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Stolas was at LooLoo Land again. He had been spending a lot of nights there lately, but each time, something about it didn’t quite add up in his memory. It was fuzzier at the edges, and there was more ice than he remembered, but he knew this ride, recognized the dirty seat he looked down at as he struggled to meet his daughter’s eyes.
“I just want to go home. But home doesn’t even feel like home anymore. You ruined it.” Via held herself tightly, crying into her knees. She looked so grown up, and so small at the same time. So young and afraid. Was he that small when he was 17? He couldn’t have been, right? He must have looked older—why else would people have spoken to him that way, forced him to—
He sighed. “You need to understand, your mother and I… I just, I felt… she’s always been… I haven’t been…” he couldn’t get the words out. How could he even explain something like this? “We weren’t in…” But that wasn’t right, either. It would be so much more simple if it were an issue of love, or even attraction. “I’m sorry, I-I don’t have the words.”
He knew what came next—he had run it over in his mind a thousand times. He waited to hear it once again. Are you gonna run off with him, and leave me behind? No, never. But he couldn’t promise that anymore, because now it was a lie. He could only cry, beg, say I didn’t mean to, I couldn’t have known it would happen this way, please—
“I’m not a kid anymore, dad. Whatever it is, you can tell me. I want to understand,” Via said instead. Her voice sounded different, less like a scared little girl and more like the young woman who had told him she never wanted to see him again. Stolas’ head shot up sharply.
“You… you are right. You are so grown up, and I’m so proud of you, I hope—“ he had to pause to wipe his own tears away. “I hope you know that.”
“Don’t try to change the subject,” she said, but she was smiling, rolling her eyes in that way teenagers always do when their parents compliment them.
“Right.” He faced forward, braced himself. “This is… difficult for me to talk about. With anyone. And it’s not a burden I ever wanted you to bear. I wanted so badly to give you a good childhood, one that I never...”
Octavia was looking at him curiously now, waiting.
“Well, that is beside the point right now. You may have noticed that many Goetia marriages are arranged—your mother and I were one of those cases. You were—“ Was it my fault that you needed these? Was I some fucking obligation? “You have always been my first priority. I love you so much, Via, and I could never regret what led to having you. I need you to understand that.”
“Okay,” Via said, sounding unsure. “Go on, then.”
“Your mother has always been… particularly unkind to me. I know it may seem like these problems started recently, but since we got married… the screaming, the throwing things, chasing me through the palace, the way she makes fun of me at all of her parties… she hits me, Via, she thinks it’s fun to torment me. I tried so hard to give her what she wanted but it only got worse. It’s escalated over the years, and I did my best to hide it so you could have a normal life, but—“
“Are you trying to say that you cheating on mom was her fault?” Via’s brow was creased now, anger starting to seep into her voice. Stolas’ eyes widened, feeling like he’d been caught in a lie, even though he’d spoken more honestly than he’d ever dared before.
“Well, it’s not quite that straightforward, but I didn’t feel like I had any other—“
“If mom really did all those things for years, then why didn’t you just use your powers and stop her? Why didn’t you leave? Are you really that desperate to make yourself look good, that you’d spread lies about her?”
Stolas flinched as though he’d been slapped. “No—no, Via, I would never lie about this, I—“
“Wouldn’t I have noticed, if it was that bad? Wouldn’t someone else have noticed and helped you?” Her voice was getting louder, tears in her eyes, the look of betrayal just like the one she gave him on Sinsmas day. “Are you really trying to say that you’re a victim here?”
“I-I don’t—“ he was panicking now. It was getting hard to see her past the tears, past the instinct to flee, the one that had been coded into him for as long as he could remember.
“Do you even have any proof?” He thought about the blessed rope burns, the scar on his shoulder. The room full of Goetia who heard “he just lies there and stares at the ceiling” and laughed.
Slowly, he shook his head no. Via scoffed and turned away, starting to stand up. Shaking, he reached out and grabbed her shoulder. “Please listen, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he wobbled out. He didn’t think she’d understand—had long past given up on believing anyone could—but this was Via, his sweet girl. She was smart and kind to everyone. Surely if anyone in this world could have compassion for him, it would be—
Via pushed his hand away. “Just forget it. I should have known you’d never be honest with me.” She sounded less angry now, more defeated. Done. “I’m going to go ask mom—maybe she’ll tell me the real story.” She left him there, sobbing into his hands inside a mechanical apple.
Faintly, he could hear shouting outside the ride. Oh, right, everything’s on fire now, he thought without any urgency. Getting up to leave didn’t feel worth the effort. But it would be cruel, he supposed, to let Blitzø and his employees find his body there after it was too late, especially after all they had done for him. Or maybe it would be a mercy. At this point he couldn’t tell.
“Hey, uh. You okay?”
Stolas wiped his arm across his face and looked up. Blitzø was standing on the edge of the cart, still wearing those silly little bodyguard sunglasses. The sight of them made Stolas smile a little, despite everything. Blitzø took the glasses off and tucked them into his jacket, looking at Stolas with those big, concerned eyes.
“Via and I… we…”
“Yeah, I saw her leave. Looked pretty rough.” Blitzø climbed into the cart and patted his lap. Stolas slid his head down into it, laying sideways with his legs scrunched up. He pet Stolas’ feathers and Stolas let out little coos in between his sobs. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
Blitzø was here. He would take care of anything Stolas needed. He didn’t need to be so afraid anymore.
And wasn’t that disgusting? Here he was, running into Blitzø’s arms again over a little fight. It was all he knew how to do. Octavia was right to hate him.
Stolas wrapped his arms around himself and started tugging on the feathers on his forearms, just enough to sting. He was ready for Blitzø to scold him for it, but he didn’t comment.
“Teenagers say a lot of shit they don’t mean, you know. Just be patient with her and you guys will figure it out.”
“I’d like to believe that, but I really don’t know.”
“What was she so upset about?”
“She asked me… well, that is, I was trying to explain to her that her mother and I…” he tensed up. He couldn’t do it. Not again.
“Yeah?”
But it was Blitzø. Blitzø who was always so patient with him, always ready to protect him. He had to.
“I spent so long trying to hide it from her. The abuse.” He felt the way Blitzø’s hand froze, simply resting on Stolas’ head now. He didn’t dare look up to see his reaction. He scrunched his eyes shut and pushed on. “I hoped she might understand why I felt trapped, why I couldn’t endure Stella’s constant cruelty any longer, but she asked why I didn’t just fight back, or leave, and…”
“Well, why didn’t you?” Blitzø’s voice had taken on a sharp tone. One he hadn’t heard in months.
“What?” Disbelieving, Stolas tried to pull himself up, but Blitzø’s grip on his head was firmer now.
“No, stay for once and tell me, Stolas. Why didn’t you stop her? You’re the most powerful demon I know. You’re the man. Not that you’ve ever been much of a real man.” His hand was pressing down harder on Stolas now. Stolas just whimpered. This wasn’t right—that wasn’t something Blitzø would say. But it was true, wasn’t it? “All it took was me calling you out on your rich bullshit once, and you cried like a baby. Kicked me out because you can’t fight your own battles.” Stolas was starting to hyperventilate. Of course Blitzø would think this was ridiculous, Blitzø was strong and brave and could fight anyone, Blitzø would never be scared of something as simple as—
“If you’re really that pathetic, maybe you deserved it.”
Stolas screamed. It didn’t even feel like it was coming from his mouth, but rather from somewhere deep inside of him—some place that used to store unholy magic. He screamed and he couldn’t stop and his head felt like it was being crushed into dust and his cheeks stung and he couldn’t stop—
Something was touching his face. Something callused but soft, gentle. He blinked his upper eyes open, letting them adjust to the light before opening his larger ones. Blitzø was leaning over him, his eyes big and concerned and familiar once again, his hands on each side of Stolas’ face.
Stolas flinched away, pressing himself further into the back of the couch. Blitzø quickly took a step back and held his hands up. “Shit, sorry. You were just crying, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Stolas opened his mouth, but no words came out. He hid his face in his hands and shook his head.
“Bad dream?”
He nodded.
“You… want to talk about it?”
He shook his head, and kept shaking it until Blitzø reached out again and gently placed it over Stolas’ hands. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” Stolas started hyperventilating again. “Fuck. Shit. Let me just. I’m going to give you a minute and make you some food, okay?”
Stolas didn’t look up, but he heard shuffling and the sound of the microwave being opened. He held his hands tight to his chest and tried to breathe slowly. In, out. The way Blitzø showed him to do when he started to feel overwhelmed during a scene. He sat up and watched Blitzø walk back and forth across the kitchen, focusing on the hum of the microwave, the sound of hooves clipping against the floor.
The microwave dinged. Blitzø whipped the plate out and walked back toward the couch, balancing a cup of water in one of his hands. He put them both on the coffee table. “Sorry, we’re out of rats, but we had pizza pockets? They seemed like a good ‘just-woke-up-from-a-nightmare’ snack, so…” he laughed awkwardly. “But just tell me if you want something else. Anything.”
Stolas stared at the plate. “Pizza… pockets?”
“Oh. They’re like pizza, but inside, see?“ Blitzø grabbed one and ripped it in half.
“Ah.” Stolas picked one up delicately, between two fingers, and popped it in his mouth.
“Wait, don’t—“
Heat seared his tongue immediately. He attempted to swallow but just started coughing violently, so he spit it out into his hands, half chewed.
Blitzø sat down on the couch and started rubbing large circles into his back. “They take a while to cool down.”
“A warning would have been nice.” Stolas grimaced and placed the half-eaten pizza pocket back on the plate. He grabbed the water and took a few sips of it.
“Yeah. My bad.” He curled up into Stolas’ lap in the way he had been doing lately—just sitting there, warm and gentle, no expectation for Stolas to hold him back. It meant more to Stolas than Blitzø could possibly know, but that was just another thing he couldn’t bring himself to say out loud. A part of Stolas believed that if Blitzø knew how much it meant, he would take it away. Not out of cruelty, but just because Stolas never got to keep this type of kindness. He knew, deep down, that he didn’t deserve any of it.
Stolas held his tongue against the roof of his mouth. It felt strange, foreign. It suddenly struck him that his body’s natural healing magic had applied to much more than large injuries, and he didn’t know how to mention it without sounding privileged again. Getting frustrated over a burnt tongue. Pathetic.
He was getting caught up in his head again. He wasn’t even sure how long it had been since Blitzø last spoke. Blitzø was just looking at him, waiting patiently. When they made eye contact, he reached forward to grab a pizza pocket and held it up to Stolas’ mouth. Stolas took it and chewed slowly, trying his best to ignore all the unfamiliar textures.
It was hard to reconcile this Blitzø with the angry one from a few minutes ago. But—that one wasn’t real, was he? It was just Stolas’ brain saying those cruel things. Logically, he knew that, so why did it feel like Blitzø had actually said them?
“You were there,” he admitted.
“I was where?” Blitzø prompted softly.
“In my dream. You… we were at LooLoo Land. With Via.” Blitzø cringed, and then smoothed his face into a neutral expression so quickly that Stolas wasn’t sure if he actually saw it. “Sometimes I think that if I knew what I knew now, I could go back and change things back then. Explain myself more clearly. Fix my mistakes. But maybe there’s no version of this story where I don’t fuck everything up.” He felt numb.
“Okaaay, I’m going to need a little more context there, bud,” Blitzø said, patting Stolas’ hand. “Did dream-Blitz say some shit to you? Because I can go beat him up right now. It’ll be easy, I know all his weaknesses.”
Stolas let out a weak laugh. Blitzø was so good at getting those out of him, even at Stolas’ lowest moments. Actually, when he looked back on it, especially at those moments.
“Blitz, can I admit something to you that I’ve never told anyone?” He didn’t mean for it to come out so grave, but Blitzø didn’t seem alarmed.
“Always, babe.”
“I was married to Stella when we were 18.” Blitzø let out a little gasp and furrowed his brow. “That’s not the secret,” Stolas added quickly.
“I figured, but that’s still fucked.”
Stolas looked up at the ceiling. “Yes. Well. We never got along, exactly, but before the ceremony we were polite. Cordial. I was already somewhat aware that I would never be attracted to a woman, but part of me held onto the hope that we could be… friends? Of some sort? We were both under the same pressure, after all.”
He finally looked down at Blitzø in his lap. Those big, pretty eyes were watching him with intense wonder, as though he was sharing the secrets of the stars rather than a shameful, embarrassing trauma. He looked back up at the ceiling.
“In the beginning it was only casual remarks, things I could deal with, really—I believe it was mostly just her way of trying to look cool in front of her friends.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ah, just things like—“ Stolas choked on his words. He swallowed. There was silence until Blitzø’s tail curled gently around Stolas’ waist. “Things like… oh, Stolas is so boring, reading those books all the time and what a weak, pathetic…” The tail squeezed, just for a moment, and then loosened again. Stolas took a breath. “Nothing you wouldn’t hear a wife say about her husband on your average comedy show, really.”
“Stolas…”
“It wasn’t until after our first failed egg that she hit me. And I understand why she was upset, really—” A hand grabbed Stolas’ wrist, and he panicked, quickly pulling his arms up toward his chest. “That is—I shouldn’t say hit, I’m sorry, it was really just a small slap, certainly nothing like having a potted plant thrown at me—“ he heard a sharp intake of breath and immediately regretted his words. “Not to say that was even so awful, I mean, clearly you deal with worse on a daily basis at work—why, on Sinsmas, Millie and Moxxie were roughhousing more than—“
Two hands grabbed his face and turned it to make eye contact. Blitzø was gritting his teeth. “Stolas, what the fuck.”
He looked furious. Stolas squirmed out of his grip. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up, it was stupid—“
“No!” Blitzø took a deep breath. “No. I’m sorry. I’m not angry at you. I’m just pissed at that evil bitch who fucking—no. That’s not important right now. I need you to—Stolas, look at me.”
Stolas slowly turned his head. Blitzø cradled his face between his hands. He didn’t look angry anymore, just determined. The way he looked when he was about to tell Stolas to turn over because he’d earned a spanking. A safe, familiar kind of sternness.
“You didn’t do anything to deserve this. None of that was your fault. It doesn’t matter if she was upset, or if she had problems, or any of that—nothing would make it okay for her to hurt you on purpose. Please tell me you know that.”
Stolas felt tears rising again. He was so tired of that. “I suppose.”
“If someone did those things to me, you’d be angry, right?”
Stolas’ head shot up in surprise. “Of course!”
“If someone did that to Via, you’d—“ he paused suddenly.
“Oh! Oh, no, I’d never let her touch Via. She has never… I made sure of that, I swear.”
Blitzø bit his lip, and seemed to be considering something. Stolas got the sinking feeling that he’d messed up again.
Blitzø shook his head. “Yeah, we’re shelving that for now.” He leaned forward and grabbed the remote, flipping through TV channels until some random human movie was onscreen. “Just c’mere.” He laid down, pulling Stolas down with him so he was laying with his head on Blitzø’s chest. “I’ve got you. You don’t need to worry about that bullshit right now.”
He started purring gently, something he’d started doing lately when they cuddled. It always felt like Stolas was witnessing a special ritual, something too intimate for him to put words to. And Stolas loved words.
“… I know you’re right,” he admitted quietly. “Stella’s actions are not my fault. Yet it feels like the second I let my guard down, it will become my fault. I feel as though any mistake I make is unforgivable, and will render all the years of cruelty forgotten.” Blitzø hummed thoughtfully, but didn’t respond. “Ah, that doesn’t make sense, does it?”
The arms around Stolas squeezed him tightly. “No, I… I know exactly how that feels, actually.” Stolas couldn’t determine whether that was more comforting or horrifying. “Stols?”
“Yes, darling?”
“You know that you’re allowed to make mistakes with me, right?”
Stolas let out a wet laugh. “I believe I’ve made plenty already.”
“I don’t mean before. Well, those times too. But I mean now. You can fuck up as many times as you need to, and I’ll definitely fuck up, but we stay. Okay?”
“Can you promise that?”
“Always,” Blitzø said, so softly and with so much conviction that Stolas would have sobbed again if he had any energy left.
On the TV, a strange green man was trying to ruin something called “Christmas”, which Stolas started to gather was like a boring version of Sinsmas. His upper eyes started to close as he let the sounds wash over him. He suddenly felt like he could sleep for another 10 hours, but part of his brain kept pulling him back into consciousness, too afraid to leave this safe space in Blitzø’s arms.
“Is the Grinch his name?” he mumbled. “Or his species?”
“Obviously it’s his name—wait. Actually I dunno.”
“Cause he’s the Grinch. You’re not the Blitz.”
“Well, I was in the circus, so I sort of am. They always introduce Fizz as the great Fizzarolli. Maybe the Grinch is secretly a clown.”
“Aren’t clowns supposed to be funny?”
“Depends on who you ask. I mean, Mammon’s the most famous clown out there, and he’s not funny.”
“Maybe he… maybe he forgot to…” Stolas felt like his brain was being overtaken by cotton. All he could focus on was the feeling of claws carding through his feathers. What had he meant to say? ”Perhaps he just… green…” He heard a soft laugh and felt warm lips press against the side of his head. Then everything went dark, and blissfully stayed that way until morning.