Florian shook away the thoughts crowding his head, finally turning back to look toward his father. Still standing behind him, the unnamed stranger looked as stoic as ever, but his eyes met Florian's briefly before glancing over to Jerah. His father’s face was earnest, a tiny hint of a hopeful smile on his lips, but somehow that only made his anger burn even hotter.
“This is—this is insane,” he stammered, shaking his head. “You're expecting me to come with you? You never came to see me even once but now you're just going to, what, take me away to your stupid magic kingdom? This can't be real.”
“I know how this all must sound,” Jerah said softly, a pained expression crossing his face. “Please, Florian, I'm just asking for one chance to prove myself to you.”
“Why? Why should I give youanything?!” Florian exclaimed, pushing himself away from the table and stumbling to his feet. His eyes were burning, his voice thick with emotion, but the last thing he wanted was to cry in front of strangers. “You don't—You don't know anything about me. Even if all this shitwastrue, you still could have—could have visited, or wrote, or—or anything. But you didn't. You didn't! I don't know who the fuck you are, but I don't have a father. So fuck you, and—” He turned around, unable to stop himself from glaring at August who whithered under his gaze. “—and fuckyoufor making me do this.”
He could hear a clamoring of voices as he left, but his feet were carrying him away, and his hand was slamming the front door behind him before any of their words registered. Taking the stairs two at a time back down onto the street, he followed the sidewalk blindly, blood pounding in his ears and drowning out the noise of the downtown dinner rush around him.
What the hell was going on? Part of him wondered if he had hallucinated the whole meeting. Just thinking back on it made the whole thing sound even more absurd. Another world? Magic, fae, Changelings? None of it meant anything to him. It was all fairy tales and make-believe. They couldn't be serious, could they?
It would almost be better if it were some kind of cruel prank. But Jerah had sounded so damn sincere, and Uncle August didn't seem at all surprised about anything he had said—no, he couldn't believe it was a prank.
But he didn't know what to believe. He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone, calling Nadia before he could think better of it. The line rang a few times before she answered.
“Hey, what's up?” Nadia's voice was familiar in his ear, and he realized that he had been holding his breath. It came out as half a sob, and he pressed his fingers to his mouth to keep from losing it. If Florian knew anything, he knew she was someone he could rely on, someone that was real and true.
“H-Hey,” he said, his voice shaking as he spoke. “Um, sorry about earlier.”
“Are you alright?” she asked. Her concern was plain even over the phone. “What happened?”
“Um,” Florian stammered, unsure of even where to begin. “Well, it's... It's my dad.”
Silence answered him, so he stammered on, “He's here. I mean, he was there. At home. He wanted to, um... He wanted to talk to me.”
“Oh my god,” Nadia finally said. “That's... Florian, that's crazy.”
“I know,” Florian said, and he gave a bitter laugh despite himself. “Yeah, it was, uh, it was crazy. I don't know, Nadia, it was all just a bunch of bullshit. He tried to explain everything, but... I don't know. I don't even know why my uncle let him in.” He couldn't bring himself to say any of the stuff about magic—somehow that would make it feel too real, and part of him still couldn't believe that the conversation had even happened.
“I'm sorry, Flor,” Nadia's voice came softly after a moment of hesitation. “I… I don't really know what to say. But that sounds awful.”
“Yeah,” he sighed, kicking up sand absentmindedly. He hadn't even realized that he'd crossed the street and wandered onto the beach. “You know, I used to always wish he would come back for me, but now I just wish he would have left me alone. It was better not knowing.” He stopped, his throat suddenly feeling tight again. It felt so silly, to cry over a man he barely knew, but he couldn't stop himself from sniffling and wiping the tears away angrily even though Nadia couldn't see him.
“That makes sense,” she said, either ignoring his tears or not hearing them—he was thankful either way. “Listen, Florian, you don't owe this guy anything. If he really wanted to be in your life he could have been part of it a lot sooner. So... You know, no one could hold it against you if you don't want to have a relationship with him. So if you decide you don't want to, you don't have to.”
“I know,” Florian agreed, nodding to himself. He did know it, but it was comforting to hear from someone else. “I don't want anything to do with him. If he's still there when I get back I'll ask Uncle August to make him leave. But... I don't know, it almost seemed like they were getting along. If things go... not so good, could I come stay over at your place?”
“Yeah, of course!” she exclaimed. “Even if he does leave, if you want to come hang out, you can. You know that.”
“Thanks, Nadia,” he murmured, a slight smile crossing his face. “I'll let you know how it goes.”
“Yeah, keep me updated.”
“I'll text you. Bye.”
Florian hung up and put his phone back in his pocket with a long, drawn-out sigh. Nadia always knew what to say.
Wearily, he took the long way back toward the shop, steeling himself with every step. The faint echo of familiarity in the back of his head that made him wonder about everything Jerah had said was easy to drown out. He wouldn't have anything to do with any of it. All he had to do was go home and tell him to leave.
