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Orpheus swallowed back tears that threatened to start falling down again. He clutched his guitar case close to his chest, even though he knew that was futile by now. His guitar’s neck fell limply, and the sight of it just made the boy want to weep.
“We are almost there,” Robyn, his friend, said reassuringly, his hand on Orpheus’ shoulder, steering him in the right direction. Orpheus had been to his house once before, but he was currently in such a state he wouldn’t be able to find his way back to his own home, let alone his new friend’s.
“Are you sure your dad can help?” He asked again, pleading, probably for the tenth time or more. But Robyn didn’t seem to be annoyed or bothered, just concerned.
“He is the best luthier, he can make miracles! Your guitar will be as good as new, promise!”
Orpheus sniffed and nodded, trusting his friend. He knew that Robyn wouldn’t lead him astray. Robyn was his friend. In fact, his only friend since Orpheus and his dad moved to this town a few months back.
Orpheus was a small kid for his age, and quiet, too. That was never a problem in his previous school, but somehow it was a reason to get picked on immediately at the new one. A group of older girls – named by the school population as the Furies – found a new target in him. Delighted in pushing him around, stealing his pens, tripping him. Never when Robyn Gadling was around, though. Robyn and he became fast friends right off the cuff Robyn became his defender, and after he kicked one of the bullies in the shins, they didn’t mess with Orpheus for a while.
Until today. Today Orpheus got ambushed after his music class. One of the girls pushed him hard enough to throw him on the floor, while another kicked his guitar bag until something snapped,loudly. The third member of their group recorded the whole thing on her phone camera.
“We are here,” Robyn announced, and indeed, they HAD reached Robyn’s house. “Dad is at home, he will take a look at it and be able to help you.”
Robyn threw his backpack down by the entrance door and then tagged Orpheus deeper into the house, presumably to his dad’s workroom.
“DAD!” His friend yelled through the house as they ran to the door. “ORPHEUS AND I NEED YOUR HELP IMMEDIATELY, ORPHEUS HAS A SITUATION, CAN YOU – Oh hell,” he finished lamely as two of them barged into his dad’s office only to come face-to-face with Orpheus’s own father, perched on a chair.
Mortification rose within Orpheus. His father wasn’t supposed to be here! He was supposed to never learn of this! Orpheus didn’t want him to know how badly he messed up! Orpheus tears spring from his eyes again.
***
Morpheus Endless, a professional cellist, also known as Dream for his family and friends, had found it harder to settle into Norwich than he had hoped. It wasn’t that it was harder for him, specifically, as the new house had a music room where he could practice as much as he needed, and his trips to London or other cities were limited to once a fortnight for now. But he was worried for his son, Orpheus.
He had hoped, that after his divorce with Calliope, the change of scenery would be good for both of them. And he hoped to repair his relationship with Orpheus, which was badly damaged during the long and messy divorce process. Dream was ashamed to admit, but he and Calliope had been too wrapped up in each other, in their own problems, and their hatred for each other, to notice their own child. By the time it was all over, the damage had been done, and Orphy was a closed-off kid, who didn’t share his secrets or dreams with either of his parents anymore.
And now, with Calliope in another country for her contract, and the two of them here, Dream was faced with a son who was practically a stranger to him, who wouldn’t talk unless spoken to first. In an attempt to bring him out of his shell, he gifted Orpheus a guitar he knew his son had wanted. Indeed, the boy’s face lit up with happiness at the sight of the sea blue instrument, and for the first time that toothy smile was directed at him, but then he ran off to his room and it was back to their routine.
Worse, he saw Orpheus had been having a hard time in school. He would come home dirty, eyes red, things missing. But Orpheus wouldn’t say a word, and when he tentatively asked how he was settling up in the new school, was told all was fine. He didn’t know how to make his son trust him again.
Then, Orpheus found a friend, Robyn. Dream saw him several times when dropping off Orphy at school, boys greeting each other and chatting happily. He was never formally introduced, but he was happy that his son was seemingly finally settling in.
Well, only seemingly.
****
There was an issue with his cello. It had sounded off for several days now, and if it continued to do so, Dream would have to cancel his next concert, and he wouldn’t want to do that.
He had heard of Robert Gadling before, of course, he was a well-known enough name in the circles, and not only did he also live in Norwich, but his place was just a couple of streets away. Calling him proved fruitful. The man was in between projects, so he would be happy to look at Dream’s cello as soon as possible.
This was how Dream found himself in the man’s workshop, Robert carefully looking over his cello, when suddenly the house was pierced with a child’s shouts and the door burst open to reveal Robyn and--
“Orpheus?” He said in astonishment and then watched with horror as his son’s face crumpled and he started crying.
“Aw crap,” the other boy mumbled.
“Robyn, what is going on?” Robert was on his feet, approaching his son, but Dream was already near his, wanting to draw him close. Orpheus flinched away, clutching his guitar case possessively, sobbing.
“Hey,” Dream said softly, kneeling before him. Orpheus was small for his age, and now their eyes were on the same level. “Are you alright? Please, tell me what is wrong.”
But Orpheus just continued to cry, shaking his head vigorously. Distantly, Dream was aware of the other boy and man talking, but he was quickly approaching levels of panic. Was his son hurt?
“You have to tell him,” Robyn squeezed Orpheus’ shoulder. “It’ll be fine.”
“What happened?” Dream repeated, looking between the two boys.
Orpheus brushed at his face, trying to wipe the tears that wouldn’t stop falling and stuck the guitar case at him. “I- Broken,” he said, and Dream spared a look at the lopsided neck, before raising up. He took the bag from Orpheus’s hands, put it aside, and then gathered the child in his arms, burying his fingers in his hair, trying to shield him. Orpheus was tense for a moment before melting into his embrace, thin arms coming to wind around his middle.
“We’ll give you a moment,” Robert said, nodding at him and leading his son out and closing the door behind him.
“It was not his fault! His bullies did it!” Robyn shouted through the door, and then it was quiet.
They stood for a while like that, Dream rubbing Orpheus’ back, trying to soothe him. Finally, his child stepped back, rubbing at his splotchy face.
“Please sit,” he said softly, ruffling through his pockets looking for a napkin, and giving the little bag to him. Once Orpheus sat on the visitor’s chair that Dream earlier occupied, he kneeled again before him, and squeezed the smaller hand in his own.
“Will you tell me what happened?” he asked quietly and watched as Orpheus visibly gathered himself before nodding. He listened as he haltingly told about being bullied, how Robyn would defend him, and how those dreaded furies ambushed him and how they broke his guitar.
“But are you hurt?” He asked once the story came to an end, worried.
“No,” the child mumbled, wrangling the crumpled tissue. “I’m sorry about the guitar-”
“No,” he said firmly. “This is not your fault.” After a moment, he decided to add “Why did you come to Robyn’s father?” ‘And not me, ’ remained unsaid, but by the way Orpheus cringed, his son heard it nonetheless. He mumbled something, too quiet for him to hear.
“What?”
The child looked away. “I didn’t want you to know I broke it.”
“It is just a guitar,” he said, exasperated.
“It is not!” Orpheus exclaimed, suddenly angry. “It was your gift! You don’t really care about me, but you gifted it to me! It was important!”
Dream rocked back as if he was hit. He lost balance and sat hard on the floor. Looked in disbelief at his son, and felt his own eyes well with tears. Orpheus delivered a devastating blow, hitting right in all the fears and guilt Dream harbored. He pushed his son away and made him feel like a stranger. It was all his own doing. His own fault.
“I am sorry,” he choked out, not caring how broken he sounded. “We failed you. I failed you.”
Now the boy was looking at him in confusion and askance. Dream grabbed at his hand and squeezed.
“Your mother and I were selfish. We forgot to show you how much we love you. I am sorry that I made you feel like you are unwanted, like I don’t care about you. I care, Orpheus, my son, I care about you, and I am so sorry that you feel you can’t come to me with your troubles.”
Orpheus was crying again, and Dream shuffled forward, wrapping his child in his arms, not bothering to wipe his own tears away.
****
Hob extracted the whole story from Robyn. His kid was always shit at keeping secrets and it was obvious it had cost him to keep from his dad that his friend was being bullied.
“You did well to protect your friend,” he told Robyn. His son nodded in response.
“I know,” he agreed easily. “I like Orphy, he’s great! And he is so small, they just keep picking on him for no reason!”
It was hard not to smile at Robyn’s plan to save his friend, though. A broken guitar neck wasn’t a repair done easily, and at some point, they would have needed to involve Morpheus either way. But Robyn didn’t need to know that.
It wasn’t really surprising to him that the other kid didn’t want to tell his dad about the guitar. From the conversation he was having with him prior to the kids bursting in, Morpheus seemed cold and standoffish. He could easily see not wanting to get into trouble for a broken instrument.
But there was real fear in the man’s face when his kid just started bawling his eyes out, at which point Hob had firmly grasped his own son’s shoulders and led him out to give them some privacy.
Robyn was chatting away while Hob was preparing dinner and, frankly, he was starting to get worried at how long they were taking to talk, but then he heard the door open and two sets of steps.
“Are you okay?” Robyn asked, and Hob watched the other boy hesitantly nod. His eyes were puffy but he looked more or less calm. His father, though, looked a mess, his eyes red-rimmed as well, a dejected expression on his face. But the hand on his son’s shoulder was gentle.
“I would like you to give your professional opinion on the guitar, Robert,” the man said formally. “It seems we are about to commission the repairs of two instruments today.”
“Yes!” Robyn threw a fist in the air and Orpheus beamed at him.
“Sure,” Hob agreed easily. “But before that, sit down, both of you. I won’t have Robyn’s friend and his dad go hungry.”
Morpheus frowned but nodded.
Orpheus quickly sat next to Robyn, two of them immediately engrossed in conversation, while the adult approached Hob.
“Do you need any help?”
“Nah, just sit down. Your kid gave us all a big scare back there.”
They turned to look at the children, now completely ignoring their existence.
“It has been a while…” Morpheus began but then stopped and tried again. “I am glad he has a friend in Robyn. He seems happier than he has been in a while.”
Later, all four of them were sitting in Hob’s workshop, waiting in anticipation for him to take a look at the damage. Robyn had his arm around Orpheus, the two of them managing to squeeze into the same chair. Morpheus sat a bit closer in order to examine the damage himself.
Hob carefully unzipped the bag, already cringing inwardly at the wrong angle of the instrument in it. And indeed, when he opened it, the nut of a beautiful sea blue guitar was shattered, and it was not a clean break at all. The headstock was completely detached, only connected to the body with strings, and held in the upper part by the case itself.
“Well, it looks like the body and headstock are salvageable,” he said, pensive, carefully detaching strings from the pegs and examining the fragile thing in his hands. “But I am afraid the whole neck has to be replaced. It’ll take time.”
*****
That night, Dream sat at Orpheus’ bedside for the first time in forever. In truth, he could not recall the last time he tucked the boy in. Perhaps, it was before… He shook his head slightly and threaded fingers through Orphy’s brown hair.
“I’m happy you weren’t mad,” the boy whispered, eyes heavily lidded from the exhaustive day.
“Of course I am not mad,” he said with a sigh. “I’m happy you are fine. It frightened me, seeing you cry like that.”
But Orpheus was already out like a light, softly breathing. He looked even younger, asleep, and Dream cursed himself again.
He sat at his bed for some time, just listening to his breathing. Today he had the first real conversation with his son in months, if not in a year. There was a lot of damage to repair, he knew. Looking down on Orphy’s small frame, he felt scared to fuck up again.
*****
Later, Dream sat in his own bed, contemplating the events of the day. For a moment, he wondered whether Calliope knew of Orpheus' struggles. He dismissed the unpleasant feeling in his gut – Orpheus would not have told his mother either. Should he write her himself? Would she care?
His phone vibrated with a new message, snapping him out of this chain of thought.
‘Is he alright?’ read the message from Hob.
“Call me Hob,” the man corrected him during the dinner. “After all, we are friends now.”
‘He’s sleeping already,’ Dream sent, and then added. ‘Thank you for your help.I’m glad Orphy thought he could go to you even if he wouldn’t go to me.’
He watched as three dots appeared and disappeared until the message came through.
‘I know we’ve just met so feel free to tell me to fuck of but’
‘Is everything alright in your family?’
Dream, indeed, contemplated telling him to fuck off, but he also was tired and exhausted, and didn’t want to strain the potential relationship with the father of his son’s friend.
‘I am trying to rebuild his trust,’ was what he settled on eventually as a reply.
‘An unsolicited advice from me,’ a message arrives almost immediately.
‘Don’t make him go to school tomorrow, and the two of you do something fun together instead’
‘It won’t do him any good to see his bullies tomorrow.’
‘also, what are you planning to do about them?’
The thought of Orpheus’ bullies made Dream flush with anger. He hasn’t yet decided on the appropriate course of action, but he won’t leave that alone. He told Hob as much, and received a V-gesture smiley and a ‘good’.
But the advice about spending time with Orpheus tomorrow had its merit, and Dream started thinking on a plan.
****
Orpheus woke up groggily. He felt heavy and warm and comfortable. He didn’t want to get up. But he had to, he had school today. He opened his eyes.
The sun was much too high for his usual waking-up time.
The boy instantly jumped from his bed, wide awake and panicked. He barreled out of his room, through the living room, and into the kitchen.
“Morning,” his father said, looking up from his papers. “I trust you slept well?”
“I – I overslept – school,” he said, looking at the wall clock, proudly showing almost ten.
“It is alright,” his father replied with a shake of his head. “I contacted the school and told them you’ll be absent today. You and I are going to go for a drive.”
“But… why?” he asked in confusion. They hadn’t done drives in forever.
“Because we haven’t done those in forever,” his father said and gave him a small smile. “Go on. Eat, get ready. Then, we’ll be off on an adventure.”
Orpheus felt a big smile growing on his face and excitement rising like a balloon in his chest. He quickly dashed back to his room, getting ready, and soon enough he and his father were driving out of the city.
“Where are we going?” He asked once they left the town behind and were driving through the trees and fields. It was cloudy, but it wasn’t raining, and it was warmer than it had been yesterday. Music played through the speaker at a low volume.
And he wasn’t in school! The furies won’t get him today!
He felt a little bad for abandoning Robyn, but it was too nice to feel guilty.
“The sea,” his father replied. “It is only an hour drive. I thought you might enjoy it.”
“This is great!” He exclaimed, grinning. He wanted to see the sea for so long now! He hadn’t dared to hope his father would take him there, but he did!
Orpheus felt happier than he had in a long long time.
Father asked him how he met Robyn, and Orphy happily relaid him the story of their first meeting, and when he still seemed to be interested, told him about the book they were reading, and Robyn’s fencing classes, and how they had been assigned this project together…
Point is, by the time they arrived at the seashore, Orpheus had spent the duration of the entire car trip talking to his father.
“Come on,” Dream said, parking at a parking lot, and then grabbing a bag from the back. “Let’s have a walk together, son.”
He led him to the beach and Orphy’s breathing caught in his lunges.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Father’s voice was distant, but his hand was on his shoulder, and Orphy leaned into his side, looking at the neverending steel blue water, at the almost nonexistent horizon line, basking in the sound of waves, the smell of salt…
“Very,” he whispered. “Very beautiful, dad.”
****
Dream watched his son drink in the sight of the sea before him and knew he made the right decision by bringing him here. Standing in the cold November wind wasn’t pleasant, but Orpheus’ excitement was worth it.
After they stood and watched the sea, they went to walk along the shore. Sometimes Orpheus would run ahead and back, he’d find small shells alongside pieces of glass, polished with water and sand. They didn’t talk much, content to enjoy nature and listen to solitary gulls screaming overhead in their ugly voices.
“Orpheus!” He called once they reached a painted sea-blue fish and chips stall. There were a few tables around it, and one occupied by bored youth, most likely skiving school.
Dream figured some hot food was in order and when Orpheus happily accepted his parcel wrapped in greasy paper, they sat side by side on a small bench.
“Do you like it here?” He asked, delicately picking a salty chip from the greasy bag. He had no idea how people found this enjoyable, or worth the hassle. Orpheus on the other hand, was happy enough to munch on it, not caring about dirty hands or grease getting on his sleeves.
“Wonderful!” He replied excitedly. “The sea is amazing! I missed seeing it, dad.” He beamed up at him and Dream felt his heart seize painfully in his chest.
“Don’t mind missing school for the view?” He teased him gently, but unexpectedly, Orpheus’ happy smile wilted.
“I..” He started, then bit on his lip and stopped, looking away.
Dream frowned. He had hoped that the day would be happy for Orpheus and perhaps… Perhaps just one day wasn’t enough, though.
“I can’t expect things to go back to how they were,” he said loudly enough to carry over the wind. “But I am listening. Or, trying to,” he added, putting down his half-finished fish and chips with a sigh, turning sidewise to see Orpheus better. “Do you fear going to school again?”
Orpheus’ eyes darted at him in surprise, confirming Dream’s suspicion.
“Did your bullies hurt you physically?” He asked.
“The furies would push me and steal my things,” he said reluctantly, but then brightened. “But they stopped when Robyn became my friend!”
Dream smiled back at him. He was glad that his son found a friend like Robyn. Still.
“But they attacked you when he wasn’t around.”
Orpheus’ expression became pinched, upset. “They pushed me down and then kicked the guitar until they broke it.”
“Oh Orpheus,” he reached out and drew his son into an embrace, rubbing over his back, biting back the question ‘ why didn’t you come to me? ’. He bloody well knew why Orpheus didn’t reach out to him, why he didn’t say a word to him, why he went to his friend’s father instead of him.
“Will mum come back?” Orpheus asked in a small voice, muffled against Dream’s coat.
“I do not know,” Dream replied truthfully, then squeezed harder. “I do not know what your mother is going to do, I am sorry.”
Orpheus didn’t cry, but to his dad nonetheless. Dream held him, but didn’t say anything more about Calliope. Her life was her own now, and her decision to be away from their son, too, was her own.
“I am here,” he said softly instead.
****
The wind picked up and it started drizzling soon after, and father and son decided to make their way back to the car. Originally Dream had thought they’d be able to have a little picnic, but the blanket he packed came in handy nonetheless, now wrapped around Orpheus’ shoulders as an additional shield against the elements.
Talking about the bullying upset Orpheus each time, and it did so too when, once back in the car, Dream started asking pointed questions. Who were they? Three sisters, triplets, Alecta, Maggie and Tissa, also called The Furies. How old were they? Orpheus didn’t know, just that they were a few years older. What did they say to him? That he was stupid and his songs were silly, and that they didn’t like him.
“You are not stupid and your songs aren’t silly,” he said steadily, trying to reign anger from his voice. He must’ve failed to do so, because Orpheus shrunk in on himself. “Hey,” he reached out to lay a hand over his shoulder, “I mean it. They are mean and… cruel, and don’t know you at all.”
The boy shot him a look and Dream sighed. Yeah. He didn’t know him that well either. But he was trying.
“They will not bother you again,” he said again. “I will make sure of that. Do you know where they live?”
***
Orpheus didn’t know where they lived, but that wasn’t a big problem. A quick text to Robert – Hob – and a few minutes later he had the address of where to go. Apparently, Hob had fixed an instrument for their household, and didn’t feel too bound by the service-client non-disclosure ethics.
“Where are we going?” Orphy asked once they were in the unfamiliar neighborhood.
“We are going to bring those ‘furies’ down a peg,” Dream said firmly, reading at the street numbers, looking for the one they needed.
“Dad, no!” The boy exclaimed, turning in the seat to face him. “We can’t!”
“I will not let some insolent children get away with hurting you,” he said firmly and then parked in front of the house with the right number.
“But you can’t!” Orpheus lamented, eyes wide and scared.
“Are you afraid of them enough-” He stopped himself, realizing that what he was about to say would only make it worse. Orpheus wasn’t an adult, he would think he was angry with him. “If we do not do anything, it will only get worse. They did not hesitate to corner you and break your guitar. I do not want you to come back home one day with broken bones,” he said fiercely.
His son bit his lip worriedly, before eventually nodding ever so slightly.
“What are you going to do?”
Dream smirked at him.
****
Orpheus rang the doorbell. He didn’t want to be here; he didn’t want to see the Furies today. But his father stood behind him, an encouraging hand on his shoulder. It made him feel brave.
There was the thudding of feet and the door was flung open to reveal… One of the Furies. He didn’t know them well enough to tell them apart.
“What- Err, hello,” she said, looking down at him, and then up at his father.
“Hello, Ms Erineys,” his dad spoke, his voice cold. “I trust you and your sisters know my son, Orpheus.”
“Yeah, he’s a little runt running around,” the older girl stuck her chin out, looking up at his dad.
“I see,” he said, squeezing Orpheus’ shoulder harder for just a moment. “Make yourself useful and call your parents down, please.”
This was nothing short of order and she knew it. Reluctantly, she retreated into the house, calling for her father. She left the door open, and Orpheus’ dad led them inside and into the living room, where they stood, until a tall man, taller and broader than his dad, entered the room. He was dressed in tracksuit pants and a light polo shirt, and looked almost comical in comparison to his dad, in his black clothes and tailored black coat.
“Who are you and why are you threatening my daughter?” The man started, hostile. Orpheus wanted to step back, but his dad behind him was steadfast.
“Your daughters, Mr Erineys,” he drawled, “I am threatening your daughters.”
The daughters in question were gathered in the doorway, looking worried.
“See, mister Erineys,” his dad continued, his tone dangerously light. “Your daughters have been terrorizing my son for months, stealing his things, pushing him, and yesterday,” he paused minutely, “they broke his guitar.”
“That’s a lie!” One of them called out. “He tripped on his feet.” The other two sniggered at her words, and Orpheus felt his face go red.
“I believe my daughters,” the man crossed his hands over his chest. “I raise my daughters as strong independent women and I believe they would act as they see fit.”
“Does your particular brand of feminism include picking on someone younger who can’t defend himself?” Impossibly, his dad’s voice sounded otherworldly, scary, as if he was channeling a nightmare or something. “Do your teenage daughters find pleasure in harassing a child three years younger than themselves? Do they believe there will not be reckoning for their actions? Do you believe that I will let this go easily just because you are standing here, flexing your muscles, as if it can intimidate me ?” It was as if the shadows were spreading from his father. “If your daughters ever speak to my son again, let alone touch him again, I will make sure they will not have any future.”
Orpheus watched his father in wonder. He looked properly scary, and if his anger was directed at him, he knew he’d be running away. Instead, he watched as his dad viciously berated the man, and then Furies, until all were pale and scared. And only then, he led Orpheus out, leaving them standing numbly in their house.
****
‘did you go to their house?’
‘you must tell me how it went1!’
His phone vibrated later in the evening after Orpheus retreated to his room to do the homework for tomorrow's classes, and Dream was lounging in the living room, answering all the missed messages from Lucienne, his agent, and Matthew, his assistant.
Hob apparently abhorred using proper punctuation, not caring about capital letters, or even using dots.
‘We did indeed go to their house. I believe they will not bother Orpheus again.’
‘Hell yeah! Glad to hear it!’
‘Robyn was very worried today when his best friend didn’t show up at school
'I took your advice and took him to the seaside.'
'innthis weather??'
Dream huffed at the typo, before replying:
'He loves the sea.'
******
The next morning Hob drove Robyn to school and then waited by his car, wanting to catch Morpheus. He raised his hand in greeting as Orpheus bounced out of the car to join Robyn, who was already at the entrance door.
The other man clearly understood Hob’s meaning, as he parked his car a bit further down the road in order not to block the traffic, and approached Hob.
“Wanna go for a coffee?” He asked the clad in black musician and received a nod for his troubles. “Come one, then, I know a good spot”
Soon enough they were sitting in a place called The New Inn, drinking the best coffee in town, as far as Hob was concerned, and Morpheus recounted the story about confronting the father of his son’s bullies. There was no small amount of smugness on his pretty face.
Wait. Pretty?
Hob shook his head, chasing the thought away.
“I’m glad that this is over,” he said instead. “Also, glad your Orpheus is friends with my Robyn. Robyn… Has been having trouble keeping friends.”
“How so?” Morpheus raised eyebrows in slight surprise. “He seems to be so outgoing.”
Hob’s mouth twitched in a sad half-smile.
“His mother died two years ago. I am not sure whom it hit harder, to be honest,” he said, looking down at his coffee. “Orpheus is his first real friend in a long stretch of time.”
They were quiet for a long moment, then the other man hesitantly covered Hob’s hand.
“I am sorry for your loss,” he said and when Hob looked up, his expression was earnest. He swallowed hard.
“It’s been a long while,” was all he could say.
They sat like that for a while, neither removing their hands.
“You said you’re trying to rebuild his trust. What happened?”
The other man sighed and leaned back. Hob missed the weight of his hand immediately.
“We… The divorce with my former wife was long and ugly. We… let our own drama and grievances with each other reflect poorly on how we treated Orpheus. By the time it was over and Calliope fu– left, it was too late.”
Hob watched as a thin line of moisture appeared in his eyes and didn’t dare to breathe.
“She moved to the continent for her work, but I didn’t think it would be good for Orpheus to move around as much as her work required. She left, as I learnt later, without saying goodbye to him. I feel it was the last nail in the coffin for him.”
“That is certainly… A way to fuck up your child,” Hob agreed softly.
“The fault isn’t, of course, only on her,” Morpheus said as his voice grew stronger. “I moved us here in hopes of starting anew with Orpheus, but… I feel that had he not been forced to face me, he would have tried to bear this fiasco with the guitar alone.”
“You do realize I wouldn’t be able to fix the instrument secretly, right?” Hob said dryly. “No offense, it is a costly repair, and I do need to feed Robyn somehow.”
“None taken,” he smiled slightly. “That much I understand. I only meant-”
“I know what you meant,” he interrupted. “It’s good you are trying, though. Too many dads wouldn’t.”
They lapsed into a friendly chat, before it was time for both of them to get back to their lives.
****
It became a routine for them, a morning coffee after dropping off their children at school. Often, either Dream would come home to find Robyn at his house, or Hob would have Orpheus over for the afternoon.
Dream was finding it inexplicably easy to talk with the luthier, and he found himself texting with him more than, perhaps, with anyone else he had ever known.
Then, a few weeks later, instead of their morning coffee, Hob drove him back to his home. Once inside, he presented Dream with the newly repaired guitar.
“It took a while to get the correct neck shipped over,” he said. “I rarely repair guitars, and even more rarely ones so broken.”
He gave the guitar to Dream, holding it like one would present a sword to their lord, in reverence, light reflecting from the blue surface of it.
It felt solid in his hands, as good as new, and it was important for him to be perfect. It was perfect.
“Orpheus will be happy,” Hob said, warmth in his voice.
In that instant, Dream knew it. He carefully put the guitar on the nearby table, and then turned back to the other man. Stepped close, right in his personal space, so that they were chest to chest.
“As I am. You have incredible hands.”
“I-” Hob’s eyes flickered at Dream’s lips. Dream wasted no time and, framing the other man’s face with both of his hands, kissed him.
It was a quick, chaste kiss, but when Dream leaned back, he watched Hob blink at him dazedly.
“Is there…” He said. “Is there more of this on the table, or do you kiss all your friends in thanks?”
“No, I do not. I only kiss those I like very much.”
“Oh.” One of Hob’s hands found its way to hold onto Dream’s collar, the other a light weight on his waist. “‘S good. That you like me. I like you too. A great deal.”
“Then you are not opposed to me kissing you again?”
“Come here,” Hob said and it was him who bridged the distance between them for a second, third kiss, and then they lost count.
****
Orpheus’s splitting grin when presented with the restored guitar was bright enough to outshine the sun. His eyes, full of happiness and joy, made Dream want to cry. Instead, he tightly hugged the boy and let him run off to his room. Soon enough, Orpheus’ playing was heard across the house.
Life went on.
The fragile trust Orpheus was putting in Dream again grew steadily. There were ups and lows, of course. There was the time when Orpheus received a cold message from his mother, and all the roiling hurt burst out and found its target in Dream, voicing all the accusations and doubts in one tidal wave. They weathered it together. Dream would carefully pry open the shell Orpheus locked himself in, and would hold his little heart in his hands with all the care he could master.
He was only human, though, his concert schedule weighing on him, the responsibilities he had. Being a single dad wasn’t easy by any means.
He and Hob were together now. Dream knew he was in love, and it did not scare him as much as it had him with his ex-wife, back at the beginning. There was the feeling of a warm hearth, of being home. Watching their sons being inseparable friends, taking them in turns to extracurricular activities, and staying at each others’ houses for the evening more often than not, it was all a routine they made. Adding love was as easy as stepping back home.
Dream knew, when he offered Hob and Robyn to move in with them, he was doing something right. When Hob agreed, he knew they were doing it forever.
*****