When Blitzø climbed down from Stolas's balcony, Stolas was certain he took something vital with him.
At first, the heartbreak was unbearable. He hadn't realized just how much he'd grown to rely on Blitzø, on the knowledge that he could text him, talk to him, reach out to him, and he would be there. When he finally told Stella to leave the palace, it had been with Blitzø in his mind, and on the other end of a text conversation that was still open. He had been there at his side, even if it wasn't real.
Stolas didn't remember much of the month following the full moon; there had been a lot of sleeping, a lot of cereal, and a frankly horrifying number of hours in front of Hell-A-Novela.
But eventually, he had to return to a life that hadn't stopped, a Hell that was still there and uninterested in his loss, duties that demanded his attention. He got dressed, requested a real meal from his servants, and took things one task at a time.
Octavia, his beloved wonderful Starfire, his entire world, seemed even more withdrawn than she'd been before Stolas told her mother to leave. He supposed that was to be expected; it was also his responsibility to make sure she knew she was loved, and cared for, and even though her parents were no longer together they would still both be there for her. He made sure to schedule regular outings with her, wherever she wanted to go, and he taught her more about the grimoire when she wanted to learn, because he— he had it, now. He could do that. Sometimes they would look at the stars, or Stolas would teach her about divination, about reading the signs, or sometimes she would talk with him while he tended to his plants.
Eventually, there was a... routine, of sorts. It was almost starting to feel stable, and not as though the ground had been kicked out from under his feet, taken away to leave him floating and unmoored.
And then Stella changed the rules.
She demanded not just weekends with Octavia, but every Wednesday, as well. Stolas never wanted to prevent Octavia from spending time with her mother, so he worked hard to ensure it could happen. She claimed Stolas was a bad influence, unfaithful, untrustworthy. She insisted on lessons for Octavia, on manners and rules and posture— all the things that made him want to scream, and Octavia didn't seem to be taking to much better.
But when Stolas tried to ask her to listen, to consider what Octavia wanted, Stella only screamed louder, berated more, got angrier. And Stolas... he couldn't keep doing it. He couldn't keep fighting with her. Not on his own.
So he gave up. A battle with Stella was not one he felt strong enough to win again.
He did his best to make it up to Octavia when she was with him, but he knew that he was failing her every time he couldn't stand up to Stella, to try again to get her to listen.
He only hoped this time, maybe they could make it through, if they just held on a little longer. Maybe things would get better tomorrow, or the next day.
Or maybe the day after that.
*
One evening, Stella follows Octavia in after dropping her off, and Stoles braces himself for whatever she's going to do. It turns out she just wants money, which is something he can provide.
She is angry and demanding, and wastes no time in telling him how his wallet is the only thing he's good for, but Stolas is certain that there's something different to her angry tirade. Unless Stolas is very much mistaken, she seems... unsteady, somehow. Not as sharp or relentless as usual.
She and Andrealphus hadn't gotten as much as they wanted in the divorce. It was a generous settlement, certainly, but also not enough for Stella to maintain the kind of life she was used to for very long. Is she worried about her finances?
Stolas has plenty of money to keep them both comfortable. He tells her that he will continue to provide whatever she needs, because he can, and maybe she won't be so angry if she's not worried about what she'll do when her money runs out.
Stella snarks at him about how she can handle herself, but she also seems a little more settled, and she stops yelling. She doesn't thank him, but she does stop to say goodbye to Octavia on the way out, and tell her how well she did in their lessons that day.
Octavia seems surprised, and Stolas is glad to see them getting along. But when Stella leaves, and Stolas mentions how proud he is she's doing well in her lessons and is relieved she's enjoying them, Octavia grumbles about how much of a waste of time they are, about how frustrating Stella is being about them, demanding more and more perfection from her. Stolas doesn't know if it's his place to talk about Stella's possible financial worries with Octavia and speculate whether that might be why she's being so demanding of her, so instead he is vague, and just suggests she might have her reasons. Octavia insists he's still making excuses, and Stolas doesn't have a response to that.
She's not exactly wrong.
*
Getting a text from Blitzø six months after their last full moon is a little like being hit in the head with a cast iron pan.
It was unexpected, made him dizzy, and left him feeling as though he might have blacked out and lost several minutes. It opened the floodgates, all the things he thought he'd moved past, or put away— the longing, the hurt, the desperate need to hear his voice, and the certainty that he'd failed them both.
And yet, seeing him is harder. Blitzø looks somehow even better than he does in his memories. Brighter, and more expressive. Sure, most of those expressions are still irritation and disgust, but all the same. He'd forgotten what they looked like. The way the corners of his mouth will twist, just so, and it's still the most adorable thing he's ever seen, and he just wants to touch him, the tips of his fingers against his jaw, just for a moment, so he can remember what it feels like, and the sound of the quiet inhale he would get in response.
Or... used to get. He supposes that is unlikely, now.
The space between them is barely there, and yet it contains so much. Six whole months. There is a canyon between them, miles wide. And it isn't a gap Stolas can cross on his own, especially when he's the only one who wants the space traversed at all.
He takes a deep breath. Sits down. Talks to him.
One task at a time.
He's so grateful Blitzø didn't just take Octavia's job without question; Stolas is certain Octavia would suffer with the knowledge that she was responsible for Stella's death. He knows it wouldn't really help either of them in the long run, either. They are all hurting, and bitter, but irreversible actions that they can't take back — Stolas is sure that would be a mistake.
He's only glad Blitzø is there to protect his daughter from that. Even after— everything. He's so caring, and thoughtful, and generous. Stolas never deserved such a wonderful person, did he?
It makes it a little easier, to be around him. Knowing what Blitzø narrowly avoided, seeing him well, his business successful as ever. It soothes something in him. He wishes he could keep seeing it, knowing that wouldn't be fair to Blitzø, and resigning himself to another goodbye.
This one, though, he thinks he can live with.
*
Octavia, however, has other plans.
Seeing Blitzø is hard, but also getting easier. And he has a point. It's incredible, how simple it seems, as soon as Blitzø says the words aloud — he's been weak, and Octavia is clearly worse off for it. He needs to confront Stella, directly, and stop letting her win. Stop letting her do as she pleases.
They both deserve better than that, from him.
So he pictures Blitzø, angry and tired and beautiful and sitting right next to him, telling him to fight back. And he finally does.
Stella... does not much care for his brazen new attitude. When the screeching and throwing prove ineffective, she lashes out with her hands. He gets a black eye for his trouble, and when she still isn't through, she shoves him, hard.
Neither of them notice the way Stolas's shattered plant, the first casualty of their argument, had bled dirt across the floor, and it made for very unstable footing. And Stolas's bones are hollow. He throws out an arm to break his fall, Stella frozen in horror as a loud crack dwarfs the noise they'd been making and the kitchen goes quiet except for a pained whine from Stolas.
"Are you— I didn't—"
"Dad!" Octavia bursts into the kitchen, rushing to his side. "I heard a loud crash, what — what is wrong with your arm," she very nearly growls, and Stella takes a step back.
"He fell!" She says, a screech, and Octavia whips around to glare at her, tears leaking from her glowing red eyes.
"And he fell all on his own, did he?!" She snaps, and Stella flinches.
"Via, darling—"
"Shut up, I need to call the physician," Octavia says, turning to look at him, her tone only marginally less sharp. "Do not move."
"Yes, dearest," Stolas murmurs, unsure if he could get to his feet even if he wanted to. The pain is mind-numbing, and he is trying to keep as still as he possibly can.
"You're— such a c-clumsy—"
"Stella," Stolas says, his voice quiet, but his tone firm. He knows she likely did not intend to cause him serious harm, and would ordinarily reassure her of that, but he is rapidly running out of tolerance, and the pain is not making it any easier. "Leave."
And for once, she listens.
Stolas hopes that maybe the trend will continue, but he doesn't think about it for long, because a broken arm really is quite painful, and distracting.
*
Later that day, Stolas's arm is tucked safely into a sling, and he's finally left his bed in search of food. His arm is well on its way to healing, but it's going to take all night and possibly a little of tomorrow, and he's really quite tired of the whole debacle and can't wait for it to be back to normal. There are quite a lot of tasks which are significantly more difficult when you are less the use of one arm.
He passes a lounge, his favored place to catch up on Hell-A-Novela, and catches a whispered conversation. Or, half of one, at least.
"I know, right? Fucking horrid. ...I probably should have, but he wouldn't— No, that won't work. ...What if we tried— Dad!"
Stolas realizes he's unintentionally blocked the hallway's light in his effort to lean closer to hear the conversation, and he startles, jostling his arm, and then winces.
"Shit, I'll call you back," she says, and hangs up the phone abruptly, certainly before whoever was on the other end has a chance to reply. "What are you doing out of bed?" She asks, getting to her feet and rushing around the sofa to approach him, worry pinching her eyebrows together.
"I'm really much better, honestly. But I need some dinner," Stolas says, raising his good arm in a soothing gesture. "Who were you talking to, Starfire?"
Octavia shakes her head. "Just my friend, Dad, I'll call her back later. Let's go see what's in the fridge, and you are letting me carry everything."
Stolas sighs, allowing her to distract him and drag him to the kitchen, but he doesn't forget the half of a whispered conversation, certain she's up to something.
Maybe he ought to talk to Blitzø and see if he knows anything. After all, Octavia has been in contact with him quite frequently, of late.
*
As they wander through the exhibit, Stolas can't help but feel like a nuisance. He's trying so hard not to be a burden to Blitzø, who has clearly moved on and is fine and doesn’t deserve to have to pick up the broken pieces of his family or his heart, but he listens to him and he keeps helping Octavia and Stolas has always been completely helpless where Blitzø is concerned, hasn’t he?
They wander from display to display, following Octavia's lead. Stolas's arm still aches, but it's almost healed, and Blitzø keeps glaring at it, and he wishes he could take the sling off, but he knows Octavia would get upset with him.
Seeing Blitzø hand Octavia a souvenir from the gift shop distracts him from the ache in his arm entirely, and he can't help the tiny little bubble of hope that rises in his core.
It probably doesn't mean anything, and he's just being a fool again.
Right?
*
Blitzø is unconscious moments after crawling into bed behind Stolas, his face buried in Stolas's chest feathers, purring in what sounds suspiciously like deep contentment.
Stolas takes longer to fall asleep.
He can't stop thinking about how it had felt, to touch Blitzø again, to be touched by him. He'd thought he never would again, that Blitzø had been relieved to be free of him and all his.... proclivities. And then when Blitzø grabbed his hand in the bathroom, when he kept him from leaving, and shoved him into the shower only to climb in after him, and insisted on cleaning his feathers with so much care and thoroughness, it felt like a dream.
Stolas is elated, and also terribly, horribly confused. Blitzø had seemed so uncomfortable, so reluctant to be near him, but then Blitzø had initiated— why? What could it mean?
He resolves to talk to Blitzø about it in the morning, when he's awake and, hopefully, more talkative than he's been today. But he thinks about Blitzø wrapping his tail securely around him and not letting go, about following him into his bed when Stolas offered him a room down the hall, and thinks that maybe some things... maybe there are a few things that don't require precise words, exactly.
*
It's amazing how a whole, coherent conversation with Blitzø — with actual words! — can clear up almost nothing.
Clearly there had been a misunderstanding somewhere— certainly, Blitzø had taken the crystal as a dismissal, somehow. But Stolas still did not understand why. And whether Blitzø had accepted that it wasn't that, not at all.
So he tries to tell him.
Blitzø and Loona go home after coffee and breakfast, but when Stolas texts him to ask when he can see him again, Blitzø asks if he wants to watch a movie. Stolas eagerly agrees, and then Blitzø is back in his home, and soon they're curled up with a blanket spread across both of their laps in front of the TV watching Treasure Planet.
Stolas is surprised it's not something with horses, but when he asks, Blitzø just shrugs and says, "I felt like pirates. If you hate it, we can change."
"No no, I was merely curious," Stolas says, because the absolute last thing he wants is to make Blitzø regret coming over, or second guess his choice. "I'm just glad you're here," he tells him instead, and Blitzø goes beautifully crimson.
He doesn't say anything back, but when Stolas starts dragging a talon lightly along the back of his hand, he does shift in a way that inches him a little closer.
By the end of the movie, Blitzø is asleep, half draped across Stolas's lap, as Stolas runs his beak along his horns affectionately.
He takes the opportunity to tell Blitzø again how glad he is that he's there, how much it means that he hasn't left, and how he wants to watch a thousand more movies with him, just like this.
He knows Blitzø is asleep, but he hopes maybe it will sink in a little more, anyway.
*
Stolas likes words, has always liked words. Words are reliable and constant. They have precise and specific meanings, and while they can shift with context, they are still predictable, quantifiable. He can measure and weigh them, he can study them, he can choose them with care and deliberation.
Blitzø does not, he has surmised, feel the same.
But while Blitzø doesn't wax poetic or respond in kind when Stolas tries to tell him how happy he is, and he doesn't tend to answer his questions beyond vague monosyllables, there are other ways their interactions have changed. He always responds when Stolas texts him, without fail. Even when it's just a stupid comment, or an observation, or a complaint about an episode of television, or gushing about something Octavia said or did. Blitzø always responds.
He has returned to commenting on Stolas's Sinstagram, liking all of Stolas's replies, and sometimes going back and forth with him in extended reply chains. Stolas can't help himself, checking it and commenting more than he ever has before, and feels warm when every time, his comments are acknowledged.
Now, whenever Stella drops Octavia off, Blitzø is there, and there are no more heated arguments. Blitzø glares at her, almost vibrating with contained violence, and Stella gives them both a wide berth, and eventually stops dropping Octavia off in person altogether, opting to send a driver while she remains at her residence. According to Octavia her demands have lessened, as well, ever since Stolas confronted her about them and insisted on reducing visits to some weekends and no weekdays, soon after his arm healed. And even though it was out of its sling, Stella had glanced at it often throughout the conversation, and put up much less of a fuss than usual. Not a single piece of dishware was thrown that day, and Octavia hadn't complained about her visits with Stella since.
Blitzø was either right there with Stolas the whole time, or within shouting distance in a nearby room, adamantly refusing to leave the two of them alone, and Stolas had never felt braver.
Blitzø starts doing things around the house that he never had before, too. He'll make both coffee and tea if he's awake and in the kitchen first, on the nights he stays over. He'll go with Stolas to the store to acquire snacks or even shop for new clothes, sometimes without Stolas having to ask him to come along. Stolas will simply mention his plans, and Blitzø will follow him, and Stolas doesn't dare question him on it, merely smiling at him and keeping up a steady stream of conversation, delighted to have his company.
Blitzø even helps Stolas trim one of his plants, on a day when he stays over and Stolas needs to tend to them, and when Stolas warns him that some of them like to bite, he shrugs and keeps trimming it anyway. He doesn't seem to mind, listening to all of Stolas's instructions, and treating the plant with the utmost care.
And he's still here. He lingers around the palace, or meets Stolas for food, more and more frequently, until it's almost every day. And he doesn't get mad or annoyed when Stolas talks to him anymore. He'll get embarrassed, or scowl, especially when Stolas asks him difficult questions, but he doesn't leave the room, or tell him to stop, or deflect the way he used to.
So maybe Stolas doesn't need them both to love words, to use them all the time. Maybe he'll learn to speak Blitzø's language as well as the ones he already knows, if he pays attention.
The idea that he might have that time, that the future is so fragile and unknown but there's a possibility that it could include Blitzø and Loona, are enough to make him feel as though he is on the moon, nearly weightless, staring up at the stars and seeing endless possibilities.
Blitzø has bad days, and so does Stolas. Sometimes they argue, sometimes they need space, sometimes it feels like the world is ending. But Blitzø always comes back, and Stolas keeps talking, and they manage to find each other, every time.