It was nice to have a routine again.

Wake up, fly to the Sootopolis City Gym either on Joan or the front seats of an air shuttle, rest in Juan's office and catch up on schoolwork. Then fly back home, go to therapy, and go to Spenser's church. After that was all over, he went back home, had… had dinner, maybe tried to do intimate things with Winona, and went to bed. It could get stressful, yes, but it was structure. In a way, it felt like control.

Such was routine as the weeks went on. July began to wind down as the temperature went up. Hoenn summers were notoriously hot, and that combined with Wallace's previous purging meant that Nicole was adamant on him staying hydrated.

"You're a Water type trainer, aren't you?"

Wallace rolled his eyes at Nicole's remark. "That sounds like something Yiayiá would say."

"But it's true, isn't it? And besides, water is good for the complexion."

Wallace froze up at that statement. Shoot, his complexion. He had been struck with near daily panic attacks about his appearance: small breakouts from that time he didn't shower for a week, red junkie eyes, the bruises Megalos had branded him with, the scars that he had inflicted upon himself. Sure, some things would go away with time (too much time), but there were some things that would never go away no matter how much sleep or how much therapy or how much medication or—

"What day is it?" Wallace asked in an attempt to snap himself out of his thoughts. His therapist would've liked him doing that.

"July twenty seven."

Oh.

"So Fláoutoagáne's Feast Day is in… three days?"

Fláoutoagáne Feast Day wasn't the most important holiday of the Rounékyo calendar, but it was certainly an important one. It was a celebration of Sootopolis's culture, something that had long been at political and social risk, like a coral reef facing storms that got harsher and oceans that got warmer with each passing year. It was Wallace's duty to preserve his ancestors' culture, lest the world lose such unique and beautiful literature, music, art, food…

Wallace shuddered briefly at that last thought. Why the fuck did food have to be such a big part of culture? Why wasn't it treated as a private necessity, like using the bathroom or having sex—

Using the bathroom or having sex. Shit, what the hell are you thinking?

"Wallace?" Nicole asked.

Wallace looked back up at Nicole. Stupid fucking brain. Did he not pay attention during therapy or something? Wasn't he supposed to be getting better?

She nodded as the smile left her face. "We're going to be celebrating it here–"

Wallace slammed a palm on the table. "We have to celebrate with our other family." Part of that culture reef was family. It was the—what did Steven say it was called?—the calcium carbonate of Sootopolitan culture. It was the very foundation that its people were built upon.

Nicole, however, seemed to disagree. She just shook her head and said, "But Wallace—"

"We haven't been to any family gatherings in, what, months?" Wallace grumbled. "How am I supposed to reintegrate into society if I can't even attend regular…" The anger in his voice disappeared. "Nicole? Is everything okay?"

Nicole sat down at the kitchen table. Her face was uncharacteristically emotionless.

"Our father… struggled with depression and alcohol abuse," she said in a tone just as lifeless. "Right before you were born, he… he drank himself into a stupor and overdosed on a bottle of sleeping pills."

Silence. Cold, cold silence. Even if Wallace wanted to speak, he couldn't find the words to think, let alone say anything of value.

Well, at least he had one thing to connect him to his father. And well… that also explained why Nicole held onto his medication so tightly.

"Did he leave a note?" he asked.

"He burned it when he got back from rehab. It reminded him too much of the shame he brought to our family, the supposed curse he brought on him and his descendants."

Curses, curses, curses. The Papadakis family and their curses. Lydia and Kristina were cursed when Milas left them, Dorian was cursed when he conceived a child with a prostitute before marriage... Well, maybe the Dorian curse was real: Dorian had tried to kill himself, Dorian and Lucille had died, Nicole and Raphael had conceived a child before marriage, and now Wallace... Wallace felt like the walking personification of the Dorian curse.

Yiayiá stopped mentioning Dorian being cursed once Wallace got taken in by Megalos, but his aunts and uncles… they never forgot. In fact, their disdain for him and Nicole's part of the family only got worse once that happened. And with Megalos gone, the family had no reason to even tolerate Wallace anymore. They could call him whatever he wanted, because without Megalos, he was no—

"Wallace?"

He looked back up at Nicole, who was now sitting right next to him and wrapping her arm around him.

"I want you to know that I love you very, very much, no matter what diagnoses you have," Nicole reassured him. "But… the rest of the family is still very behind on such matters."

"So we just won't bring it up," Wallace insisted. "Surely it will be as easy as that, right?"

-

"Wallace? Would you mind if we talked?"

Wallace looked up at Winona. "Sure? Is everything alright?"

Winona sat down at the kitchen table next to Wallace. She lacked her usual spirit, her usual smile.

"I don't know…"

That didn't make Wallace any less worried. But he had to stay calm. He had to stay calm for Winona.

"Are you…" Damn it. He shouldn't have started speaking before thinking about what to say. "If you're pregnant, um…"

For a brief moment, Winona smiled.

"I'm not."

Then what was wrong?!

"Is everything okay?" He hadn't meant to sound so… scared, but if something was wrong with Winona…

"Yeah, it's fine, it's just…" Winona sighed, resting her face in her hand.

Wallace put a hand on Winona's shoulder. "Winona?"

"Dad has cancer."

Wallace's heart stopped. "Oh… Oh no. Is… Is he okay?"

"I don't know." Winona's voice was a shaky whisper.

Wallace wrapped both his arms around her and gently pulled her into a hug. "You should… move back in with your family. I should be fine."

Winona didn't look too convinced.

"I'd rather not spend all of my time with my mother." she sighed. "But… I have to take breaks, too. From the both of you. Not because I don't love you, but—"

"I understand, darling."

Winona smiled again, and this time, it stayed. Wallace gave her a small peck on the cheek.

"You've been doing… so much," Wallace sighed. "You deserve rest… and the best."

That got a small chuckle out of Winona.

"I missed your fancy poetry and sappy rhymes."

Wallace chuckled, but that statement made him feel…

"Have I… When was the last time I used 'fancy poetry and sappy rhymes'?"

Winona shook her head. "I don't even remember. It's been so long since I've seen the old Wallace—this Wallace. The Wallace I fell in love with." With that, she hugged him back. "I missed him."

Wallace rested his head on Winona's, smiling. "I missed him, too."

-

Another agreement was written out and signed: Winona would spend weekends with Wallace and weekdays with her father. The exception was Fridays, which were reserved for therapy, training, and a 24-hour break from caretaking.

Fláoutoagáne Feast Day happened to fall on a weekday, not that Wallace planned on inviting Winona to it; Wallace's extended family… wasn't too fond of her. But part of Wallace wished he had support…

But he had Nicole. He had Lisia. He had Raphael. That would be enough, right?

Those thoughts kept pestering Wallace as he tried to tie his tie. It was too tight around his neck, and even just trying to adjust it either undid the whole thing or made its grip tighter. He felt like he was choking.

Like how Megalos would choke him. Like how Megalos would hold him against the wall or the desk. Like how Megalos would drag him around with the tie, the chain shackled around Wallace's neck.

His shaking, sweating hands dropped the tie, and he had to sit on the bed before he passed out. He undid the buttons of his collar, which felt like hands tightening around his neck.

"Uncle Wall! Mamá says we're leaving soon!"

Lisia's smile fell as soon as she opened the door and saw Wallace. "Uncle Wall, are you okay?"

Still shaking, Wallace forced a smile. He probably looked like a mess, but he had to look like… less of a mess. Like a good uncle. Like the uncle Lisia deserved.

"Of course I am," he forced out. "I'm just… cold."

Lisia pouted, clenching her fists. "Stop lying! Mamá lies! Papá lies! Everyone lies!"

Wallace jumped off the bed as Lisia ran off.

-

Wallace had a very, very strong sense that he didn't belong in his grandparents' house that night, a sense that he wasn't needed, a sense that he wasn't wanted.

Perhaps it was the stares he got from his aunts and uncles, or the fact that all of his cousins would talk to each other and not him. In either case, he felt like an outcast, as though he weren't a part of his own family.

Maybe they would have liked him better if he was dead.

On top of facing his family, he had to eat in front of them. And everyone was watching him, as though they were all expecting him to eat, to breathe perfectly.

Like always, it stung, this time more than ever.

"Uh… Manami, Amara," Raphael said to the twins, "how's… how's modeling work?"

"Good," Manami mumbled.

"Better than Wallace," Amara added.

Raphael winced at his failed attempts to be friendly. Well, at least he was trying. Wallace could appreciate that much. Maybe if he tried to speak himself—

"You're so mean to Uncle Wall!" Lisia shouted to Manami and Amara. Wallace grimaced and shrank in his seat. He wished Lisia would stop talking; she wasn't making anything better. In fact, she was just making things worse.

"He deserves it," Amara snapped. "Out of all of us, he gets chosen as Sootopolis's saviour?!"

"And look where that got us," Manami added. "Now Sootopolis City's economy is even worse, and it doesn't even have a mayor anymore." She stared at Wallace. "Great job saving us."

"I'm sorry..."

"Did you pick up any hints from other Coordinators? Did you give Megalos good hea—"

The table shook as Nicole stood up.

"You have no. Right. To say those things to my brother." Wallace had never seen his sister so angry, yet so calm. It made his rising nausea even worse.

Did Megalos really only keep Wallace around for sex? Was Wallace secretly a bad Gym Leader, a bad Lorekeeper, a fake?!

But Manami's words brought back flashbacks to the secrets he had to keep, the drugged-up nights at Megalos's estate and office, the... the...

"Tell them to stop being so mean!" Lisia shouted at Yiayiá, cheeks red with anger.

Lisia, please shut up.

Yiayiá shook her head at Lisia before looking up at Nicole with a stern expression.

"Why did you come into our home?"

Yiayiá's voice was powerful, and even the clinking of silverware whimpered away in its presence.

"You invited us," Nicole hissed without even looking at Yiayiá.

"That was before Meglaos dropped dead! I knew Dorian had cursed his family, but now the curse is killing others in this family?! Why, this curse will ruin Sootopolis City at this rate!"

At that, Nicole's gaze turned to Yiayiá.

"My father, bless his souls above, had nothing to do with Megalos's death."

Yiayiá shook her head, glaring back at Nicole.

"Sure he didn't," Yiayiá harrumphed. "Surely even as a child, you knew your father hated Megalos."

"But he didn't kill Megalos!"

"His curse did! His curse damned his children, and you damn yourselves for speaking his name!" the woman shouted, waving a finger accusingly. "His name brought Wallace illness and Megalos death—"

"I brought illness on myself."

All eyes were on Wallace again. Fuck… it was too late to back out. He had to get himself out of this. With a deep breath and with all of his emotional energy, he stared at Yiayiá directly and began to speak:

"Well, Megalos did, to an extent," he began. "He… did some bad things to me. I guess. And I did… bad things to myself. Drugs. Self-starving. I didn't have pneumonia; I had a ruptured esophagus and a drug addiction. Dorian didn't curse me. I just have problems that I need to work through."

Wallace braced himself for the worst: yelling, crying, physical beatings. Somehow, he got worse:

"Why would you do this to us?" Yiayiá whispered. "Why would you do this to yourself?!"

"He didn't do anything to anyone!" Nicole screeched.

But Yiayiá was right. Wallace had brought upon his own illness. Wallace had brought about Megalos's death. Wallace had cursed the family.

And then Wallace threw up on the table.

-

The run for the bathroom was a blur of terror. Wallace was barely able to think enough to get out get out get out.

He was too exhausted to keep himself from sobbing as he vomited into the toilet. Everything was too much. Why had he ever opened his mouth? Why had he ever been born?

He just wanted to purge himself until he was too empty to keep living.

"Wallace?" Nicole's voice. Softer. Gentler. "We're leaving."

Wallace stood up. There were people outside the bathroom. Scary people. Scary eyes. Scary shouts. Shame. Guilt. Pain.

"I'm sorry."

Except, it was too late for Wallace to say sorry.