Work Text:
It's difficult to describe the kind of rage and shock that came from a betrayal. And Zuka knows betrayal. He knows it when he spits out the memory of Darkheart's kisses. He knows it when he picks up his old glasses or comes across his old uniform and thinks about the day he was torn from the sky. He knows it when he's reminded of the gods at all.
There's also a fire entwined with that betrayal, one that he called hatred. He hates Darkheart for kicking him when he was low, he hates him for using him, he hates him.
More than anything, he hates himself for ever trusting Darkheart.
That burning feeling, it's not just anger; it's embarrassment. It stings when he remembers the way that he leaned into Darkheart's kisses, how he called him up just to spend time with him.
Foolishly, he fell deeper and deeper in love. It grew like sweet fruit in the summer, and he let it grow. He let it fester.
What a mistake. Now, all he has is the rotten aftermath of that thing called love, which had long become out-of-season.
When that realization struck him, he left. It was quiet, the way that he cut himself off from his old identity. It was clean and calm and so damn unfulfilling. To free himself from the strings that tied him back, he left loose ends and knots in his past.
Was that really it? He just wasn't useful? It didn't mean anything? It was easy to be angry at the betrayal, but it was hard to admit that he mourned the loss.
…Could he call it loss?
Did he ever have Darkheart?
How pathetic. I've moved on, he's moved on, it meant nothing.
It meant nothing to me. It meant nothing to me-
Zuka snaps out of his memories after biting down on his cigarette. He had more important things to do, things that he could actually change. His past was a mistake, a shame, but his future doesn't have to be.
He sighs and goes back inside the shop.
"Rocket," he yells. "Close up the shop. We're heading back."
"Ok, dad!" Rocket yells back before shoving some boxes into the storage room and rushing over to lock up the rest of the shop.
Dad, huh? Zuka fiddles with the keys in his hand. I don't feel like a parent, but I'll do my best.
Rocket runs around the shop, closing the blinds and mopping the floor. He's messy, sliding from place to place, practically launching himself across the shop.
He's a good kid, Zuka thinks to himself. Gotten better about not hurting others.
All I can do is hope that he remembers not to hurt himself.
Before long, Rocket comes up to him. "Alright! Done!"
Zuka's smile is small and tired, but it's precious. "Then let's go home."
They get back to the apartment in one piece and step inside. Zuka barely finishes taking off his shoes when Rocket starts talking.
"Hey, dad, can Sword come over today?" Rocket asks as he shifts from foot to foot, clearly excited.
"Marshmallow boy? Sure," Zuka responded. He's not great with names, but Sword has been marshmallow boy ever since Rocket came home annoyed and tired before ranting about that cushy and naive kid who started following him around.
"Great!" Rocket dashes through the apartment and towards the kitchen. He slams open a cabinet, which Sword rolls out of, hitting his head on the tiled floor. Zuka is unimpressed.
"You don't have to ask my permission to invite your boyfriend over," Zuka said while closing the door to their apartment. His grin is more of a smirk now.
Rocket sputters. "He's- it's- we're not like that!"
Sword misses the exchange, still rubbing the back of his head. "Rocket, can you hide me in the closet next time? Please? I think a fork stabbed me…"
"Ugh, fine. I'll make sure that your little alcove is more comfortable next time." Rocket lifts him up, and it doesn't take a genius to see the way that his hands linger over Sword's shoulders. He reaches his arms around Sword from behind, unclasping his cape and throwing it on the couch. "You gotta stop wearing that cape, you'll get it caught on something someday."
Sword sheepishly turns around. "I thought you said it was cute!"
Rocket crosses his arms and looks away, stepping back. "I said it was cute, not convenient."
Zuka blinks slowly, mentally hitting Rocket on the head. It's getting tiring, watching Rocket pine for this oblivious marshmallow of a kid. The worst part is that Sword is so nice, none of it is intentional, but he can see how Rocket stumbles trying not to indulge his feelings.
Zuka wants to help him somehow, give him advice or guidance, but he doesn't have that kind of experience. He's only had one relationship, and it was the worst mistake of his life. Well, it wasn't a relationship. It wasn't long term, it was never clear, there was never any clarification or balance. It wasn't worth it. That's not what he wants for Rocket, and if that ever happens, he will step in, but he knows that Sword isn't the same. Even if Zuka hates the gods, he won't let it get in the way of Rocket's life. Zuka's bad relationships and regrets aren't ones that he wants to pass on to Rocket; what he really wants is to help Rocket, not to hold him back.
But for fuck's sake, Rocket needs to just take the dive and confess. He's an aggressive kid with a violent streak, but he knows that Rocket really doesn't have much experience with healthy or friendly relationships and is tentatively stepping into his stable life.
By this point, Rocket and Sword are already sprawled on the couch, with Sword excitedly recounting some strange incident with a kid who almost skateboarded into his face.
"Don't stay up too late," Zuka says before going into his room and flopping into bed. His hat is skewed on his head and his jacket is uncomfortably stuffy, but he's already half-asleep. He closes his eyes and dreams of barbecue.