed to be happy.
And then he’d only had six months to live. Neither of them could believe it. The tears spilled as he pleaded for life. The manic, heartbreaking sex to try to temporarily soothe what both of them knew was unavoidable. The desperate search for treatment, the false smiles and hope that masked terror at impending doom.
Finally, there was no more time left.
Patroclus, promise me. Promise me that you’ll live. Both of you.
He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to know a life without his other half.
Please. I need to hear it.
Patroclus wept, nodding through his tears. Achilles smiled, one last time.
Thank you. I’ll see you and Philia tomorrow, okay?
No you won’t, Patroclus wanted to scream. But he nodded again, squeezing Achilles’ hand.
One slow breath, and then it was all over. The beeping slows to one, long crawl, and Patroclus’ heart shatters, never to be mended.
“Patroclus.”
Another sob shudders through Patroclus as the world comes back into focus. His heart aches when he gazes upon Achilles’ beautiful portrait, surrounded by white flowers. Mourners pass by; a sea of black that he can hardly be bothered to recognize.
“Patroclus, sweetheart.”
He turns to his mother, her eyes worn from sadness. In her arms is his six-year-old daughter, fitfully asleep after crying through the entirety of the ceremonies. He’d been so caught up in his own grief that he could hardly hear her. He reaches for Philia- the only part of his soulmate, of his soul that he has left- and brings her close, shifting so that she can squeeze into his neck.
“Papa’s here,” he whispers, over and over, a platitude to himself as much as it is for her. This had been the hardest part for Achilles to take. He’d tried so hard to smile through the pain, to sing sweet songs and play alongside his beloved daughter, who’d watched her Daddy fade as he went from throwing her high into the sky to barely being able to hold her without hiding a flinch. It killed Achilles inside just as much as the cancer ever did, and it killed Patroclus to witness.
Philomela composes herself, straightening her back. Patroclus can never be grateful enough for her strength; for support from her, Thetis, and Peleus as they managed to care for Philia, organize the funeral, and manage the last of Achilles’ estate. He can’t remember how he reached this day.
“They want to know how you’d like to get the urn home.”
The urn was beautiful- pure gold, edged with mother of pearl so that it gleamed rainbows in the sunlight. The most beautiful, for the most beautiful person.
“It’ll be heavy,” Patroclus mutters. “He was so muscular; I won’t be able to lift it with-”
Patroclus stops.
An emaciated Achilles was barely one hundred pounds.
Philomela understands anyway.
A couple months later Patroclus is not doing much better.
The house is clean, thanks to Philomela. The fridge is full of meals, stocked weekly by Thetis. Philia’s clothes are clean, she’s fed, and she attends school to the best of her ability. Patroclus would never make her go if she didn’t want to, but honestly, he wouldn’t know if she did. Some mornings he’s barely cognizant, lost in grief.
This is one of those mornings- one of those days.
The only space that fully reflects the chaos in his heart and mind is his bedroom, where Achilles’ clothes and items are strewn about. He was supposed to pack them, but he cannot bring himself to do it. Others have tried, but he breaks down every time, screaming profanities and collapsing into tears. Eventually, they stopped, leaving him to huddle in the smell of sandalwood and a lost future.
Today he’s watching videos on his phone, smiling through tears every time Achilles graces the screen. Achilles holds a seven-month Philia close, gazing upon her like the world was in his hands.
“Hi baby girl,” he coos, rubbing their noses together. Philia giggles, her hands bashfully at her cheeks. “She knows I’m talking about her, the most precious child in the world. Hi baby girl, hi baby girl-” Achilles turns to the camera and beams proudly. “Daddy’s so proud of you, you know that? And Papa’s so proud of you too, wave hi-”
Patroclus sniffles, as the digital version of him replies. He’ll have to show Philia; it’ll make her happy. He’s rewinding the video when Thetis’ name pops up on his screen. Frowning, he answers.
“Patroclus,” she rushes, “I came to pick Philia up from school today and she’s not here.”
Up from school? Patroclus looks at his phone; he didn’t realize the time had passed so quickly. Also-
“What do you mean she’s not there? Where is she?”
Thetis explains how she’s contacted the authorities, but Patroclus can hardly hear her over the rush of blood in his ears. No. No. He can’t go through this again. He can’t lose her too. How did this happen? He couldn’t even keep Philia safe. He promised Achilles and he’s already failed. Where was she? What if she was hurt? What can he do? He’s not there, he’s not there to make sure she’s okay, what is he going to do-
A couple hours later, he’s sprinting into the police station to meet Thetis, and clinging to her leg is a sobbing Philia. Relief rocks him so hard that he almost collapses, but he moves forward, only falling when Philia runs into his arms. Her eyes red, Thetis thanks the officer and walks over.
“She… she thought she saw Achilles, and she followed behind him for a couple miles. Luckily, the man eventually noticed, and he brought her to the police station.”
It’s illogical of him, but fury spreads through Patroclus, simmering as he puts Philia down onto her own two feet. He doesn’t remember what he said before leaving a concerned Thetis behind, doesn’t remember the drive. He tries to crush it down as they enter the house, tries to flee to his bedroom-
“He had hair like Daddy, and he was tall too, so I thought-”
Patroclus pinches his eyes shut, shivering with emotion.
“What have we said about following strangers.”
“But-”
“What if something had happened to you? What if I’d lost you, too?!”
Philia braces, stubborn despite the tears in her eyes. “But I thought I saw-”
“Well you didn’t! You didn’t, Philia! He’s gone! He’s never coming back!”
“Why not?!” Philia screams. “Why can’t Daddy come back?! I miss him and he needs to come back! Why-”
It’s too much right now. Patroclus cannot deal with these heightened emotions. His heart hums, it’s beating so fast with anxiety. He needs to go.
“Enough. No more questions.” He just wants to go back to the videos. Back in time.
“No! It’s not fair, I want Daddy back!”
“Stop-”
“Why are you being like this?”
“Stop it-”
“Why don’t you fix it, why can’t we just go back and-”
“Philia- SHUT UP!”
Patroclus immediately regrets his anger when Philia chokes on a sob, her expression visceral as she visibly holds in a scream so hard it forces her to bend forward with pain.
“Philia, Phi wait, please, I’m- I didn’t-”
“My heart hurts,” she whispers.
With that, Philia flees. Seconds later he hears a door slam shut. Miserable, Patroclus slumps on the stairs, forcing himself to breathe, to calm down. It seems like a lifetime when he can finally face his shame and make his way up to her room.
“Philia?”
He nearly breaks into tears again when he sees her curled up into a ball in the corner of her bed. It’s entirely too early, she hasn’t eaten dinner, and she hasn’t asked to be tucked in. Even when Achilles passed, Philia expected to be tucked in at night. It had become a grounding sort of ritual for them, to let her know that Papa was still here. The rejection- I don’t want you anymore- is poignant.
Deeply ashamed, Patroclus stumbles back downstairs. He doesn’t know what to do. He messed up. He messed up, and now his baby wants nothing to do with him. She’s right. Why should she? How dare he act so concerned, now. He hasn’t been doing what he needs to do. He didn’t even know how she ate this morning. What did she eat at all. He didn’t know that Thetis was picking her up, but he hadn’t planned on getting her. He didn’t know anything. Why would she trust him anymore?
Hours later, he stares at a nature documentary mindlessly, the TV bright in the pitch-black living room. He’s so exhausted, but he can’t sleep. He hasn’t slept in his bed since- well. In theory he should be hungry, but he hardly eats these days either. Philia might be hungry now, he thinks, before scoffing at himself. Now you want to play the good parent. Steeling himself for attempt number two, he makes his way back to Philia’s room and turns on her side lamp.
“Phi, are you-” He startles; the bed is empty. “Philia?” Panic crawls icily through his veins, but this time he fights it as he searches her closet and bathroom. When she’s not there, he checks the hallway, and sees the light in his room. For one delusional moment, painful hope surges through him. Maybe he’s just dreaming, and when he goes into his room, his family will be-
No. No.
Patroclus finds Philia curled up on his bed. This time she’s wrapped in Achilles’ favorite blanket, shivering as she quietly cries in her sleep. Patroclus’ chest quakes. His harsh, barking laughs slip into sobs as he falls to his knees in front of the bed, penitent. Hi, baby girl, he hears in his mind, cooing to a smiling baby.
“What am I doing? What am I supposed to do? I’m so sorry,” he weeps. “Papa’s so sorry. Please forgive me. I’m sorry. I can’t bring Daddy back. I can’t fix it. I wish I could, I would do anything to, but I can’t. I don’t know how; I don’t know how to do this by myself...”
Philia waves goodbye to Briseis, sprinting back into the dining room to throw her homework onto the table.
“Thanks for watching her, Bri,” Patroclus sighs, watching her speed away. “I wasn’t sure if I’d be in the lab later than usual, tonight.”
“No problem,” Briseis offers. “I’m always here if you need me. She still needs to eat.”
“I know, and I’ve got something in the oven,” he answers, accepting the warm hug before pulling away. “Get home safe, okay?”
He’s grateful for such a good and supportive friend, something he often tells his therapist out of both truth and a guilty conscience. It’s been about two years since Achilles passed, but only a year since Briseis had tried to step in to soothe the ache in Patroclus’ heart. One thing had led to another. Briseis was a wonderful woman- beautiful, kind, and generous. One of the most intelligent women he’s ever met. Even the sex- something Patroclus never thought he’d ever want again- was great, a welcome distraction from the pain.
But that’s all it ever was- a distraction.
No matter how much he tried, he could not bring himself to yearn for her the way he did for Achilles. Even when they lay side by side, when he felt some of the emptiness inside him give way to companionship, it felt…wrong. Once, he’d watched a sex tape he and Achilles had filmed. His heart warmed as they tease back and forth, falling into an easy intimacy; the way he responded to a fire that he could not replicate with Briseis. Nothing could compare. He wouldn’t love romantically again, and it was both a searing reality and a relief to finally accept.
It wasn’t fair to Briseis, who would never have his heart. It also wasn’t fair to Philia to introduce someone into her life that would never be the parental figure she wanted. He’d cut it off with Briseis soon after. She was understandably heartbroken, but she understood. But he hadn’t realized just how horrible he felt until he went to tell Philia, and she had looked up at him with Achilles’ bright green eyes and said:
“Auntie Bri isn’t going to be my new Daddy?”
Patroclus’ entire backbone crumbled. He stumbled a few feet, racing away before Philia could see him cry. He’d barely made it into the closet that had become his sanctuary before sobbing, begging Achilles’ memory for forgiveness. How dare he. How dare he bring someone into his home, to try to take his place in the eyes of his daughter. How could he. He was worse than the lowest of traitors to his husband, and to Philia.
Philia who had been, for the most part, the most resilient child he could ever ask for. Loss had wizened her beyond her tiny years, but she still wanted her Daddy, and instead Patroclus had brought someone into their home far before they could ever be ready. And he would never be ready. For God knows how long, he silently screamed, clawed at his arms, and pulled at his locs in that closet, hating himself until the depression overcame him so thoroughly that he was ready to end it all.
He crawled to the bathroom, blindly digging through the bottles in the drawers until he found a full bottle of aspirin. He didn’t deserve his husband, and he didn’t deserve his daughter. The open bottle was at his lips when a small hand gripped his shirt.
“Are you sick, Papa?” Philia asked, brow furrowed with concern. “Does it hurt that bad? I can call a doctor. Well I don’t know any doctors- but I can figure it out!”
She was going to support him.
He was about to leave her to discover his dead body, probably surrounded by vomit and blood; a horrific image that she would never escape. A final ‘gift’ from her pathetic Papa whom she would resent for the rest of her life- and she was about to do it faithfully.
“Papa?” Philia asked, stunned when Patroclus yanked her into a hug. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”
“No,” he wept. “No, I didn’t.” But I was going to hurt you. I was going to leave you behind with no fathers at all. “I’m okay.”
“Papa, you’re hurting me.”
“I’m sorry,” Patroclus pulls away, gently thumbing at her arms. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m okay, I’ll be okay.”
The next morning- he didn’t sleep a wink- he called a psychiatrist.
Patroclus reclines in the sun, watching Philia play in the front yard. It’s summer break, and that means Philia has all the time in the world to jump, scream, and laugh. It’s a balm for his soul. His alarm buzzes; twelve noon.
“Phi! Medicine time.”
Philia sprints to him, lifting her water bottle from the grass. Patroclus, on one of his better days, found a creative way to get Philia to take her ADHD meds while also encouraging himself to take his own- make it a family thing.
“Aah,” he reveals, opening his mouth. Philia does it back, and he rubs her head before letting her go play again. This week in particular has made him anxious. A new family is moving onto the block, bringing a change to his environment that Patroclus is unable to control. Worst of all, it’s Hector from undergrad. Ugh. If Achilles had been here, they could have hissed and booed at the oncoming truck together.
He certainly doesn’t think it’s going to be an unavoidable issue until he hears a crash, followed by a disgruntled ‘ouch!’ from the cul-de-sac. He sits up to see a kid that looks Philia’s age stand, tearfully lifting a bright red two-wheeler from the ground. Philia drops her toys to run to him, and Patroclus frowns. She shouldn’t run into the street; she could get hurt-
Uh oh.
The boy flushes to his reddish-brown roots upon her approach, blinking a few times before he puffs up his chest, all his former tears replaced by bravado. Philia giggles; she must be asking about the bike, because the boy starts pointing out all of its features, even offering the seat. Philia turns back to the house, only pausing to wave the boy forward, until they are in the driveway and then right in front of him. Once the boy’s close enough, it takes everything within Patroclus not to roll his eyes. He knows exactly whose child this is. It doesn’t help that Philia is practically glowing from excitement, batting her lashes up at Patroclus.
“Papa, this is Calix! He just moved in down the street! His older brother painted his bike for him, and it’s so pretty! Can…” She pauses, suddenly unsure. “Can he come inside for a snack?”
Suddenly, it doesn’t matter who this kid’s father is. Patroclus didn’t realize it until just now, but Philia hasn’t looked this happy in a long time. She certainly hasn’t asked anyone into their home; perhaps out of respect for him? Regardless, it’s been three years, and Philia is finally ready to move forward… even if he is not. If this new friend made her happy, could bring light to her life… who is he to refuse?
Tentatively, Patroclus nods, rising.
“Okay.” Philia’s eyes widen with elation, her breath catching. “Let’s get you both something to eat.”
Patroclus waits at home, fretting over his preparations for the fifth time. He just can’t help it- Philia is coming home for winter break at the end of the week, and he wants to make sure everything is perfect for her. Her room and bathroom are clean and stocked with fresh towels and linens. Her favorite snacks fill the pantry, and he’s prepared to make all her favorite meals. He knows she’s missed his home cooking, cooking they used to do together. He even has their matching aprons washed and ready.
It's been fourteen years since Achilles passed, and their daughter is now a proud sophomore in college. Philia struggled with schoolwork, but Patroclus always knew that she was capable of anything she set her mind to. Not only did she graduate with decent grades, but she’s been offered a position in a prestigious Dance program. He worried when she was twelve; she was receding into herself, her grades slipping. So when she expressed interest in dance, Patroclus firmly threw himself into making it happen. He attended almost every program and competition, and if he couldn’t make it, her grandparents would tag in. He signed her up for every seminar and camp she asked. It fills him with endless pride and joy, witnessing how much she excelled out there under the lights. He wishes her Daddy could have seen her, and he often tells her how proud Achilles would have been.
He is so happy! He’s going to see his daughter again, to hear all of her lively stories, to see her sunshine smile with those gigantic dimples. Everything was going to be great.
Except for one thing.
She’s bringing her boyfriend.
Patroclus should have known Philia was going to fall for Hector’s youngest boy. He should have known the day she lit up like fireworks over a red bicycle and thousands of freckles and deep blue eyes. Still, he’d tried not to intervene in their friendship because it was clear Philia deeply valued it. Wherever one went, the other was sure to follow.
Philia was always a good child. They’d never fought about anything past the type of boundary-pushing arguments every parent had. Given the teenager Achilles claimed he’d been, he’d prepared for Philia to become a rebel without a cause. His therapist had suggested that she might start to act out as a teen, between processing her own pain and growing into her own identity. Philia had certainly done nothing of that level- at least, not that he was aware of.
Regardless, he’d always thought it would be more difficult without husband by his side. Instead, Philia had blossomed into a lovely young woman with nary an issue, so the fight they had two years prior truly shook him.
The day before he drove Philia to campus, they spent the entire day together. They ate brunch, got their nails and feet done, went to the art museum, and did some last-minute shopping. They’d already visited her grandparents, and she was duly gifted with pride, love, support, and- to her endless gratitude- more pocket money. All that was left was her favorite dinner and a movie marathon.
“Papa, we’re out of popcorn,” she complains, jumping to her feet. “I’ll make the next one.”
“You’re not slick,” chuckles Patroclus, handing her the bowl. “Put the extra movie butter in it.”
Philia pouts. “You have to watch your heart, Papa. You can’t keep eating all this salt. You’re old, now.”
“I’m only forty-eight, you brat.”
“Mhm.” Patroclus watches Philia rummage around, locking eyes with her when she pulls out the popcorn bag and none of the oil butter. Philia widens her eyes at him in challenge. “Whatchu’ looking at?”
“You! Put that damn butter in the bag.”
“It’s not even popped yet!”
Patroclus smiles. It’s not a full smile- those are rare, and they have been for a long time- but it is Philia’s smile. She is the only one that can draw it out of him, such a fond, loving expression. We did a good job. The microwave beeps incessantly, but Philia is not paying attention, immersed in her phone. He almost didn’t notice- she huffs a laugh, her eyes closing in amusement as her expression softens.
That’s new. Patroclus’ eyes narrow. “Philia,” he calls. Philia looks up, walking over. He rises and stands right in front of her, leaning down to look her in the eyes.
“Is there something you want to tell me?”
Philia grimaces, her eyes darting back and forth. This is why he does this; Philia is not a good liar, prone to sprinting away when she has no answer. Caught in his gaze, Philia flounders.
“That one day I’m going to be taller than you?” she tries, grinning awkwardly.
“Nice try, five-ten. Anything else?”
Philia fidgets, sighing as she turns away. “Fine. You win, Papa. I do have some news.”
Patroclus hums. “What is it?”
“I have a boyfriend.”
“Since when?”
“Since yesterday? We just made it official.”
Patroclus’ eyes narrow even further. “Who is it.” He already knows.
Philia cringes. “Calix,” she squeaks, hands waving in defense when Patroclus groans. “Oh, come on, Papa. He finally asked me out, and… I said yes. I like him. He makes me happy!”
The betrayal stings. “Is this the reason he’s always been in my house?”
Philia startles, brow crinkling in offense. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“That boy was always in my house, always had access to you. Was this the end goal the entire time for him?”
“We were just friends!”
“He clearly wanted more.”
“But that doesn’t mean he- You know what? So what if he did? What if I did?”
Patroclus scowls. “I don’t appreciate your tone.” It was more than her tone. There was no way Philia could have broached this topic and he take it well. “And you were going to hide it!”
“Yeah! I was! And I was right to do so!” Philia’s shoulders rise to her ears, tears burning. “Fine. That’s fine. You don’t have to like him. God forbid something makes me happy, right?”
“Philia, don’t you dare. I have never sought to prevent your happiness!”
“Sought is the operative word, isn’t it?”
“Excuse me?”
“Exactly! Excuse you!” With that, Philia turns on her heel and storms away. Patroclus follows, furious.
“Philia, don’t you walk away from me! Philia!”
Philia is halfway up the stairs when she spins around. “If Daddy were alive, he would have said it was fine!”
“There is not enough time in the world-” -for me to tell you how absolutely incorrect you are, Patroclus wants to snap. Achilles probably would have met Calix at the door with pure malice after hearing this news. Still, he pauses the way he always does when Philia invokes her father, using the calming techniques he’s learned over the years to ground himself. “Why do you think that?”
Philia lifts her chin. “Because he always told me that my happiness matters! That I have to follow my heart- and my heart wants this, Papa! Why- why can’t I pick-”
It breaks Patroclus’ heart, because he does not want to take those words away from Philia. They were spoken to inspire Daddy’s little girl to be whoever she wanted to be, that she could do whatever she wanted to do. Not only did Achilles genuinely believe them, but he also said them out of fear that he wouldn’t be around to tell her every time she needed to hear it. It’s one of the few solid memories she has of him. Of course he’s not going to counteract that. Patroclus sighs.
“Okay. We’re having a misunderstanding-”
“No, the only one misunderstanding is you!” A small, defeated cry bubbles out. “Why couldn’t you just be happy for me the first time? What do I have to prove?”
“Philia-”
“I don’t even know why I’m asking you. What do you care how I feel? Why don’t you go talk to the pictures or something!”
She storms up the rest of the stairs, locking her door behind her. Patroclus wasn’t allowed to lock his door growing up, but it was emphasized to him that Philia would need space and privacy as a young woman. Basically, there would be no talking to her until she unlocked that damn door. Disgruntled and mildly sheepish, Patroclus does exactly what Philia demanded- ‘talk to the pictures’.
There was a shrine in the living room where Achilles’ urn rested, a wide aura of pictures surrounding it on the wall. There was always some sandalwood incense burning, as well as a small cup for libations. However, the pictures Philia was talking about were in Patroclus’ closet, now half empty. Pictures from throughout their relationship spanned the closet wall, and bins underneath held some of Achilles’ most precious items. When Patroclus needs peace, needs to be away from the world, he sits on the small ottoman and… well, he talks to his husband.
He sits down, chuckling sadly.
“She’s so much like you sometimes, Achilles,” he begins, used to this sad monologue. “Vivacious, sweet as a button… and then she’ll get such a smart mouth with me, I almost forget myself. Her eyes do that dramatic flash like yours, her chin lifting up. It’s so precious, and I’d hug her if she didn’t make me so mad. But her iciness, once she’s finished with a conversation- that’s all me.”
Patroclus sniffles. “She’s growing up. She’s spent most of her life with her miserable Papa, without her Daddy… and now she’s finally fallen in love with someone. Hector’s youngest, can you believe it? I was too nice. You’d probably refuse to let him inside before she finished college, but she loves you so much that she wouldn’t believe me if I told her.”
He turns to one of the pictures, a copy of Achilles holding five-year-old Philia up in the pool. He gave Philia the original. Their faces are squeezed together, those same eyes and dimples absolutely adorable as they say ‘cheese’. It’s idyllic, no signs of what was to come.
“I don’t know what to do. If I say I don’t approve she’ll leave anyway, and she’ll resent me. But if I say yes, I- what happens when they finally get married? When they move? What if she still doesn’t come back? Or worse, something happens to her, and I can’t reach her in time because she’s distanced herself from me? It’s hard enough knowing she’s going to school, but…”
There’s another picture on the other side, of Patroclus and Achilles soon after they started dating. He knows that he has no right to feel that way, what with their own whirlwind romance where no one could have told them anything. He doesn’t regret it and hasn’t- not even once.
“I wish you were here. I wish we could have had this together. For you to see how well she’s grown, how much better than both of us she is. Why couldn’t we have had that? What could we have done differently? She should have had both her fathers here for this. I wanted that for her, so much. I…I wanted that for me. I’m being selfish, aren’t I.”
An hour of contemplation later, Patroclus is sitting on the couch with his popcorn when Philia awkwardly rejoins him, taking a piece.
“You over-buttered it.”
“I buttered it just enough. I also talked to the pictures.”
Philia grimaces, apologetic. “Papa-”
“No, no. It was very enlightening, actually. My talks with your Daddy tend to be, especially when it comes to you. And I talk to him about you every day.” Patroclus holds out his hand, and Philia grabs it, hopeful. “And we decided- I decided- that it doesn’t matter how we feel about your young love. As long as Calix makes you happy, and you are safe and making smart decisions, what can I say? You’ve always made us proud, and there’s no reason to think you won’t continue to.”
Philia leaps forward to hug him tight. “Thank you! Thank you, Papa!”
Since then, Patroclus has been alone, just… dealing with it. Philia calls him every night, and travels the five hours every holiday, but nothing can make up for his empty nest. Every so often she asks him about his mental health, asks if he’s still going to therapy. He must be backsliding if Philia can see his misery through the smartphone.
Okay. Patroclus can admit that perhaps he’s not dealing with things as well as he could be. He keeps himself busy with work, and occasionally he’ll go to lunch with work friends, or attend a neighborhood block party. In theory, he’s doing great! In actuality… he feels empty. He’s pretending that the change is okay… but he’s been saying that for two straight years. Even his therapist feels like he’s hit a brick wall, and when she expressed that he petulantly decreased their visits to once a month instead of their regular biweekly sessions and cancelled their last visit.
Patroclus sighs. He’s tired of sighing. He’s not sure how he’s about to deal with this. Knowing they were dating was one thing, but actually seeing them together for an extended period of time… I wish you were here. He sighs yet again, when suddenly, a crack of thunder shakes the house. Heavy rain starts to fall, and he frowns. Gotta turn unnecessary lights off and stabilize the cans, he grumbles to himself. He’s just put on his raincoat and boots when he hears the strangest, most eerie noise he’s ever heard.
“What is that?” he asks, frowning. I don’t want to go out there, not with the rain sounding like that! Something starts pushing at the kitchen door. Oh, fuck no. Everything within Patroclus demands he leave the kitchen, when he hears his garbage cans get knocked over. His fears abate, followed by annoyance. “Just a raccoon. Damn!”
Putting up his hood, he makes his way out into the storm to lift his cans back up, placing bricks on top. The storm whips past him, leaving him hardly able to see, so he nearly stomps the creature when it bumps into his leg.
“What the hell-” he jumps, his heart pounding. On his leg is some creature covered in mud, looking like a little dog. It continues to headbutt him, losing balance a couple times in the storm. Patroclus nudges it away, trying to run away, but it follows him, scared. His heart swells with empathy. He can’t leave it here.
“I’ll take you to the shelter tomorrow,” he calls over the wind, tentatively lifting the thing up by its scruff and butt. The creature obliges, twitching its mud caked fur. He brings it inside, only pausing to toss off his own rain gear before pinching it all the way to the sink in the kitchen island. The creature seems oddly patient, waiting as Patroclus fills the sink with warm sudsy water and finds a towel. In fact, it’s delighted to hop in as Patroclus scrubs off the mud. If the obnoxious, Mustang-engine purr wasn’t enough to give it away, the clean, unmatted animal turns out to be a cat.
Patroclus doesn’t favor cats. He’d always wanted a dog, but Philia was allergic, and he’s not going to stop her from coming home. Still, this cat seems okay. Once its long fur is clean, Patroclus towels it dry, then brings Philia’s old hair dryer to it. Its furry head, a strangely familiar shade of blonde with streaks of orange, meows up at him, and Patroclus nearly drops the dryer.
Bright, familiar green eyes stare up at him.
No, no. I’m projecting. Stop this. Stop.
He silently dries the cat until it’s enough for it to lick itself clean, and he cleans up his area. It’s time for dinner, but he’s lost his appetite, so he retreats to his bedroom. To his utter surprise, a blonde blur speeds past him up the stairs.
“Hey! This isn’t your house!” How have you not been eaten by predators being this friendly? “Who do you think you are?”
The cat stands by his door, expectantly. Patroclus is unnerved- how did it know where he was going? When Patroclus doesn’t move, it meows- loud, impatient, imperious. Patroclus huffs, walking past it.
“I don’t even know if you have diseases; you’re not getting in my bed. You can… sleep over there in the corner or something!”
But when he comes back out from his shower, the cat has made itself comfy cozy on his side of the bed. It purrs loudly, determined as it makes biscuits, its claws spreading wide into his comforter. Before Patroclus can wave it away, it jumps to the other side; its mane of blonde fur squished under its paws as it waits in turkey position. Patroclus bristles at the intrusion. It was one thing to be in his house, another thing even to enter his room. But to sit on that side of the bed- it’s too far.
“You can’t sit there.”
The cat defiantly meows back.
“No! You can’t sit there! That’s- that’s his-” Patroclus gurgles with frustration, tears building in his eyes and throat. What is he doing? Why is he arguing with some animal over a spot that’s been empty for over a decade? Why does this bother him so much?
“Fuck it! Fuck it. I don’t care. This is too much. Enjoy it, then, because you’re going to the pound tomorrow.”
Patroclus turns off the light and flops into bed, turning away from that side the way he always does. It’s strange, feeling something behind him for the first time in so long. The cat purrs, resuming its biscuits where it rests. Patroclus’ nightly tears flow a little more freely than normal when it curls up by his side, warmth seeping into him. He’s pathetic. He’s accepting warmth from a stranger- not even a human, but a cat- and he’s too miserable to refuse it.
Patroclus shades his eyes against the bright white light, taking a moment to adjust. The soft sand, the smell of the sea, the breeze rustling the gigantic palm trees. The place where he’d spent his honeymoon was heaven on earth, and he’d never wanted to leave. Still, what would it matter to be here, without-
Wait.
A figure slowly moves towards him, its shadow morphing into a familiar shape. Patroclus’ heart stops, and his legs give out from underneath as he tries to run. In an instant, Achilles is kneeling in the sand with him. His touch is faint, but it is there. Achilles thumbs at his face, wiping away his tears, smiling. Patroclus reaches for his face, wants to pull him into a longing kiss, but Achilles only slightly shakes his head. He can’t, and deep within him, Patroclus knows why. However, if denying that means getting this time with his beloved, he’ll play along.
“I’m so happy… I’ve missed you so much. Every day is excruciating without you.”
Achilles nods, his expression sad. It’s strange, seeing his husband in such a state of serenity. Achilles was always jittering, unable to stop moving. Achilles slowly moves one hand down in a cradling motion.
“Philia! Philia is amazing. She’s happy and healthy. The most wonderful child, like you always said.”
Achilles smiles fiercely, his aura of light shimmering.
“She’s in love, got herself a boyfriend.”
That smile instantly drops into his classic, annoyed scowl as Achilles rolls his eyes. Patroclus laughs more freely than he has in such a long time, the deep, happy sound bubbling into the sky.
“That’s what I said, too. They’re staying over for the first time. She wants us to be happy for her. She misses you. As always, to her, you bring the sunlight every morning. You would have loved to watch her dance; she’s just as graceful as you were. I’m so proud of her.”
Tears fill Achilles’ eyes, though they do not fall. He faintly squeezes Patroclus’ hand, sending him into panic. He’s leaving already?!
“Please don’t go. Please don’t. I can’t- I don’t want to do this without you anymore. I’m alone.”
Patroclus can hardly keep his eyes open, his tears burn so much. He feels a soft nudge to his head as Achilles leans in.
“I miss you. I love you. I’ll always love you, and I’ll see you again one day.”
Patroclus doesn’t want to wake up. Every morning, he spends a couple minutes wishing he’d not opened his eyes to a new day. But today is different- it takes him a moment to realize why.
He’s asleep in the middle of the bed. For the first time in over a decade, he’s asleep where he used to lie with his husband.
And next to him, stretching in the light, is the cat.
The early morning still allows a veneer of fantasy, of magic, and enough privacy for Patroclus to try something crazy.
“Achilles?”
The cat doesn’t turn, hardly bothered.
“Of course not. You’re just a damn cat.”
The cat turns, ears perked. Permission given, it makes its way over and meows, rubbing Patroclus’ stomach and hands.
But- but surely-
Patroclus has to admit it. He’s grown extremely fond of Cat, the pet offering him a sense of completeness he’d long yearned for. Philia was both delighted and confused, watching Cat bat around a mouse toy on the floor from the phone.
“Why doesn’t he have a name?”
Because I’m convinced that it’s your father’s spirit. Because that sounds crazy; because that’s hope too strong for me to accept. Because I can’t call him Achilles, but I can’t bring myself to call him anything else. “He responds to Cat just fine.”
“Mkay. He’s so fluffy. He looks like a Maine Coon mix; if so, he’s going to be gigantic!”
Of course Patroclus couldn’t bring himself to take Cat to the pound, not after that dream. It didn’t help when Patroclus realized what time he’d awakened- the same time Achilles would get up for his morning run. Cat had apparently become Speed, taking off for exactly thirty minutes of exhausting zoomies. Then he leapt right onto Patroclus’ chest, purring and biscuit making once more.
Next- and even more strangely- was when Patroclus had ignored one of his medicine alarms. He was immersed in typing up a report for work. He was going to take them, he just needed a couple minutes to finish his train of thought, when suddenly he heard rattling from outside his office. It was Cat, and next to Cat was an orange bottle.
“How the hell,” he’d murmured, in awe. “How’d you know-”
Cat did not care what he had to say, meowing until he opened the bottle. Pleased, Cat leapt into his lap and falling asleep. He’d tested it again, over and over, and every time it was the same. Cat would knock the bottle off the bathroom counter, trying his damnedest to bring it and howling like death every time he couldn’t reach Patroclus.
Funniest of all, the cat had the audacity to be bougie! Patroclus had made himself a lunch of salmon and broccoli, opening a can of tuna for Cat. Cat took one sniff, jumped on the table, and turned his head away from Patroclus with an arrogant huff.
“Can you believe that?” Patroclus muses, talking to Philia as he prepares dinner for both him and Cat. “First, I knocked him off of my table. No animals on my tables or counters! But can you believe that? A stray, and he had the nerve to be offended at free food. And then he argued with me over it!”
Philia giggles. “He wants what you have.”
“He wants for nothing, the spoiled beast. I got him a fancy litter box with sparkly litter, an automated water bowl with UV filtering, and now I prepare dinner for both of us. I even bought him a harness and leash, color coordinated, after he went to the vet. He wants to go to the market with me! The neighbors have never approached me so much.”
He won’t admit that it tickles him when Cat speaks to the neighbors, but makes it clear the only one allowed to pet him is Patroclus.
“I can’t wait to meet him.”
“I showed him your picture and told him all about you. He already loves you.”
Cat jumps onto the counter, rubbing against the phone.
Philia greets him with a hearty “Papa!”, shining in an orange raincoat with a giant hood to cover her curls, and matching boots. She sprints forward, tackling him in a bear hug.
“There’s my baby girl,” Patroclus coos, swaying with her. “How are you feeling? How was the drive?”
“I’m fine! Calix drove the whole time. I navigated.”
Ugh. Patroclus turns to Calix, swallowing his annoyance. It’s been two years now, and he recognizes that Calix has been nothing but good to Philia- but still. This is the first time that he’s allowed Calix to come home with her, and Calix just better be well behaved or he’s going to-
“Patroclus, sir.”
At least he’s still polite. Patroclus shakes his hand. “Calix. I hope you’re treating Phi well.”
“Only the best, sir.”
Philia beams. “Oh, is that Cat? Hi, Cat!” She hustles to the door, squeezing inside. Cat hurtles into her arms, meowing and squirming, trying to headbutt her in the chin and anywhere he can reach. Philia is a bit overwhelmed by the sudden love, but quickly adjusts, grinning and cooing.
Meanwhile, it only irks Patroclus a little bit- just a little!- that Calix needed no leading to Philia’s bedroom as he brings their luggage inside. He’d been in the house before, it’s not suspicious!
“I’ll take my laundry,” Philia offers, putting a loud Cat down. Calix hands her the bag, almost stepping on him.
“Oh,” Calix exclaims, apologetic. “I’m sorry-”
Cat hisses, viciously baring his teeth as Calix reaches out. Calix instantly yanks his hand back, terrified. Philia chastises Cat, but Patroclus only purses his lips and looks away. Looks like he’s going to have the perfect ally in commiseration for this two-week visit. Calix’ eyes narrow, and he turns to Philia.
“Uh, Phi, love- I’m going to go upstairs and unpack, okay?”
“Sounds good! I’m gonna toss this in, then go say hi to Daddy.”
Philia puts her laundry on, then makes her way over to Achilles’ shrine, Cat right behind her.
“Hi, Daddy! I’m home. Here’s some water,” she offers, pouring a little of her bottle into his cup before lighting him some new incense. “I’ve got so much to tell you both. It seems like things are getting more exciting around here!”
She blows him a kiss and then goes to sit at the kitchen table. Patroclus prepares her a snack, animatedly explaining his new friend.
“I’ll come home from the lab, and he’ll be in the windowsill waiting. I thought he was trying to get out of the house, but no- he just wanted to greet me. He’s happiest when I don’t leave, always in my lap or under my feet.”
Cat jumps into Philia’s lap, aggressively demanding her attention.
“As you’ll learn, Cat sheds everywhere, and he enjoys biscuits. So if you have anything that you don’t want him on, pack it away, or he’ll sit on it. It’s kind of soothing. Whenever I don’t feel too good, he shows up like a little massager or something. Oh- is it about to be noon?”
Philia checks her phone. “Yup! Time for meds.”
“Okay- watch this.”
Patroclus and Philia’s alarms go off, and Cat is instantly alert, jumping down. When Patroclus ignores him, Cat howls, rubbing his legs. When Patroclus continues to ignore him, Cat bolts away. Three minutes later, he’s trotting down the hall, the white lid of the bottle awkwardly clasped between his teeth. Philia’s jaw drops.
“Stop. No. Papa. He brings you your medicine?! That’s so adorable! Hold on, I have to post this.”
Philia takes a small recording and posts it to her social media, adding plenty of hearts and precious eye emojis. Patroclus leans over and grabs the bottle, rubbing Cat’s head.
“Are you ready?” Philia nods, pulling her medicine out of her bag. Cat takes one look at Philia, back at Patroclus, and blinks. “He’ll be on you about yours too, now. Be prepared to have thirteen pounds of fluffball in your face if you don’t follow your routine.”
“He’s so smart.”
Patroclus smiles softly. “He’s too smart. He meows when he wants things at the store. Sometimes it’s things we need, other times it’s things he thinks I want. I don’t know how he knows. I have to sound crazy, having full conversations with him- arguing, even. It-he-”
Philia’s eyes mellow, her voice soft. “He reminds you of Daddy, doesn’t he.”
Patroclus looks away, his daughter’s intuition too strong. “It sounds silly, doesn’t it. It’s just a cat, but… their temperaments are the same.”
“Aw, Papa. It doesn’t sound silly. It was probably fate that brought him to you. Besides, who cares if he’s a busybody,” Philia coos, cradling a spoiled rotten Cat in her arms. “Cat is such a sweetheart, yes he is, yes he is-”
“Either that cat is fucking crazy or I am,” Calix whispers over the phone, locked in Philia’s bathroom.
“You’re always welcome home for the holiday,” Astyanax consoles, trying not to laugh. “Mom would love to have you. Dad says hi.”
“Yeah, hi. This means a lot to Phi; I’m not going to take it from her. It’s just, her dad has always been… mildly depressing, but cool overall. But now, he’s… weirdly happy and… catty? Don’t laugh, I’m serious!”
It started with dinner that first night. Calix offered to set the table, and Patroclus handed him glasses that he and Philia preferred. The moment Calix placed his own glass, the furball appeared like whack-a-mole and smacked it off before vanishing. Calix could hardly process what he’d just seen.
“What happened? Are you hurt?” Philia asked, bringing a broom and dustpan. Stunned, Calix turned to Patroclus, who turned around. His toiletries- none of Philia’s- also conveniently find themselves on the ground, covered in shredded toilet paper, to the point where he has to close the bathroom door.
The next day he was cuddled up on the couch next to Philia, and Cat jumped into her lap. He was all purrs and slow blinking eyes, until Philia left to grab something. Waiting, Calix sat uncomfortably next to Cat, who started fervently biting his front paws. He watched carefully as Cat then placed them onto his leg.
Oh, okay, this is it! Philia said he makes ‘the finest biscuits’.
And then Cat proceeded to leave painful, pink welts on Calix’ thigh, some even with dots of blood. When Philia returned, Calix’ eyes were watery, searing both from pain and from the deep, infuriating self-control required not to strangle a petty cat.
“Fuck, Calix,” she mourned, shooing Cat away. “I’ll bandage you up.”
Her soft fingers had lingered just long enough on his leg to trigger another reaction within Calix that Philia quickly noticed with a smirk before leading him upstairs. Cat conveniently stopped scarring his legs after that, opting for sneak attacks on his arms and biting his ankles.
Normally he would have spoken up about this. In no other situation would he allow this kind of treatment from someone’s horrible pet, nor their negligent owner. But Philia was so happy that her Papa was happy, and apparently the source of that newfound happiness was the devil, so! Every day he stopped himself from outright stomping a feline, wearing multiple pairs of socks as armor. It had become a war of attrition. He’d got a couple licks in, himself; Cat had been thoroughly booted out the way more than once.
Tonight Calix sits at the table, talking about one of Philia’s classes as they prepare dinner. His legs are folded up, and he wields a rolled-up newspaper in his sleeve. Luckily, Cat is enthralled with the food prep, watching from afar. Cat’s food is finished first, and Patroclus places the crystal bowl with beef and veggie puree on the ground with a flourish, whispering to him. Philia takes the time to check on Calix, playfully nudging him with her hip. He tugs her back by the knot in her apron.
“Phi,” he murmurs, “I think your father feeds that furball better than me, sometimes.”
Philia pouts. “Wait… I help cook. Do you… not like my cooking?”
The proverbial record scratches in Calix’ mind. “No, no, Phi your food is amazing. It’s just… do you not think that cat’s a little weird? Have you not seen how he looks at me?”
Philia presses her lips together awkwardly, and Patroclus coughs from across the kitchen.
“He’s a cat,” he defends. “That’s how they are sometimes. He can’t help the way his face looks.”
Be so fucking serious, sir, Calix wants to retort. When he realizes that he’s made things awkward, Calix abruptly pushes away from the table. “Okay. I’ll… be back down for dinner.”
“Calix-” Philia pleads, reaching for him, but he holds out a hand. Her face creases with pain, and Calix’ shoulders relax, and he gently grasps her fingers.
“Don’t worry about it.”
After dinner, lying in his pajamas in bed, he tries again. Perhaps he’d been too cruel, putting Philia on the spot between her boyfriend and her father. And his demonic cat, howling the song of his people outside of her bedroom door for the past ten minutes.
“Phi, love, please- the cat is a menace,” he argues, watching as she puts her hair up into her bonnet.
“You and Cat just don’t get along.” Philia walks over, turning off the light before crawling into bed, curling into his cuddles. “He won’t howl out there forever.” Soon enough, Patroclus calls, and Cat trots away.
“Finally.” Relieved, Calix brings her lips to his, and Philia melts into it, opening her mouth to let the kiss deepen. Calix runs his fingers down from her cheek to her neck, sliding excited fingers down the blush pink silk pajama top and down the shorts. He grips her thigh, pulling her closer, and finally Philia shakes her head, playfully but firmly thumbing his fingers away.
“Nope. We can’t do this, not here. Don’t bite me, you’re as bad as Cat!” she chastises, pulling away from Calix’ heated touch. “Papa’s being nice enough to let us even be in the same room.”
“This energy is not what I remember the other day in the bathroom.”
Philia flushes, her ears hot. “That was different, and that was dangerous.”
“Mm. I remember when you were all about being dangerous.”
Philia flicks him in the forehead for the double entendre, and Calix pulls away, laughing. It takes him a moment, but then he finally goes for broke.
“So your father is in love with the cat.”
“Oh my- he is not ‘in love’ with the cat.”
“Phi.”
“He’s not. He’s… he’s lonely, okay? He tried dating, way back when, and he was averse to it. And now that I’ve been away at school, I think he’s just… been lost while trying to find something to focus his energy on.”
Calix frowns. “He still acts like it’s a person.”
“So? Cat… reminds him of Daddy.”
“…so he’s in lo-”
“Shut up.” Philia sighs, staring at the ceiling. “He misses him so much. He was always so bright. His smile and his laugh made you think you were the funniest, most special person in the world. He gave the best hugs. Daddy wasn’t afraid of anything! Well… except when he got sick.”
Calix, somber, listens well. This might sound weird, she’d once admitted, sitting on the roof, and gazing into the sky, but you remind me of my Daddy’s best traits. You laugh so boldly, you’re so silly, and you’re so brave. Being loved by you feels… warm.
“I couldn’t even hold him without pain, by the end. Papa didn’t let me see him, his last night. I’ve never been sure if I’m resentful or grateful. Anyway. Papa hasn’t been the same since. I worry about him every day. But seeing him with Cat, he’s finally been so relaxed. I think he’s relieved to have ‘someone’ here to go through having his only daughter date. I snapped that Daddy would let me date you, but to be honest, I know he wouldn’t. I was Daddy’s little princess; no way you’d have made it past the door without him acting tough.”
Calix scoffs, and Philia pokes him. “Your Mom still acts funny about me. Call us even.”
“We can still run away into the sunset! I got the keys, we’ll go whenever.”
“Mm. Be lucky I know you’re joking. I’m too bougie for that.”
“Your feet will never touch the ground while you’re with me, my Queen.”
Philia giggles, then another long sigh. She’s tired of sighing. “Besides, I could never leave Papa behind.”
“Leave him behind?” Concerned, Calix lifts onto his elbow. “Phi, you have your own life to live.”
“I know! I just… I don’t know, I feel like I can’t, okay? Papa wasn’t perfect, but he did the best he could. Remember when I was eleven and I got really sick and didn’t come to school all week? He was terrified. He barely left my bedside.” Philia’s eyes are cast as she remembers. “He doesn’t know I heard him, I was so feverish, but one night he completely lost his shit. I’ll never forget it. He was in his room, and he was sobbing, Calix. Raging, begging God not to take me too. But the moment I couldn’t hide my coughing, he came racing back like nothing happened. He’s always tried to choose me.”
Except the once, and Philia is still haunted by it. It took years to understand exactly what she had been about to witness.
“He’s your dad. He’s supposed to do that.”
“Still.” Philia pauses, as though she’s about to speak sacrilege. “He was always sad. I’ll admit… sometimes when I felt really alone, I would think he… missed Daddy more than he loved me.”
She’s never revealed this to Calix before. “Aw, Philia-”
“And that feels so selfish, right?” Philia laughs, tears in her voice. “Because he did everything I needed; I never went without. Even when he was hurting, he made sure I was okay. So in a way, I am a little jealous of Cat, and of Daddy. Daddy had more time to see Papa happy, to see him smile without pain. I want that for Papa because I want that for me. I hope having Cat around will let me see Papa smile the way he used to. I miss them both so much. Is that so bad?”
Philia wasn’t ignoring him or Cat. She was paying attention, with those wide eyes. Of course she was, she always has been. Philia has felt the excruciating pain of her father’s loss- both, in some ways- the entire time. How could she ignore it now?
“No, of course not.” Feeling like a heel, Calix pulls her close again. “I’m sorry, Phi. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
He holds her until her shivering stops.
The next morning, Calix sits at the table, intently staring at a glass of water. It was clear whatever was in his mind had him stuck, as he hadn’t moved since Philia left to visit some high school friends. Patroclus toes around him, confused and a little on edge.
Oh no. Is it news? Are they getting married? Is she pregnant? She can’t be, she plans on dancing internationally, she just got to school, she has dreams, he better not be waiting to tell me that she’s-
Calix goes to speak, when suddenly Cat slides across the table, pushing the glass full of water onto Calix’ lap. In a sudden wrath that stuns Patroclus, Calix rises.
“That is it,” Calix roars, “I have had it with you and your shit!” He pushes a yowling Cat onto the floor with a little too much anger, and Patroclus bristles in fury.
“You will not mistreat him that way, and you certainly won’t be throwing things nor raising your voice at anyone in this house!” Has he treated Philia with such cruelty?!
“Are you serious?” Calix shouts. “He did it on purpose and you know that! You’re so worried about that stupid cat when you should be worried about your daughter!”
“Excuse me?!”
Calix spent all morning planning this. He would ask Patroclus to sit, maybe make him some coffee, and respectfully address his worries about Philia. Now? He’s ready to unload. He’ll just have to beg forgiveness later. Calix dodges as Cat pounces, clumsily grabbing an unused pot from the island.
“She thinks this bastard cat makes you happier than she does! What kind of shit is that? I know, it’s the kind that someone thinks when you love a memory more than you love them!”
Patroclus is ready to throttle Calix, but Calix is the same height he is, and he is strong. Patroclus is no longer the spry young man he was at twenty. If he moves forward thoughtlessly, Calix might strike him. More importantly, Calix’ ruthless accusations strike him more painfully than any physical hit.
“I mean seriously! You don’t even know about Fight Club! How could you miss that when Phi was notorious in Fight Club! Back away you demonic-” He jabs the pot at a growling Cat, who scrambles behind Patroclus to plan a new assault. It leaves Calix just enough time to toss on his slides.
“Look. Patroclus, sir. I respect you, I do. I know that you love Philia and that you deeply miss your partner-”
“Husband.”
“Husband,” Calix quickly amends. “But I can’t let Phi leave feeling that way. I’ve been here for her too, you know. I’ve seen the pain she hides from you, even when she thinks you aren’t looking. Get away! She wants you to be happy, because she’s afraid of losing you, too. She needs to know- back!- that you’ll be okay so that she can move on, too! That’s all I had to say. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going- stay back you feral little feline shit!- to go home.”
If Patroclus is being honest, this strange, stressful interaction might be the most he’s ever respected Calix. His brow furrows when Calix awkwardly fumbles for the door behind him.
“It’s much colder out than before, your shirt is wet-”
But Calix is already fleeing, chucking the pot at Cat in one last haphazard attack before screaming in pain as he runs to his car. The wheels peel off into the distance, and Patroclus scowls at Cat.
“You were wrong for that, and you know it.”
I’ve seen the pain she hides from you, even when she thinks you aren’t looking.
She needs to know that you’ll be okay so that she can move on, too!
“We both were.”
Cat only huffs, rubbing on Patroclus’ leg, and Patroclus can’t stay mad. It wasn’t just Cat who’d been inconsiderate. Calix was right. He’d let this- both Cat’s rotten behavior, and more- go on for too long.
Furious footsteps announce Philia’s entrance to the shrine where Patroclus stares out the window, holding a picture of Achilles.
“I can’t believe you. Either of you!”
“Phi.”
“I leave you alone with him for two hours and Cat chased him away?!”
“Philia, please sit down.”
“What do you have against- who am I kidding, I should have done- Back off, Cat!”
“Philia.” He can’t shout; when he does, Philia walks away. And this time, she might walk away for good. “I don’t want to yell. In fact, I want to tell you that you’re right to be angry, but I need you to sit down first.”
“…Oh.” Philia blinks, surprised. “That’s not how- All right.” She goes to the living room and sits, fidgeting. Patroclus follows suit, a visibly downtrodden Cat behind him.
“What did Calix say.”
“He said he may have said some things that might make you shoot him if he comes back onto the property. And that he should have thought it out more and he’s sorry, but he’s also right.”
Patroclus snorts. “Well he threw Cat and my sterling silver pot, so fighting was a thought. But he made up for that by saying some things that opened my eyes.” As Philia stares in horror, Patroclus chuckles, handing her the portrait. “Look. Achilles- your Daddy wouldn’t like a single person who ever tried to woo you. But if there’s one thing he would want, it’s for you to spread your wings and fly as far and as high as you wish. I know, even now, he believes you deserve the world and that nothing should stop you from having it… and I agree.”
Philia’s eyes narrow with suspicion. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you worry. I’m your parent, Philia. It’s my job to worry about you, and if you couldn’t talk to me, felt I didn’t love you enough… if you feel like you can’t live your life because of me, I have failed. I appreciate how strong you’ve been for me when you shouldn’t have to be. I want you to know: Cat is not the reason I breathe; the reason I need to do better. You are. You have been since the moment you were born. Literally only death could take Achilles from our side, and he felt the same. But I am still here for you, and you owe me nothing for that. I’ll figure it all out. So you can breathe. Relax. I’m not going anywhere.”
After so long, Philia’s shoulders visibly buckle with relief, and she presses her hand to her heart, squeezing.
“Thank you.” Philia slumps into his arms, and Patroclus rocks her back and forth.
“Cat and I will also do better: no more picking at Calix, we promise. We, I said.” He pointedly stares at the blonde cat holding a possessive paw on Philia’s foot. Finally, Cat acquiesces, headbutting her leg. Philia snorts.
“I’d appreciate that. He’s a good guy, Papa.”
“I know. Dare I say it, your young man… he reminds me of Achilles, too. Dramatic, self-righteous. He’d hate to hear that.”
Cat’s tail flicks in agreement, jumping into Philia’s lap with a loud meow.
“Now.” Patroclus closes his eyes, steeling himself. “Is there anything I should know? Has anyone ever… hurt you, and I didn’t notice?”
“No, no!” Philia waves her hands. “I mean there was Fight Club, but that was the biggest thing.”
“What the hell is Fight Club?”
“It was just… fighting to fight, at first.” The memories make Philia snicker. “We used to go toe to toe at the edge of the school yards. It became more honorable and organized the longer it went.”
Calix’ accusation comes to mind. “And I never saw your injuries?”
“I won more often than not,” Philia shrugs, revealing a glimpse of her Daddy’s arrogance with this new secret. “Calix helped patch me up over the years. I never went to the nurse, none of us did. We had mouth guards in our pockets, to avoid teeth injuries. At any point you could catch a knee; you had to be prepared! I mostly stopped when you signed me up for dance, though I’d occasionally jump back in when things were… low.”
“Low?”
Philia smiles sadly. “Your worst days were mine.”
Patroclus will have to tell his therapist she was right. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice.”
“Eh. I was practically invincible; it did wonders for my ego if nothing else. It felt good. Everyone involved was torn between loving and fearing me, especially with Calix as my right hand.”
“Hmph,” Patroclus grumbles. “So much for that boy scout image. And he’s never put his hands on you?”
“Not only would he not survive my wrath, but he’d throw himself in traffic.”
“That was me with Achilles. People could never understand how he was the most pigheaded man, and then be putty in my hand.”
Philia cackles- a truly relaxed laugh, a new one that Patroclus finds he loves most of all for her. She turns to him, a soft smile. “I know we talk every day, but I feel like we haven’t talked in so long. I have plenty of other stories.”
“I’m listening.”
Cat mews- tell me too- and Philia sweeps him up. “I know. We missed you, too, Daddy.”
Patroclus jolts in surprise. Philia winks at him.
A light snow falls Christmas morning as Patroclus and Philia sing from the Soulful Christmas album and make breakfast. Cat watches, proudly wearing his Christmas sweater. Calix nervously lingers in the background, unsure. Patroclus had formally apologized, and Philia had been incredibly affectionate when he came back late last night, so things should be okay, but-
“Calix! Do you mind giving Cat his Christmas puree?”
This must be his punishment. Calix doesn’t want to. He wants to keep his fingers intact. Still, Philia is asking him directly, and he takes a deep breath. Mentally crossing his fingers before he loses them, he puts the bowl down on the floor.
Rather than slice his fingers off hot dog style, Cat begrudgingly headbutts his hand, before batting it out of the way (with no claws!) to eat. Relieved and delighted, Calix beams, and Philia and Patroclus give him full smiles back.
Huh. Patroclus really does have such a nice smile.