Warnings: references to divorce.

Word count: 932

A/N: this is genuinely just me processing my own trauma. Made a fic of it, have fun!

Jonathan and you were at your apartment, drinking in your kitchen. Eva was with Mira for the weekend, so you decided to talk about the events of a few days past.

It was a regular Tuesday, really. Jonathan invited you over for lunch, an invitation you happily took on, being his best friend and the godparent of his daughter. You've always been close, since you met at college. Your bond was beyond anything - always there for each other, always the first to know and last to leave. The best company.

When Eva was born, Jonathan and Mira decided to make you her godparent, "officiating your third wheeling", as you sometimes joked. It had a seed of truth, since you were practically Eva's third parent. It was a good position to be in, as it made you "the cool one".

So that Tuesday, the three of you sat at the table for lunch, when Jonathan brought up the fact he's been looking at houses. Smaller ones. To move into.

Eva didn't take lightly to that. Once she understood what it meant, leaving her home, she voiced her disagreement by bursting into tears. The little girl was screaming that she doesn't want to leave, and pushed Jonathan away when he tried to hug her. Eventually she ran to her room and slammed the door.

Jonathan was rather shocked, he didn't imagine it would go this way. "She's always so excited when she sleeps away from home, I thought she'd be happy! Obviously we're not going to move right now, it was just an option. I thought she doesn't really like it here anymore either." He told you. "I should go to her."

You put your hand on his shoulder for him to stay. "Give her a moment. I'll go."

A few minutes later, you knocked on her door. She told you to leave, but let you in after some conversation.

Eva let you sit on her bed after her crying died down.

"No one is going anywhere, munchkin. This is your house, and it's staying that way. You're not moving anywhere. It's okay." You told her.

"Bu - but dad said we might live somewhere else! I don't wanna go! I don't wanna go!!!" The little girl pleaded, tears filling her eyes again. She burrowed into you and you held her, petting her hair. "Shhhh... It's not happening. Everything's okay. Everything's okay."

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Jonathan leaned on the counter, swirling the wine in his glass. "I really don't understand though," he said, "she's not happy there. We both sleep in what used to be my study. The top floor is basically just storage, and she won't go there on her own. It's too big!"

"You're right. It really is too big. But so is this situation." You were a child of divorced parents, and remembered what it was like when one of them moved out.

"It's not actually about the house, Jonathan. It's about the routine, about the familiarity. It's what she knows. And kids are naturally sentimental. They're connected to their things, especially in times of crisis." You commented and took a sip from your own glass.

"Tell me more?" He inquired. "I want to understand."

You sighed. It wasn't the easiest of topics for you. "She wants things as similar to how they were, Jon. She used to have a family until a few months ago."

Jonathan looked offended. "She has a family. We didn't evaporate the second Mira left."

"I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry." You took a deep breath. "She's five, man. I was her age when my folks spilt. She feels like she doesn't have a family anymore. It doesn't matter matter how many inclusive family dynamics books you read to her, it's still a fucking earthquake. Her world doesn't look like it used to, and it never will."

Jonathan noticed your voice cracking slightly and set his wine down on the counter as he moved closer to you.

"Trust me, there's NOTHING she wants more right now than to have things back how they were. For years after they separated, I still tried to hug both my parents at once. Just grabbed them and smushed them together. Made them absolutely miserable. Eva knows, Jon. She knows she'll never get a family group hug from both her parents, ever again. Imagine that for a child, eh?"

Your throat was already closing when you said: "She wants to stay in that house because the thing she wants most in the world is for Mira to walk back through that door!" You sobbed.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Jonathan said, taking away your glass and putting his hand on your arm.

"I'm sorry," you chocked out. "Please don't hug me."

"Okay, alright," he said in a calming, quiet voice. "I'm not going to if you don't want to. Could you just look at me please?"

You signed for him to wait while you steadied yourself, and then looked into his eyes.

"I am not your father." He said. "And you're not my kid. You're a fully grown adult, with a say in this situation. You are not five again. What you say matters. I am not your father, and I'm listening to you."

That's what it took for you to dissolve in tears. He opened his arms and you fell into them, sobbing into his shoulder while he rubbed your back.

"It's okay," he reassured. "Crying doesn't make you any lesser. You're okay."

"I love you, Jonathan." You mumbled into him after a few minutes.

He squeezed you harder.

"I love you too."

Just tagging some mutuals, I'm sorry if you're not interested in scenes from a marriage, feel free to ignore:

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MASTERLIST