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Theo hears the front door open a little after midnight and immediately looks up from the couch.
Relief hits first.
Then irritation right after it.
Parrot barely glances at him when he walks in. He looks tired in that awful way where it’s more than just being sleepy — shoulders tense, movements slow, eyes unfocused. He starts taking pieces of armor off without saying anything, letting them hit the floor one by one instead of putting them away properly.
Theo watches him for a second before speaking.
“Where were you bro?”
Parrot doesn’t answer.
One glove drops to the floor with a dull thud.
Theo sits forward a little. “Parrot bro.”
“I’m here now.”
Theo’s jaw tightens.
“That’s not what I asked.”
Parrot shrugs one shoulder and keeps undoing straps too casual too quick like this conversation is already annoying him before it’s even started.
“You were gone for almost seven hours.”
“Okay?”
Theo stares at him. “Okay?”
That finally gets Parrot to look over.
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth would be a pretty good start bro.”
The shift is immediate.
Theo sees it happen in real time Parrot’s expression closing off, eyes flattening, posture pulling tighter like he’s bracing for something. It’s so fast Theo almost misses it.
“I already answered you.”
“No you didn’t.” Theo stands up now, not aggressive, just frustrated. “You disappeared all day, ignored messages, missed check-in—”
“I said I’m here now.”
“And I’m asking where you were.”
Parrot drops his chestplate onto the table harder than necessary. The sound echoes through the room.
“Why does it matter so much?”
Theo blinks at him.
Because what kind of question is that?
Because Theo spent half the day trying not to think of the absolute worst things that might've happenedto him.
Because after hour four he started checking outside every ten minutes like an idiot.
Because Parrot has a habit of acting like he’s invincible right up until he suddenly isn’t.
“It matters because people worry about you Parrot.”
Parrot laughs under his breath and Theo immediately hates the sound of it.
“People.”
Theo frowns. “Yeah people.”
“Who?”
Theo opens his mouth.
Stops.
Because the real answer feels embarrassing now.
Because saying me feels like admitting something he isn’t sure he should admit.
“That’s what I thought.”
Theo feels irritation and wings flare up sharp and sudden. “Can you stop doing that bro?”
“Doing what?”
“Acting like this is unreasonable.”
Parrot gives him a look feathers ruffling in annoyance. “You’re interrogating me the second I walk in bro.”
“I asked where you were parrot.”
“You kept asking.”
“Because you wouldn’t answer me.”
Parrot rips the last strap off his arm hard enough to nearly snap it. “I was busy beo”
“For seven hours?”
“Yes.”
“Doing what?”
“There you go again.”
Theo exhales hard through his nose. “Parrot—”
“No, seriously, listen to yourself right now.” Parrot finally turns fully toward him feathers ruffling. “Where were you. Who were you with. Why didn’t you answer. Why didn’t you tell anyone.” He gestures sharply with one hand. “Do you hear how that sounds Theo?”
Theo stares at him, genuinely confused. “Concerned?”
“It sounds controlling.”
The word lands harder than Theo expects.
“Bro what?”
Parrot laughs again, tired and humorless. “You keep tabs on me constantly.”
“I don’t—”
“You absolutely do.” Parrot starts counting off on his fingers. “You ask where I’m going when I’ll be back, if I ate, if I slept, if I’m okay—”
“Because half of the time you’re clearly very much not okay Parrot.”
“And there it is.”
Theo throws his hands up. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you already decided I can’t take care of myself.”
Theo immediately shakes his head. “That’s just not true bro.”
“Then why are you always watcging me?”
“I’m not watching you.”
“You notice everything I do.”
The second the words leave Parrot’s mouth, Theo knows he’s right.
Because he does.
He notices when Parrot skips meals. Notices when he gets too quiet. Notices when he starts disappearing more often. Notices when he sleeps badly or picks at his hands or starts avoiding people Theo notices all of it before anyone else does.
And apparently Parrot notices that too.
Theo tries to explain anyway. “Parrot i just— I worry about you.”
Parrot looks away so fast it almost feels automatic.
For a second neither of them says anything.
Then Parrot says quietly, “Yeah i know Theo.”
Something about the way he says it makes Theo pause.
Not angry.
Not mocking
Just tired.
Theo softens a little. “Then what’s the problem?”
Parrot presses the heels of his hands against his eyes for a second before dropping them again. “You keep acting like something bad’s gonna happen if I’m alone for five minutes.”
“Because sometimes something bad does happen.”
Parrot goes still.
The room suddenly felt too small.
Theo runs a hand through his hair. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Yes it is.”
“No it—” Theo stops himself, frustrated. “You disappear and don’t tell anyone where you’re going what am I supposed to think?”
“I don’t know Theo maybe that I can handle myself?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point?”
Theo opens his mouth.
Nothing comes out.
Because the real answer sounds worse out loud.
The point is that Theo gets scared.
The point is that every time Parrot vanishes, Theo’s brain immediately jumps to the worst possible outcome and refuses to let go of it.
The point is that caring about someone this much is exhausting sometimes.
Parrot lets out another sharp laugh when Theo doesn’t answer fast enough. “God, you sound just like Wifies.”
Theo freezes.
The second that name leaves Parrot’s mouth, he looks like he regrets it instantly .
Theo stares at him. “What?”
“I didn’t mean—”
“No, explain that one to me.”
Parrot looks away immediately, jaw tight.
Theo feels something that felt like dread settle in his stomach.
“Parrot.”
“You both do the same thing sometimes, okay?”
Theo recoils like he got hit. “Excuse me?”
“You worry until it turns into control.”
“I am not controlling you.”
“I know you don’t mean to be!” Parrot snaps back, louder now feathers ruffling. “That’s the problem.”
Theo goes quiet.
Parrot drags a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated with himself now too. “He used to say the same stuff. ‘I’m trying to keep you safe.’ ‘I’m worried about you.’ ‘I just want to make sure you’re okay.’” He laughs bitterly. “And then suddenly I couldn’t go anywhere without being questioned about it.”
Theo’s chest tightens.
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
Parrot looks exhausted.
“Yes, Theo, I do.” His voice drops quieter. “But sometimes my brain hears it anyway.”
That shuts Theo up.
Because suddenly this isn’t just an argument anymore.
Now Theo’s replaying every conversation they’ve had over the past few months. Every where are you going, every text asking if Parrot got home safe, every time he hovered too long or checked too many times or pushed too hard because he was worried.
And the worst part is he never realized how it sounded from the other side.
The room stays quiet.
Not the normal kind.
Not awkward.
Heavy.
Parrot bends down to pick up one of the pieces of armor he dropped earlier, turning it around in his hands without really looking at it.
Theo watches him for a second before speaking.
Quietly.
“So what.”
Parrot glances up.
“What?”
Theo swallows.
“What am I supposed to do?”
The question comes out smaller than he means it to.
Parrot looks surprised for a second.
Theo keeps talking before he can stop himself.
“If I stop asking, I’m ignoring you.”
He looks down.
“If I ask too much, I’m controlling.”
His hands tighten slightly.
“I don’t know where the line is anymore Parrot.”
Parrot stays quiet.
Theo lets out a quiet laugh.
Not because anything is funny.
“I spent seven hours trying not to assume something happened to you.”
Parrot looks away immediately.
Theo notices that too.
Of course he does.
“I’m not trying to keep you somewhere,” Theo says quietly.
“I know.”
“I’m not trying to control you.”
“I know.”
Theo looks at him.
“Then why do you think I am.”
Parrot stares at the armor in his hands for a while before answering.
“When you keep asking after I already answered…”
He stops.
Tries again.
“When you keep pushing because you’re scared…”
Another pause.
“…sometimes my brain stops hearing you.”
Theo doesn’t say anything.
Parrot continues quietly.
“It hears someone else.”
The room goes quiet again.
Theo suddenly understands something awful.
This argument was never actually about today.
Or seven hours.
Or messages.
Or check-ins.
It’s about the fact that sometimes people leave marks on you and then disappear anyway.
And everyone after them accidentally touches the bruises.
Parrot finally looks up.
“I know you’re not him.”
Theo swallows.
“But sometimes,” Parrot admits quietly, “for a second… my brain gets confused.”
Theo looks down at the floor.
Because honestly?
That hurts.
Not because Parrot compared him.
Not because he’s angry.
Because Theo realizes Parrot was scared too.
And somehow—
That feels worse.