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Grant wakes up on Friday and knows today isn’t going to happen. Even as he blinks his eyes open he feels himself sinking into the suffocating unease he has felt creeping in at the corners of his mind for the past few days. Laying on his back, he stares at the ceiling (get up) and studies a wedge of light that is coming in through a crack in his curtains (come on get up) slicing the room in half from the window to the door (seriously just get the fuck up you stupi-)
“Hey Grant,” He can make out the blurry shape of his dad hovering in the doorway out of the corner of his eye, “you’ll be late for school buddy.”
Grant is underwater, the light filtering down to him from somewhere far above. He needs to reach the surface, his dad is waiting, “uhuh.”
His dad doesn’t get everything, but he gets this, thank god he gets this, “blue day?”
“Yep.” They’re not very good at talking about these things, they’ve gotten better, but the shorthand helps.
“Do you want me to try and move your appointment with Dr Wardlaw?”
He appreciates that his dad believes this stuff is real, but his unshaken belief in the ability of professionals to ‘fix’ things still rubs Grant the wrong way. He pushes down the swell of irritation, all the while relishing the prick of feelings it awakens in his static brain, “no.”
“Do you want me to call your mom?”
“No,” Grant knows he will anyway.
“Okay, I’ll check in with you at lunch. There’s some faculty drinks thing, so I won’t be home til late.”
“Fine.”
He hears the door close gently and the clatter of his dad getting ready for the day. He is humming to himself, something that sounds like a very out of tune version of the Gladiator theme. Eventually, the front door slams and Grant hears the Beast 3.0 roar to life and pull out of the driveway.
Grant studies the ceiling for a while longer, until he becomes aware of the buzzing sound of his phone on the nightstand. He takes a pill from the bottle next to it with a big swallow of water, then checks his messages.
Mom: Your dad called, call me if you need anything honey. I love you.
I’m fine, love you too.
Mom: See you next weekend!
Can’t wait!
She’s trying, but Grant knows it’s hard for her. She can’t relate to what he saw while they were there, any more than she can to the chemical imbalances in his brain. So he has found it easier to put on a braver face around her, protect her from the worst of it, what he can tell she itches to fix but can’t.
This one time on soccer camp
#1 stepson: jfc Ron left the house in a literal sarong today
NotAFurry: the fashion icon the world truly needs
Narcolas: what do his clients say?
#1 stepson: they don’t care as long as he continues to make them money
#1 stepson: apparently he has a reputation among business circles as an eccentric genius, no pants clear judgement or some shit
TheGodFather: that’s capitalism for ya
#1 stepson: not joining us today bud @Fantasy Jock?
Fantasy Jock: nup
Narcolas: k, I’ll tell everyone you’re visiting your hot college boyfriend
Fantasy Jock: I appreciate that
Once he has scrolled down feeds for a while, Grant gets up and heads to the kitchen, tries to concentrate on the feeling of cold tiles under his feet. The screech of the kettle echoes harshly into his quiet reverie but he focusses on measuring sugar into his Chelsea mug and tea leaves into his strainer. He sits at the kitchen island with his tea, pointedly ignores one of the stacks of college brochures his dad has taken to leaving around the house, and opens Reddit.
He is halfway through his tea when it happens. A loud crashing sound reverberates from the front of the house, accompanied by an oddly familiar tugging feeling in Grant’s chest. He’s in the foyer before he’s even aware of himself, in time to see a brilliant flash of purple light illuminate the arch window on the top of the front door.
Warily he reaches for the latch and pushes it open.
“Grant?”
Grant stares open mouthed at the man who appears before him like an apparition from his adolescent day dreams: Yeet Bigly lies sprawled on his back on their front lawn, legs in the sky and wheels on his board still spinning in the air, a look of utter surprise plastered on his face.
Grant takes in the scene in front of him in shocked silence, his heart pounding in his chest and his face warm, until he notices Ms Peters from next door peering at them curiously over her privet hedge, “you’d better come inside.”
He reaches out a hand and feels rough, solid, fingers grab hold as Yeet rights himself. He lets go quickly and gestures for Yeet to follow him into the house. There is a soft thud behind him as Yeet jumps the steps up to the door and perfectly sticks his landing.
Grant walks down the hall to the kitchen, hyperaware of the body wheeling quietly behind him (turn around, but what if he isn’t real? Of course he’s real you idiot you touched him, you can hear his wheels, talk to him, you’re making this weird, it IS weird, you’re making it weirder, now pull yourself together). He reaches the kitchen and forces himself to turn slowly.
Yeet is studying the photo frames along the wall: pictures of Grant as a kid with his mum and dad, most of them before, although there are a couple of newer ones of Grant, including one of him in a suit for prom.
Grant clears his throat to get Yeet’s attention, winces at how loud it sounds in the quiet of the house, “are you hungry?”
Yeet grins, “I could eat.”
Yeet claims Grant’s spot at the kitchen island while he finds bread, peanut butter, and jelly and starts making sandwiches, a pang in his stomach reminding him that he hasn’t eaten since yesterday. He grips the knife tightly as he digs it into the peanut butter jar and tries to settle his breathing.
“So, uh, this is your world then?” Yeet smiles shyly at him. The light streaming in from the windows highlights wrinkles in the corners of his uncovered eye and mouth; he looks a lot older than last time they met, which Grant supposes makes sense with the weird way time moves between their two worlds (timey wimey as Henry would say), but he is still breathtakingly gorgeous.
“Yep, ho- how did you get here?” Grant reboils the kettle, tips the cold remnants of his tea out of the mug into the sink, and fills a teapot.
Yeet shrugs, “no idea, I was riding along with the kids when suddenly this purple light appeared in front of me and I crashed into it and through to here.”
Yeet gestures vaguely with an arm and Grant can’t help but notice the strongly defined bicep peeking out of his loose white cotton shirt. He looks down at his own slightly too short sweatpants and ratty Mountain Goats T-shirt and cringes internally until his brain catches up with what Yeet is saying, “kids, you have kids?”
Yeet grins broadly, “yeah! Two boys and a girl, and one who isn’t sure, all skaters like their pops, but lovers like their mom.”
“Wow,” Grant can think of nothing else to say as he tosses knives into the sink and pushes a plate of sandwiches at Yeet, who tucks in enthusiastically.
“I know right?” Yeet sprays crumbs across the bench in his eagerness, “wasn’t sure I was ever gonna settle down, but then I met Dab, that’s my wife, at a game and I was a goner. Never thought I’d love anyone as much as her but then the kids came along and they just became my world man. I retired from the Glenn Bowl circuit a few years back and managed to put enough away that we could settle down comfortably in Balls Deep. I do a few odd jobs here and there, but mostly spend time with the fam, and Killa when she’s between mercenary gigs. She’s an amazing aunt, you should see how she is with the kids,” he chuckles and wipes jelly from the corner of his mouth.
Grant feels his first bite harden uncomfortably in his throat, he forces his tone to be light “sounds wonderful.”
Yeet seems to pick up something in his expression and smiles softly, “but how about you? Is there, uh, someone in your life?”
“No. I mean, not right now, I mean, there have been, someones, over the years but urm, not now. I’m uh kinda taking a break to work on me right now.” Grant grimaces.
“That’s good, you weren’t really looking out for yourself so much last time we met.”
“Y-yeah,” Grant hates the stutter in his voice. He pushes a mug of tea across the table but doesn’t meet Yeet’s eye, takes another bite of his sandwich and chews slowly.
And, of course, his dad picks this moment to call and check in. Grant has long suspected that his dad has some kind of supernatural sense when it comes to interrupting him in the middle of awkward situations, but for once he’s almost grateful, “hello?”
“Hey, Grant, it’s dad, what are you up to buddy?”
“Uh, hey dad. Nothing, I mean, just having lunch.”
“Good,” Grant can almost hear him thinking well at least he’s gotten out of bed and grits his teeth through another pang of frustration, “I’m on detention duty in a minute so I can’t talk long, Lark is in again so I gotta mentally prepare myself for that, but they cancelled faculty drinks so I’ll be home by 5, I was thinking I could grab a pizza on the way home? And maybe we could hang out and have a tv night tonight?” (because you’re too fucked up to have plans on Friday night like a normal teenager)
Grant is about to snap back something about not needing his dad's pity plans when he notices Yeet, who has finished his sandwiches, lifted his eyepatch and now appears to be scanning the room with the robotic eye Grant never did get around to asking him about, “look dad, I gotta go, that sounds fine, I’ll see you at five.”
“Okay, I love you Grant.”
“Love you too.”
Yeet notices Grant’s eyes on him and replaces the eyepatch with a sheepish grin, “sorry, I was just curious.”
“Oh,” Grant feels acutely aware of how messy the house is; his dad has been busy with training and meetings this week, and Grant has been devoting all his own energy into preventing himself slipping (fat lot of good that did). There are mugs and glasses abandoned on surfaces all over the room, piles of papers, and several sweaters hanging over the backs of chairs.
“This place is so nice man, looks like you and your dad really have it made here.”
“I guess,”
“How is he?”
“He’s good, teaching, a coach, he’s really good at it.”
“Sucks he isn’t here, we never did get our rematch.”
“I’m sure he’d be thrilled if you turned up to his bowling league,”
Yeet gives him a look that makes Grant wonder what bowling means in his world. He picks up a brochure from another stack on the side table “what are these?”
Grant sighs, “my dad trying to get me to make a decision about what I’m going to do next year.”
“Yeah?”
“He wants me to go somewhere local, where he can keep an eye on me.”
“And you want to travel further?”
“I don’t know, I guess, yeah, I mean, there’s this writing program in New York and I probably won’t get in anyway and maybe he’s right and I should stay in California, I haven’t been the best lately, but like this is meant to be the start of my big adventure you know? Not a bullshit one with kidnapping grandfathers and childhood trauma, but the start of my real life,” Grant exhales in a rush and feels his cheeks burn, god, here he is again, spewing out his problems to a guy who-
A warm hand rests gently on Grant's shoulder, “you want to go out and make your own mark, makes sense. Have you told him that?”
“I’m not sure he’d get it. He has a lot of hang ups about college because of his own dad, and dropping out. Plus, I hate the thought of leaving him alone in San Diemas, even if he has Henry and the others.”
“It’s been a while, and I don’t know your dad that well, but I don’t think he would want you to sacrifice your dreams for him. Dads really just want the best for our kids, it hurts but it’s inevitable that they’re gonna surpass us and leave us behind. You should talk to him man, he might surprise you.”
“Uh, thanks, I’ll think about it."
As Grant considers the weirdness of his life that has his preteen crush giving him fatherly advice, his gaze is drawn to a spark of purple glimmering in Yeet's eye, “ah, now might be a good time for you to think real dad like thoughts.”
Yeet looks confused but shrugs and complies, if the purple portal beginning to swirl open in the middle of the rug is any indication. His eye widens in surprise, “wow,”
Grant shrugs, “daddy magic,” his tone betraying only a little bitterness.
“Well,” Yeet wheels cautiously towards the swirling vortex, “I guess this is my ride home then. Thanks for the sandwiches, this has been weird but cool,” he reaches out a hand to Grant.
Grant feels a sudden pang of nervous panic; he grabs his phone, “can I, uh, take a picture? To remember this?” (to prove this was real and I’m not completely losing it)
“Sure,”
Grant awkwardly snaps a couple of pictures. Before he can overthink it, he pulls Yeet into a quick hug, “it was nice to see you,” he breathes out in a quick rush.
Yeet grins, “you too, I’m glad to see you’re doing okay Grant.”
They share one more smile, then Yeet backs up and throws the horns, ollieing into the spinning purple unknown.
Grant blinks and the portal is gone. He stands in the empty kitchen, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.
This one time on soccer camp
Fantasy Jock: [image attachment]
Narcolas: you’re shitting me
NotAFurry: is that Yeet???!!!
#1 Stepson: are you there or is he here?
Fantasy Jock: he was here, gone now
TheGodFather: how???????
Fantasy Jock: daddy magic, what else?
#1 Stepson: fucking daddy magic
He considers not telling him. His dad has been through enough, in the Forgotten Realms and out. Their time there took from Darryl as much as it gave him, and Grant isn’t sure he’ll see an opening between their worlds as a positive thing, not to mention how worried it’ll make him about Grant.
Ultimately, he realizes as his dad bursts into the house accompanied by a delicious pizza smell and talking a mile a minute about his day, he can’t keep it from him. They’ve gotten a lot better at telling each other things, and not mentioning Yeet’s visit would feel dishonest, like a step backwards. Besides, he’s told the other Doodlers now so it’s bound to pass around the dads and back to Daryl in no time.
They put on Friday Night Lights, which they’ve been re-watching for the past couple of months, and eat their pizza mostly in silence.
They reach the end of an episode and Grant clears his throat, “um, I had a visitor today.”
His dad goes for another slice, “oh yeah? Was it Lark? Because if it was you can tell him that visiting you is not an excuse to miss detention and he’s not gonna get any special treatment from me, it will go on his permanent record if he misses one mor-“
“No, it wasn’t Lark, it was, uh, Yeet Bigly.”
The pizza slice freezes half way up to Darryl’s lips, “what?”
“Yeah,” Grant waves the picture on his phone in front of his dad’s surprised face, “he fell through a portal, some errant daddy magic or something.”
“Where is he now?”
“He had enough daddy magic flowing that he got a return portal opened up. He’s a dad now, four kids,” Grant turns back to the screen but sees his dad studying him from the corner of his eye.
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“How was it, seeing him again?”
Grant feels his face flush, “weird, he’d changed a lot, it’s been longer for him,”
“Timey wimey,” his dad nods. He’s taking this surprisingly well (like he takes fucking everything). He chuckles, “I suppose Yeet was pretty surprised by how much you’ve changed too.”
“What do you mean? I haven’t changed.”
“Are you kidding?” He places a hand on Grant’s knee, “the strong, handsome young man in front me has come a long way from that brave little kid playing Fortnite in Faerûn,” he quickly withdraws his hand when Grant flinches at the memory.
“Come off it dad, I’m the same mess I was then, I couldn’t even fucking leave the house today.”
Darryl’s eyebrows knit together, “no way kiddo, you’ve come so far, and done so much. This is just a setback, you’ll get back on track. Sometimes days are just hard,” and quieter, “the didn’t cancel faculty drinks,” then he turns back to the screen and presses play on the next episode, leaving Grant to parse what he has just admitted.
Grant remembers back to one Saturday, a year or so after they got back, when Henry called him at his mom’s to say not to worry but he’d taken Darryl to the emergency room with chest pains and trouble breathing. He’d wanted to go straight to the hospital, but his mom and Henry had decided it was better to wait for more news. Eventually, Henry called back to say it was a false alarm, not a heart attack, that his dad had experienced a panic attack but was feeling better now. He’d then launched into a lecture about feelings and the importance of reaching out, but Grant had stopped listening. He’d stared at the freshly painted walls of his new room, feeling a mixture of relief and confusion. Their conversation in Balls Deep had been one thing, but a panic attack? Had he missed something during the week? His dad had seemed fine, a little stressed with job application stuff, but not anxious or anything.
When his dad picked him up the next day he’d seemed his usual overbearing self, and while Grant had watched him carefully over the next few days he hadn’t noticed anything different. Neither of them brought it up.
While they’ve talked too much about Grant’s mental health over the years, and his dad has kept his promise of always answering Grant’s questions honestly, he has never felt able to ask Darryl about it. He thinks partly that he hasn’t wanted to know. It feels like too big of a character shift. As much as his dad keeping things from him drives him crazy, Grant has needed him to be the confident and constant protector. Losing that version of his dad would mean losing one of his anchors to normalcy.
“Are you okay Dad?”
“Yeah buddy, just a bit tired, didn’t feel like talking with a bunch of people. Who else do I need anyway, when I’ve got my boys Grant and Coach Taylor right here?” His dad chuckles, a little forced.
“What will you do next year when I’m off at college then?” Grant doesn’t mean for it to come out sounding so blunt and accusatory.
His dad shrugs, “I’ll miss you, that’s for sure. Probably spend more time annoying the Oak-Garcias.”
“But you’ll be okay? Even if I go further away? Like, New York?”
“Sure buddy, if that’s what you want, you’ve gotta go where it’s right for you. You’re smart, way smarter than me, you’ll do great, and with that ol’ Wilson charm and handshake you’ll find plenty of people willing to help you out. Plus, I’ll only be a phone call away. And even if it’s not the right fit, you can try again some place else, or do something different, whatever it is you need to nurture your mind and help you grow- god, I’m sounding a bit like Henry here aren’t I?”
“Yeah, a little.”
His dad groans and then laughs, and the warmth is back in his eyes, “don’t tell him about this, he’ll be so smug and unbearable.
“But seriously Grant, today was nothing, life just gets hard sometimes. We dropped the ball but it doesn’t mean we’ve lost the game. We’ve got plenty of time on the clock. It’s gonna be alright.”
“Okay dad.”