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Another month passed, and then another.
Now he was fine, completely fine. It didn't hurt anymore. He could breathe, and his constant nausea was slowly fading.
Last week, he even spent Saturday evening clubbing with M&M. He felt like absolute shit the morning after, but considering he'd spent the past month locked in his office watching shitty porn (which didn’t really scratch the itch: there were no feathers), it was a huge success.
He's even getting more and more jobs trying to get back to the status quo and make up for his mistakes. It doesn't matter if he's getting injured doing solo jobs to be able to pay his employees.
They’re worried about him, but he isn't doing anything wrong and his daughter is behaving better than usual, even hugging him sometimes.
Actually, he’s happy about that, but he can’t help wondering what’s making her so emotional all of a sudden.
He’s not suffering anymore, so why is his family acting so strange these days?
After coming back from the hotel, he got rid of the taxidermy owls (not that he could burn them himself, and Loona needed to rest).
Once home he took a shower (and totally didn’t freak out because of the water), then he trashed all the notes on the fridge with ideas for the full moon (when there was still an arrangement) and he tossed out of the window the box he used to keep under the couch to hide all the drawings filled with feathered horses and hearts.
He deleted from his phone almost every picture he took at the palace (he then proceeded to forget to delete them from the cloud, so they were back the next morning).
This morning he said his name aloud, and hours later, he still wasn't crying even after he forgot to look away from the flower shop on his way home.
He was fine even with night time jobs (the starry sky didn’t bother him anymore) and watching that stupid Hell-a-novela (he still got sick due to ingesting gigantic quantities of ice cream and cheese).
He was getting better.
He finally stuffed his favorite sweatshirt in the back of his closet and got rid of the heavenly smell of lavender and liquorice that had been haunting his senses day by day.
Just like his hands were still tickling with a familiar warmth since the last time he held the bird at the party (his waist was too thin, even more than usual, was he even eating?).
Last time he bit into an apple he didn't even cry besides the stylized figure of an owl he could see in its flesh and seeds.
He didn't.
And if that little bitch of his employee Moxxie still doesn't believe him, well, that’s not his fucking problem.
Because he's fine.
He is definitely fine.
He has got his friends, his daughter and he is stupid for wanting more than that.
Stupid to let himself hope for the first time in years.
Stupid buying him all of those presents even if he knew the prince would get tired of him.
And definitely stupid coming back the day after trying to distract him and fall back into their old comfortable schemes.
The arrangement was very comfortable, just like it was comfortable postponing the future and all the feelings that were irremediably blooming in his small stupid heart. Making it all about sex in front of his employees every month the day before the deal. Pretending it was just a nuisance, only to then horrify Mox and make Millie laugh with all the unnecessary details.
How good it felt to sink into his arms after a hard day at work and ignoring all the crippling self-hatred for just one night. He knew he didn't deserve any of that yet he still let himself go and got distracted by that lonely man. Enjoying every hour with him in every way, even in the same childish way as twenty-five years ago when he was literally a plaything.
It was very easy getting distracted those nights, he did that every month just like that first fateful night.
He was distracted by hearing his loud moans and delirious speeches uttered by his ethereal voice, distracted by the moonlight reflecting on his beautiful feathers and the light of the stars he occasionally showed by mistake with a magic portal created by the particularly passionate moments they spent together, passion that reflected on both of their faces.
He used to look at his face with delight, wondering what it was that feeling he saw in his four beautiful red eyes, a feeling that he wasn't brave enough to admit was love. A kind of love he yearned for but still was terrified by it because he already knew it would end very soon. But Blitz is still just a man, so like one he's now suffering from the lack of it.
Blitz hoped it was the only look he would ever get from him, that the only tears in his eyes would be of joy and pleasure.
...
Only he knows how much he misses walking into the office at 9 and receiving the usual call or text from the owl still half-asleep but whose first thought when he woke up was reaching out to him.
He had been an idiot to decline that evening at the palace after their date months ago, because after that fateful day the calls got less frequent day by day, until they completely stopped coming through and Blitz couldn't find anymore a number labeled as "Stols" in his recent calls.
That month, the only text he got from him was a simple "if you don't want to come it doesn't matter", the first of many similarly polite rejections.
Just then he realized he had lost something very valuable that he should have been taking care of.
Why was he suddenly so insignificant to him?
It was so selfish of him.
To use him and then leave him behind.
What was the point of making him feel special for the first time in fifteen years? Calling him every day, looking at him with literal hearts in his eyes, listening to him rant about his horse OCs, and even framing a drawing he had made on a paper towel one morning during breakfast (he up after the owl).
And after all of that deciding that he, the little imp wasn't worth enough anymore.
Was it possible that a cockbag that he didn't know, was more important than the heartfelt conversation they were having?
Sure, he was the one who told him to go dance with the sexy "better than Blitzo" incubus, but he somehow still got very upset when he saw the two of them kissing and laughing together.
Why was he even surprised he wasn't the "someone" Stolas was talking about? He never was and never will.
But he wants to. Fuck if he wants to be his "someone", there isn't anything he desires the most. He wants to carry him in his arms, gift him flowers and doing all of that romantic shit he's too scared to do.
Chasing him through the rain to keep from losing him.
Holding him in his arms and protecting him from his family and that bitch of a wife that made him so insecure about himself.
Protecting him against all of his nightmares that often woke him up in the middle of the night. Risking the prince realizing that Blitz wasn't sleeping at all, and wouldn't be falling asleep any time soon that night either.
How many nights did Blitz spend awake watching the bird and his sweet face that was so beautiful it made Blitz question himself if he still was in hell.
How many nights rubbing his face in his chest's feathers and kissing his talons that always found their way to hug the imp or hold his big scarred hands.
Scars that, though unsightly, were revered by the prince every full moon, showered with countless kisses and caresses from that incredibly sharp beak, which somehow still wasn’t a threat to the assassin.
Blitz turns around on his couch, his blanket falling off his shoulder, in his arms there is his favourite sweatshirt: a yellow one designed to look like a horse, his cheeks that are still healing around the eyes are burning because of the salt of his tears.
Loona isn't home tonight so he doesn't have to be fine (what a joke of a dad he is).
The TV is off; he isn’t in the mood to watch anything these days. He hasn’t even bothered with the news, last week they were talking about the royal family and a trial. He didn't want to hear news about other royals. Actually, he isn’t in the mood for anything, except lying on the couch. At least he isn't locked in the office anymore and it's actually going to work during the day.
Besides his little hiccups every once in a while, the only sound in the small apartment is the annoying drip of the kitchen tap that he had to repair since last week, or was it last month?... He can't remember because when it is silent around him, his mind gets filled with memories and regrets.
He's sorry, he truly is.
He loves him, he really does.
Still, he thinks Stolas owes him an apology too, or at least an attempt. Honestly, he’d be fine with either. He probably won't ever see him ever again so it really doesn't matter. Ironically: he's probably too much simp to imp.
If he saw Stolas right now, he probably would still get angry, because it is the only way he has ever known to deal with his feelings since he was a kid. It's the biggest and only lesson his dad gave him: do not cry.
Millie says it isn't true that he destroys everything he loves, so he came to the conclusion that maybe not everything, but he surely destroyed Stolas's life.
It's raining outside, and the sound of thunder breaks the silence. Blitz flinches and the sudden movement on the couch makes many tissues and his phone fall on the floor, so he gets up to pick it up, meanwhile he looks at his phone screen featuring a picture of them, with a crack in the glass dividing the two figures.
While he's staring at it, the doorbell rings.
His head snaps up towards the door, Loona should be at a party. Who could it be?
Confused and with his heart racing Blitz dries his watery eyes on his sleeve and opens the door of the apartment.
The first thing he sees are a pair of familiar long, sexy, thin, hot, black, really hot legs, with sharp talons at the bottom. but most importantly: a drenched owl with watery eyes matching his own.
He truly is perfect isn't he?
"I'm sorry".
He truly isn't over you isn't he?