For years, they got used to not being listened to. Got used to being ignored, being overlooked.
The days in their youth when they'd try to talk excitedly to their family about their day, only to get ignored as the other conversations drifted elsewhere; or the worse option, getting told to shut up in creatively harsh ways.
As the years went on, the light in their eyes dimmed. They got quieter. Didn't get excited.
The colour of their aura dulled.
When their magic manifested, it got easier to hide.
They could easily fade out in the background.
Even when something they know or like got mentioned, they battled with the urge to talk.
No matter how much they wanted to...
They thought things would change when they joined the department, get out into the world of magic, get things done...
Their hopes were snuffed out when it was a spitting image of their home life.
Their credit being taken by someone else. That's the one that stung the most. It was no different than telling a joke, only for someone to repeat it louder and getting everyone to laugh.
When Sweetheart got home after a tough day, the words they tried to say died in their tongue. They couldn't even get the classic "I'm home" out.
It felt like another broken record. Repeating the same old, same old.
Getting ignored when they had an idea.
Getting talked over when they tried to offer something.
And someone else repeating their words louder and not giving them the credit for the suggestion.
They gave up early on in the shift.
Don't smile unless necessary, even then, make it as natural as possible without looking like they wanted to get out of there.
Hide the dullness in their eyes.
And hope to forget about everything.
They wanted to cry, but their eyes felt dry. Nothing came out, no matter how much they tried to work themself up to it. At least then, they'd feel something.
At least before, when they were younger, they could seek refuge in their room and just cry it out. They couldn't even really do that without Milo seeing it—
They didn't even unlock the door to make it seem like they were home. Instead, they cloaked and started phasing through walls to find where the bedroom was.
Okay... Wasn't in here... They could just stew about everything in peace... For as long as they could.
They wanted nothing more than to get into something more comfortable... But the change would make it obvious. If he ever came in the room, he'd see their day clothes discarded in the hamper and start looking...
Their chest ached. Why were they hiding from the love of their life, the only one that brings the light back to their eyes...
The thoughts started storming. The memories of the days where they thought they were fitting in, just to feel isolated in a room full of people.
The days where they thought maybe, just maybe, this was their chance to get listened to, just to get ignored.
The nights when they wanted to relay the exciting things that they did during the day, just to get yelled at and told to shut up, stop talking so much, no one cares...
That's when the tears finally started.
Holding their breath to not sniffle, not sob, not make a sound.
They wanted to hide, even while cloaked.
Don't take up too much space.
They phased through the wall into the closet, hiding in the farthest, darkest, most obscure corner. What made the spot better was the amount of coats, shirts, etc that someone would have to dig past to get to them.
Their hands clasped against the top of their head, their forehead resting on their knees. They've mastered the art of crying silently, which ultimately shouldn't be a good thing. But to them, it was their greatest achievement. The only thing they can say they've really been good at...
Milo could've sworn he heard their car pull in. He could've sworn he heard the garage open then shut, their car engine cutting, then the jangle of their keyring — the one with umpteen keychains they've collected over the years that he likes to joke could double as a blunt weapon if wrapped in something.
As he went to the door to the garage, Aggro pranced along behind him. He had to turn and tell the cat to sit, "The last time you were taken through this door, we had to spend close to 400 bucks because you decided to eat tinsel and not throw it back up. You've got trauma with this door, sit that fluffy ass right there, mister."
Sometimes he wondered what the cat was thinking based on the proud look on Aggro's face. Yeah. That's his son, alright.
Peeking into the garage, his suspicions were correct. Their car was there, stickers and all... Then where the hell were they...?
After shutting the door again, he called out a few times. "Sweetheart? You home— of course you're home, you've got to be... Your car wouldn't be here if you weren't— then where the fuck are you..."
His core couldn't track them when he went room to room to check everything.
Each one got crossed off as a negative.
He stood there, confused.
That's when Aggro started getting antsy. Meowing, pawing at his leg, he's only seen that look on his cat's face when his mate was...
He crouched down, petting over the cat's fur like a coach warming up a boxer to get in the ring, "Okay, Aggs. You've done it before, I need ya to do it again, got it?"
The cat looked determined.
"Okay, buddy," he released the cat, "go find 'em!"
He watched as the fluffball took off like a Thoroughbred, racing down the hall. He actually had to take it at a sprint to keep up with him.
His attention honed in when Aggro took a sharp turn into the bedroom, stopping for a minute to look around. As Milo looked, Aggro checked everywhere before narrowing it down, pawing at the target.
He knew it has been a bit of a safe space for his sweetheart when they're not having a good day... Knowing that they're in there again, his heart ached.
"Baby, I know you're in there," he ducked his head in to check, "Aggro told me."
There was a long silence, to the point that he might've thought Aggro was wrong...
Until he heard an invisible, and quite shaky, voice mutter, "Damn fink..."
"Hey," he kept his tone light as he tried to fit in there with them, of course muttering a few swears when he'd bump into something, "he's a good boy and he's worried aboutcha. The same way I'm worried too..." Once he was sitting, he took a look around. "Kinda cramped in here."
He heard a snorted laugh, then a sniffle. They've been crying...
"C'mon, sweetheart," he reached out, trying to find them with his hands, "if I touch somethin' I shouldn't, ain't exactly my fault—" he found a solid force, ending up being their arm, and held it just to keep a generalized idea of where they were.
They didn't budge, but they also didn't move his hand away. That was something.
"Somethin' happened at there, and I wanna know about it."
"Like hell it ain't! Those motherfuckers made my mate cry in the fuckin' closet!"
"They didn't make me," he still didn't like how stuffy they sounded, "I just... It was just a long day, okay? I don't wanna talk about it... It's not worth it."
To him, it was worth everything!
Someone did something to upset them, and if he finds out specifics, ohhh... He's gonna tear that piece of shit apart limb to fucking limb...
He must have looked like his thoughts were nothing but murder because he felt an invisible touch to his hand. "Like I said, baby... Not worth it."
"You're just saying' that, and I know you are. You've done this before, sweetheart. You know I don't take kindly to lyin'."
"I'm not lying—! I'm just..." They sighed. "I'm just trying to tell you not to make such a big deal out of nothing."
"It's enough to get you upset."
"That doesn't take much."
"Then it's somethin' worth talkin' about."
That earned a frustrated sigh from his cloaked mate. "It's not enough to talk about, it's just me being stupid—"
"I don't believe that for a god damn minute."
"Well it's true! I'm the dumbass stupid enough to think anyone's going to listen to me— shit."
"If that got that outta ya, then you're wantin' to talk about it, sweetheart."
"Yeah, yeah, I know, not worth it..." He rolled his eyes, "It's worth it to me. How about that, huh? Will that getcha to talk?"
"I'm just gonna start throwin' shit out there and see if it gets anywhere."
He had to think about it.
"That case that's been gettin' on your nerves, any progress on that?"
"The recruits that keep messin' with the settings on the break room microwave?"
Nope, but that did get a laugh. He'll take that, at the very least.
"One last thing," he crossed his arms, "no one's takin' ya seriously and not listenin' to ya. Again."
"Oh my fucking god, no matter what I try to say, it's like I'm cloaked when I'm physical! And to think that some of those jackasses have the gall to take credit for my suggestions—" A second of silence, then, "Fuck you."
"Maybe later," he began on attempting to stand and pull them out of their little cubby, "we've got other priorities right about now, 'kay?"
The amount of protesting sounds he got, he swore he was trying to shove Aggro in the carrier all over again.
"Sweetheart— c'mon... Sweet— Sweetheart—! Do not bite me, I'm supposed to be the feral one here—"
With one last firm tug, he pulled them out... Then lost his footing to stumble back into the bed, with that invisible but soft force falling on top of him.
"Well, ain't this a situation, hm— ow."
The little flirt only got rewarded with a slap to his chest, and that got him giving his cloaked mate a look with an arched brow.
"C'mon, sweetheart. Let's see ya," he scooted back, knowing just where to hold and grab to situate them up in his lap — he's got experience in working the dark and working on invisibility.
They sat there in stilled silence, the only sound he heard was their sniffles every few minutes.
But, slowly, they faded back into view, their head down. When he tilted their chin up with little resistance, he got a good look at the effects the day had on them.
The red eyes from crying, the darker circles under their eyes, their chewed on lip from attempting to hold everything back... He's gonna kill someone at that department, that's all there is to it.
"Baby," he ran his thumb over their cheek to smudge the dried tear stains on the skin, "if they ain't gonna listen to ya, I'm gonna have a few choice words for them. And be glad in stickin' to words, otherwise, they're gonna get met with these," he cracked his knuckles, tilting his head to the side to add onto the cracking sound. "And I ain't gonna go gentle."
"If you say it ain't worth it one more time, you're gonna get the receiving end of these choices words, sweetheart. I don't know who the fuck told you that no one is gonna listen to ya, but I'll make them listen if I fuckin' have to. I do not care about repercussions. No one, and I mean no one, fucks with my mate."
They sighed, "I'm honestly just used to it..."
"That doesn't make it any better!" He pinched the bridge of his nose, getting upset at them isn't going to solve a single thing. He couldn't fix the people they have the unfortunate circumstances to work with... But at the very least, he could make them feel better.
"How about this..." He cupped their cheek. "When did you get your break this time?"
They didn't say anything, and that seemed to speak loud enough.
"Figured. Next question: home cooked or comfort food?"
Based on their eyes darting back and forth, the latter.
"Aight..." He leaned in to kiss their forehead, "how about... you get into something more comfortable, maybe a shower if you wanna wash your worries away... I'll get something ordered, then you can vent to your heart's content, sound good?"
"A long shower does sound pretty nice..."
He patted their hip, "You go do that, I'll get somethin'. Your usual favourite?"
They nodded, scooting back off of him to gather their comfy clothes up.
He saw them pause, he knew their tells. "Ah-ah, nope. No bad thoughts. Only comfy. Got it?"
They gave him a half smile, "Got it..."
"That's my sweetheart," he got up and gave them another little pat, this time on their ass to tease, "get that cute ass goin' then."
"Okay! Okay, damn!" They playfully shot back, giving him a kiss just before they went on.
About half an hour later, he heard the water shut off from his new spot laying down on the couch. Aggro had joined him up in the back of the couch, lifting his head, then going back to sleep.
He looked over to see them all comfortable looking now, making him smirk. "There ya are... Feel better?"
They went straight over to him, and just as he held his arms out wide, they flopped down on top of him. Their form melted into him, all tension leaving their body as their arms went limp over his sides.
"I'll take that as a yes," he set his phone back down, his thumbs massaging at their hips. "It ain't gonna be too much longer, I promise."
They nodded, pretty much nuzzling into his chest. "You're warm..."
"Wonder fuckin' why," he snorted. "Got your usual pillows, huh?"
As much as he wanted to try and playfully argue about it again, he let them have it, "Yeah. Tiddies."
He let them veg out, calm themself down... The sight of them completely at ease instead of tense made his core sing.
"Do you... wanna vent about it?"
They lifted their head, shrugging.
A nod, then their head back down onto his chest.
"Take your time, baby... I ain't goin' anywhere."
They were finally worth it...
