After we arrived home, my anger was… not gone, but definitely subdued.

I really was a rabbit, wasn't I? A few hours earlier, I was ready to burn down a factory over a pin and a fat fold. Now? No fucking way. I wasn't doing a damn thing.

I was halfway through my dinner plate when he reached over with a small spoon and took a tiny portion of my mashed potatoes. He tasted it, his expression unreadable, then slowly looked at me.

“I can… Tolerate.”

“Really?” I asked, utterly disbelieving. My fork paused midway to my mouth.

“Yes,” he replied, a faint nod. “Barely, but I can.”

“Oh, I am so glad, Levi,” I said, genuinely thrilled, remembering the last time he'd tried to take a forkful from my plate. “So… You can eat rice porridge, and mashed potatoes now… It’s really good. Maybe we can try other bland, one-texture food, too?”

“Dear, I think we should take it a little slower. My stomach is still clenched, so I am not pushing myself again.”

“Yeah… Sure. I’m still happy for you,” I mumbled around a mouthful of the glorious, juicy steak. I got a fat fold, and Levi got a breakthrough in his decade-old food aversion.

What a day.

After dinner, I sprawled over the couch, a can of that piss-tasting beer in my hand. The perfect picture of a caveman. Ate his red meat, devoured the flesh, and now basking in his glory with the beverage of champions.

Levi settled next to me on the couch, his own hot chocolate mug clutched in his hand, his gaze falling upon my beer. “Did my carnivore opt for the herbivore option?”

“I appreciate your way of alleviating my very obvious distress,” I said, patting my belly. “I feel shitty. I already had self-image issues; I even had an eating disorder when I was younger… And now I have a fat fold. It is small, but it is still there.”

“Tell me, dear. Why is this causing you distress?”

“I am scared of losing control over my body… Scared that being imperfect would cause me to lose my acting gigs. Possibly this will cause my very insecure mind to flare up… Gods… Since I have been in this emotional state before, I can tell this won’t blow up into a full eating disorder; it is more like… I am going to lament from time to time… And apply very rude, hard self-criticism…” I said, taking a sip of my beer.

Levi placed his mug on the coffee table. “I understand how it might be scary for someone in your position, how what you perceive as imperfection. The entertainment industry is not known for its kindness, yes,” he acknowledged, his voice gentle. “But my dear, that fold you are talking about? It was there for over a week now, and it truly did not bother me, or strike me as an imperfection. It is simply a part of you, dear. Why punish yourself with self-reproach over something as simple as fat?”

As he spoke, he lifted his leg, and pinched the soft flesh of his thigh. “See? My muscles atrophied because of my immobile state, and it never bothered you,” he concluded, looking at me for confirmation.

“It was there for over a week?”

“I was rubbing it every night we cuddled, dear. It is simply soft, as you are,” he replied, shrugging, his expression as serene as ever.

“Thanks, Levi. I mean, you were also kinda being cute, pinching your leg and all,” I said, feeling a warmth spread through me despite myself.

“Ah, did I pull at your heartstrings, dear? You see, I would demand a hug over my profound weakness laid bare, but, sadly, we have our ‘time-off’.”

“That rule allows brief hugs, Levi, stop playing me,” I retorted, seeing right through his little performance.

“I am not playing you, dear. I am simply saying, a brief hug would not be enough for me,” he said. But I could tell. That bastard was manipulating me again, trying to push my buttons so I'd lose the bet.

“Shut up, stop trying to seduce me, or guilt-trip me, or you sleep in your own bedroom,” I warned, pointing a finger at him.

“I am fine with that. I can simply carry you all the way to the second floor, and since it is my bedroom, you know there is no escape,” he said, a faint glint in his deep-blue eyes.

I’m so tired, so full of steak and piss-beer, and so soft from his attempt at comfort, that the idea of being carried, of having all decisions taken out of my hands, is… tempting.

Raphael, you absolute pig. It hadn’t even been two days since I'd initiated that rule. And here I was, already considering folding like a tent because Levi gave me a look and offered his big bed.

“No… Let’s just sleep in the master bedroom,” I conceded, forcing the words out. “Just don’t hug your pillow again to guilt-trip me.”

“Noted,” he replied. “I have many other subtle, or not so subtle, manipulations to remind my Pulla what he is exactly missing.”

“Don't make angry tonight, Levi, let’s just sleep peacefully, without cuddling,” I said, finishing the last gulp of my beer.

He rose from the couch with that grace that always made me feel like a clumsy ape. “It was a tiring day, dear,” he said, his voice soft. He reached for my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine, and with a gentle pull, he drew me up from the couch.

…

The next morning, Levi left for his company. I, on the other hand, had my own agenda of self-repair. First, my weekly therapy session, a much-needed mental purge. Then, I scheduled my now long-abandoned voice acting classes with Madame Evanthe. Car crash, then civil war… This week was the only actual break Levi and I had managed to snag. And my break wasn't even truly a break. I was still haunted by the triage area. So… it was time to find a creative outlet for my repressed rage.

After that, the time came to make an actual decision, one I'd been dreading. I needed to reach out to my family.

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My hand trembled as I dialed the landline number, holding my breath.

Why did I do this alone?

I should've waited for Levi.

Lirael and Aelion Everett.

How many years had it been since I had even uttered their names aloud? This insistent, electronic beeping – the kind that signals the start of something you desperately want to avoid – it was doing nothing to help. I didn’t know if I could do this. My stomach clenched. No, Raphael, rip the band-aid. Rip it.

“Hello?” My mother replied.

I had heard her voice. Eight fucking years later, and it was just as I remembered.

“Hi, Mom. It’s me, Raphael,” I managed, my breath hitching in my throat, a sudden lump forming.

“Is that… really you?” she asked, her voice thick with disbelief.

“Yeah, Mom… I… I wanted to ask… how were you… you and my dad… were doing…” I stammered, feeling like a clumsy child again.

“We are fine, Raphael. Your…” she paused, and I could feel her hesitation, “…husband reached us, and he placed us here.”

“Mom… I told him to. To take care of you. And… he did. Also… I know that… everything happened… between us… is maybe irrelevant to you after the war, after what you have seen… But, I am… happy. And… I really hope you are safe.”

“Nothing is irrelevant, Raphael,” she said, her voice not unkind but thick with a distance. “You were our boy… And you went away. But, yes, we are safe, and… I am… glad that you are happy. Even if it took you to be far from us.”

Colder than anger. Because anger is hot, active, a sign that something still burns. This is just… ash. Eight years of ash.

“I am not going to apologize for protecting myself,” I said, the words forced past the lump in my throat. “You think I didn't know? I didn't notice? How you immediately found a woman for me to marry? Or how your love was conditional, only given when I acted the way you wanted me to?”

“So, that’s what this call is about, isn’t it? Not how we are, but to absolve yourself. We wanted stability for you, Raphael. Something you determined to reject.”

Absolve? Fucking absolve myself? From what? I laughed harshly, a grating sound that felt foreign even to my ears.

“Ah… I see,” I retorted, each word dripping with venom. “I am sorry I even dared to think you weren’t the same homophobic, god-fearing person. But I was wrong. I thought maybe after seeing an entire country reduced to rubble, and the very person you condemned for being gay saving your asses, would somehow change something. But, yes, it was naive of me. Ah, mom? Did you hear me cussing? Sorry, it’s not an angelic thing to do, possibly like sucking dick, but what can you do? I like it very much.”

“Raphael! How can you speak like that?” she gasped.

I cut her off. “It’s called being an adult, Mom. You see, if you had an ounce of regret for treating me like a decorative vase, maybe we could share tea right now, and talk about how my father snored so loud it made our ears bleed. But no. No.” My voice hardened. “You know the shittiest part in all of this? You’re not even angry, or sad at me for running away from that house, no. You’re just disgusted, because I’m gay. So, don’t even dare to try to take the high road.”

"Every single day you were gone, we worried! And yes, some things are hard to accept, but that doesn't mean we didn't... grieve for the son we thought we knew."

“AGH!” I groaned. I yanked the phone from my ear, holding it between my shoulder and jaw, and stalked towards the glass cabinet. I grabbed a bottle of wine, and popped the cork with a thwack, sending a few drops of wine splattering across the floor. I took a big, angry gulp directly from the bottle.

“Grieve? I wasn't dead, I was scared! I was scared that my own mother decided to marry me off! What happened that day? Do you remember? I fucking do! How you slapped me, said hurtful words to me, all over fucking WHAT?!”

“Do you truly believe we did not suffer that day? That the slap didn't tear us apart? We were trying to save you from a life of scorn, Raphael. From being an outcast among our people,” she said, her voice laced with a suffocating self-pity.

“You are insufferable. Gods do not exist, Mom. Fucking grow up. It's a fairy tale you tell yourself so you can sleep at night for abandoning your own child. Or how rich assholes use it to make our people hate each other, and they are now literally at war, trying to purge each other,” I spat, taking another big gulp from my wine bottle. Well. I guess Levi’s nihilism and cynicism had rubbed off on me more than I thought. I honestly didn't expect this conversation to go this way. I thought I would cry.

“How dare you speak of your faith, of our God, like that! You have no idea what you're saying! This is some… stranger,” she shrieked, her voice cracking with fury and disbelief.

“Yeah. Shit happens when you live on the streets. Stop your crying, face the reality. You, and my father were the ones that made me. I did not crawl under a rock. I came from you. And, I think my ancestors would be proud, if they existed. See, I built my own empire, not with praying but working my ass off. Just like how a real warrior would do,” I retorted, taking a gulp of my wine.

Levi should have been here. I mean, he wouldn't understand anything, because we were talking in Cyrusian, but I know he'd like it. He’d even give me pointers about how I should insult an entire belief system.

“You have built your life, yes. But what good is an empire if it’s built on such anger? What good is it, if you have no peace?” she said, her voice now resigned, still managing to infuriate me with her holier-than-thou platitudes about religion.

“Mom, I obviously have repressed rage, years of being repressed by you. And, about peace? I was quite peaceful before you started to spew your homophobic bullshit,” I retorted, my voice tight with lingering fury.

“Our beliefs are not ‘bull—,’ Raphael,” she said, stopping herself from uttering the full curse. “They are the foundation of our lives. If you cannot respect that, then perhaps this conversation is pointless.”

“We finally have an agreement,” I retorted, a bitter taste in my mouth. “It is pointless. So, I am offering a truce of sorts. Let me come home once again, maybe you make your beef stew… We would have a conversation. We would talk about what we all did in the last eight years… Okay? And… after, we can choose whether to sever this connection, or… maybe continue talking.”

“Beef stew? You remember my beef stew?”

“Of course I remember,” I said, ignoring the wetness gathering in my eyes. “Ascarian cuisine is bland. I had to spend all my money to import spices from Cyrusia when I first arrived here. And… when refugees came to the foundation… They all had that look on their faces, tasting the bland soup… Realizing how different the food is.” My breath hitched, and I swallowed hard, feeling the sting in my eyes. “And no… I don’t think we can bridge a chasm, but… You are still my mom. And I miss you, and Dad.”

It really led to tears.

“We missed you too, my son. Every single day. Your father… he never stopped asking about you.”

“Yeah? How is he?”

“He’s fine and healthy, as always. He’s trying to plant flowers in the back garden,” she said. My giant father planting flowers? He must be really bored.

“I’m glad to hear that. So… Can Levi and I come tomorrow?” I asked, holding my breath for her answer.

“Tomorrow. Alright, Raphael. Just… give us a call when you're leaving. And… he will be with you?”

“Yeah, he will. I mean, he doesn’t know Cyrusian but, he will be there.”

“So, your,” she paused, and I could hear her carefully choosing her next word, “…husband will be joining us. Does he… understand our customs?”

Ugh.

“I mean, obviously not, Mom. He was an Ascarian Duke; he only knows Cyrusia from textbooks… We can talk about all of these tomorrow,” I replied, my patience wearing thin.

“Perhaps it is better we talk in person. It seems there is much about your life we do not know. Tomorrow, then,” she said, and with that, we ended the call.