Chapter Text
“Hyacine, dinner’s ready—”
“I’m not hungry, Father. I’ll be going to my room with Castorice now.”
“... Alright. I’ll leave the dish in the fridge, just heat it up whenever you two eat.”
“Thanks. I’ll get to it eventually, I promise.”
Anaxagoras knew that was a lie, but he allowed it as he waved his daughter away while she dragged her friend to her room. Whatever they got up to was none of his business, but he really assumed that his daughter knew the importance of eating meals on time. She’d only been home for a few days, but it seemed her college habits hadn’t worn off just yet. No matter, she’d get used to eating real food shortly.
‘All the same, what could they be doing?’ he thought to himself absent-mindedly. They were on winter break; there wouldn’t be any homework, at least. Perhaps they were just catching up with each other? That theory made far less sense, given that they were roommates. Roommates…
‘... Is my daughter gay?’
Serving a plate of chicken alfredo pasta, Anaxagoras sat down at the kitchen table and put his head in his hands. The light spilling over from the kitchen did little to light up the dining hall, sufficiently dampening his spirits. Upstairs, he could hear the muffled voices of his daughter and her… something.
He wasn’t completely dense. He all but confirmed that Hyacine had some romantic partner, given how she deftly avoided any questions related to romance of any kind. Whether that had to do with her lack of trust in him or its association with her mother, he didn’t know, but there was something going on. If it was with Castorice … Well, there were worse women out there to be involved with.
His left hand grew heavy, and it was only then that Anaxagoras realized he’d worn his wedding ring again. Despite his many, many promises that he would sell it as soon as he could, it rested comfortably in his dresser every night, only to be put back to work every day. He gently brushed his thumb over it, desperately willing his mind to slow its thoughts. It was wishful thinking at best, seeing as it only brought her calculating smile to the forefront of his mind.
The train of thought he’d put himself on was certainly interesting. He had yet to take even a single bite of his dinner, its scent wafting towards him invitingly. Reminiscing would have to wait. A mind on an empty stomach should not be trusted anyways.
He never bothered to take off his ring.
“Mom, I’m home! Mydei’s here!”
The arrival of her son was far earlier than she expected, especially since she had no idea how much his partner would be eating, but Aglaea was unfazed. She’d accommodated her share of unannounced guests, especially since that young woman with grey hair moved in next door. Perhaps she should invite her over; but first, greetings had to be made.
“Come in, Phainon. Mydei, it’s so very good to see you,” Aglaea said warmly, taking Mydei’s hands into her own. “Phainon speaks very highly of you.”
“The pleasure is mine,” Mydei replied smoothly, presenting to her a bouquet of yellow roses. “Phainon told me you liked these; I can only hope he wasn’t lying.”
“They’re lovely. Please, you must be tired. The washroom is just down the hall there, if you’d like to freshen up before dinner.”
With her guest now out of the way, Aglaea turned to her son, who stood with an expectant expression on his face.
“So?”
“Do be reasonable. We spoke all but a few sentences.”
“And they were good sentences…?”
“Yes, I suppose so. Now go wash up,” Aglaea instructed, pulling Phainon into a quick hug. “I’ve made that garlic bread you so enjoy, along with gyros. I hope that’s alright.”
“It’s great, Mom. I’ll be back!” Phainon replied, squeezing Aglaea so hard she felt her spine pop. She sighed as he ran away, stretching her back to restore feeling. Her boy really did get too enthusiastic sometimes.
Then again, it was the first time he’d ever brought this man over. Sure, Aglaea knew that Phainon was dating, but he’d never told her; not until recently, at least. She’d found out through her connections at the university, through social media pages stalked at ungodly hours, and through Phainon’s pointed avoidance of any questions about the man known as Mydei.
She could never blame him, of course. Every Valentine’s Day since her divorce had been nothing short of dreadful. Every missed anniversary was another reminder of her own empty bed, of that insufferable man’s stupidly smug expression he couldn’t ever hope to suppress. Her own failings be damned, his were far greater, to the point where neither of them could ignore it for any longer.
But that was all behind her now. She’d moved on.
The ring that refused to leave her left hand bit into her skin with each lie.
“Dad?”
Anaxagoras jolted awake, gasping for air as he flailed about. His hand flew to his eyepatch, the pain fading away with the remnants of his sleep. Standing a good distance away from the couch was Hyacine, face contorted with worry — no, with fear.
“What’s the matter?” Anaxagoras asked lightly, as though he hadn’t just woken up like a man brought back from the brink of death. “Where’s Castorice — Hyacine, it’s 2 am, why are you down here?”
“Cas is in the guest room. I came down for some food, but you were still here, and you were shaking,” Hyacine explained, sitting down next to him and putting an arm around him. “Was it the fire again?”
“I — no. Of course not. Just a simple nightmare, one in which I had the misfortune of fighting off a horde of spiders.”
“Right…”
“It’s the truth.”
“...Alright.”
The pair sat in silence, Hyacine’s presence unwavering as Anaxagoras collected his breath. A simple sentence from his daughter could have easily dispelled his deception, but she graciously let it pass. She knew.
She knew that, when Anaxagoras closed his eyes in a desperate attempt to sleep, that he was greeted with fire burning his skin and smog filling his throat. She knew that when he cried, it was because his mind was desperate for his tears to wash away his grief. She knew that, no matter how many sessions of therapy he pretended were working, his wife’s anguished screams haunted his waking nightmares. She knew that he had never forgiven himself, even though her own mother forgave him long ago.
But as Hyacine held him, sitting on that couch at 2 am humming a gentle tune, Anaxagoras realized that he was being far too unreasonable. It only put stress on his mind, only put stress on his daughter, who had far greater things to be worried about than a waning scientist past his prime.
“You haven’t called me Dad in some time,” he noted, putting his own arm around his daughter. “I’m… sorry, that I’ve been so distant lately. I grew too accustomed to your absence, too quickly. When you left… I knew, I knew you were growing up, but it hurts all the same.”
“I’m not going to just leave you, Dad,” Hyacine said firmly. “You know that, right? Med school doesn’t mean I won’t make time for you. That’s why I’m going to go to Amphoreus National, it’s right here —”
“No, there’s no need for you to shackle yourself to my existence. A call here and there will suffice. I — I can get better on my own.”
“You don’t have to—”
“But I do,” Anaxagoras said, grasping his daughter by her shoulders firmly. “I will no longer take advantage of your kindness, of your obligation to be my daughter. You owe me nothing, you owe me nothing at all.”
“But you —” Hyacine choked out between tears, unable to suppress them. “You’re not ok, Mom left and you won’t ever talk to her or Phainon and you pretend like you’re fine, but you’re not and I can’t — I can’t just leave you like that! How am I supposed to — to go to school, to fall in love, to get married, knowing my dad lost all of that for himself?”
“Hyacine, Hyacine, come here,” said Anaxagoras, pulling his daughter into a hug as her tears now flowed freely. “It’s ok. I’ll be ok.”
“It’s not…”
They both knew.
“Mom, please come inside.”
The rain soaked through her skin and threatened to run rampant through her veins, but Aglaea didn’t care. Perhaps, in that case, she’d actually feel something. She’d feel something that wasn’t seething rage, despair, longing — no, she’d perhaps feel shame. It would be the least she deserved.
“You liked Mydei, right? What’s the matter? At least come inside, we can talk about it,” Phainon pleaded, stepping closer and holding the umbrella over her. When had he gotten so tall, her little boy who once ran straight into her leg with such force his nose bled? Where did he learn to care for others like this, in a household where his mother and father screamed and quarrelled and let their children watch?
She didn’t deserve him. He didn’t deserve a mother whose love was tainted, stained with the memories of a marriage long abandoned. He deserved Mydei, who loved Phainon despite everything, somehow, a love that Aglaea didn’t seem to earn for herself.
“Mom, I can’t read minds as well as you do, but if this is about Dad—”
“Don’t — don’t you dare mention your father,” Aglaea hissed. “It’s not about him, why would it ever be about him?! Must my mood be dependent on his memory?!”
“Oh, I don’t know!” Phainon shouted, grip on the umbrella loosening as the rain pounded down. “Maybe because, for the last eight years on this date, you stare at your ring like it’s what ruined everything! Maybe because, when you looked at me and Mydei, you remembered your own relationship, one that you can’t even give up on even though it’s over!”
“How dare you speak of —”
“No! Fuck you, fuck your stupid pride,” Phainon growled, tossing the umbrella aside and stepping up to his mother. “You know what, Mom? Every year, every year, I come home on this night to see you crying for someone who doesn’t even care to call! He doesn’t even pretend we exist! And meanwhile, you’re beating yourself up, you’re acting like you don’t deserve love, like you can’t stand the thought of it, but you can! You want it so bad, it’s burning you from the inside, and he’s — he’s a fucking ass, is what he is!”
“What do you know?!” Aglaea screamed, her fists clenched so tightly she felt something thicker than the rain trickling down her fingers. “What do you know of loss, Phainon?! What do you know of what it means to love someone with all your heart for years, years on years on years, only for them to give up when something got tough?! When they blame themselves for something out of their control, refusing to see that it will get better?! You know nothing!”
“I don’t need to, because what matters is my mother is hurting more than I can bear to watch!” Phainon yelled in return. Aglaea could make out Mydei watching from the apartment window above. How embarrassing, truly. She’d have to apologize to him.
“You’re not ok, Mom,” continued her son, head hanging low as he held onto her. “You need to let him go. Please, please, please, just… forget about him.”
“... I’m sorry, Phainon. I don’t think I can.”