[SE] can you see me through the ashes and the smoke?

but that was then, and this is now

For a long moment, Remi says nothing at all. He just stands there, watching the hurt in Mateo’s face, feeling the weight of it settle somewhere deep and uncomfortable in his chest. He’s had this conversation before—too many times, too many variations of it with his son—but somehow, it still lands like a blow he should have seen coming, quite possibly because it's one he absolutely deserves.

"You’re right."

The admission comes quietly, but it holds no hesitation. His sea-glass gaze drops slightly, tracing the edges of the wrapped box still in his hands before lifting back to Mateo, his expression stripped of all its usual defences and hardness. "I didn’t come sooner because I was selfish. Not because I thought you didn’t deserve an apology, not because I didn’t know I owed you one—but because I let my own life get in the way." He shakes his head, jaw tightening for half a second before he forces himself to relax. "At the festival, I lashed out because I didn’t want to take responsibility for another one of my shortcomings, especially not in light of having not been able to protect Flora."

Pausing, the Bastion measures his son's expression as best he can, if only to judge where he has time to say more or if it's all already far too late. "What you said that night...about us acting like we don't want you.." Fuck but it hurts even just to think the words, let alone say them out loud. Remi's fingers tighten around the box, as if realizing he’s still holding it. "I don't quite know when I allowed myself to become such a terrible father to you, but I hope you know that it has nothing to do with how much you are wanted or loved."

"I don’t want to force this conversation on you if you aren’t ready," Remi continues, his voice steady despite the weight of it. "But I also don’t want you to think I’m saying that so I can walk away and pretend it doesn’t need to happen." He exhales slowly, fingers flexing once before he carefully sets the box down between them, as if laying something fragile at his son’s feet. "Whenever you’re ready, whenever you want to talk—really talk—I will be here. No excuses, no running from it." His sea-glass eyes flicker over Mateo’s face one last time, something quiet and heavy in his expression. "And if you don’t want to talk, at least not yet…I hope you know that I love you, despite how poorly I've managed to show it."

the bastion

Table by the wonderful SKY

Mateo

champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between

The worst part is that this isn't even the first time that Mateo has heard this. The you're right that heralds the sort of accountability that should lead to real change, to never having to hear it again, and the botanist swallows thickly, having to school himself not to just immediately tell Remi that it's okay. Because it isn't, and he's old enough now to shoulder the pain of drawing and maintaining a boundary for himself.

What Remi has to say about the festival isn't surprising, not when it comes to how he'd behaved around what had happened to Flora. That much Mateo has already been able to talk out with the Doubletake, to drink and commiserate and to prop each other up between death and resurrection and parental lectures. No, it's the second part that hits him, the boy's gaze dropping away towards the bottom of the doorframe so he doesn't have to watch properly as Remi sets the gift between them.

"I think perhaps that was true once, when I was very small. Like Aoife," he mutters. "Not now that I am a man who can be blamed or argued with or forgotten about."

Huffing out a shuddering breath and rubbing at eyes suddenly lined with silver, smudging the kohl he'd so carefully applied hours ago, Mateo shakes his head weakly. "I am too drunk for this," he says roughly. "Thank you for... for this." He gestures at the box, whatever is inside it. "I will reach out when I am ready." If and when that ever may be.

I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm

but that was then, and this is now

For all that Remi had expected this to be difficult, he hadn’t quite braced himself for how much it would hurt.

Not because Mateo is cruel—because he isn’t—but because the words land in a way that makes Remi feel like he’s standing in the wreckage of something long since broken, only now realizing just how much of the damage was his own doing. Which was of course to say all of it.

Mateo looks away, and Remi feels the weight of it like an iron hand around his ribs.

The breath leaves Remi’s lungs like the tide pulling away from the shore. It isn’t anger, it isn’t frustration—it’s just grief. A quiet, raw thing that sits low in his chest, too big to name, too old to be surprised by. For a moment, he nearly tells Mateo that isn’t true. That of course he isn’t forgotten. That he could never be forgotten. But he knows better than to say it now, to try to patch over something that has already left scars.

His gaze catches on the smudge of silver at the corner of Mateo’s eyes, the way his hands rub tiredly against them, and gods, does he want to reach out. But that, too, is something he no longer has the right to do. Instead, he takes a slow step back as Mateo gestures to the box, his voice rough and unsteady. Remi nods, the movement small, measured. "Okay." He doesn’t press, doesn’t push for more than what Mateo has already given him, even if part of him aches to do just that. "Then I’ll wait."

The words barely settle before a voice from inside calls for Mateo—Flora, sharp and clear, and Remi has to fight the knee-jerk instinct to ask if she’s alright. Of course she is. She’s strong. She has Mateo. And right now, neither of them need him to be the one asking.

Instead, he exhales softly, gaze flickering once more over his son before he steps fully back into the dim torchlight. "If you need anything, I'm just a channel away. " He doesn’t linger. He doesn’t wait for a response that might not come. With one last glance, he turns and walks away, leaving the gift on the threshold, the space between them just as wide as it was when he first knocked.

the bastion

Table by the wonderful SKY

flora

Upstairs, Flora sets her tea down on the nightstand with a quiet clink, rubbing at her eyes as she sits at the edge of the bed. She exhales, long and slow, trying to let go of the weight sitting heavy in her chest, but it lingers stubbornly, curling in her ribs like smoke that refuses to dissipate. Stupid Jack and his stupid dress. She almost convinces herself to just climb under the covers and let whatever’s happening downstairs sort itself out—until she hears his voice.

Remi.

Her stomach twists; she’s not in the mood for this. Not for whatever well-intentioned but ultimately exhausting and offensive concern her father might have decided to bring to her doorstep tonight. Not when she’s already raw, not when she’s barely managed to shove her feelings down far enough to function.

Mateo is more than capable of handling whatever this is, but still—she doesn’t want him caught in the crossfire of something that has nothing to do with him, or worse still, to be the target of whatever is on their dad's mind.

"Mateeeeooo," she calls out in a voice that's a touch needy, hoping to cut short whatever conversation is happening downstairs.

Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness
'Cause it's all over now, all out to sea

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Mateo

champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between

Honestly having expected Remi to argue his case - or at least for him to slip into the travelling tongue to try and convince Mateo to discuss it further - the boy lets out a shivery sigh as his wishes are honoured, of all things. Clearing his throat and nodding without looking at the Bastion as he steps back, instead, as Flora's voice rings out, he turns to gaze over his shoulder and up the stairs. "Goodnight," he says roughly to his father, waiting for him to turn away before plucking up the gift and stepping back inside to shut the door.

Despositing the box on a nearby table (he doesn't think he has it in him to open it just yet, or perhaps for a while), he locks their front door and quickly pads upstairs, kicking off his bunny slippers on the landing and slipping into Flora's room. "It was Remi," he mutters. "Trying to apologise. Can I sleep in here? Your boyfriend is a dickhead and I hope he does not get any sleep tonight because he is thinking about how much of a dickhead he is, by the way." Suddenly it's much easier to be on the same page as his sister about Jack's actions.

I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm

flora

Flora glances up as Mateo steps into her room, already prepared to say something about How MeN r StuPiD SomEtImeS if only to give him a taste of his own medicine, but she swallows the joke before it can really form. Instead, she just exhales softly, shifting to make space for him, lifting the blanket in silent invitation. The bed will sink beneath his weight as Mateo climbs in beside her, and the moment he’s settled, Flora shifts to press against him, tucking herself into his warmth the way she has since they were kids. He smells like herbs and something sweet from that ridiculous drink he’d been sipping earlier, and Flora breathes it in, letting it soothe something raw inside her.

"You make the best tea," she murmurs sleepily, her fingers curling into the fabric of his silk shirt. And for a moment, she just listens—to the muffled hum of music and laughter from the streets below, to the distant echo of crashing waves, to the steady, familiar rhythm of her brother’s breathing.

The world is still spinning outside, revellers carrying on as if nothing has changed, but here, in the quiet of her room, everything finally feels still. And maybe, for tonight, that’s enough. "Love you," she murmurs sleepily, before the world goes completely quiet.

~FIN

Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness
'Cause it's all over now, all out to sea

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!