Chapter Text
Today was Theo's day off, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to enjoy it. Parrot was out of town until tomorrow for a family emergency of some sort, leaving their apartment alone. While Theo hadn't encouraged him to go, as he knew how much the other hated his family, he hadn't said no either. Parrot always knew best for himself, much like Theo knew what was best for himself.
So he was alone. He knew he couldn't really leave their apartment without Parrot, since he had taken their shared car (it's cheaper than two parking passes, okay?), but he could walk further into the city to a park if he really got bored. Today was way too hot to be anywhere other than inside, though. He could go to the coffee shop down the road, but that was usually full of students who were pretending to be studying for the degree they complained about hating. Theo didn't enjoy hanging out with those kids - plus he'd have to buy coffee, and as queer as Theo could be, he couldn't stomach the taste of coffee, hot or cold. He'd tried their teas too, but they were... lackluster. He didn't really want to spend money either, so he was left with few options.
A few weeks ago, Parrot had asked Theo if he wanted to try out textile work. "It'll make your precision so much better," he'd told the cockatiel. Stupidly, Theo had believed him, so he had gotten a basic cross-stitch pattern and kit set from some craft store (he could hardly remember which) and got to work. Parrot, although he'd done the same, never started his (or at least, never let the cockatiel see it if he had), leaving Theo cross-stitching in the living room alone while the other had read out loud to him. Apparently, being read to made the same connections for processing the information that Theo had never been able to understand when he tried to read it. So Theo learned, and he cross-stitched. Parrot would fall asleep, and Theo would hardly notice, lost in his thoughts and the rhythm of the needle. In and out. In and out. Whenever Theo remembered to ask if Parrot was ever going to start his, the colorful avian would be asleep, never hearing how the cockatiel would mumble under his breath while he thought, wings twitching from the lack of movement.
So, he never saw the end of the book Parrot was reading, nor the end of his cross-stitch. When Parrot eventually got bombed with his family’s wrath this week, he promised Theo that when he returned after this weekend, he’d finish the book for the gray avian. Honestly, by now, Theo was long bored of the book, and they all ended the same, in his eyes. He much preferred listening to Parrot talk, feeling the tension in the room ease after the other’s long classes and hard exams. It was the only time, he felt like, that Parrot was able to say what was on his mind. Their conversations were cut short by the book, and he hated it. Supposedly Parrot cared more about the book than talking to Theo. Whatever that meant.
Theo realized he was holding the cross-stitch now. The wooden frame was small in his hands, the thread minuscule in comparison to his grip. The design was recognizable now; a black cat with green eyes beaming up at him. Maybe the couch needs company, Theo decided. He settled himself on the hardly-worn seats. Theo didn’t really have friends to bring over, and Parrot wasn’t the greatest at keeping company entertained. So the living room remained mostly empty, with the recent cross-stitching development having been the only increase in the usage of the room. Theo looked out at the afternoon sun - dried flowers that had fallen from the trees settled on the windowsill in front of him. He’d spent the night before and the morning cleaning up the apartment, so he found himself with time to enjoy the mind-numbing process of crossing the thread, back and forth, over the canvas.
Theo had a cat once, when he was younger. His brother had found it outside of the playground and called his little brother over. They scooped up the scared kitten and brought it over to their mom, who fell in love almost instantly. Despite her protests, they brought that little kitty home to their dad, with the promise they’d take it to the vet and look for a microchip. With no success there, they put up found posters, but no one ever called. So the kitten became a cat, a beautiful young lady bearing the name Michi, the noise that his mom would make when calling her to come eat. Her black fur was contrasted by a white stripe up her nose. Other than that, she was solid black, and she hardly lightened up as she got older. Her fur was rarely ever sun-bleached, and she loved to hide in piles of laundry that never seemed to be free of her fur. When Michi passed of old age, it seemed to be Theo’s father who mourned her the most.
The cockatiel wondered if this was why he’d chosen the pattern he held now. He realized he had some white thread still, and really, all that was left to finish of his design was the face. Theo pulled out his phone, scrolling back to the beginning of his gallery, and zooming in on a photo of a slightly younger Michi. He threaded the needle, then looked at the photo again. The picture was almost a perfect match to the design he had in front of him, and Theo decided to call it fate.
Parrot was hardly one to drive at night, really, he hated driving, period. But the way things work necessitated it, and he’d rather drive home at night than have to spend another morning with his family. His colorful wings were starting to practically shed feathers already, and he’d rather deal with that at home, where he could at least be alone. As the headlights of the car slowly began to light up familiar sights, Parrot relaxed back into his seat. When he had finally made it back to the complex, he checked the time on the car’s display: 1:13 am, it said. Theo probably went to bed a while ago, unless he’s still up playing Minecraft or something, Parrot thought.
As he ascended to their apartment, Parrot fumbled for his keys in his backpack, jingling around as he felt for them. When he reached the door, he opened it as quietly as he could, hardly realizing the lamp in the corner by the window was on still as he faced the door to close it slowly. When he finally turned around again, he realized he was next to Theo’s head, laid against the back of the couch. Parrot jumped slightly, but quickly realized his friend was asleep. He looked at the now-complete cross-stitch that lay in his lap, the striking black cat that Parrot had seen in a few old pictures of Theo before looking back at him. For being so new to this, Theo really did well with his first attempt at the cat. Parrot smiled, walked over to the lamp, and turned it off before going to his room.
He’d pretend to be surprised that Theo had finished it in the morning.