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Stolas sighed, rubbing his face. He was lounging on the couch, watching Hell-a-Novella, but he hadn’t retained any of the plot from the past ten minutes at least. He had been too busy spacing out, thinking about his most recent outing with Blitzo, and now he had absolutely no idea who Gabriella was kissing.
Even her love life was in better shape than his. This was downright pathetic.
He patted the cushion next to him, grabbing the remote and using it to turn off the TV. No use in keeping it on if he wasn’t going to watch.
“Dad?”
He perked at the call, scrambling to stand and fix the tie on his robe. Octavia? She wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow at the earliest. Not that he wasn’t excited to see her, he was grateful for the company, he just wished he looked more presentable. “I’m in the TV room, dear!” He smoothed his hands over the sheer fabric, brushing off the snack crumbs he had been so generously sprinkling over it over the course of the past half hour. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice.
“Ugh, of course you are.” Octavia walked through the doorway, glancing around the room. She scrunched her beak, disappointment clear in her eyes. “Marshmallow Toasties and soap operas? Really, dad?”
A swell of organ music filled the room, followed by Gabriella’s cry of anguish as… something happened. With this show, who knew what it was. Stolas scrambled for the remote, fumbling it a moment before turning off the TV with a soft click . The nervousness in his laughter was near palpable as he turned back to Octavia, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah, ha ha, yes, well um, you see, I-I was just trying to relax for the evening, you know, have a night to myself and all. But I’m happy you’re here, though! Is everything alright? Is there a reason you’ve come home early?”
“Oh, I’m not here to interrupt your pity party, don’t worry about that.” She adjusted the duffle bag on her shoulder, looking annoyed. Odd, had she been carrying a bag when she walked in a moment ago? “I’m just here to collect my things.”
“Your things?” Stolas tilted his head, confused. “Did you forget something, dear? I could have brought it to you, saved you the trouble.”
“No, dad, I didn’t forget anything,” Octavia said, rolling her eyes. “I’m just cleaning out my room.”
“Cleaning out your room?” Stolas felt his chest tighten, panic welling up in his throat.
“Yeah, I’ve decided I’m staying with mum.”
“Staying with-- wait, no no no no no.” Stolas shook his head, fighting to keep the distress from his tone. This couldn’t be happening. “Via I, I don’t, what? Whatever made you want to decide on something like that?”
Octavia raised a brow. “Are you kidding me? Dad, look around you.” She gestured around the room, never taking her eyes off him. “You just sulk around in your robe all day! You act like someone ruined your life, like all of this isn’t your own fault. We’ve all heard of the absolute embarrassment you caused in the lust ring, you’ve ruined our entire family’s reputation! Not that you care, you can’t even turn off that stupid soap opera long enough to talk to me!”
Stolas went rigid, feathers poofing up just a bit as he scrambled for the remote. Gabriella cried out in the background, a swell of organ music filling the room. He must have been more flustered than he realized, it was very much unlike him to leave the TV going while Octavia was talking. Especially with it so loud, he was surprised he had been able to hear her at all. He fumbled the remote a moment before turning the TV off with a soft click , his hands trembling. “I’m sorry, Via, I, I-I don’t know what’s come over me, but I really think if we just talked about this maybe--”
“Oh, don’t bother,” Octavia sneered. She turned towards the hall to her room, pausing a moment before glancing back over her shoulder. “Mom was right, you really are pathetic.”
Stolas just froze, his expression falling. Gabriella wailed on the screen behind him, the light from the Tv casting flickering shadows on Octavia’s back as she walked away. No, no this wasn’t right, this couldn’t be happening. His daughter, his only child, she was everything to him. How could she hate him so much when he had given her more love than he ever thought himself capable? Was it really easier living with Stella of all people?
You sold your life for a thrust.
Asmodeus’ words rang through his ears as someone screamed on the television screen. Suddenly it was all too much. The TV, the clock ticking on the mantle, Octavia’s footsteps in the hall, the ringing in his own ears, it was too much . He grabbed his head, squeezing his eyes shut as trembling hands pulled at his feathers. Everything was too loud, he couldn’t speak, could hardly even breathe, too overwhelmed to function. He just wanted everything to stop.
And then it did.
Stolas’ eyes snapped open as he let out a startled gasp, chest heaving and feathers soaked in sweat. The only light came from the dull crimson glow of his eyes, illuminating his bedroom just well enough for him to recognize it.
He took a deep, shaky breath as he rested his face in his hands, taking a moment to calm himself. It had just been a dream. One disturbingly close to reality to be sure, but a dream nonetheless. He peeked between his fingers, looking up at the calendar by his bed. It was the early morning hours of the nineteenth of November, the day before the full moon. He was meant to see Blitzo that night, for the first time since their disastrous attempt at a date. For the first time since they had made their arrangement, Stolas wasn’t sure he actually wanted to see Blitzo. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He did , of course he did. He badly needed the company, loneliness gnawing at his insides like an insatiable wild beast, but he wasn’t sure he would be able to face him. Not after what had happened. The more he thought about it, the more he doubted Blitzo would want to see him, either.
He stared at the calendar a moment longer before he looked to the phone on his nightstand. After a moment of hesitation he picked up the receiver, pressing it to his ear as he dialed in the number he knew by heart. If he didn’t do this now, while he had the courage, he never would. It rang three times, just long enough for Stolas to consider hanging up, before a tired voice came through the other end.
“Stolas? What the fuck do you want? It’s like, four in the morning.” Judging by the raspy note to Blitzo’s voice, Stolas had probably woken him up. It was a sound he knew well, and was even fond of, though the charming aspect of it was lost on him at the moment.
“I’m sorry to wake you, Blitz, I…” Stolas hesitated. It wasn’t to late to make something up, to pretend he had nothing important to say.
“You…?” Stolas knew that tone, it was impatience. It was best if he just get on with this, for both of their sakes.
“I, well, um,” Stolas took a deep breath, absentmindedly fidgeting with the receiver chord, staring at his fingers as he did so. “I think it’s best if we, if we not see each other tonight.”
“Uh, okay?” Blitzo sounded confused, annoyed. “Why?”
“ Why? Well, um, you see,” Stolas hadn’t thought this far ahead, he rarely did. His mind raced for an excuse, blurting it out before he had a chance to overthink it. “I’m just not feeling well. Yes, yes I’m quite sick, and I would hate for you to catch anything from me. You can leave the book to my butler, he’ll see that it gets to me, but I think it’s best if we take a rain check this time around.”
“Oh. Well, okay then. Feel better, I guess.”
Stolas wasn’t sure if he was relieved or heartbroken over the response. Perhaps a bit of both, though at least he didn’t have to explain himself further. “Thank you, Blitz. I’m sorry again to have woken you. Get some rest, I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah, yeah, see ya.”
The line went dead, leaving Stolas with nothing but dead air for company. He sat there, just holding the phone, before carefully setting it back into place. He then stared at it a moment, letting the conversation they had just had settle in his mind. After a moment he moved, shifting to lie down and pull his blanket up over himself.
He lied there, his bed empty, his heart even more so. He was alone, with only his own regrets to keep him company, only the sounds of his own soft sobs to lull him to sleep.