The big, beautiful, open house was tense at first. Archie went out each day, insistent on taking cabs and exploring this new city he was apparently mesmerized by, camera in hand. Trevor didn't try to run out alone with the man, despite clearly wanting to. Instead he kept nagging Michael about having a day out together with the three of them. Franklin stopped by every day, in the mornings on his way to a client's house, or in the evenings before going back home. He seemed to do everything in his power to not speak to Archie. Trevor did act more like himself with Franklin there. He tried to busy himself with Archie, and one day it slivered into Michael's mind.

Trevor was replacing him.

He felt disgusted. A stranger in his house who had tried to win his affections with his knowledge of old movies and drink recipes, Michael had actually started to not mind the extra company. Trevor was trying to bring him into his ridiculous drug empire, and it irked Michael. Why should Trevor try to shack up with some inexperienced weirdo? He almost, somewhere, maybe thought about feeling jealous. No, not over this guy. This guy who supposedly stole nothing but his own due pay, bumming about in Trevor's room.
After Amanda and him had their final fight, Jimmy had moved his things out too. Not the important things, just pot and games, and other trash. There was a bed though. Maybe he'd have Archie stay in that room until he could find a way to wean Trevor off of this drifter.

Father's day came. Franklin was wearing the beautiful Movato watch he had gotten as a thank you. Michael stayed with them for a few hours, but he had to leave. Franklin would stay and keep an eye things while Michael spent time out with his two kids. He laughed about not knowing how to explain all the recent happenings to them. A knock came at the door. Once open, the meek, wire hair Goodman walked in.

"Just checking up on my best patient!" He smiled. He didn't have his usual khaki's, white collared shirt and ugly tie. He dressed down and looked comfy, but it was off-putting how his interest in Trevor was strong and ever present.

"Why is he really here?" Franklin muttered so only Michael would hear.

"Im hoping he drops more information to me later. I want him to ask about his new friend, see why he's been glued at the hip to him."

"Don't worry mom. Trevor is loyal."

"You watch the smart mouth, I'm not the one who wears dresses."

"I think we jumped the gun on this one. Dude is weird but he's old. Actual old. Probably croak by the time you get back."
"I just want to know what Trevor is thinking. He's skipping appointments." They watched the chatty Goodman hold the camera and try to follow instructions on taking the perfect picture.
"Did you ask him?"

"… I gotta head out."

"I didn't think so," Franklin sucked his teeth and waved Michael away.
"You just take the pie out when the timer dings. Trevor!"
"What, Michael?"
Michael walked over to the group. "I'll be back in a few hours. You'll be alright?"
"I'll manage," He grunted, scratching an itch at his nipple.
Michael averted his gaze before looking back at Trevor. "…Right." He grumbled something about having vanilla ice cream in the freezer and tried to run and go, but Trevor took hold of his shoulder, turned him back around and gave him a one armed hug.
"Happy Father's Day." he pulled away. Michael's eyes showed an odd flash of pleasant surprise. He smiled despite the present company.
"We'll have a night out later. If you're gentleman friend here thinks he can keep up."
"I'll take you up on that offer, Mr. De Santa." He smiled and his face still looked harsh. Seeing it was almost like a visual version nails across a chalkboard to Michael. His skin crawled, so he gave a quick hug to Franklin and left.

"What a nice husband." Archie said happily to himself before sipping his coffee.
There was a small silence before Goodman's head spun around to say "What?"

The park was full of dads and kids. Some of them obviously would rather be somewhere else. Others were enjoying the dry hot dogs and cheap balloons. He stared at little kids running around and dads holding new babies. Stand up guys, who went to work and went home to watch Spongebob for the millionth time while trying to get their kids to eat their vegetables. A dad and daughter duo passed on skateboards. Jimmy was going on about some bad infection his friend got from stretching his earlobes, and Tracey was failing miserably at hiding he new tattoo, a name from her 2 week old relationship. He almost flipped out on her, but he was out of steam and the other dads didn't need to know how inadequate of a father he was. Amanda had already given Tracey a piece of her mind.

He looked up at the sky, almost completely blue. He tried to remember what it was like on days where this was his only ceiling. He closed his eyes and remembered pick-poketing and fake IDs. The cliche act of robbing a liquor store with a ski mask, and bringing bottles back to whoever his crew consisted of that week. He took a deep breath and could almost smell the old empty houses they would squat. He exhaled and he could somehow taste what the air was like when he hid in a barn. He opened his eyes and expected, just for a moment, for his to see a lean, but always too thin, sleep eyed and angry, young accomplice.

"You hear that dad? It came out looking like cottage cheese!"

He blinked confused before remembering Trevor was now back at his miserable mansion. "Gross. That's gross, Jimmy."

"I know! You shoulda been there!"

Michael took another look around the lake at dads, heavier than him who would never know what life on the run was like. An acidic pity washed over him. For a second, he was a young Townley again, staring at the mock fatherhood his future would consist of. It was then Michael decided he was not a strong dandelion, taking ownership of all the earth around him. He was something else entirely, a plant plucked from the rest of the world and potted in a container, never to spread beyond decorated walls, and withering.
He thought for a moment about Trevor. Trevor, who at the moment was supposed to be confined to that house, when before he would float in and out as he pleased. He suddenly felt guilty about trying to coop up Trevor, expecting something good to sprout in that hollow space where he himself couldn't flourish. It was only temporary. Temporary, until he was sure Trevor wouldn't hurt himself or end up in a straightjacket.

He feigned interest in whatever his kids were saying, but was distracted by remembering when he helped clean Trevor up after the murder. It wasn't the first time he helped like that. Trevor had gotten hurt before and needed assistance, and he only ever took it from Michael. But the very first time he helped him bathe was terrifying. Mrs. Phillips had crossed many lines and slept with everyone who would pay, but, and Michael's eyes narrowed in disgust as he remembered, in a stupor fueled by either drinking or drugs, she did it. She tried to include Trevor in the act. At the request of some stranger, she berated Trevor until he joined. Michael wasn't sure what took place exactly, but Trevor had implied things over the years that made him think both people took advantage.

Trevor was in the bath of the motel they occupied for that week when Michael saw him. The place was trashed and clothes were thrown everywhere. The door to the bathroom was left open, and Trevor was in the tub, sitting under scalding water, rubbing his genitals raw with a loofah. At first Michael thought it there was something else going on. He almost turned away but heard something being said through gritted teeth about "hate her boyfriends" and "keeps happening, i hate it, hate you". When he tried to take Trevor's hand away, Trevor screamed loud out of both surprise and trying to get Michael away. He backed off but sat on the bed. He watched Trevor for a long time, rock back and forth, try to clean some other part of him, sit quietly, over and over. When Michael couldn't take the spectacle anymore, he walked wordlessly into the bathroom. He knelt, cooled the water, and set the tub to fill. He stared at the damaged, red skin, all over his friend, and said in a low voice "We won't come here again. Ever."

It took 45 minutes before Michael was able to gently scoop water in his hands and pour it down Trevor's back. He was silently allowed to continue, and when Trevor finally mumbled something about "enough", he backed away and watched Trevor climb slowly out and make his way to bed. Michael chose to sleep on the ground. He said nothing about the bloody bat that was there, and when they got back to America, he didn't tell any of the guys what happened. Concerned, but too guilty to speak, he didn't ask about the prostitutes T spent that first week back with. He'd never suggest Trevor visit his family again.

A thwack in the head from a rouge tennis ball brought him back to the present.

It was six pm when he got back. He meant to return sooner, but his usual guilt about bad parenting kept him until his kids were practically begging to go back to their lives, or lack thereof.

Everyone was still occupying the living room. Trevor was talking loudly about how "This country is going to shit" and how he took skinny jeans off some prick once out of necessity, but trashed them because "My nads were being pushed into my throat". Goodman was getting ready to go, Michael offered to show him out.

"Listen, thanks for coming-"

"Any time Mr. De Santa! I have dinner with my parents now but it was a pleasure!"

"Listen. Not to keep you, but… now that you've seen him outside of the office… is there anything you can tell me?"

"If you're asking if I found out anything new, no. He appears to be putting the event behind him."

"I guess. But, that man, Archie… I mean, I wasn't expecting him to go try and make friends."

"It's a pleasant distraction, Mr. De Santa. You were there that night. He probably just needs to be around someone who doesn't remind him of what happened." Before Michael could disagree, Goodman raised a hand and reassured him. "Trevor speaks just as highly of you as ever. Which isn't very high at all, but it's he mentions you frequently. I suspect Archaimbaud is a stepping stone- a bridge to help get back to being comfortable with you."

Michael paused. That sounded possible. "…Alright. Alright, Goodman. Have a good night."

Goodman smiled. "Don't worry. He'll be sleeping back in your room before you know it."

"He fucking talked about that?"

"He said the carpet in the other room is scratchy. I may be taking liberties and reading between the lines, but I think he misses you. Don't worry. Im not upset you didn't tell me." He went down to his car and left before Michael understood. He felt like was swinging on a meat hook again, blood rushing to his head, and helpless to ignore the rumors that took away from the matter at hand.

He ain't my Ji Lao!

He walked back in. Fuck a glass, he wanted the scotch right out of the bottle. But he went to the living room first.
"Sorry, I'm back."

"Sorry is right." Trevor said. "How are they?"

"Fine. Lost causes, just like always, but good."

"Children are a handful," Archie nodded. "I expect young Franklin here was too!"

Franklin looked uncomfortable as he gave a weak smile back. He looked like he had stomach cramps he was trying hard to ignore.

"Frank, hey," Michael patted his shoulder. "Come to the pool for a sec, I gotta show you that… thing with the… drain."

"For sure."

They headed out and Michael paced angrily before he spoke. "Why. Why is he still talking like we raised you?"

"As far as he knows, ya'll did. I thought that was the plan."

"There's no plan! The guy's an idiot. Goodman thinks-"

"Chill. Goodman thinks what I want him to think."

"What're you talking about?"

"Well T is rolling with the story, more or less. He thinks we're still talking in mataphors-"

"We are!"

"Arch don't know that. Trust me, it's awkward as fuck being in between you and Trevor. Most people don't hang around T for long anyway. I figure when Archie gets sick of feeling like a third wheel, he'll take the hint and get to stepping. And I think it's been working."

"I'd knock you out," he said, pretending to point down into the pool for show. "but I wanna hear why you think that."

"Ask him yourself."

They went back in. Michael tried to get a fork full of the leftover pie, but Trevor moved it. "You don't need pie, you chubby-"

"So!" Michael clapped his hands together, ignoring Trevor. "I hear there's news! Achaimbaud?"

Achaimbaud put down his tea. "Yes! I'll be settling down into a small apartment soon, for a month or so. Two weeks time. I appreciate you housing me here. I'll be eternally grateful."

Trevor looked displeased, Michael's eyes almost sparkled. "We gotta make the most of it then! Franklin!" He grabbed him with an unexpected bear hug. "Join us! We'll have dinner soon! On me."

"Finally!" Trevor said. "I'm wasting away in here. I can't be in here with your high fiber, low calorie, spirulina, Trader Joes-"

"Really?" Michael walked up to Trevor, looking jolly. He gently touched Trevor's abdomen, and T jumped back. "Cause you're looking a little… fuller lately."

"It's the pie. And gas," Trevor said. He stepped closer to make up for backing away, and his face was inches from Michael. "So where we goin'? I need to stretch my legs, get that heart rate up! Remember when you used to be able to run?"

Michael smiled, and Franklin thought he looked legitimately delighted.

"I was gonna play football for a living, fly-boy. You're right, it's gotten stale around here! Liven things up! And I'm gonna run circles around you," Michael pressed his finger painfully into Trevor's cheek. "Sugar tits."

"I'm out of this piece," Franklin said, hurrying to the door, and shaking his head. Michael had lost it, he was sure. "I'll catch you tomorrow evening."

"Franklin!" Trevor called but he was ignored.

"Boys! Uh, Sirs!" Archie said. "Please, please, it's a special day. No need to get riled up." He chuckled. "Here, let's-" He skimmed through some photos on his small digital camera. "No, no. The memory is full. Let me change the card." Archie shuffled off to the room.

"What's your deal?" Trevor was incredulous, but interested. Michael looked up slightly into Trevor's eyes, he'd nearly forgotten Trevor was taller than him.

"I just realized something today." He tried to look genuine, but he felt sheepish. "I miss you, T."

Trevor was caught slightly off guard but regained composure when Archie made it back to them.

"Here! A picture!" Archie ginned. "Move closer again." They moved and Michael placed his hands in his pockets as Trevor leaned against a wall. "No, no, this is forced. We need something candid, something alive! I hate when it looks planned."

Michael almost asked what he wanted them to do, but Trevor jumped on him and tried to climb up to his shoulders as if he was a cat. Michael and Trevor fell over with a loud thud. "My fucking back! Geez Trevor!" But Trevor was laying on his side, barking in laughter.

"That's what I like to see!" Archiambaud extended his hand and helped Michael up. He showed him the picture. It was awkward and he thought he looked ridiculous in mid-fall, but Trevor looked alive and Michael nodded.

"Thats what I like to see too."

"Michael," Trevor said from the floor. "Beer me."

"You wanna be our ref, Archie?" Michael offered.

"Me?" Archie put his camera away in a pocket. "Thank you, but I have to make some more personal arrangements. I may be busy until sometime in the evening."

"It's alright. We'll work up an appetite while we wait, eh T?"

"You can start by marching your can to the fridge and get my beeeeer."