"And then the flyer swooped down and landed in front of me and it started like...it was almost like it was trying to talk to me. And then it just straight up let me pet it. It was really weird."

Octavio laughed into his partner's chest.

"You have the most loco dreams."

Elliott placed a kiss to the side of his head, before adjusting their cuddling position so he could stretch his hands over his head, cracking his shoulders in the process.

"So, what do you wanna do today, sweetheart?"

The speedster ran his hands over his partner's stomach.

"Staying here sounds like a good idea to me."

Elliott chuckled warmly, pulling him into a hug.

"I thought maybe I could take your out for lunch? I've got that team meeting thing to go to but maybe we could go out after? It feels like forever since we've done something together."

"We live together, amor", Octavio laughed. "We only ever do things together."

"Well...y-yeah but...You know what I mean."

"Do you think I've gained weight?"

Elliott looked away from his own reflection in the bathroom mirror, to his significant other, who was standing in a towel next to him.

"Is that a serious question?"

"Yeah", Octavio replied, poking his flat stomach with one finger. "Mira. You're feeding me too much."

The trickster couldn't help but roll his eyes at the conversation they were having, as he towelled off his face. In his eyes, his boyfriend didn't have one single thing to be insecure about.

"I'm only feeding you good food", he responded, reaching over to playfully swat his partner's butt. "And if that ass is anything to go by, it's doing wonders."

"Alright, I gotta run to this meeting", Elliott spoke, adjusting his jacket and hair one final time. "I'll text you when it's over and then I'll come pick you up and we can head out, okay?"

The runner swiveled his stool at the breakfast bar around, to receive the kiss that was planted on his lips. He watched his partner leave the apartment before hopping down from his seat to begin clearing away the dishes from breakfast. If someone would have told him when he first joined the games that he was going to meet the person he now intended to spend his life with and would be cleaning up his dirty dishes while listening to the cheesy pop music he always liked to play when he cooked breakfast, he would have laughed right in their face. But here he was, enjoying a semi-domestic life. This morning had been so perfectly mundane. Until there was a knock at the door.

"Did you forget your keys again?", he asked, opening the door with a cheeky smile. His face fell when he realised it wasn't his boyfriend standing there but someone else.

"Buenos tardes, Octavio."

His mouth went dry.

"Uh...Hola, mamà...papà."

A finely dressed couple, stared back at him. His father brushed his fingers against his dark moustache.

"Might we come in, mijo?"

"I would hope so. It took us a ridiculously long time to find you in this place. You know they left us waiting outside a vacant apartment, until one of the cleaners told us you didn't occupy it anymore."

His mother brushed her light brown, perfectly primed curls out of her face.

"Yeah, I, um...I moved".

Octavio moved aside to allow the pair into his home. He momentarily felt uneasy as his mother's heels clicked against the wooden flooring. She looked different from the last time he saw her. Thinner maybe, with more lines around her eyes.

"So, this is where you've been hiding", she said, eyeing the room for an appropriate place to sit down, opting for their lesser used couch.

"I haven't been hiding. You know where I've been", the speedster mumbled, sitting on the other couch, while his father joined his mother, leaving them sitting across from him. They didn't even have to say anything and he already felt ganged up on.

"I can't imagine you designed the place yourself", his mother continued.

He didn't like the way her brown eyes scanned around the room, with a slight squint, like she was disapproving of everything she saw.

"Why not?"

"It doesn't seem like your...style."

He bristled at the comment, despite knowing she was right. It wasn't necessarily his style. It was Elliott's decision to accent the room with red, orange and yellow soft furnishings. It was like that before he'd ever moved in. Octavio didn't mind. Interior design wasn't something he particularly cared about. His old apartment was like a barren wasteland in comparison.

"Why are you here?", he couldn't resist the urge to ask any longer.

He highly doubted his parents came all this way for just a friendly visit. Especially since they weren't exactly on friendly terms.

His father glanced at his wife, who gave a curt nod. He adjusted his coat, leaning forward just slightly in his seat.

"We wanted to speak with you, mijo."


"Look, all I'm saying is, it's stupid that your portals won't let my decoys through", Elliott said, leaning back in his chair.

Wraith rested her chin on one hand as she peered at him from across the cafeteria table.

"That's your problem. Fix them so they can rift."

"Fix your portals."

"You think I control the void? Maybe if you fixed your decoys they'd be more useful. Why did you ever think having them just stand there while you cloak was a good idea?"

Elliott feigned offense at the remark.

"Uh, because the enemies get distracted by how good they look. Duh."

"I still think they could be improved. Make them run or something. It would cause an actual distraction that way, and I can portal us out" she replied, taking a sip of her tea.

"Make them run?", the trickster laughed. "What do you want me to do, huh? Jump off a cliff when I cloak, so they'll run? Don't be ridic-riduc-uh-...Don't be stupid."

"Please, don't fight, friends" Pathfinder chimed in. "I like winning. Let's find a way to keep doing that."

"Sorry, Path. You're right" the rifter, sighed, absentmindedly stirring her tea, her attention being drawn back to her other teammate, when his phone beeped.

Tav: hey. i'm not gonna be able to make lunch today. somethings come up. take wraith out instead. knowing her she needs a reason to chill out.

Elliott quickly typed out his response, pushing his phone to side when he was done, so he'd stop getting side-eye from his squadmate.

Elliott: What's come up? Are you alright? Want me to come home?

He periodically checked his phone, as his team continued to talk about possible tactics they could use in future games. He started to get worried when he didn't get a response, heedlessly biting his nails.

"I think we should use more ziplines" Pathfinder suggested, in his typical chipper fashion. "Those are always fun."

"Yeah, that sounds great buddy" Elliott said, hastily snatching his phone from the table, as he got up to leave. "I'm gonna call it a day, guys. I gotta get home."

"But we haven't even decided what our plan is going to be!", Wraith complained, her icy eyes following him as he headed towards the exit, calling back to her;

"More decoys, more ziplines, less portals. Sounds great. Bye!"


"You're being unreasonable, as usual!", Mrs Silva scolded, as she sorted through a stack of papers, that had been tossed to the floor mere moments ago. Her son glared back at her, arms folded, as he watched her sort the papers he'd thrown into a neat pile.

"I'm being unreasonable?! You're the one that-"

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of keys being rattled, drawing all three of their attentions to the apartment's entrance. Octavio buried his face in his hands. No. Not like this.

"What was that text about?" Elliott asked, eyes focused on his phone screen as he walked in. "How come you didn't reply? Is everything-."

He startled when he looked up to see two strangers sitting in his living room, with his boyfriend watching the scene unfold through fanned fingers. He took a few tentative steps forward, assuming the worst. Were they in trouble with the overheads?

"Uh...Hello?"

"Hello."

It was almost creepy how the three Silvas answered in unison. It was even more unsettling how the room turned quiet afterwards, a heavy feeling hanging over it. The atmosphere reminded him of all the times he'd spent in detention at school, where people had often been scolded for breathing too loudly.

The woman spoke first.

"Are you going to introduce us to your friend, Octavio?"

His head was swimming. He felt dizzy. This isn't how he planned for Elliott to meet his parents. In all honesty, he hadn't planned for Elliott to meet his parents at all. It was Octavio's turn to feel uncomfortable now, as his parents looked at him expectantly, while his boyfriend rocked on the balls of his feet, a nervous behaviour he typically saved for before a big game.

"Erm...Alright" the speedster began, placing a hand on his thigh in an attempt to stop the uncontrollable jittering of his leg.

"This is my...my father Bertrán and my mother, Valeria. Mamá, Papá, this...is my partner, Elliott. Mi novio."

The room fell painfully silent again, as his parents shared a glance, while Elliott raised an eyebrow at his partner, wondering why he wasn't warned about this, receiving a somewhat panicked shrug in response.

"I don't believe he's ever mentioned you", Valeria said, keeping her gaze trained on her son, who stared right back at her, the offhand comment catching her husband off guard.

"That's alright. We've met him now" he said, standing to offer a hand to the trickster, prompting him to straighten his posture and plaster on that winning smile, that had been seen on millions of screens across the galaxy. It was all muscle memory to him now.

"Bertrán Silva."

Elliott took his hand, shaking it firmly.

"Hi, I'm Mir-...Err, Elliott. I'm Elliott. Elliott Witt."

"I must say, that is a business handshake if I've felt one."

"Elliott has his own business!" Octavio piped up, watching the two men cautiously, from his spot on the couch.

"Really? It's always interesting to meet another entrepreneur."

Elliott laughed awkwardly.

"I wouldn't go th-that far. I just own a-".

"Elliott works in hospitality!" Octavio blurted out, receiving a pointed look from his boyfriend.

"A hotelier, are you?"

"No, I...own a bar."

"This planet certainly seems to enjoy them. It has so many" Valeria added. "It must have been so interesting here, during the war. Although, only a fool would believe the Militia was founded by anything other than a bunch of drunkards."

"You Psamathians didn't seem to mind too much when you were profiting off of it!" Elliott retaliated, being met with a cocked eyebrow from the woman.

"Of course we did. Not everyone wanted to be known for fraternizing with a group of savages, fighting in the streets."

"Those savages had families."

"Mamá!" Octavio interjected. "Basta! Por favor."

The Silvas exchanged a series of words in Spanish, before turning their attention back to the hopelessly lost individual, hovering nearby.

"Elliott, it has been...lovely to meet you but my wife and I have travelled a long way to speak to our son. In private, if you don't mind" Bertrán said, still managing to remain calm, despite everything.

"Our ship home leave in a few hours,'' his wife added.

Elliott looked to his boyfriend for permission, who gave him a reassuring nod.

"It's okay, amor. I'll call you later."

After exchanging some awkward goodbyes, with the trickster, the family was left alone again.

"Now, where were we?" his mother began, shuffling through her papers again.

"I'm not signing those!" Octavio said firmly, shaking his head. "No way."

"You will."

"I won't."

"Why must you make everything so difficult for us?" Valeria asked, though the question was rhetorical. "We offered you a comfortable life. You rejected the offer. You have no interest in our company, which we built for you by the way. So, sign over your share with us and we'll find someone who will appreciate it."

"You can't do this!"

"I can. I just should have done it before your turned eighteen."

"No! I'll...I'll get a lawyer!"

"You won't find any better than ours. Not without money. And we're cutting you off."

"Since when?!", Bertrán asked. "We haven't discussed this!"

He watched as his wife slid the stack of papers across the coffee table, parking them in front of his son.

"We're discussing it now."

"I don't c-care. Keep your money. I haven't touched that account in over two years. I can take care of myself!"

His mother smiled at him but there was no warmth to it.

"Fabulous. Then you have no reason to hold onto your share of the company."

Something was beginning to simmer in the pit of his stomach. Something that stemmed so much deeper than just anger.

"So, what? You're gonna replace me? Disown me?"

"Of course not, mijo" his father said. "We're starting an intern programme that-".

"So you are replacing me? I'm your son!"

"You chose to stop being our son the day you walked out our door, and ended up in a hospital bed", Valeria said, sternly. "Why must you constantly be reminded that you walked out on us?! You refused to come home."

"Well if it's gonna be like that, then might I remind you, madre, that you chose to stop being my mother an even longer time ago!", Octavio seethed.

He didn't know if he was angrier at his mother or angrier at the fact his leg wouldn't stop shaking.

"Oh, really? Do enlighten me, Octavio. When did I make this choice?"

He couldn't stop his voice from cracking.

"The day I was born!"

His mother seemed momentarily taken aback by his words, perhaps even hurt, before quickly regaining her composure.

"Un poco de respeto, Octavio!"

"No. Fuera de acá! Estoy harto de ti! Vete!"


"What do you think they're talking about?" Elliott asked, turning his phone over in his hands, as he leaned on the bar.

Octavio had said he'd call but he hadn't sent as much as a text and it had been a couple of hours. Ajay swirled her drink around in her glass.

"I have no idea" she sighed.

"I could never understand how he can hate his parents so much" Natalie added, taking a sip of her lemonade. "I'd give anything to speak to Papa one more time."

"I don't think I could ever stay mad at my creator. When I find them" Pathfinder chimed in, as he merrily wiped down the bar top.

Anita grunted in acknowledgment of the conversation, sliding her empty beer bottle across to the robot who replaced it with a fresh one.

"He doesn't realise what he's doing, he'll regret it someday. If anyone should know the importance of family, it's you Elliott. Knock some sense into him before I do it myself."

"Ya don't know whatcha talkin' about" Ajay said. "Not all of us were blessed with perfect families."

The trickster ran a hand over his beard, considering what each of the women had said.

"I don't know what to think. His dad doesn't seem that bad but his mom…"

"Is kinda a bitch?" the medic offered.

"I was gonna say, she seems like she has a stick up her ass, but that works too," Elliott chucked, swiping his thumb over his phone screen again.

Nothing.

"Ay, well if that ever gets back to her, I'm sayin' ya said it. Not me"

Anita continued to watch the trickster obsessively check his phone, as the conversation shifted to a different topic.

"Give me that thing!" she demanded, swiping the device from his hands. "Didn't your Grandma ever tell you, a watched kettle never boils?"

"It's not a kettle!" he protestested, trying to grab the phone back but the soldier swatted his hands away, before tossing it to Ajay. She illuminated the lockscreen, revealing a picture himself with his arm hung over Octavio's shoulder, as they both beamed at the camera. The speedster had taken the photo as they were getting ready for the reopening of Elliott's bar, after the revenovations. He wanted something to post on his social media, to mark the occasion but decided he liked the picture too much, opting to share it with only Elliott instead.

"Aw, well ain't that adorable", she teased, cackling as the man leaned over the bar to snatch his phone back, a light flush tinting his cheeks.

Anita smirked at her companions as the two younger women emitted into a fit of giggles, as the trickster begrudgingly stuffed his phone back into his pocket.

"Alright ladies, let's make a move. I think we've tortured him enough for one night."

He couldn't resist checking his phone again, as soon as the group had said their goodbyes.

Elliott: Tav, is everything alright or not? Call me.

He rested his elbows on the bar and buried his face in his hands. Today had been a disaster. He didn't feel like he'd made a good impression on Octavio's parents. Especially his mother. The Militia was a touchy subject for him, and she had insinuated that the cause he'd lost his brothers to was a joke. He was sure they wouldn't like him after how he acted. What if they were convincing their son to go home with them right now, and that's why he wasn't replying to his messages.

"Is everything alright, friend? You look like something is troubling you" Pathfinder inquired, as he cleared away the remains of the girls' drinks.

Elliott let out a weary sigh and pushed himself away from the bar, running a hand through his hair as he stood up straight.

"I'm fine, buddy. I could just use a distraction, I guess. You wanna learn how to pour beer?"

The MVRN's display lit up, displaying a happy face.

"Oh yes, friend! That sounds fun!"

"Alright"

Elliott retrieved a fresh glass from under the bar and passed it to his metal companion.

"It's pretty easy. You're gonna wanna hold the glass at an angle, like this. Start your pour and then-"

The sound of someone clearing their throat behind them, distracted him from the lesson.

"Hey, what can I get y-...Oh, hello."

He wasn't expecting Bertrán Silva, to be sitting at his bar when he turned around. He wasn't expecting Bertrán Silva, to be sitting at his bar ever.

"I hope you don't mind me coming by unexpected like this. It wasn't particularly difficult to find, and I was hoping I might speak with you."

"You w-were?"

"Elliott, friend? When is the best time to stop pouring?"

He turned to see the robot still pouring the beer, despite it spilling all over the floor.

"Path!" he exclaimed, rushing to turn the tap off. "You're supposed to stop when the glass is full!"

The MVRN's display turned to a sad face.

"Sorry, friend."

"That's quite the impressive machine", Bertrán mused. "Did you design it yourself?"

"No, friend. I'm searching for my creator. If I stay here with Elliott, there's a chance I might hear something about them. He's helping me. We're best friends!"

"Path, please! Just...here. Go clean those tables or something", Elliott passed him a cloth, utterly exasperated and a little embarrassed at this whole situation.

"Sure! We make a great team!"

"Sorry, uh, about him" he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Can I...get your something to drink?"

"Whiskey. Double, if you don't mind."

The pair remained in silence for some time, as Bertrán sipped at his drink.

"As I mentioned earlier, I wanted to speak with you. About my son."

Elliott prepared himself for the worst, for the second time that day, eyeing the older man cautiously as he took another sip of his drink. He couldn't help but notice his eyes. They were hazel. The same as Octavio's.

"Is he happy here?"

Elliott would admit, it wasn't the question he was expecting.

"Y-yeah. I think so."

Bertrán nodded thoughtfully.

"I'd like for him to come home. I don't think he's safe here."

Elliott couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"No. He's safe with me."

"I don't doubt that", he said, placing his glass back on the counter. "What I do doubt, is these...games."

"He's not in any serious danger."

"What does your father make of you running around with guns all day? You're a part of all this too, aren't you?"

Elliott tugged at the hem of his t-shirt.

"I couldn't tell you. I don't know him."

"I see,'' was the response he got. "Well, all I can say is, you'll understand my point of view, when you have children of your own."

Elliott swallowed, harshly. His throat felt painfully dry right now.

"When we have kids."

"Pardon?"

"Me and Octavio. We have plans...to start a family together some day. He wants to settle here."

Elliott wasn't sure if it was what he said or the alcohol that caused the older man's eyes to mist over. He nudged his now empty glass across the counter, which Elliott quickly refilled.

"My son has always been so secretive about his life. Ever since he was old enough to come and go as he pleased, there was always something. It took us weeks to track him down after he'd fled the hospital after that...incident. When we finally found him, he'd somehow gotten himself here. How, I don't know. The family account was never touched. I was so angry at him, for running away. He promised me he'd come home and instead he ran. He came home once, since, and all we did was argue. I...said some things I regret now. And yet, somehow I have the audacity to sit here and wonder why my son continues to keep secrets from me. I had no idea about you. I had no idea he was even interested in…".

Elliott caught the quick glance he shot at him.

"Men?"

"...Anyone. As I'm sure you can imagine, it was...quite the shock. Neither he nor my wife, helped the situation. They can't speak about anything without arguing. Never could. She only wants what's best for him, but he can't see that. She came from nothing herself. Worked her way up the ladder. She's remarkably driven but stubborn. He's more like his mother than he even realises. They argued the whole time we've been here. I left them to it and took a walk around the city. It's a lot nicer than I expected. I can see why Octavio might be fond of it. Along with its inhabitants."

The statement caught Elliott off guard. Was that...approval? He wanted so badly to be able to fix all this for his partner and as he continued to think about it, he decided he may never have another opportunity like this. As he refilled the man's glass for the third time, he took a quick shot for himself, hoping it would provide him with the Dutch courage to do this. He had to ask.

"Can I ask you something, Mr Silva?"

"Of course. I've rambled away enough of your time."

"Have you...ever tried to talk to him? W-without your wife?"


Octavio stood at the kitchen counter, swirling the clear liquid in the bottom of his glass around, before downing it. It burned his throat but he briskly filled another, quickly screwing the cap back on the bottle as he heard the front door of the apartment open. He cradled the glass in his hands, wondering if he really wanted to drink it or not. He was never the biggest fan of alcohol.

"Why didn't you call me? I was worried!" Elliott said, as he walked into the room.

Octavio was almost happy to him, until he noticed there was someone with him. His father.

"What's he doing here?!"

"I just want to talk to you, mijo. Is your mother here?"

"No. She left shortly after you did. I told you to leave and I meant it! Get out!"

"Tav, just listen for two seconds. He just wants to talk" Elliott said softly.

His partner was obviously irritated from whatever had happened earlier and he didn't want to make the situation worse. However, he quickly realised that it might be too late for that, as the younger legend whirled on him.

"This was your idea?! Mierda, Elliott. What is wrong with you?! Whose side are you on?!"

"Yours! Th-that's why I think you should just hear him out."

His father took a cautious step forward.

"I'm not here to fight, mijo. I just want to talk to you."

"You had plenty of time to talk today, when mamá was saying all that shit and you said nothing! Don't try to pretend you don't want the same as her!"

Bertrán ran a hand through his dark hair, a frustrated sigh escaping him.

"You put us in a tough situation! What did you expect me to do, Octavio? Let the company die?! I did everything I could to set you up. Good schooling, extra curriculars, a well paying job. We had families contacting us monthly, about arranging meetings with their daughters. But it was never enough for you! I can never understand it, Octavio. What more could you possibly want?!"

"For you to listen to me!" Octavio yelled. "You homeschooled me so I'd have no friends, you tried to force me to learn the fucking piano to impress all your asshole business friends. I never wanted your stupid desk job. And as for your arranged relationships, all those girls were boring as hell! They only cared about getting up the corporate ladder. Just like you. That's all you ever cared about! The company. Not me!"

"That's not true and you know it" his father responded, still somehow remaining perfectly calm.

"It is true! You tried to control my whole life but never wanted to be part of it! Do you know how many different nannies I had?! Thirteen! Thirteen different people I was dumped with so you and mamá could drink champagne and travel the galaxy. And every single one of them left!"

"You were out of control!" his father, retaliated. "Your behaviour was totally unbearable. No one wanted to submit themselves to that!"

"Including you!"

He spat the words like they were acid, throwing his glass against the floor in his rage, shattering it into hundreds of tiny pieces. Elliott dashed forward to restrain his boyfriend who was reaching for something else to throw.

"Hey! Knock it off! I know you're upset but this shit isn't okay! You're acting like a brat!"

"I'm not upset!" he seethed, struggling against his partner's stronger arms. "Get off me!"

"What happened to my Tavi?" his father said quietly, shaking his head.

"He grew up!"

"It doesn't look like it from where I'm standing."

Octavio finally fought his way free from the trickster's grasp.

"Then get out! Vete a la mierda! Te odio!"

And with that, he stormed off to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

The room fell painfully silent after that, save for the sound of glass crunching under Elliott's feet as he shuffled them awkwardly. Bertrán let out a weary sigh before speaking.

"Well I suppose that's that then. Gracias for trying, Elliott but...I should go. My wife is waiting for me. I hope. After all this."

Elliott nodded sadly, before following him to the door. He was surprised when the older man stopped to pull a business card out of his pocket and handed it to him.

"If I may give you a piece of advice? Give this up. Move away. If you're serious about building a life with my son, you'll think about. And if either of you ever need help doing that, contact me."

Elliott hovered around the kitchen for a while, after he'd left, trying to gather his thoughts. He cleaned up the mess his boyfriend had made before deciding he couldn't deny the inevitable any longer. He knocked gently on the bedroom door a few times.

"Tav? Can I come in?"

He waited for an answer he knew he wasn't going to get, opting to just enter anyway. He didn't know why he was so nervous. This was his room too, after all. It was so dark when entered, he could just barely make out the tuft of dark hair, sticking out from under the blankets.

"Tav?"

He tentatively made his way towards the bed, sitting down on the other side. He pulled the blankets down just enough to reveal his partner who was curled up inside, arms covering his face.

"Hey. I'm talking to you."

"Well I don't want to talk to you" Octavio responded, snatching the blankets back and pulling them further over his head.

"Me?! What did I do?!"

"You brought him here!"

Even though his voice was muffled, Elliott could still hear the anger behind his words.

"I...thought I was doing something good."

"I don't care! You had no right to get involved in my family like that!"

"Your dad came to me. He was-"

"You had no right!"

Elliott sighed. His intentions were good but after seeing how his plan had worked out, he could now see that Octavio was probably right.

"I'm sorry. I know you're upset now but, maybe-"

"I'm not upset!"

The trickster tried to pull the blankets away again but was met by some resistance.

"Tav. Come on. Look at me. I said I was sorry."

He could hear his boyfriend's muffled laughter under the covers, but it didn't sound joyous. Just bitter.

"Everyone thinks they can just apologise and that makes up for the shitty things they've done."

"Tav…".

"Go away, Elliott."

Elliott stood at the window of their apartment, staring down at the city below him. People passed by, living their own lives not knowing he was stood watching them. Solace City was typically always lively at this time but tonight there seemed to be more people than usual. More people to mock him. He was secretly jealous of most of them. The groups of people who passed by laughing, still having all of their friends. The tourists who were experiencing the city for the first time, the hustle and bustle was still exciting and fresh for them, but it had turned tiring and stale for him, some time ago. The families who were rushing to get their children home, and out of the dark. He despised every single one of those people in that moment, squeezing the pill packet he held tighter, causing the cardboard to dent and crumple. He threw it across the room, and it clattered against the wall, sliding to the ground like the useless crutch they were. He flopped back onto the couch, groaning when he felt an uncomfortable bundle beneath him. He searched underneath himself, pulling out something soft. One of Octavio's hoodies. Running his fingers over material felt foreign, but it was the familiar smell that urged him to hold the item close, like a child with their protective blanket. He took out his phone and stared at the picture of him and Octavio. He wiped at his eyes, mentally blaming the bright light of the display for making them water. He couldn't even be mad at the lies his brain was telling him, as it was a welcome respite against the vicious thoughts that attacked him, telling him Octavio hated him. He'd ruined it, like he ruined everything. That he should stop trying because, every relationship he had always ended the same. He was just destined to be alone and perhaps it was time he accepted that. He scrolled through the menus, his thumb hovering over one of the many options available to him:

Change Screensaver.

Octavio couldn't sleep. No matter how hard he clenched his eyes together sleep wouldn't come. Instead he was plagued with watery eyes, causing him to continuously rub at them, making them sore and itchy. He couldn't get warm, no matter how tightly he pulled the blankets around himself. He reached out to the other side of the bed, dragging Elliott's pillow under covers and pulling it close to his chest. He buried his face into it, inhaling deeply as the trickster's scent washed over his senses, providing a sense of comfort but only briefly. It seemed the more desperate he became for the smell, the more it faded it way, leaving him feeling more alone than before. He took his phone from the bedside table and opened their text log, that was filled with all the messages he'd previously ignored. His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a painfully long time, before he managed to type something and send it, receiving a reply almost instantly.

Tav: where are you

Elliott: In the living room.

Tav: come here

He waited. And waited. He waited so long that he thought the trickster wasn't coming, until he heard some shuffling outside and the sound of the bedroom door being opened. He sat up in the bed, watching the shadowy silhouette of his boyfriend remain in the doorway.

"Are you going to come to bed?"

"I thought you wanted me to go away."

Octavio felt his chest tighten, breathing heavily a few times before he couldn't hold it back anymore and a series of sobs wracked his small frame like an earthquake. It wasn't long before a gentle hand was on his cheek, and he opened his eyes to see his partner sitting crossed legged in front of him. He leaned into the touch, which gave Elliott the confidence to use his free hand to take the speedster's own hand, squeezing it tightly. He could probably count the amount of times he'd seen Octavio cry on one hand. He didn't say anything, allowing the runner to take the lead with the conversation.

"They're trying to replace me,'' he sniffled. "They want me to sign a contract saying I'm giving back my share in the company so they can give it to someone else. It's like they're...disowning me."

"Can they do that?"

Octavio shrugged, wiping his eyes again.

"I don't know. Apparently."

"Did you sign it?"

"No."

Elliott didn't really know what to do with this information. Multi-million dollar companies and their logistics was beyond him. He leaned their foreheads together.

"I'm sorry this is happening, baby. I wish I knew what to say to make it all better."

"Yeah", Octavio nodded sadly. "Me too."

"And I'm...so sorry. I shouldn't have brought your dad here. I thought...I don't know what I was thinking but it was stupid. Can you forgive me?"

"I...don't know. Not right now. I'm still pretty mad."

Elliott nodded.

"Okay. I...I love you. You know that. R-right?"

Octavio squeezed his partner's hand tighter.

"And I still love you. That much, I do know."

He rubbed his hands over his tear stained cheeks.

"Díos Mio, I'm such an ugly crier."

Elliott smiled softly at him.

"No, you're beautiful. Maybe...a little crazy sometimes, but beautiful."

The speedster let out a small laugh.

"I was a lot crazier before you got your claws into me."

He leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on his partner's lips.

"Well you better get used to them, baby. These claws aren't letting you go anytime soon," Elliott told him, pulling him close.


Octavio groaned as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, his slumber being disturbed by an annoying noise. He shifted about in the bed, causing his partner's arm, which was wrapped around his waist, to slip away. He peered around the room, searching for the source of the sound, eventually noticing it was Elliott's phone alarm. Octavio figured he must have forgotten to turn it off last night. Since his trickster boyfriend, seemed to have no intention of waking up to turn it off, Octavio tasked himself with stretching over his sleeping form, to turn the alarm off himself. He smiled to himself, at the picture of the two of them on Elliott's home screen. He liked that photo a lot. Even if his boyfriend was kinda stupid sometimes, he couldn't help but love him. Elliott couldn't bring himself to change it, ignoring what his anxieties had told him.

Octavio decided to get up, despite it still being early morning. He wandered into the kitchen and over to the fridge, taking out a carton of orange juice and placed it on the counter, as he reached into one of the cupboards to grab a glass. It was only then, he noticed the card that had been left on the countertop. His father's business card. He took the card in his hands, staring down at it, as all the emotions of the night before came flooding back to him. He was still angry but the feelings were less intense now. Part of him wished he hadn't walked away, that he hadn't thrown that glass and he just stopped for a minute to actually listen to what his father had to say. He didn't have to like what he heard but maybe the peace of mind might do him good. Octavio had spent the last few years of his life running, whether it was from bullets or from his problems, it was all the same to him. He knew his family was beyond repair but maybe this was a sign. Maybe everything that happened yesterday was a sign that now was his time to get the one thing he wanted, that his parents might be able to give him. Closure.

He paced around the apartment, for almost an hour, flicking his fingers against the card, as he carried it with him. As tempting as it was to go for a run to burn off this nervous energy, this was the one time in his life where running would just create more problems. He eventually settled himself on the couch, with his phone in one hand and the business card in the other. He looked between the two before shaking his head. What was doing? He didn't want to speak to Bertrán Silva of Silva Pharmaceuticals. He wanted to talk to Bertrán Silva, his dad. Tossing the card aside, he scrolled through his phone book until he found the one he was looking for: Papá. He took a deep breath, as he pressed the dial button, his leg jittering as he wondered whether his father would even pick up. But he did.

"Hola?"

Octavio let out the breath he was holding.

"Uh...Hola, Papá. It's me...Tavi. Do you have time to talk?"