I had to blast the car windows open, to clear the static from my mind. In the back seat nestled the offerings; the flower bouquet, the bottle of vintage red wine, and the box of artisanal chocolate. Please let one stick. Ugh... I was so goddamn nervous I might quite literally shit myself right here on the passenger seat.

Levi remained a picture of profound indifference. He sat there, utterly still, his gaze fixed straight ahead on the winding road. Occasionally, his fingers would tap a light pattern against the steering wheel.

Then, there we were. A street of one-story, blue-tiled-roof houses stretched before us, each one's lights already on. Levi smoothly parked the car on the driveway, the engine falling silent, and got out.

No. I don't want to go out. I think... I want to go back.

Levi gathered our peace offerings into his hands and arm, then simply stood there, waiting for me. I'm fucking glued. My hands fumbled uselessly with the door handle, slick with cold sweat. When I managed to push the door open and placed my foot on the ground, my bones turned into overcooked pasta. My knees buckled, and I nearly fell, narrowly avoiding smashing my nose on the asphalt. "Deep breaths, Raphael. Deep... breaths..." I muttered to myself, trying to steady my rapidly beating heart.

Levi watched my awkward gait. “Dear,” he said calmly, “We will be quite alright.”

I fucking hope so.

We walked towards the front door. Those ten steps were akin to traversing a never-ending trial by fire. Every single piece of gravel under my shoes pricked at my bare-feeling feet. Digging my way out with my bare hands after an avalanche, I finally pressed the doorbell.

A moment later, the door slowly opened, revealing my mother. Her once blonde, long hair, usually pulled back in a bun, was now grazed with prominent white streaks. Her ice-blue eyes, had faint lines etched around them, mapping years I hadn't witnessed up close. She was… a little shorter than I remembered. Shut up, Raphael, now is not the time for your very obvious height insecurities.

Will she hug me? Will she only gesture inside? What will she do?

There was a silent moment between my mother and me. We simply stared at each other. She was now looking at her adult son, not the rebellious, runaway eighteen-year-old. And I… I was looking at the mother who hadn't seen her son in eight years. I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat almost choking me. What if she just closes the door? Maybe it would be better. No. Raphael, you fucking coward, rip the band-aid. You've already been judged, denied, and subjected to so much other shit. Rip the band-aid.

“H-Hi,” I managed, the word thin and reedy. Hi? Is this all I can muster? Before my mom could even reply, my giant dad, who had also aged, more visibly than my mother, brushed her aside. He embraced me strongly, so strongly that it made my spine pop with a series of cracks.

“My son!” he exclaimed.

“Hi, Dad,” I managed, a little shocked, bewildered, and possibly relieved by the force of his hug. He started to swing me from side to side. “D-Dad,” I stammered, feeling a flush creep up my neck. What? Embarrassed? Raphael, you idiot, just hug him back! So I did, hesitantly placing my arms around his broad back.

My mom watched us with… a look I couldn't quite decipher. Disapproval? Quite likely. An overt display of emotion was definitely not her favorite thing to witness. Levi, on the other hand, wasn't reacting at all. I strongly assumed he was simply taking this moment in, gathering data points to utilize later.

“Please get inside,” Mother said, cutting through the moment. Dad immediately dropped me back onto my feet. Gods, Dad, why couldn't you give me some of your tall genes?

And so, all of us slowly walked inside. Oh. I quickly extended my arm, to prevent Levi from breaching the threshold fully. “We gotta take our shoes off,” I murmured. Yep. Another cultural difference I conveniently forgot because I quite literally got assimilated by Ascarian society.

Levi gave me a subtle crinkling around his right eye. But he complied nonetheless. Before stooping to unlace his shoes, he offered our peace offerings to my mom. As he did so, he unveiled that very disarming, charming smile he reserved for his "Saint" persona. It was the kind of smile that made the sun rise from the hallway.

“They are quite lovely, you did not need to go so much trouble over these,” she said, her voice even. Well, at least the efforts were acknowledged.

We proceeded into the dining room. Dad was already seated, a large figure at the head of the table. Mother momentarily vanished into the kitchen, presumably to arrange the flowers and open the wine. And I saw the dinner table.

Oh… sweet heavens.

Plates of food, every single one of them home-cooked, filled with various spices and herbs, vibrant in color, the rich smell of cooked red meat filling my nostrils, making me drool. Yes. This was heaven. Mom was already a great cook, but tonight she had truly brought her A-game. There was a hearty beef stew, a brain salad, and aromatic curry rice… Gods, pure umami heaven. I wanted to devour the entire table right then and there. I quite enthusiastically sat down, while Levi settled gracefully into his chair beside me.

Then, he fumbled with his breast pocket, retrieving his translating device. He connected it to his phone and inserted a tiny earpiece.

Well, I was glad we had at least navigated that first hurdle, but… the biggest issue still loomed. There was literally nothing Levi could eat here. How was he going to explain his food aversion without causing a diplomatic incident? I wasn't sure.

“Dad, I’m gonna choke on my own saliva, you have no idea how much I missed Mom’s cooking,” I blurted out, the plates of food literally shining.

Dad began piling my plate with a truly gigantic portion. “You look thin, my son, fill your stomach,” he boomed. Thin? I had a fat roll, Dad, I am not thin. Nope. Shut up. Eat this delicious, yummy food. Gods, Mom, come back soon, I can’t control myself.

Levi was still fumbling with his phone, which drew my dad’s curious gaze. “What is he doing?” he asked me, his voice low and in Cyrusian.

“Ah, he doesn’t know Cyrusian, so he’s going to use a translating device, but he learned some phrases to explain himself,” I replied, trying to sound confident. Honestly, I had no idea what he’d learned at all. He was probably hiding his act for my mother’s return.

Levi finally stopped fumbling with his device and spoke in Ascarian. “It was indeed tricky, but, yes, it is fully functional.”

The device, immediately translated his words back into Cyrusian, broadcast clearly into the dining room.

“Never seen a device like that, but if we can talk, we will talk,” Dad said, his voice booming.

Levi turned his gaze to me, momentarily flicking his device off. “I will have a conversation with your mother in the kitchen, dear. Come, watch my peasant act,” he instructed. No… I don’t wanna leave the food. But yeah… I am curious, damn.

“Dad, we’re going to talk to Mom. We’ll be back,” I called out to him, already moving towards the kitchen. Mom was still at the stove, the scent of heating food clinging to the air. Yes, I will eat all of that, of course I will.

“Mom, there’s something Levi is going to say to you,” I announced, dramatically gesturing towards Levi.

Levi, began to speak in Cyrusian, using a bad accent. “Even though I am grateful… for the food, I am not able to… eat them.”

Wow. When did he even memorize that? Mom turned her face sharply to Levi, quite shocked, and possibly even impressed. Yes, Levi. Go with the peasant act. Go.

“What?” Mom said, her voice sharp with surprise. “But I prepared all this for you!”

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I held my breath. Please, God. Maybe Levi can catch on.

Levi, in turn, replied in Cyrusian, his voice slightly strained with the effort of the accent. “I am unable to consume… any food with… meat, and spice,” he explained, then took a calculated deep breath, preparing for his wounded soldier act. “I have a… history of… being a picky eater,” he concluded. Picky eater? His was not pickiness.

Oh… That’s what he meant by language not having… terms.

“What does he mean, Raphael? And where does he know our language?” Mom asked, her gaze snapping from Levi to me. Fuck, yes. Levi, you genius, it fucking worked!

I replied in Cyrusian, quickly. “Mom, his is not just not liking the food, it is a... condition. He can only eat bland foods, like rice porridge, or oatmeal mush, or something. And,” I emphasized, “he specifically learned some words so he could explain it to you.”

“Raphael, why haven’t you told me before? I made enough food for an army! And… I can do something with leftover rice from the curry,” she said, already turning towards the counter.

“Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll eat his plate, too,” I said, a warm, genuine smile spreading across my face. I’ll fucking eat it, alright. Levi pressed his earpiece, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips. You deserved that smirk.

...

Mom placed Levi’s bowl of bland rice porridge before him. Mother and Father then placed their palms together, heads bowed for prayer. Yeah… I am an atheist… Nope. Not tonight. No need to go into a raging inferno with turpentine. So, I pressed my palms together like theirs. Dad looked at me with a wide smile. “Look at my son,” he rumbled. “Now, let’s eat.” He took the first spoonful.

The beef stew. Oh my god. The moment that rich blend of spices, the tang of tomato paste, then the subtle notes of oregano, black pepper, and finally, the tender, bite-sized, juicy meat graced my poor, spice-starved tongue, something inside me exploded. I had missed this, so fucking much. I threw my head back, a groan of pure bliss escaping me. I might cry over how fucking good this is.

I was a feral animal, and I accepted it. I grabbed my spoon, piled it with rice, then plunged it deep into the stew. Ah… Yes. The combination. The tangy tomato, the beef, and the perfectly fluffy rice. They were so happy on my tongue. I started to eat, barely remembering to swallow. If the stew wasn't watery, I might have used my hands. Bliss. Ecstasy. Pure euphoria.

Levi, the fallen aristocrat, was eating his bland rice porridge with his usual elegance. Me? Oh, no. I was a toddler learning to eat with a utensil, or someone who'd spent weeks in the desert and finally stumbled upon an oasis.

“My god, Raphael, you are going to choke, slow down,” Mom said, her voice laced with concern and pride. “But you always loved my food.”

Who doesn’t love that food?

“Let him eat to his heart’s content! He is finally having a taste of home,” Dad boomed, his hand clapping my back with such force it sent a jolt through me. Gods, that almost made my lungs come out.

“Worth choking for. Also, Mom, please open a food truck again, or maybe let me buy you a restaurant or something, I am going to order every single day,” I begged, still savoring the rich flavors.

“My back hurts, Raphael, and your father and I are retired, now,” she said. “But, yes, the idea sometimes comes to my head, too.”

Levi subtly tapped his foot against my knee under the table, “Wrong strategy. Tell them about Academia.”

Taking his advice, I quickly corrected myself. “I mean, if you don’t want people around, Levi owns the first medical school in the country. It has a highly esteemed clinic; I’m sure they will manage your pain.”

“First medical school? What are you talking about?” mother asked, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. I saw Levi’s eye roll. Yeah. I guess I should've just said we know good doctors.

Father turned to Levi. “You own a school?”

Levi elegantly folded his napkin after dabbing his mouth. “My family possesses a ducal lineage,” he began, his voice clear in Ascarian. “They amassed their wealth and position by being healers, pharmacists, doctors, and botanists. Academia, the clinic Raphael mentioned, belonged to the duchy, established and founded three hundred years ago by my ancestors, and indeed it is the first medical school in the nation, created in order to raise physicians.” He paused, waiting for the device to translate his elaborate explanation back into Cyrusian.

“So your wealth comes from your family... Are you continuing their work?” Mother asked, her suspicion still evident.

“Three hundred years,” Dad mused, a note of impressed wonder in his voice. “That is quite some time.”

“I attended Royal Academia, as a chemist, to study the science of medicine synthesis. And, yes, I own a pharmaceutical company,” Levi replied, his voice calm and even as he spoke into the device. “The product I am most proud of is a painkiller, made from Aether Bloom, which is a flower found and researched by my ancestors. I merely extended their studies.”

“A plant-based painkiller. I suppose it's less... artificial than others. Is it widely used?” Mother asked.

Levi listened to the translation through his earpiece, his expression unchanged. “Since I do not know how your pain started—meaning whether it is bone, muscle, nerve, or joint pain—it is ill-advised and frankly unhealthy of me, to offer you a painkiller. But, I most certainly can arrange a visit from my own physician.”

Well, Levi’s very ethical offer... backfired. My mother retorted, her voice sharp with suspicion, "So you won't give me pills but... give me your own doctor to poke around?"

Levi, hearing the translation, slowly lifted his gaze to meet my mother's. Oh. That subtle change in his posture, the slight shift in his eyes. He was... playing her all along.

“Accept my apologies,” Levi said, his tone imbued with sincerity. “My intention was not to scrutinize, but to simply offer help, because I can.” He then added, his voice softening, “I do understand your skepticism towards a foreigner, but there is nothing inherently wrong with alleviating another human’s stress, is there?”

Father, hearing the translation of Levi's words, shifted in his chair. “Of course there is nothing wrong! Lirael gets… particular about things,” he said, his voice tinged with a hint of apology. “You don’t mind her,” he added, and I could tell he was genuinely feeling bad.

“Aelion, I was not being particular, I was merely asking, but,” she said, her voice sharp, then gestured with her hand, a clear command. “Please let us continue with our dinner.”

He played to my father’s guilt, which made my mom speak up for herself… My God. Whatever, I am just enjoying my meal, not dwelling on this.

The rest of the dinner passed in a comfortable silence, at least from my perspective. I devoured my plate, then even ate Levi’s portion, under my mother’s disapproving glare and my father’s proud gaze. Afterward, I helped Mom clear the table. It went… fine, but nobody addressed the elephant in the room. I guess… it was denial. When that realization hit, a boulder seemed to settle in my chest, and I excused myself to the back garden, where I immediately lit a cigarette to calm my nerves. Levi followed me.

...

“Levi… They’re acting like we’re… friends or something,” I muttered, watching the cherry of my cigarette glow.

Levi pressed his earpiece, deactivating the device. “Indeed. Your mother referred to me as your husband on the phone, but it is not the same when observed in the flesh, Raphael. Again, do not instigate. One cannot nullify years of ingrained prejudice via anger.”

“But the prejudice is still there, Levi. You know I almost wish they treated us as if we were sick or something. Even that would be a type of acknowledgement. This is… nothing,” I said, inhaling a long drag of my cigarette. “Their homophobia isn’t even because of miseducation, it’s just… it’s because their god said so…”

“A lack of conflict, or even negative acknowledgement, does not equate to acceptance. It is a distinct form of oppression. However, yes, bypassing that belief system will necessitate an extended duration.”

It would take an eternity to chip away at something that wasn't based on reason or empathy, but on rigid, ancient dogma. Levi saw the mountain, acknowledged its height, and just... accepted the climb. While I was still trying to find my footing on the first few jagged rocks.

“Eight fucking years… Only to come back to this… Not even a shouting match, not even condemnation, just… fucking denial.”

“I would not categorize it as denial,” Levi said. “Since no matter how hard they attempted, they cannot shut their eyes to the world, or to our marriage. That is… a fairy tale, at best. Although, I am stating once again, I am quite capable of a volatile situation. However, I do not believe this is what you desire, nor is it the optimal solution. But, one must also acknowledge their own shortcomings. I assume, Raphael, we simply encountered a cold wall.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “Yes, it’s not even denial, right? They’re just ignoring it. Maybe we really should burn down every bridge.”

Levi turned his face from the garden to me. “You will regret it, Raphael. You would merely collide with that aforementioned cold wall. No, please do not proceed with that course of action.”

“Yeah, I would regret it. But at least I would say I tried to explain myself. Maybe I would feel better,” I argued.

“I cannot prevent you from articulating your perspective. However, as your partner—no, as your friend, Raphael—I strictly advise against it.”

"I appreciate the 'friend' part, Levi, I really do. But it's hard to just stand here and let them erase years of my life," I said, the words a raw ache in my throat.

“I… understand. Truly, I do,” Levi replied, his gaze distant. “I lived under the same suffocating traditions, watched for years nobility clinging to their bygone past glories while they were simply wallowing in their own ignorance and prejudice. And just like you, I did lash out. I did try to convince them of a different future, but it did not work. It never does, Raphael. You cannot erase a belief system, a deeply held prejudice like this. But, they cannot erase you either.”

“Thanks… It was really nice to hear that… Let’s just go inside,” I said, my voice rough with emotion. I threw my cigarette to the stone patio, stomping it out angrily with the sole of my house slipper.