Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hob was known for the fact that any student could come to him almost any day and ask for help. He never refused kids if he could do something for them, he was open and friendly, and it is very difficult to piss him off. He didn't give indulgences to truants, but he believed that everyone deserves a second chance. If they didn't take advantage of this chance, well, there is no third way, that is their problem now. Hob tried to remember his students by name and face, was one of the few who used the correct pronouns and apologized if he made a mistake. Students loved him, many colleagues too, although there were those who believed that he gave too much freedom to his students. In response to their claims, Hob always said that university students are already old enough young people to decide for themselves what is important to them, and he saw no point in forcing those who are not at all interested in learning history.

The Department of Medieval History has greatly increased its staff over the past few years. There were more professors, and in order not to lose his salary, Hob volunteered to teach another new discipline. He spent about a year on additional courses, and, finally, he was able to open an art history course, for which, surprisingly, students immediately began to enroll. Hob even liked this alignment: he increasingly began to feel that he needed a change of activity, otherwise he would completely burn out for teaching. He loves history and he loves children, no doubt, but the same routine threatened to extinguish the bright fire in his chest, so the opening of a new course breathed life into him anew.

The university Hob worked at had many different humanitarian orientations. Future historians, linguists, journalists studied here, and five years ago the department of musical and instrumental art was opened. This was unusual, given that previously no prerequisites for the development of the cultural sphere of education were shown, but the university developed and rapidly changed its programs, replacing less demanded ones with new directions. In the first year of all faculties there was always a course in the Medieval History of England, most often as an introductory discipline. Hob didn't demand much from students who shouldn't study history in the future, and therefore didn't remember first-years well. However, some, for various reasons, were still fixed in his memory.

Like, for example, one young man who was sitting on the first desk of the lecture hall. It was the first lecture in the history of art, not only in this academic year, but in general at the university. Hob was very nervous, although he kept his composure well. He knew the material perfectly, he had a rather interesting and colorful presentation, and he never doubted his oratory skills at all. But the first lesson is always exciting, and Hob tried to catch his eye at least for something to stop nervously jerking his knee, half-sitting on the edge of the table. Hob noticed a young man whom he had taught last year in an introductory course. He didn't show initiative, didn't always complete tasks, and it was easy to read from his appearance that history was a very boring subject for him. Hob didn't blame him, realizing that he was studying at the faculty of a different direction, so he did not find fault with him and allowed him to pass the exam for a decent grade. But that was not what he remembered, no, there were hundreds of such students in each stream. The young man always kept his neck closed. This didn't catch the eye until the end of the previous year, when the air temperature in the street rose and rose, and he didn't bare his neck even once. Hob wasn't in the habit of prying into other people's business, especially student affairs, but he was still quite a curious person. Once the course was over, Hob didn't think of the student again, but now his curiosity was intensified as the young man wore a turquoise turtleneck with a high neck.

“Good morning!” Hob began, jumping off the table. “My name is Robert Gadling, but you can call me Professor G. I may have taught many of you last year in an introductory course in the history of Medieval England, but you don't remember me and I don't remember you, so let's get to know each other again. This is a new course that I will try to make as interesting as possible for you and me. If the classes seem boring to you, feel free to tell me about it. I will do my best to keep your attention.”

Hob smiled and looked around the room, but his eyes rested on the same young man. As far as Hob could tell from last year, he looked more focused this time around. Hob wrote his name, phone number, email, and his office number on the board, along with the floor it was on, encouraging students to come to him during office hours with any questions.

The lecture went exactly as Hob had planned. He talked about what is included in the course, how he will evaluate homework assignments, it possible amount, the future exam and other introductory moments, since the first lecture was always shorter than all the others and played the role of only an introduction to the course. Hob was even proud of himself when he noticed that everyone was listening to him carefully. After the bell rang, the audience quickly began to empty, and only the prefects approached Hob to give him their lists of their classes. Among them was the same young man.

“Looks like I taught your class last year, right?” Hob asked him, taking the list with a smile.

“Right.”

“Can you remind me your name? I need to mark the prefect on the list.”.

“Orpheus. Orpheus Endless.”

“Orpheus, right. How could I forget such a rare name?” Hob smiled at the student again and circled his name. “I hope this course will be more interesting for you than the previous one.”

“It will. I'm not fond of the Middle Ages history, but it seems much more interesting to study the development of art and culture, and you are a good lecturer.”

“Glad to hear it. I'll see you at seminary, Mr. Endless.” Orpheus nodded and walked towards the exit. Hob began to gather his things, but suddenly remembered that he had not asked something important and turned around before the youth left. “Wait, wait, I didn’t ask for your pronouns, sorry.”

“It's alright. He/him.” Orpheus gave him a weak smile that didn't reach his eyes, and for some reason Hob's heart sank. Despite his young age, the boy looked completely broken. “Not many people pay that much attention to it. You are a good man.”

Hob didn't have time to answer before Orpheus left the audience.

Many said that only two things could kill Hob: curiosity and the desire to help everyone. He rarely refused to help even strangers, and it's very difficult to find a person with such a compassionate heart. Hob himself understood that he takes everything that happens around him to heart in general, and it’s hard to live with this, but he was even proud of this quality to some extent. Now from time to time he remembered the sad smile of Orpheus, and something about it made him worry about the guy. He is young, but his eyes no longer burn. Hob wasn't a psychologist, but he was sure that some very serious injury was behind this young man. Hob wanted to help him.

Whatever happens in your life, you can get through it if you have someone around who understands and supports. Who, if not Hob, knows about this. Hob struggled out of a huge pit of despair many years ago, and after that he set himself the task of giving a hand to everyone who happened to be in his place. He will give it to Orpheus, although he is sure that the young student will reject the offer of help. In any case, Hob will try to help. He was learning how to be a father longer than he was, and although Robin is no longer with him, the skills will stay with him forever.

In the first seminary session, Hob got a better look at Orpheus. Much can be understood by looking at the student during the whole lesson. Orpheus sat alone on the penultimate desk against the wall, where those who hoped to sit on the phone for an entire hour and a half usually sat. However, Orpheus listened attentively, was not distracted by anything and obediently wrote down everything that Hob asked to write down. There were two more textbooks on his desk than his classmates, which showed that he either wanted to go deeper into the subject, or was preparing for other lessons during breaks. There were headphones next to the textbooks, and from time to time Orpheus took them in his hands, like an anti-stress toy, and put them back on the table. He didn't look back at anyone, he didn't whisper to anyone, which made Hob worry about him even more. The boy seemed to be trying to ignore everyone. It's good, of course, that he devotes all his attention to the professor, but something told Hob that Orpheus was just as unsociable outside the university walls.

However, Hob didn't jump to conclusions. He spent three more lessons to make sure that Orpheus was always so sullen. Nothing has changed: the same textbooks, the same headphones, the same place. Only different clothes, and always with a closed neck. Hob wasn't sure if he wanted to know the reason why Orpheus was hiding it. At the end of the fourth period, he asked him to stay when his entire class had almost left the classroom. Orpheus tucked his textbooks into a dark purple backpack, pointed at by several badges and patches from various bands and artists. Hob smiled. If he is fond of something, then everything is not as sad as he thought.

“Did you want to say something about my homework?” Orpheus asked, approaching the teacher's table.

“No, I haven't finished checking your class's essays yet. I just wanted to ask, are you okay?”

Orpheus raised one eyebrow and scanned the professor incredulously.

“Completely. Why are you asking?”

“Look, I don’t want to impose myself, but I think something is wrong. Maybe something is bothering you, or you have some problems within your class? I just want you to know that you can come to me for any reason. My office door is always open.”

“I don't need anyone's help.” Orpheus replied coldly. He frowned, and the ice in his gaze made Hob almost physically uncomfortable.

“That's what I thought you'd say. In any case, you can come to me. If you feel bad, or need someone's advice, or whatever. I won't ask too many questions. Know that you always have somewhere to go.”

“I'll keep it on mind. Goodbye, Professor Gadling.” Orpheus turned around and hurried away with a quick step. Hob sighed heavily as he put the laptop back into his bag. It was the reaction he expected. Well, now his conscience is clear. He offered his help, and whether to accept it or not is the decision for Orpheus. Hob could only hope that the young man was smart enough to analyze his condition on his own. Everyone decides his own fate.

When classes ended, Hob went to work in the office. He waited all day for Orpheus, looking at the door, but he never came. Maybe he needs more time to think about his words. It was Friday night, his shortened work day, so on the way home he texted friends that he wanted to meet them at the bar. He inherited a pub from his father, and although he did little there besides documentation, he didn't want to dive from one job to another. Without hesitation, he suggested one of his favorite bars, and was immediately approved.

Hob ran home only to leave things and immediately went to the meeting point. He didn't plan to drink himself unconscious, but he should relax while he still had the chance. Very soon he will not get out of the papers, so now he valued his free time more than ever. Johanna was already waiting for him at the bar. She used to work at the university where she and Hob met, but since then she has changed almost a dozen professions and now works as a tattoo master. Before that, she made knives, but after one of her clients killed someone with her knife, she decided to find something new. And it was not about moral principles, it was just that Johanna didn't like to explain to the police at all that she simply created and sold the knife, and had nothing to do with the murder. Her girlfriend Rachel, who works as a model, offered her an alternative and enrolled her in a photography course. She still attends courses, but at the same time she is engaged in tattoos in her friend's salon.

"What's wrong with the face, old man?" Johanna grinned at him and immediately called the bartender.

“I'm only four years older than you.” Hob rolled his eyes and sat down on a nearby bar stool. “Tough week, nothing more.”

“Problem students?” Johanna pushed him a glass with suspicious contents. Hob narrowed his eyes, smelling strong alcohol.

“No, I have good children. Constantine, in my plans for tonight there is no point to get drunk and fall asleep in the bushes, I will not drink it.”

“We'll see.” Johanna kicked his chair, almost causing Hob to fall.

While they were waiting for the rest of their friends, he briefly told her about the student who was bothering him. It was only by voicing it that Hob realized how stupid the whole situation sounded. He fixated on one suspiciously quiet boy, knowing absolutely nothing about him, built a bunch of his guesses about the reasons why Orpheus is so distant, and now he suffers because of it. Hob was a master at creating problems for himself out of thin air. But Johanna didn't reproach him this time. She was one of the few who saw him when he lost everything, and guessed the reasons for wanting to help everyone, especially children and young students.

“You're starting to spin out again.” Johanna shrugged, taking a sip from her glass. “Not every introvert suffers from some kind of incurable trauma, understand this. Stop running after every sad child. Come on, have a drink, meet someone and relax. It's been more than six months since your last breakup.”

Hob nodded reluctantly, looking around the bar. In fact, lately he has somehow not been in the mood to build new relationships. During these six months, he only found partners for one night, making sure in advance that this suits both of them. With the preparation for the new course, Hob completely went to study and work, forgetting about his personal life.

They don't talk about his lost family. This is their unspoken rule. No one mentions either Robyn or Eleanor, because even years later, Hob's heart never stopped hurting. He lives on and rejoices in this, but the ghosts of the past now and then return to him. At such moments, he again makes an appointment with his therapist in order to survive another crisis.

Hob should have known that if Johanna was waiting for him at the bar, it would be impossible not to get drunk. It happened every time. And before each time, Hob was sure that now he was definitely opposed to her. In the morning he woke up on the couch in her apartment with a wild headache and a terrible hangover. He would not mind if someone shot him in the head, but, unfortunately, no one would agree to this. Hob tried to look for the positive in everything. He woke up at a friend's house, not some suspicious bar guy whose face he wouldn't even remember right now.

“Good afternoon.” Rachel giggled, holding up a glass of water and hangover pills. Hob gave her a devastating look. Although he was unable to fight, Johanna still sent Rachel to him, to whom he cannot even raise his voice. This girl is too sweet and kind to dare to offend her. For this friendship, he will sooner or later pay with his liver.

However, Johanna knew what she was doing, and Hob couldn't think about work or his student or anything else. All weekend he was only worried about a headache and a desire to take revenge on Constantine for the fact that she stole at least three years of his life with her suspicious cocktails. Since she began to be called a tattoo artist, every drinking with her threatened to end with a crimson tattoo in the most unexpected parts of the body. While the gods have mercy on him, but luck will not accompany him forever.

All the next week, Hob expected Orpheus to approach him, but the student only asked some questions within the course, and Hob consoled himself with the thought that it was too dramatic, and Orpheus was actually fine. He should have taken Johanna's advice and not run after him, so Hob tried to ignore his feelings of anxiety. The rest of the days went on as usual: more work, less free time. Hob immersed himself in paperwork while taking on his students during office hours, helping them with term papers, dissertations, and many other things related to study. And when, three weeks later, he raised his head after knocking on the door and saw Orpheus on the threshold, he was confused.

“You said that I could come to you.” said the boy, surprisingly mixing timidity and impudence in his tone. Hob nodded and stopped filling out the paperwork he'd been working on for the past two hours.

Orpheus sat down on a chair near the work table. He looked down at his feet, arms wrapped around his backpack. Hob leaned back in his desk chair, studying the student closely. Orpheus' face was more sad than usual. He obviously wanted to say something, but either he couldn't find the words or he couldn't muster up the courage. However, he came here.

“Are you here because of art history?” Hob asked carefully to make sure his guess was correct. Orpheus shook his head. Good.

“You said that I can come if something bothers me.”

“Right. Something happened?”

Orpheus pursed his lips. There was a heavy silence, and Hob didn't know how to fill it. Part of him was glad that this boy accepted a helping hand, but another part of him awakened a new wave of anxiety.

“I'm having some… difficulties.”

“With what?”

“With everything.” Orpheus rested his head on the backpack, holding it tighter against him. “I feel very lonely. I used to call my mother, but she's very busy with work now, so I wanted to ask you something. If that doesn't bother you.”

“Sure. I don't know yet what you want to ask, but I already agree.” Hob smiled at him.

“I am a beginner musician. I write songs and music. My mom works in this field, she is my main critic. But now I really need a listener to create. I wanted to ask if you could be my listener? Not for long, two weeks at the most. I can't create into a vacuum, and I need someone to take it seriously.” Orpheus sighed heavily and lifted his head to look at the professor. Hob was a little taken aback. Of course, he didn't know what to expect from him, but he was clearly not ready for this.

“You see, I am a historian. As a child, a bear stepped on my ear, so in music I am a complete blockhead. But I'll be happy to be your audience if it's so important to you.” Hob smiled and felt relieved that Orpheus's face brightened a little.

“Will you be able to go to the assembly hall with me today? There is now my musical instrument.”

“No problem. But only an hour and a half later, I have work that needs to be done urgently.” Hob nodded at the pile of papers on his desk. Orpheus nodded briskly and stood up, slung his backpack over his shoulder.

“Good. I'll be waiting for you.”

As usual, Orpheus left before Hob had time to answer him. This guy really liked to just run away from conversations. Hob set an alarm to remind himself of the time and went back to work. He didn't have the slightest idea how his presence would help Orpheus, but if he just needed someone to listen to his music, it wouldn't be hard for Hob to do so.

His office was often visited by students who needed emotional support. He had already lost count of how many children cried on his shoulder, but they all left him in a slightly better mood. Hob knew how to listen and give useful advice, but he had not yet had to be a music critic.

As soon as the phone reminded him of the past hour and a half, Hob quickly put the documents in a folder and hurried to the assembly hall. The work is not over for today, but he deserves a little musical break. On the way back, he will also buy a small cup of coffee to cheer himself up.

As Hob walked towards the hall, he tried to guess what instrument Orpheus was playing. The guy looks very creative, and any musical instrument would suit him. Most likely, this is something banal, like a piano or a guitar. These are the most common tools these days. Perhaps, of course, it can be a flute or a violin. Somehow Orpheus looks like a man who can play absolutely everything.

Hob didn't expected to see him sitting on the stage with a lyre in his hands. Seeing him, Orpheus smiled, less sadly than usual.

“You came.”

“I promised. So what do I need to do?”

“Nothing. Just listen. I can't work in the void, I need to know that there is someone who will hear me.”

“Got it.” Hob took the last chair and watched. Orpheus stepped onto the stage, brushed off his jeans and took up his lyre more comfortably. Hob met many people who played many musical instruments, but no one in his memory owned a lyre.

Orpheus played. Without amplifiers, the music was fairly quiet for such a huge venue, but Hob sat close enough to hear everything perfectly. He had never heard live how the lyre sounds, and this instrument fascinated him. The melody flowed with soft light sounds, it's easy to imagine some kind children's fairy tale with a happy ending under it. Orpheus's fingers skillfully plucked the strings, and he looked at the lyre with indescribable tenderness. His features smoothed out, and a completely different person stood in front of Hob, not the one who goes to his classes. This Orpheus looked peaceful and free, as he should have been. This man lived for music. No matter what happened in his life, music gave him peace of mind, and this explained why he grabbed his headphones so often and didn't part with them. Orpheus played the lyre beautifully, as if he and the instrument were one. Hob even closed his eyes to fully enjoy the pleasant melody. It stopped sounding unexpected. When Hob looked at Orpheus, his face was again grim and tense, but he looked at the lyre with love.

“It's not finished yet.” said Orpheus, sitting down again on the edge of the stage. “I wanted to test how it would sound in such a large space.”

“It's beautiful. You are a great musician.” Hob smiled reassuringly. He rose from his chair to stand next to Orpheus and his feet dangling from the stage.

“Thank you. Music is the only thing that keeps me alive.” Orpheus smiled sadly. He placed the lyre carefully on his knees. Hob wanted to ask why, but he knew it was too personal a question, and Orpheus would not answer it.

“Why don't you invite your friends to be your audience?” Hob asked instead. “Do you have friends?”

“I have. Had. I have minor trust issues now.” Orpheus looked at his instrument, stroking it, while Hob studied his face, which showed nothing but sadness. “My best friend betrayed me. He did something terrible and unforgivable. You could say he took my life.”

“That's a shit. I'm sorry to hear this, kid.” Hob lowered his eyes to the lyre and put his hand on Orpheus's shoulder. “You know, my office is sometimes used as an alternative to a psychologist's office. You can too. Everything that happens in the office stays in the office.”

“I have my own doctor.” Orpheus chuckled. “But thanks. I think I will use this information. In my own way.”

Hob smiled at the boy again. When he left, Orpheus was still in the hall. Hob was right about something happening to him. But he has a doctor, so it's not so bad. At least now Hob didn't have to worry about Orpheus being deprived of psychological help.

Orpheus really began to go into Hob's office. A day later, he asked him to listen to him again, then again a few days later, and again. He played the same melody, but he ended it differently all the time. Orpheus didn't ask for opinions or criticism, he only wanted the live presence of someone who takes music seriously. Then Orpheus asked to sit in his office, promising that he would not interfere. Hob allowed. The student was doing his homework on some of the musical subjects while Hob was busy checking tests and essays. He liked to think that the boy had found a safe place next to him. Orpheus became a little more open, although he still didn't say anything about his trauma and problems. But his sad smile began to appear more often, and Hob considered this a small victory. Another student he could help.

On Friday evening, Hob stayed long in the pulpit. He went back to his office to pick up his stuff and go home, mentally imagining how he would order himself a pizza, turn on a Disney or Pixar movie, and have a wonderful evening without alcohol and Johanna. He deserved it. His work hours had long since ended, and nothing could have kept him within the walls of the university any longer. Well, he thought so. Hob saw a man in a long black coat in front of the door of his office. He looked at the sign with the professor's name, raised his hand to knock, then lowered it back. Hob stopped at a sufficient distance so as not to draw attention to himself, and tried to examine the man. It was clearly not a student, Hob would have remembered that gothic style and the nest of shaggy hair. And it's definitely not a teacher. Then three questions: who is he, how did security let him into the university at such a late hour, and what does he need from Hob?

The best way to find out is to ask. Hob resumed his stride, pulling his office keys from his jeans pocket as he went.

“Sir, can I help you?” Hob asked when he got close enough. The man jumped in surprise and turned to him. Hob nearly tripped over his own foot. The stranger was so unimaginably handsome that for a moment Hob forgot where he was. There were virtually no wrinkles on his face, which made him look very young, but Hob's gut instinct told him that he was older than he looked. Although the stranger kept a neutral expression, his gaze was lost, as if he himself didn't understand what he was doing here.

“I want Professor Robert Gadling.” said the stranger in black as Hob stopped beside him at the door. He was only a little taller, but Hob felt very small under the pressure of his bright blue eyes.

“On what question?”

“A personal”.

“I'm ready to listen.” Hob smiled and raised his hand with the keys to eye level to show him who was the owner of the office. Hob opened the door and let the man inside, then followed him and settled down at his desk. The stranger sat down on a chair opposite. He sat with a very straight back and hands on his knees, too tense. He seemed like someone to Hob, although he had never met a man of such beauty.

“My name is Morpheus.”

“I'm Robert, but you can just call me Hob. So, what personal question is causing you to stare at my office door like it personally offended you?” Hob smiled. Considering his interlocutor, he was not even upset that he had not gone home at the appointed time, otherwise he would have missed the Greek deity itself at his doorstep. The man frowned and looked in the direction of the door with the same look, Hob barely suppressed a chuckle.

“My ex-wife said I should learn from you.” Morpheus said in a very serious tone.

”Learn what? History?”

“I... don't know.” Morpheus closed his eyes for a second. “I believe she was talking about our son. You get on well with him, and I need to know how you get along.”

“I have a lot of students, I just try to be a good teacher.” Hob shrugged.

“No, my son is hard to get along with. I am Morpheus Endless, my son is Orpheus. He has been suffering from depression for quite some time, and nothing has pleased him for the past three years. But his mother told me that he found inspiration in his professor and feels a little better now.”

“Stop, wait. Are you the father of Orpheus?” Hob interrupted, unable to keep up with Morpheus's words. Perhaps he worked too hard today, and his brain began to process information too slowly.

“I just said it.”

“Yes, right. Good.” Hob rubbed the bridge of his nose. In addition to being tired, a black hole in his stomach prevented him from thinking, since the only thing he had eaten today was a croissant and coffee. “Listen, do you mind if we move this conversation to a cafe near the university? I am terribly tired and hungry, and when I am hungry, I am very dumb.” he smiled at him again, but Morpheus looked at him as if he considered this joke to be true.

“Fine.” he answered and stood up. Hob smiled wider, put the necessary folders in his bag and hurried out into the corridor.

Over the years of teaching, he very rarely encountered the parents of students. Usually mothers of truants came to him, who paid for their child'a studies who was not at all interested in it. Conversations with this type of parent always ended in wasted nerves. But Morpheus is something new in his experience. Hob had the feeling that he had seen him somewhere, although he would not forgive himself if he forgot such a magnificent man. On the way to the cafe, Hob glanced at him. Morpheus either didn't notice or ignored these views. He stared straight ahead and seemed to be trying to appear taller and bigger than he really was, though his clenched fists indicated that he didn't feel confident in the company of a stranger.

Hob chose the nearest cafe and mentally said goodbye to the pizza he was about to order. It remained to be hoped that he would not have to say goodbye to the cartoons, and that he would arrive home not too late. Morpheus politely declined the meal and only ordered himself a glass of red wine. Of course, he looks like an aristocrat who drinks wine every evening. Out of interest, Hob looked at the price of the ordered wine and immediately closed the menu, regretting that he saw it. Rich twink aristocrat with a problem child. Hob hoped that such people would only be met in films. But he couldn't complain. He wanted to look at this man without taking his eyes off him.

“So, back to our conversation.” Hob began after he had ordered and the waitress had retired to the kitchen. “Are you unable to get along with Orpheus?”

“Right.” Morpheus nodded. His blue eyes looked right into the soul, which made the skin goosebumps, but Hob liked it. “I'm having trouble with him.”

“He mentioned that he has a close relationship with his mother.” Hob remembered his first conversation with Orpheus in his office, when the boy asked to listen to his playing the lyre. Morpheus nodded again.

“They are close. But he's mad at me.”

“Why? Did you have a fight or something like that?”

“Yes, something like that.” Morpheus sighed. Just at that moment, wine was brought to him, and he grabbed the glass as if it were a lifeline. “It's hard to explain. Once I almost lost him. In all senses. Calliope, my ex-wife, says that he lacks care, but he refuses to accept it from me. And from everyone but her.”

Morpheus spoke more quietly with each sentence and didn't look Hob in the eyes. No matter how indifferent his face seemed, Hob felt that it was not easy for him to talk about it. What did he mean by saying that he almost lost Orpheus? Whatever the true meaning of these words, Hob felt the fear that his interlocutor felt.

“Almost a month has passed since I offered to help.” Hob smiled faintly. “Then he came and said he needed a live audience for his music. I couldn't refuse. The more often I came to listen to him, the more openly he spoke to me, although I can't say that he really opened up to me. Maybe he just needs a father figure next to him? Have you ever asked him to play something for you?”

Morpheus frowned again. He stopped rocking his glass of wine and set it down on the table. “No”.

“Do you know what he's into? What bands does he listen to? What does he read?”

“No”.

“Okay. Hmm... Have you ever asked him how he feels?”

“No”.

Yeah, it's more difficult. This dude is clearly not the best father in the world. Hob wanted to ask a few questions about how much time he even spent with his son and whether he was involved in raising him, but Morpheus already looked like he was ready to turn the table in a rage and leave. It was clear from his face that he was having a hard time holding himself back. Hob decided not to risk it.

“I didn't expect it to be so difficult.” he sighed. Luckily, the waitress had put the food in front of him, and now he had a good reason to shut his mouth up and think. Morpheus gave him a furious look and turned his head to the window, showing his annoyance with his whole look. He was like a stray cat who pretends that he doesn't need anything, but doesn't leave because he still needs something.

While Hob ate, he thought about how to help this unfortunate father. To give any advice, he needs to know more about his relationship with his son, when it went bad and whether it was ever good. And Morpheus should have seen how to deal with Orpheus's peers to have an idea where to start.

“How about you watch me teach a lesson?” Hob suggested. “You will see me talking to students of the same age as Orpheus, and then we will discuss it”.

“It can help.” Morpheus agreed with an undisguised sigh.

“Excellent. Give me your number, I'll text what day and what time you can come. I'll find an opening in my schedule so that you don't meet Orpheus under any circumstances.”

“I don't give out my personal contacts to anyone.” Morpheus said coldly, as if the very suggestion to the contrary offended him. Hob had no idea what this man's profession, but decided to ask about it next time. Rolling his eyes, he took a napkin, pulled a pen from his jacket pocket, and wrote down his phone number.

“Well, then text me yourself. Don't look at me like that, we need to connect somehow if you want me to help you with your son. Did you think one evening was enough for this?”

“I hoped so.” Morpheus said primly, but took the napkin. He folded it several times and put it in his pocket, then threw the money on the table and left the table. "Then I'll let you know when I can come to the university. Consider paying the bill my gratitude.”

With these words, Morpheus hurried out of the cafe without waiting for an answer. Hob rolled his eyes again. Now he understood why Orpheus had a habit of running away from conversation. There were plenty of bills on the table, and Hob felt a little uneasy. He's not used to being paid for. Even friends, not to mention a strange handsome man. Since Hob was now alone, he took out his phone.

Hob: I think I met the man of my dreams.

Johanna: dog again?

Hob: No, this time a human. The most beautiful of all that I have seen.

Johanna: I hope your dreams are worth my time. See you tomorrow, tell me everything.

Hob looked out the window with a smile in the hope that he would notice the retreating figure in black, but he saw no one.

Chapter Text

Many years have passed since Morpheus and Orpheus had a good time together. In fact, a lot, even long before the divorce from Calliope. Because of this, Orpheus didn't let his father close to him, and now he was so angry that he ignored him. Morpheus sincerely didn't understand what he did wrong and how he deserved such anger. He wanted to help him. He was worried. Orpheus blocked his number on his phone, and received calls from Lucienne every other time. Morpheus sent him gifts for the holidays, but they either came back or were never opened, and he didn't know what to do with it. Orpheus was not okay, he saw it, and Calliope spoke about it often. In fact, Morpheus kept in touch with his ex-wife only because of their son, they had nothing else to talk about. Their love has passed, and the interests and life goals have diverged in different directions. In addition to Orpheus and the creative profession, they had nothing else in common.

Morpheus was worried, really. But he didn't know how to take care of others at all. Just because of his attempt to show concern, Orpheus stopped talking to him. Morpheus had spent most of his time at home, busy with work, and he reproached himself for it. If he had not worked so hard, if he had devoted a little more time to his son, then perhaps the tragedy would have been avoided. He will never be able to forget that call of Calliope, when she said through tears that Orpheus almost killed himself. Morpheus should have prevented this, should have been by his side. But he wasn't. He was sitting at home writing the script for the film adaptation of his book when his only son was trying to say goodbye to life. Almost two years have passed since that day, but self-loathing and guilt didn't leave Morpheus for a second. The thought that Orpheus might not be was killing him in a slow and painful way. Even if the treatment helps him, Morpheus could not know about it, since Orpheus shared the results of therapy only with his mother, and Calliope did not tell everything. And in the end, she got tired of playing the role of a carrier pigeon, through which Morpheus found out what was happening in the life of their common child.

“Is Orpheus not at home?” Morpheus asked with surprise when he entered the apartment of his ex-wife, in which she lived with their son. Calliope sat on the carpet with glasses over her eyes, surrounded by a lot of papers. She looked up at the man with a tired look and sighed heavily. What happened to Orpheus had a strong effect on her, she seemed to have aged a few years, but she was still beautiful. Relatively recently, she managed to get rid of paranoia when Orpheus didn't pick up the phone for a long time or didn't show up. She still had to take sedatives, but, fortunately, already in very small portions.

“He is still at the university.” she replied and went back to her work. Morpheus only noticed the pencil in her hand when he got closer. Music notes were written on the papers around her. As far as Morpheus remembered, she was currently writing songs for musicals. Her passion for music was passed on to Orpheus, although her preference for literature made her one of the most magnificent poets of our time. But Calliope stopped writing poetry in order to share with Orpheus his only passion, which could not fade even under the yoke of severe depression.

Morpheus was a little jealous of her connection with their son. Orpheus never was rude to her even in his worst mood, tried to make sure that she didn't worry too much and often told her about his feelings. Looking at Calliope, Morpheus realized how much he had missed. He could not even dream of such a relationship with Orpheus, and he could only hope that his hatred was not absolute. Morpheus stood awkwardly not far from Calliope, his eyes downcast on her papers. He rarely came spontaneously, so he hoped to find Orpheus at home. He even checked the time to catch him outside of university classes, but he was wrong. Although Lucienne would have warned him if Orpheus' schedule changed.

“Are you going to stand here like that?” Calliope sighed, removed her glasses from her nose and rose gracefully from the floor.

“I thought Orpheus’ classes were over. Apparently I was wrong. Then could you give him this?” Morpheus extended his hand and unclenched his fist. In his palm lay a small badge in the form of a silver lyre with small golden pebbles at the base. If he remembered everything correctly, then Orpheus's musical instrument is a lyre, and he is very attached to it. This is probably the only thing Morpheus knows about his son. When he left the office a few hours ago, he noticed this badge in a jewelry store, and immediately thought that Orpheus might like it.

“I wouldn't expect him to accept it.” Calliope shook her head, but took the small gift from his hand. "Morpheus, are you even trying to fix the situation? How much longer will this go on?”

“He hates me.” Morpheus frowned.

“Because he thinks you don't care about him! These gifts mean nothing until he gets some attention from you. You don't even know why he stays at the university!”

“Does he have problems there?” Morpheus reached into his coat pocket, where he found his phone. He was already ready to call the dean's office and try to solve any problems Orpheus had, since studies, according to Calliope, had a very good effect on his treatment.

“No! This is what I'm talking about. Listen, Morpheus, start doing something already. He needs someone other than me to support him. So instead of you, he found support in his professor. Although according to his stories, Professor Gadling is gold, but he is not his father, but you! He was able to find an approach to him in a month, and you can’t for what year already? You should have learned from him. So get your head out of your ass before he cuts ties with you altogether. If you hold out a little longer, communication with Orpheus will not be restored to you.”

Morpheus was about to retort and answer something sharp, but he interrupted himself as soon as he opened his mouth for a formidable answer. Instead, he just stared at her with furrowed brows. Calliope knew she was right. He felt that he was about to reach the point of no return as well, and Orpheus would be lost to him forever. Something had to be done before it was too late, while there was still a small chance that Orpheus would speak to him again.

Calliope gave him food for thought. Morpheus thought about her words all the way home. Instead of calling a personal driver, he preferred to walk a few kilometers and think it over. The cold autumn air helped to focus and not notice what was happening around. Despite his popularity in his writing career, Morpheus was pleased that not many people noticed him on the streets. Although his face is memorable, and books are very popular, he was not approached for a photo or autograph as often as, for example, an actor. Morpheus was satisfied that his characters and stories were more popular than he was. Although as soon as he went to the center at noon on a weekend, he would not be allowed to pass. That is why he preferred walking in the evening or at night. However, if it were his will, he would leave the house once a month. Morpheus hated the fact that day after day circumstances forced him to interact with society.

His house was far enough from the Calliope's one. He lived almost on the edge of the city in a large private house, where there were neither large supermarkets nor expensive restaurants. His area was considered quite quiet and inconspicuous, which was ideal for Morpheus's reclusive nature. Only his house was very different from all the neighboring ones in its pretentiousness and height, the appearance of which made it clear what kind of person lives in it. It took Morpheus more than two hours to reach the house at dusk, and when he saw the light in the windows, he frowned. His security system would have let him know if someone broke into the house, but only two people had keys to the door besides himself. Morpheus pulled the doorknob and found that it was open. Inside, quiet music was heard from speakers that Morpheus himself had never used, and acquired them exclusively for the interior. As he walked into the living room, he exhaled as he saw a familiar figure on the couch with a raven on its shoulder.

“What are you doing here, my sister?”

The woman turned her head towards him and smiled. The raven croaked loudly and flew over to Morpheus's shoulder, starting to pull his unruly hair, from which the man was not happy, but didn't drive the pet away.

“You yourself asked me to feed Jessamy today, in case you forgot.”

“Right”. Morpheus sighed and sat down next to his sister. He's been out most of the day, and he can't take Jessamy to all of his work meetings. Every time he was away for a long time, she resented, so he allowed her to continue pulling his hair, knowing that this small revenge would calm her anger. “Thank you, Teleute. Lucienne was with me, so I couldn't send her to Jessamy.”

”Never mind. You know I love my little niece.” Teleute scratched Jessamy's neck, which made the bird growl contentedly and leave Morpheus's hair alone. “Well, tell me, what happened to you again?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You look like you're ready to kill someone. Come on, I'm listening, since I'm here anyway.”

Morpheus pouted his lips, turning away from her. He didn't look like that. She exaggerates. Jessamy gave a final tug at a strand of his hair, causing his host to hiss in pain, and with a contented croak flew into the other room. People usually kept cats, dogs and rodents as pets. If they wanted a bird, then it was a parrot. But Morpheus lives with a raven. He didn't plan to have pets, but after the divorce, he began to spend a lot of time alone, which began to absorb him. Morpheus closed himself in so much that he didn’t even let his sister go at his house, which is why she made herself a duplicate of the keys outside of his knowledge. And then he found a chick in his yard, which was squeezed into the corner of the gate by a cat. Morpheus took the raven out of pity, and now he had someone to return to. Although Jessamy was angry with him for a long absence, she forgave very quickly and demanded affection from her master. She was completely a house bird, so Morpheus wasn't afraid to go out with her, knowing that she would not fly anywhere. Every time Jessamy took to the skies for a walk, exactly one and a half minutes later, she returned to his shoulder.

Teleute put her hand on the back of the sofa, turning completely to Morpheus, who continued to remain silent. She was used to the fact that he needed more time than the average person to get his thoughts in order and speak. She was the only one with whom Morpheus occasionally shared his problems, and then only when she asked him. He absolutely did not know how to ask for help and would rather do everything badly, but on his own, than well, but with the help of someone. When Jessamy returned and sat on Morpheus' knee, he stroked her feathers and spoke. He briefly told his sister about the conversation with Calliope, as well as the latest attempts to contact Orpheus, which were all rejected. Although Teleute loved Orpheus very much, they didn't communicate too often, but even with her he was kinder than with his own father.

"And what are you going to do now?" Teleute asked when Morpheus finished speaking and continued to stroke the affectionate Jessamy with a very offended face.

“I don't know.” he muttered, diligently not looking at his older sister, but still feeling her condemning look on him. Even as he focused on the bird, Morpheus knew that she had rolled her eyes.

“If I were you, I would take it right tomorrow and go to the university. I could find out what kind of professor it is, asked him and all other things like that. At least start with this point. His words can be useful.”

“I will do it, I suppose” 

Teleute sighed in annoyance. She took a decorative pillow and, with all her strength, hit her brother with it. Jessamy made an offended sound and flew away again. Morpheus took the pillow from his sister and placed it on his side so that she would no longer be tempted to beat him.

“Don't do me any favors, it's for your own good. Well, I have to go now. I cooked some food for you so that you remember what home cooking is. Don't forget to call me.” Teleute kissed Morpheus on the cheek, took her purse and leather jacket and ran outside, leaving her brother alone in the house with music and Jessamy.

Morpheus sat still for a while, lost in thought. It wasn't until Jessamy tugged at his hair again that he turned off the speakers and took off his coat. It was nearing midnight, which meant it was time for him to work. He always did most of his work at night, which often led him to go to bed at dawn, if at all. Morpheus hated the fact that everyone always worked in the morning, because of which he had to adapt to the "morning people". Sitting at his desk, he stared at his computer for a long time at his draft, but instead of continuing to write, he sent a message to Lucienne asking her to send him the address of the Orpheus educational institution.

It took him more than thirty minutes in silence to put aside all thoughts and get to work. He wrote for a long time and didn't notice the passage of time until Lucienne called him with a reminder of the last meeting with the publisher before the end of the year. Finally, Morpheus will have several months without too much going out. The film based on his book will be shot only in the spring, his intervention until that time is not required, since all the most important details have long been discussed and recorded on paper many times, including the selection of actors. Morpheus hated winter, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he learned that he could wait out all the bad weather at home.

The clock showed nine in the morning. From the monitor for ten hours he was distracted only by cups of coffee and occasionally waking Jessamy. It wasn't until he took his hands off the keyboard that he realized how exhausted he was. He had only an hour to sleep before leaving, and he took advantage of it. Morpheus didn't go up to the second floor to the bedroom, only curled up on the sofa, placing a decorative pillow under his head. He didn't even bother to cover himself with a blanket. An hour of sleep won't take away the bags under his eyes, but it's a whole hour more than he slept last night. He had one meeting left to go through, just one, and he would no longer have to suffer because of the inspiration that always came only at night. Of course, such an experienced writer as he could create at any time of the day. If he relied on inspiration alone, then the creative path would end at the very first story. But with inspiration, writing is much easier and faster, which is why Morpheus appreciated it so much. 

Lucienne handled most of the formal business, and Morpheus was with her as a courtesy to show that he still existed and was still able to write. Well, at the same time he listens to all the requirements that are put forward to him. Morpheus took nothing as seriously as his books. Lucienne has learned over the years what can make him angry and what can please him, so Morpheus practically didn't even participate in disputes, allowing Lucienne to do everything correctly. She knew how to negotiate with people, without her, the contract with Morpheus had long been terminated, as was the case with the first publishing house in his life. His rudeness and stubbornness angered the editor-in-chief too much, and even a well-written story didn't save him. Lucienne had just angelic patience, and Morpheus appreciated her very much, although he didn't say it. He didn't know if he could call her a friend, but a very good colleague and right hand, definitely.

“You did a good job of pretending that these meetings were important to you.” Lucienne smiled at him as they drove home in the car.

“I was in my thoughts. I don't understand why they spend so much time explaining what can be read in the contract.”

“You don't need to. I understand instead of you. We don't have any important events for the next week, so you can rest. Do you want me to call Orpheus?”

“No, it's not necessary. I still have things to do today. You can take a day off, I'll try not to bother you.”

Lucienne raised her eyebrows in disbelief. She didn't have days off, since Morpheus could call her at any time of the day and any day, shifting all his social responsibilities to her. She was his personal assistant in everything, and his sister also asked her to make sure that he didn't forget to at least order food for himself at home.

Morpheus slept for a couple more hours before leaving for the university. Jessamy didn't want to let him go, dissatisfied with the lack of attention, but Morpheus promised to spend the whole day with her tomorrow. If he made promises to anyone, it was only to her, and he always kept them. It didn't even occur to Morpheus to go to the university's website and find out what Professor Gadling looked like and what his hours of operation were. He found his office with difficulty as the sun was already setting, and stood awkwardly at the door. Just to knock, it's not difficult, right? But Morpheus came here without any prepared speech. He didn't know what to say, what to ask and what to offer in return. He was ready to knock several times, but his hands dropped by themselves. Morpheus hated the way his heart began to beat faster with excitement. This happened every time he couldn't foresee the course of the meeting he came to. Morpheus also couldn't talk to people he had never seen before.

It is not known how much longer he would have stood in front of the door if he had not been called. The man about his age, maybe a little younger, walked up to the door where Morpheus was hanging around. His clothes made it clear that he didn't earn much more than average, which led to a logical conclusion about working at this university. But Morpheus was surprised when the man showed him the keys to the office and opened the door for him. He expected Professor Gadling to be some old man with a load of experience on his shoulders, with gray hair and perhaps a thick beard. Like some old mentor from his own books. But the professor was young and cheerful, despite the weariness on his face. Robert smiled at him, though he didn't seem to be listening carefully enough.

For a moment, he even seemed dumb to Morpheus when he repeated his own words. Morpheus was used to looking down on people, and this man was no exception. However, he agreed to accompany him to a cafe. Morpheus felt very uncomfortable, he was not used to being alone with a stranger, such meetings always took place with the presence of Lucienne, who solved all problems for him. The man's quick glances led him to surmise that the professor might have recognized his face. Robert Gadling, Hob, gave the impression of a man who reads a lot, although Morpheus doubted that he was interested in the fantasy genre with a hint of a detective story. The attention made him tense even more. Morpheus clenched his hands into fists so tightly that the imprints of his manicured nails were left on his palm.

To his relief, even if Hob recognized him, he continued to talk to him like to a normal person, not to a popular writer. This made Morpheus relax a little, but not for long. The more the professor talked, the gloomier the mood of the writer became, and he really wanted to get up in the middle of a conversation and leave without looking back. But he continued to answer annoying questions. For the sake of Orpheus, he must endure it.

“I don't give out my personal contacts to anyone.” he said through gritted teeth when Hob asked for his number. It's not that he considered this person unworthy of his contacts (if only a little). Personally, only family members, the driver, and Lucienne, through whom all other calls passed, contacted him. But in this case, it’s also better not to give her number. Still, this is Morpheus' business, and tugging Lucienne every time he needs to contact Gadling is not the best solution. He should have thought about it before speaking, which made him feel stupid. Of course, Morpheus could have just taken his words back and given his phone number without too much drama, but he did not, although he himself didn't understand why. Luckily for him, Hob just wrote him his own number on a napkin that Morpheus tucked into the breast pocket of his overcoat.

The prospect of seeing this man again didn't please him at all, but he must overcome himself. Although Hob seemed like a nice person, he would prefer not to meet once again with someone about whom he knows nothing, except for the name and position. It wasn't until Morpheus stepped outside that he remembered that he hadn't asked for the payment. Hob would give him a favor, and he was used to paying for services. But this is not a problem that should be bothered with right now. It's unlikely that a university professor will ask for as much as Morpheus cannot give. He had plenty of money not only from books, but also from the family inheritance, the presence of which contributed to the fact that Morpheus spent his whole life on only one activity, to which he was drawn all his conscious life.

At home, playing with one hand with the Jessamy, Morpheus stared at the screen of his phone. He had already transferred the number from the swipe to the device, but didn't know how to sign the contact.

 Orpheus's Professor 

No, that better not to do. Morpheus can easily forget his name, making it difficult to communicate with him.

Professor Gadling.

Professor Robert Gadling.

Doesn't fit either. Robert immediately called himself Hob, showing that he likes the informal style of communication. In order for their cooperation to be favorable, one must try to make sure that he does not feel as much discomfort as Morpheus himself.

Hob Gadling.

As long as it stays that way. Morpheus saved the contact to his phone and focused all his attention on Jessamy, who more than deserved it. And yes, he needs to unwind. Jessamy rumbled contentedly and jumped into Morpheus' lap, causing him to smile a little. She has always been and will be the only creature that does not upset him.

The next day, Morpheus wrote to Hob that he could come to him on Tuesday or Thursday, but only in the evening. Don't need Gadling to know that he will likely sleep until two in the afternoon due to his nocturnal activity. It took almost an hour for Hob to send him a time at which Orpheus was definitely not supposed to cross paths with him. Morpheus stared at the reply message for a long time. He so wanted to cancel everything, and inside him there was a whole struggle between what he wants and what he should. Sighing, Morpheus made his decision.

Morpheus: Thursday 18:35 suits me.

Hob: great! I'll be waiting for you in building 3 in room 417 (4th floor).

Hob: By the way, I did save your number, Mr. Unsociable.

Hob: can't wait for our meeting ;)

Morpheus raised one eyebrow, staring at the screen as if Hob could see him. Leaving his messages unanswered, he set his phone down on the edge of his desk and returned to work, hunched over his pile of notes.

Morpheus looked forward to Thursday as doomsday. He had no idea what he should be looking for in other young people and how a simple observation could help his situation. But he needed to start somewhere, and Hob himself suggested this option. Probably, it was worth trusting in such a matter a person who was used to communicating with people. The time of the meeting was not too early for Morpheus to oversleep, and not too late for him to be in a hurry after sleep. It usually took him about an hour after he woke up to recover. At such moments, Morpheus sat with a cup of coffee or tea and either stared into the void or stroked Jessamy until his brain finally woke up. Thanks to this good timing, he arrived at the university in a less irritated mood than he could have been. He really wanted to take Jessamy with him for moral support, but he didn’t need too much attention to his person, especially now.

This time he was more prepared for the meeting. Morpheus carefully researched information about Hob on the university's website and asked Lucienne to find out anything about his study before teaching. Hob was not involved in any suspicious dealings, was not arrested by the police, did not suffer from alcoholism and drug addiction, and was also very popular with all the students he taught. Apparently, he was one of the most popular professors. Morpheus wondered if this popularity was the reason why Orpheus was drawn to him. But this is absurd, after leaving the hospital, Orpheus preferred loneliness and was angry because of excessive attention to himself, not wanting to seem helpless in the eyes of others. He was unlikely to risk his comfort zone just to hang out with an all-known history professor, no matter how much he was praised by other students.

Morpheus approached the required audience 15 minutes before the appointed time, but he didn't take into account the fact that there could still be a lesson. He had to wait in the corridor. It was another test, because he still wanted to cancel everything and go home. But he stood steadfastly against the wall and waited until the students began to leave the class he needed. As soon as he was sure that the last person had left, he went in and closed the door behind him. Hob sat at the teacher's desk, staring at something on a laptop screen and drinking sparkling water. Upon seeing Morpheus, the professor smiled broadly and stood up to greet him.

“You're early. I'm glad to see you.” Hob held out his hand. Morpheus slowly lowered his eyes to it and considered indecently for a long time what to do with it. As soon as Hob began to lower the hand, Morpheus shook it, releasing it almost immediately.

“Good evening. What should I do?”

“Nothing complicated. Sit on the back desk and watch me interact with the students. Don't delve into the lesson itself. Look how I choose my words, how I address them and all that things. This is my last lesson for today, so we can discuss it right away.”

Morpheus nodded and sat down at the last desk against the wall. While recess lasted, Hob prepared materials for his next lesson, adjusted the spotlight, read something in his notes, and finally leaned back in his chair to wait. Morpheus looked at him and didn't look away. Hob, of course, noticed this and smiled at him again. He was in the same good mood as in their last meeting, and it was a little unsettling. Morpheus was not used to seeing cheerful people, they frightened him.

None of them broke their silence, for which Morpheus was grateful. Hob didn't force conversation on him and seemed to be gathering his strength for the next hour and a half. As a professor, he must have had to talk a lot. If Hob was using this silence as a rest for his vocal cords, then Morpheus was studying him. A lot can be said about a person by his actions and behavior in silence. After the first meeting, Hob seemed more active than he really is. He didn't feel uncomfortable sharing silence with a stranger, which didn't make the room tense. Morpheus had become more interested in the professor in the few minutes of that silence than in their entire previous conversation in the cafe. When students began to enter the classroom, he tensed. The young people greeted their teacher with tired smiles and took their seats. As far as Morpheus could tell, they were slightly older than Orpheus, but still in his age group. Some turned to look at him, but in general no one paid any attention to him, as if the presence of a stranger was not a surprise to them.

“So, my children, good evening everyone. As promised, today we will have a small quiz on the 14th century, then we will talk a little about literature, and you will tell me your reports. It's okay if we can't listen to everyone, we still have a lot of time ahead of us, we are great fellows.” Hob got to his feet, smiled his biggest smile, and looked around at everyone in the class. His gaze lingered on Morpheus for a moment, after which Hob winked at him and picked up his notebook.

Hob taught the lesson extraordinary. He agreed with the students that if they answered all the questions of the quiz correctly without using phones, notebooks and textbooks, then he would grant their one wish. The children were even more motivated by this than the grades, and they tried their best to give the correct answer. Hob gave them exactly one minute to think, they discussed the questions with each other and didn't answer a single question before the time allotted to them. In the end, the students gave all the correct answers, and their wish was ridiculously simple — for the professor to dance a dance from some new series that Morpheus did not watch. Hob laughed, rolled his eyes dramatically, but put the notepad on the table and stretched his shoulders. The students took out their phones, someone turned on the music, and Hob danced awkwardly, but too funny that even Morpheus smiled when the students laughed and clapped loudly. After a short dance, Hob bowed theatrically, straightened his hair, and grabbed a bottle of water. He looked at the writer and twitched his eyebrows in a silent question about evaluation, but Morpheus just shook his head, trying to look as annoyed as possible. Judging by the professor's cheerful grin, he didn't manage to hide his amusement.

Morpheus followed the lesson closely. When Hob started talking about literature, a whole discussion ensued. He argued with his students about Shakespeare so fiercely that there must have been noise in the hallway. Morpheus even had a headache from such a heated discussion, but he was fascinated by how easily the students talked to Hob. He talked to them as equals, but at the same time they respected him and didn't use his kindness for idleness. They liked to argue with Hob, and it seems that everyone was amused by his dislike of Shakespeare, so the discussion took up the largest part of the whole lesson. Only at the end, when Hob was tired, he stopped and started listening to the reports that only two people managed to tell. Hob listened attentively, occasionally being distracted by something, asked questions, but at the same time didn't underestimate the mark if his student could not answer or was lost, but rather encouraged.

When the bell rang, Hob gave homework and sent the students home. Morpheus sat motionless and waited for the professor to collect his stuff as they both had more to talk about. Hob smiled at him as he pulled on his jacket. Like last time, he suggested moving the conversation to a cafe, to which Morpheus did not mind.

“I noticed that kids love you.”

“I try to earn their respect and trust. You have no idea how many of them come to me for support before some terrible exams. Some call me a lucky charm.”

“Explain to me how this will help my relationship with my son.”

Hob's smile slowly faded. He looked into Morpheus's eyes, as if trying to figure out if he was joking, and then sighed heavily.

“You really don't understand. Fine. I'll try differently. Tell me what you saw today.”

Morpheus raised one eyebrow. Hob crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair, never taking his eyes off him. He spoke to him in the same tone as with his students, and from this little by little anger began to boil.

“First you asked the children questions, then you discussed with them and at the end you listened to their homework.”

“Right. That's what a good professor does. Do you know who else does this? Good mentor.” Hob smiled at the waiter, who placed a plate of food in front of him and a cup of coffee in front of Morpheus. “The last time we met, you told me that you don't know anything about Orpheus. You don't know what he is fond of, what he listens to, what he likes. You didn't ask questions about his life, which puts kids off, especially in their teens. And I'm sure you didn't talk to him about important topics. Not about life in general, not about his problems, not about anything. And finally, you did not listen to him, as I understand it.”

Morpheus frowned, holding the hot cup tightly in both hands. Hob's words evoked unpleasant feelings, because of which emotions were ready to overwhelm him, forcing him to stand up, scream and leave. But Morpheus used all his self-control to stay, because Hob seemed to see right through him. His words hurt because they were true. Hob looked away first as he began to eat. Morpheus looked down at his hands, which trembled slightly. All of the above was also the reason why Orpheus...Why he almost lost Orpheus.

“You know, I'm not as close to your son as you think.” Hob continued in a less serious tone. “I don’t know much about him, but it seemed to me that he had a strong connection with his mother.”

“That's true. He talks about his feelings only to her and his therapist.”

“Yeah, he said something about his doctor. It really calmed me down, to be honest.” Hob smiled again. “As soon as I saw him, it seemed to me that something was wrong with him. His eyes are empty, he seems to force himself to live. I was about to give him my doctor's number.”

“Do you have a psychotherapist?” Morpheus couldn't hide the surprise in his voice.

“Yes, sure.” Hob shrugged, as if it were business as usual. “Don't you? You should have one. Wait, no, stop, that's not what I meant to say!“ Hob grabbed Morpheus's arm as he stood up with an expression of cold fury on his face. He looked down at the man and felt tears welling up in his eyes. Morpheus could not stand that his eyes were constantly watering from very strong emotions, and many people considered this a sign of weakness.

Mentally, Morpheus repeated once again that this is all for Orpheus, exhaled nervously through his nose and sat back, but continued to look at Hob with anger. Making sure he wasn't leaving, Hob carefully let go of his hand.

“I mean, each of us has a story that has left a deep scar. It can be a childhood trauma, the loss of a loved one, and a hundred other reasons, and it's not always possible to cope with this burden alone. I believe that everyone should have a psychologist, a psychiatrist, a psychotherapist, or all of them, depending on the severity of the trauma. It's okay to ask for help from a specialist, thanks to which you will be able to cope with an internal crisis. I have a story, you have a story, Orpheus has a story, everyone has. But a doctor will not replace a loved person. No matter how good his therapist is, Orpheus may want simple care from a parent. From you.”

Hob stopped talking. He gave Morpheus time to think over his words. Hob really understood other people well. It doesn’t matter if it’s the cost of the profession or his special character trait, but he said the right things, Morpheus understood this. He put the cup to his lips, took a small sip of coffee, grimaced, and put it back under Hob's surprised gaze. Morpheus hated strong coffee. He didn't like this drink at all, preferring tea, but coffee invigorated him, although Teleute once said that he drinks coffee-flavored milk.

“You are right.” Morpheus sighed, and Hob gave him another smile. “But I still don't know what to do.”

“It's simple. Try telling him he's important.”

“He doesn't talk to me.”

“Send him a message.”

“He blocked my number.”

“Morpheus, if this is important to you, you must find a way. I don't know how you mess with Orpheus, and I can't do everything instead of you. Think of something. It doesn't matter if he deletes the message or something like that. It's important that he hears or reads it. It's advisable to speak words of support to him as often as possible so that he begins to feel that you care about him.”

Morpheus nodded. He slowly raised his eyes from the cup back to Hob, who was smiling broadly at him, and the corners of his own lips turned up slightly. There was no trace of the recent anger.

“Thank you. I'm sure your advice will help me.” Morpheus hesitated, but continued anyway. “I think I might still need your help. With Orpheus, it will be... difficult for me to establish relations. I can't do it alone”.

“You can call me anytime, mate. I'm always happy to help you and my student.”

“What is the price of your help?” Morpheus squared his shoulders, as he always did in business negotiations when he made contracts. Hob was visibly taken aback. Was he going to provide such a service for free?

“I don't need anything. I originally wanted to help Orpheus.”

"I can't take your help for a simple gratitude. It's out of my principles.” Morpheus's voice became firm, unquestioning, with which only Lucienne could argue. This made Hob look...disappointed. He seemed to be offended by the very possibility of taking money for helping another person, so he looked away. Morpheus sighed and spoke more softly. “I offer an alternative. We will start or end each our meeting in a cafe or restaurant. In gratitude for your time and effort, I will pay for your lunch or dinner. Will it fit?”

Hob was deep in thought, and Morpheus could feel his moral compass turning, but in the end, he extended his hand across the table to him, smiling, making Morpheus feel relieved.

“It will, I agree.”

The men shook hands, making a deal.

That same night, Morpheus came to Calliope's house, but didn't dare to go up to her apartment. He placed a small note in Jessamy's beak and pointed her to the correct window. The raven flapped its wings, took off from the shoulder of the owner and landed in the right place. Jessamy knocked on the window several times until someone opened it. She threw the note into the room and flew away, lost in the darkness between the branches of the tree behind which Morpheus was hiding.

Orpheus didn't see him. He took the note and read the words, written in beautiful cursive that no one could forge. A few seconds later, the same piece of paper flew back out the window. Morpheus suppressed a frustrated sigh, stroked the Jessamy, and headed home, accepting his defeat. He didn't count on anything else. He never knew that Orpheus soon went outside to pick up a note from the ground and put it in his pocket.

 «I worry about you every day.»

Chapter Text

Even after the first meeting with Morpheus, it was clear that Hob had signed up for something incomprehensible and difficult to accomplish. Although, if you think about it, he got involved in family squabbles from the moment he offered Orpheus his help. But Hob didn't regret it. In spare moments, his thoughts returned to the young musician and his poor father. He still had no idea what had happened between them, but he was sure it was something so serious that it was better not to guess. Even though Morpheus arrived in a bad mood all the time (at least Hob had only seen him that way so far), he didn't seem like the sort of person who would deliberately do something with bad intentions. Perhaps he did and said something wrong out of good intentions, and this hurt Orpheus so deeply that the son decided to disown his father, no matter how dramatic it may sound. Hob didn't know any details, but he didn't rush to ask for them, despite his curiosity. He felt that Orpheus could be frightened off by any wrong word or intonation, like his father, and he had just begun to reach out with Hob. It seems that when Orpheus played the lyre, he shared something very personal and intimate with his professor. Orpheus kept his heart shut and was in no hurry to open it to Hob, but his face was increasingly adorned with a tiny smile when he saw him.

To know which direction to go, Hob needs to learn a little more about Morpheus. If he already had some idea about Orpheus, then Morpheus remained a mystery to him. As soon as Hob saw him, he felt such a strong attraction to him that he nearly lost his head. Morpheus seemed so ethereal, as if he had stepped out of the pages of children's fairy tales about handsome princes. But as soon as the man began to speak, there was almost nothing left of the prince. He was a rude and cold person who hid his emotions behind false indifference, as if he didn't know how to control them, so he preferred not to show them at all. The beauty had not gone away, and Hob still considered him the most beautiful man he had ever met, and he even indulged in fantasies in which he shared a bed with this handsome man. Hob would have liked to spend the night with him, but no more than one. He didn't want any relationship, despite the fact that Johanna tried with enviable regularity to question his desire to maintain the status of a free bachelor. She can't be blamed, she met Hob when he was still dealing with the loss of his wife and was about to live the rest of his life alone. It was a terrible time, and he is grateful to fate for sending him a reliable friend at that moment.

This is not to mention that Hob has learned from experience that building a relationship on fleeting sympathy is a waste of time.

When Hob told Johanna and Rachel about Morpheus, he paid more attention to the situation in which he found himself, completely forgetting that on the eve of the collapse of him "the man of his dreams." Johanna didn't miss the opportunity to joke that Hob's dreams are pretty meager since they're a gothic bastard with a troubled son. Hob didn't argue, he always had problems with fantasy.

Hob wrote to Morpheus the following weekend that he would like to meet and talk with him. Morpheus didn't read the message until 1:00 p.m., and then replied that he would be ready in two hours. Hob was glad that this time they would talk in daylight, and sent the address of the park in the city center. He wanted to take a walk, but judging by how long Morpheus wrote, he didn't share his desire. However, after ten minutes of typing, he only sent «Good». It remained only to guess what he really wanted to answer.

Hob had plenty of time to finish his household chores before heading to central London. In fact, he had too much work to just drop everything, but Hob jumped at the only opportunity to justify his procrastination. Walking with Morpheus was just a way to escape from his professorial duties, the amount of which he was already starting to go crazy with. He didn't even bother to come up with a single topic of conversation as he walked towards the park. It's Saturday, after all, Hob deserves some rest. Well, or a change in your brain activity.

Hob began to wait for Morpheus at the main entrance, at the same time he bought hot coffee and a donut with chocolate in a small shop. He didn't have to wait long, Orpheus's father arrived a few minutes later in an expensive black foreign car, driven by a pretty dark-skinned woman in round glasses. Morpheus went outside from the passenger seat, said something to the woman, and as soon as he moved away, the car drove away in an unknown direction. Morpheus approached Hob. He was still dressed in the same black coat as the previous two times, and his hair looked consistently as if he had never been familiar with a comb in his life. The man nodded in greeting, cowering in the cold autumn wind. For some reason, Hob got the impression that he had just woken up.

“Hi. Take it, it's for you.” Hob genially handed Morpheus a donut, to which he received a questioning raised eyebrow. "You're always in a moody mood, I thought a little sugar would help you be a little more cheerful."

“It seemed to me that we agreed last time that I pay for your food as a gratitude, and not you for mine.” Morpheus looked at the donut incredulously, as if Hob had thought of poisoning it.

“Yeah. In cafes and restaurants. And I bought it from that shop on the corner. Although I don’t have a personal driver, I won’t get poorer from one donut. Come on, take it.”

Morpheus hesitated, but still took the sweet with furrowed brows. Hob chuckled, took a sip of coffee, and walked slowly into the park. Morpheus walked along. He stared silently at the donut, as if he'd never seen anything like it, and Hob couldn't help but chuckle softly. His companion gave him an annoyed look and took a bite of a bun with a defiant air. As soon as his tongue touched the icing and filling, his brows stopped frowning, and instead of puzzled irritation, pleasant surprise appeared on his face. Hob smiled again, watching the changing emotions of his partner in misfortune. Finally, he saw something new on his face. To be honest, without the furrowed brows, he looks even cuter.

“It's tasty, isn't it?”

“It's… not unpleasant.” Morpheus replied, avoiding eye contact. Hob considered this the highest form of praise.

Morpheus wore the same, but beautiful clothes, which, even for a man as unsophisticated as Hob, were noticeably tailored from expensive fabrics. Of course, a person of such bloodlines is unlikely to eat pastries from street shops. If he eats at all. Hob was a little worried about the skinny figure of Morpheus. Perhaps he was under a lot of stress because of his son, or perhaps he was just careless about food. Hob liked to take care of people, and concern for Morpheus' food was the real reason why he decided to buy him a snack. Luckily, Hob's tongue works as it should, and he quickly came up with another reason so that Morpheus wouldn't get angry. You need to approach him as carefully as you would approach Orpheus. Or maybe even more careful.

For the first few minutes they walked in silence beside the lake. Groups of friends, couples and children passed by them: on the left, two gentlemen were feeding ducks, on the right, a couple in love sat on a bench and discussed travels, a girl with pigtails ran next to them in an attempt to catch pigeons. Hob drank coffee, Morpheus bit off small pieces of sweet pastries. For a moment, Hob felt as if he were walking with a friend. But it's not. He doesn't know this person at all. However, that was the reason for this meeting.

“Morpheus, I need to get to know you better.” Hob says and tosses the empty paper cup into the trash. Morpheus wiped his mouth with a napkin, though there was not the slightest crumb left on his face.

“Why?”

“To help. I can learn something about Orpheus and his feelings, I'm already working on it. But I also need to know how you feel. Until I understand you, I can't do anything.”

Hob was expecting Morpheus to protest and get angry again, perhaps to make a dramatic exit. But that didn't happen. Morpheus made a thoughtful sound, his eyes showing neither anger nor annoyance. Hob smiled, thinking that a small sweet gift still had a positive effect on his interlocutor's mood.

“It is reasonable. But I can't talk about myself. Ask what you want to know, I will answer.” Morpheus put his hands in his pockets. Hob beamed. While it's impossible to understand feelings from asking questions alone, Hob will at least finally know who he's dealing with.

“What do you do for a living? You have expensive clothes, an expensive car and a driver. A politician or something like that?”

“You insulted me just now.” Morpheus grimaced and Hob laughed. “ I'm a writer. Mostly in the fantasy genre, but some of my books are considered more detective and horror. Although these are a minority.”

Only now did Hob realize where he had seen his face. He slapped his forehead with a loud, devastating groan. Of course, Morpheus is a writer! At Hob's house, on one of the bookshelves, there are several books written by Orpheus's father, but he didn't even know about it. He could just take one and look at the back of the cover! Hob is an avid reader, at one time he read a lot of books of all genres, from women's novels to philosophical poems. But because of his work, he completely stopped reading fiction; lately, all his time has been occupied by history textbooks and scientific articles on the history. If Hob started reading more for fun and not work again, he would immediately recognize Morpheus. One of his series of books hit Hob to the core, though he hasn't read it in its entirety until now. Hob liked the fact that everyone independently chose a positive hero in these books. Morpheus wrote two characters from different points of view, where both can be both antagonists and protagonists. Maybe Morpheus had problems communicating with people, but he wrote magically, as if he was born with a pen in his hand and never parted with it.

“I thought you knew.” Morpheus added, and Hob swore he saw a tiny, almost imperceptible, smug smile.

“I didn't know. No, I mean, I know your books, but I haven't read anything in a long time except historical reference books, and I'm physically unable to remember the faces of all the authors whose books I have at home. I just... It never crossed my mind that you... Damn, I don't know how to phrase it without making you angry.”

“Don't worry, I understand you.” Morpheus's smug smile didn't disappear, and his eyes sparkled with amusement. ”You're not the first to be so surprised. Many people think my face is familiar, but they can't remember me. I'm glad that my books are more memorable than me. This is a big compliment for the author.”

Hob nodded, indicating that he was listening. Morpheus seemed to love his job. He doesn't respond in monosyllabic sentences, as Hob feared, which was good news. And there was no tension between them, like all previous times. It felt like they had walked together so many times and talked about different things, like old friends. There was something about Morpheus that made Hob feel like he'd known him for hundreds of years.

“Why did you become a writer?”

Morpheus stopped. He looked at Hob with those piercing blue eyes that didn't look cold at all this time. They were many years older than the writer himself, and only now Hob realized that he was talking not just with the parent of his student, but with a wise man who had gone through many difficulties in his life. The tired look of Morpheus was that of an old man who had seen the world. Almost as lifeless as Orpheus. Hob felt cold at the thought that he might be badly hurt, not only by the quarrel with his son, but by something else, something terrible.

“Close eyes.” said, no, ordered Morpheus. Hob complied unquestionably and did as he was told without question. “What do you see now? And what do you see every time you close your eyes?”

Morpheus's voice, though heard nearby, but it seemed that he was speaking from somewhere far away. Its pleasant low tone was created to read audiobooks: fairy tales to lull children to sleep, or horrors that make even the bravest daredevils goosebumps. Hob thought he could listen to that voice forever.

“Darkness.” he replied after a moment's thought.

“What do you think about after a hard day? When you can hardly reach the house and fall on the bed, when your arms and legs hurt, when your back aches, and your head threatens to crack at the slightest sound?”

“In this state, I don't think. Not able to.” Hob shrugged. Morpheus didn't answer. When the silence dragged on, Hob opened his eyes and looked at the man who was standing two paces away from him.

“But I think.” he finally said. “I think all the time. And when I close my eyes, I see worlds. Hundreds of worlds about which I wrote, I write and I will write. I see characters that I gave life to on paper and that have not gone beyond my imagination. I think about stories that can't wait to go out into the world. Even in exhaustion, I think about it. It's always been that way, all my adult life. I always knew that I would become someone who could create stories with his own hands. This is my purpose.”

Hob exhaled loudly. He had never heard so many words from Morpheus. Moreover, so many beautiful words. Morpheus gave his tone neither pride nor desperation. There was something different in his voice. He spoke of this not as a curse on his imagination, but as a life goal, as the thing for which he breathes and wakes up in the morning.

Involuntarily, Hob drew another comparison with Orpheus, who talked about music in much the same way, only a little more inspired, as about his dream. Morpheus, on the other hand, has already fulfilled his dream and continues to work on it to this day. Hob complained that he lacked imagination, but looking at Morpheus with a new look, he was even glad about it.

“Literally always? You don't have, you know, creative block or something like that?”

Morpheus's shoulders tensed and he winced again in the wind. Hob decided to resume walking so that the autumn chill would not freeze them both. Morpheus slowed down a little, but soon caught up with him again. His face showed complete concentration. He either pondered over the question, or didn't know how to answer it correctly. His head lowered, and now Morpheus was looking not directly, but at his feet.

“I didn't think much about books when Orpheus was born.” Morpheus replied quietly after a while. “Then for the first time my head was occupied with real things. I devoted all my time and attention to him when he was a child. Work was not going well then, but there were no problems with money, and I wanted to give my all to him.” At the end, his voice cracked slightly. It was hard for Morpheus to talk about this, happy memories from the past once again reminded him of the current situation.

Hob didn't know what to say to him. But he received very important information: once Orpheus and Morpheus were close. It was a long time ago, but strong bonds have certainly formed between them, which have not yet been completely broken. Hob didn't ask Orpheus about his family, fearing that he might arouse suspicion. Orpheus should not know that Hob agreed to help his father, he will certainly get the situation wrong. And leaving Morpheus in that position is like throwing a kitten outside in the pouring rain. Hob opened his mouth to ask a question, but forced himself to shut up just in time. No, he must learn this story from Orpheus, if the boy wants to share it at all. This is his wound, and Hob will not forgive himself if he knows something that Orpheus would not want to tell anyone. Sometimes it's hard not to cross personal boundaries, especially with great curiosity, but Hob tried his best. At a minimum, he must prove that both Endless can trust him.

Morpheus frowned at his feet. He thought about his son, about what their relationship had become, and pain could be seen in his newly furrowed brows and blank eyes. The great pain of a father who loses his child. Hob hesitated, but still put his hand on his shoulder. Morpheus looked up at him with a frown, and Hob smiled good-naturedly at him.

“We'll fix it. I promise that I will do everything in my power.” and then Hob removed his hand, not wanting to make Morpheus uncomfortable.

They walked in silence for a few more minutes. Hob didn't know how to feel about it, whether he should fill it with idle chatter. In the end, he couldn't stand it and began to speak. Not knowing what topics might be of interest to a silent interlocutor, Hob returned to the lesson, which was attended by Morpheus. He told him how he arranged a wish-granting quiz with the class a long time ago, how it affected his relationship with students and their motivation. It seems to have helped Morpheus take his mind off things. Now he was looking not at his feet, but straight ahead, turning his head in the direction of Hob every now and then. He didn't like to talk, but he liked to listen. Morpheus even smiled when Hob said that for the first wish granted, he had to give a lecture in the costume of an Egyptian god, and then he was almost fired because of improper appearance, but the students stood up for him.

Hob then paused to clear his throat, and it took Morpheus a moment to notice that he was walking on alone. The absence of any sound made Morpheus stop and look back. Hob was squatting beside a medium-sized dog. The dog had a collar, and its well-groomed coat indicated that the pet wasn't homeless and, most likely, its owner was walking somewhere nearby. Hob smiled broadly and looked at the dog with burning eyes.

“What a beautiful boy you are! You aren't alone here, are you?” the man cooed in a gentle voice. The dog wagged his tail, which made Hob even more delighted. “Can I pet you? I won't be offended if you don't let me, but you are so beautiful and fluffy that I have to try.” Hob raised his hand cautiously. He was in no hurry to hold it out, watching the reaction of the dog, who didn't take his eyes off him. Hob's hand slowly approached the pet's head. He let it sniff him and let out a sigh of relief as the dog licked his fingers.

Happy as a child, Hob stroked the dog's head first with one hand, then with both. He scratched his ears and neck, said a few more gentle words, and only after that he straightened up, turning to Morpheus with the happiest smile that a person can have. Morpheus raised one eyebrow.

“I’m so boring that you got distracted by the dog?” he asked in a tone that could have been mistaken for offended. Hob laughed.

“No, absolutely not. I just love dogs. I can't get past. I dream of having my own dog, but so far my job doesn't allow me to pay enough attention to a pet. But one day I will definitely have a dog, the best of all!”

Hob caught up with Morpheus and they continued their walk. He could see that his friend was about to say something, but he was too lost in his thoughts, so the slightly parted lips immediately closed every time Hob thought he would say something. This man could write better than he could speak, and it seems that it took him a long time to formulate his thoughts in verbal communication.

“I have a pet.” Morpheus suddenly said.

“Let me guess. A cat? You look like a cat person.” Hob tilted his head slightly to better see his face. Morpheus smiled faintly and turned his head towards him, something amused again in his eyes.

“No. I love cats, but my pet is a raven.”

“A raven?” Hob blinked, thinking he misheard. He knew many people, but none of his acquaintances had ever had a raven at home.

“Yes, a raven. A bird.”

“I know it's a bird, thanks for appreciating my intellectual abilities.” Hob rolled his eyes, at which Morpheus chuckled. The more he learned about the personality of this writer, the more he became both unbearable and attractive. Raven! How many modern people keep ravens in the house? Not a parrot, not a hamster, not a ferret, but a fucking raven.

“Her name is Jessamy. She is the only one besides my sister and Lucienne who can be inside my house.”

“Who is Lucienne?”

“My helper. She brought me here today. My driver is in the hospital, so she will temporarily take over his duties. But until the end of the year, I'm going to leave the house only to meet with you.”

Hob couldn't hold back another chuckle. A mysterious man in black in expensive clothes with a raven in his house. Morpheus is none other than a vampire who escaped the Twilight.

Their walk slowly went beyond the park, and now they walked through the crowded streets of London, and the more crowded quarters they entered, the gloomier Morpheus became. Hob quickly realized that he felt uncomfortable, and turned with him in the direction of his pub, which was in a quieter area. But before they had time to reach him, Morpheus said that it was time for him to return home. In parting, he bowed his head in a polite bow and disappeared into the crowd.

“Dramatic bastard.” Hob grinned and continued on his way alone.

At home, he had to return to paperwork despite his reluctance. He grabbed his tea, took a pack of chips and sat down at the computer. When there was a knock on his door, Hob was checking his essays. It wasn't too late yet, but he wasn't expecting anyone, and the sudden visit of an uninvited guest made him tense. Although it could very well be Johanna, who liked to show up on the doorstep whenever she felt like it. However, on the other side of the door was a young boy in a delivery uniform. He handed Hob a bottle of wine with a note tied to the neck.

«I apologize that I did not fulfill our end of the bargain today. Consider this modest gift my payment this time» was written in beautiful cursive that Hob had never seen.

The man smiled. He was more than sure that the word modest didn't fit a bottle of wine, which even looked like it cost more than his entire apartment. In order not to be tormented by his conscience, he decided not to search the Internet for the true price of alcohol, and put it away in a small bar in the kitchen. Such a thing should stand for a special occasion. It wasn't until he sat back down at his computer that Hob remembered that he hadn't told Morpheus his address. Well, that should be discussed at their next meeting. It's nice to receive a gift, but not when an almost stranger somehow finds your address without your knowledge. It's creepy.

When Hob saw Orpheus again, the boy looked more thoughtful and anxious than usual. His thoughts seemed to wander somewhere far away, and in the classroom he was very absent-minded, looking at Hob with large, uncomprehending eyes. He looked like a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest. At the request of his teacher, he stayed when the classroom was empty and sat awkwardly in front of Hob, who leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Do you want to talk to me about something?" the professor began softly. Orpheus nodded, lowering his head.

Hob looked at his wristwatch. He still had a little time before the next lesson, but not enough time to start a serious conversation with Orpheus. Perhaps it would be better if they met at recess or after uni. He was about to propose when Orpheus interrupted him at the very first sounds. Unlike his father, he collected his thoughts faster, and it is easier for him to talk about his feelings. At least Hob, whom he increasingly trusted.

“A person who didn’t give a damn about me for almost my whole life began to show attention to me. I don't know what to do. It scares me.”

Hob closed his mouth, unable to say anything about the postponement of the conversation. It's not difficult to guess who Orpheus is talking about.

“What makes you think they don't care about you?”

“When I needed him, he just got rid of me.” Orpheus frowned and inhaled heavily through his nose, trying to contain his anger. “You are the only one I can ask for advice.”

Hob couldn't help but smile. He pushed himself off the back of his chair and put his hand on the student's shoulder. Orpheus looked up at him and answered him with a faint smile. Hob felt a pleasant warmth from the fact that the boy now didn't turn away from him every time the conversation even remotely turned to problems in the family. Although he didn't say exactly who he meant, Hob knows. Therefore, he came up with a terrible idea that completely crosses out his principle of separating work and personal life. Hob never met with his students outside of work, no matter how much he was begged. Only after graduating from the university, he agreed to go with already former students to a bar or club to spend some time with them. As a professor, it's very important to keep strictly professional boundaries. He couldn't even make friends with them, no matter how much he wanted to.

The situation with Orpheus is a little different from everything that is usual in Hob's life. They are not friends, and they are not going to be, but Orpheus looks at him with big blue eyes full of hope. He found support in him, perhaps trying to replace his father with him, and therefore Hob must go against some of his principles. And yes, he promised Morpheus that he would try his best to help them improve their relationship. Hob sighed.

“'I will definitely regret it. Orpheus, I have a lot of work right now, but tonight I'm meeting my friends at the pub. If you want, I'll take you with me. You will relax a little, we will talk in an informal setting. Want to go with me?”

Orpheus' eyes widened in surprise. He pondered, mentally weighing the pros and cons. Hob knew that the young man hadn't left the house anywhere except for the university for quite some time. Orpheus was just learning to live, and every step away from his usual daily routine made him hesitate.

But he nodded uncertainly, accepting the professor's offer. Hob beamed at him and said the time by which Orpheus should come to his office so that they would go together to the New Inn. He is sure that Johanna won't be delighted that he will bring the kid with him. And she may misunderstand this gesture. Therefore, in order to avoid embarrassment, Hob texted that the student he was talking about would come with him, and asked not to mention anything that she managed to find out about him.

The only thing Johanna and Rachel could tell was that Hob was helping Morpheus. He told his friends almost nothing more about Orpheus, but that fact alone was enough to ruin everything when Hob was just beginning to get to talk to both father and son. Unfortunately, so far separately.

Hob didn't worry that Morpheus might text or call at the wrong time. He didn't text to him at all unless Hob made appointments. And, frankly, Hob doubted the gloomy, depressed writer knew the phone was made for making calls. He is like a person who will look at a ringing phone with panic in his eyes.

Hob was confident in his friends, so without too much excitement he went with Orpheus to the pub. Since it was the middle of the week, it was not full, but there were still enough visitors, and Orpheus cringed in discomfort, which Hob smirked at, remembering Morpheus. They look so similar it's scary. As soon as Johanna saw them, she raised both her hands and called out her friend's name to get his attention. Rachel was the only one with her. Hob was an outgoing guy and had many friends, but these two girls were closest to him, almost like sisters he never had.

“Hi, kid. I'm Johanna, this is my girlfriend Rachel.” Johanna shook hands with Orpheus and with one tap on the shoulder made him sit up. Rachel smiled at them both, hugged Hob and kissed him on the cheek.

“Hard worker, we haven’t seen you for a long time.” she said, as Hob hugged Johanna in the same way. “Are you Orpheus? Hob talked about your ability in music. Never heard the lyre. I hope we manage to get to some concert with your participation. Will you drink something?”

“Thank you.” Orpheus smiled sheepishly. “I didn't plan to perform at concerts. While I'm only writing music for the soul, it calms me down. And no, sorry, I can't drink alcohol. It's incompatible with my medications.”

Rachel nodded in understanding and walked back to the bar. In less than a minute, she returned with three alcoholic drinks and one non-alcoholic blue cocktail for Orpheus. The student blinked his eyes in confusion and reached for his wallet as Hob grabbed his hand.

“No, no. I brought you here, I'll pay for you. Don't forget, we're here for you to relax. It physically hurts me to look at your tense shoulders.”

Orpheus frowned and was about to start arguing, but Johanna brazenly interrupted him, taking her place between him and Hob. She put her arm around Orpheus and started talking about what a sucky professor Hob was a few years ago.

Hob knew that his friends had the magical ability to turn off their brains even without alcohol. Johanna had a lot of funny and scary stories to tell, and Rachel held her back so she wouldn't go too far. In addition, the presence of Rachel in itself was reassuring and gave a sense of security. These two girls have become a real family for Hob. He watched with a smile as Johanna tried to talk Orpheus in, asking about his ear piercings, and while she wasn't looking, bet Rachel that she would persuade a student to sign up for her tattoo. But Hob will have to beg Johanna for a discount, yet he is responsible for Orpheus. And at the same time prepare a will in case Morpheus gets angry.

Orpheus really relaxed. He got along better with Rachel than with Johanna, but they both proved to be interesting and pleasant conversationalists for him. When Rachel dragged the boy away for more drinks, Johanna nudged Hob with her shoulder, moving closer to him.

“So, just to clarify. You're not going to sleep with your student, are you?”

Hob spat the beer back into his mug before he could swallow it. He coughed, covering his mouth with his hand, and immediately raised an indignant look at Johanna.

“Of course not! How could you think about it? You have such a terrible opinion of me?!”

“Calm down, breathe in and out. I just wanted to make sure you're not completely crazy.” Johanna threw some tissues in his face. She waited for Hob to dry his face and take his mug. “What about his father?”

Hob spat out his drink again.

“Constantine! Have some shame!”

“Hob, the whole pub can hear you now.” Rachel laughed as she approached. Hob took advantage of her arrival and seated her between himself and Johanna, who showed no remorse for any of her questions. She wrapped her arms around her girlfriend's waist and kissed her temple, which Hob couldn't help but smile at. Their couple always evoked in him tenderness and sincere happiness for both of them.

But Hob also envied them. Kindly, because he knew that he could never again love a woman the way he once loved Eleanor. He really tried, dated many girls, but sooner or later broke up with each of them for the same reason: Hob compared them to his wife. When a girl slept next to him, he began to think that Eleanor's hair was coarser, or her laugh was louder, or in her sleep she liked to push him out of bed in the middle of the night. Making breakfast for his lovers, he recalled that Eleanor was very fond of peanuts, but she was allergic to him, which, fortunately, was not transmitted to Robin. As soon as Hob caught himself on these thoughts, he immediately ended the relationship. He didn't deserve the love that was given to him, because he would never be able to give so much in return. No woman in the world can capture his heart the way Eleanor did.

But maybe a man can. Hob hoped so, he really wanted to sincerely love a person, to give someone all his heart. Even if this love is not mutual, he wants to feel it in order to convince himself that he can still love, that not everything inside him died with his wife. Eleanor was straight from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes, but no one before her had supported his sexuality in the way that she did. She wore makeup of pinks, purples, and blues, decorated their house every June, and never left Hob in doubt that this important part of his personality isn't wrong and that he isn't a freak. Eleanor did more for his acceptance of himself than his parents did, and she would be glad if Hob found the strength to bond with a man. In fact, Hob was sure that she would hit him over the head with something heavy for still moping about her and not fixing his personal life.

Immersed in memories of Eleanor, Hob didn't notice how Johanna and Rachel had gone somewhere, leaving him alone with Orpheus. Only when the boy moved closer to him did he remember why he had brought him here. A little later, Hob would go up to his apartment, drink a glass of whiskey, and perhaps cry a little, but now his pain was not as important as that of young Orpheus.

“I suffer from depression.” Orpheus said quietly, not raising his eyes to his professor. Hob remembered that Morpheus had told him about it, so it didn't come as a surprise to him. “Severe depression. But my doctors say that I am on the mend, and it is quite possible that soon the degree will decrease to moderate.”

“I'm very glad to hear that, Orpheus.”

“But when it just started to develop, there was no one next to me except my mother.” Orpheus gripped the empty glass tightly. “And when I needed support, he just left me. Sent to the doctors and forgot. He didn't even try to talk to me. He did what was easier for him.” his voice began to tremble, and Hob noticed tears welling up in his eyes.

“I'm so sorry, kid. You shouldn't have gone through this.” Hob put his arm around his shoulders. Orpheus let go of the glass and grabbed the man's torso, as if grabbing a lifeline. His whole body trembled, and Hob heard soft sobs.

“I hate him. I don't want to know him. I want him to never be in my life, but...” Orpheus buried his nose in Hob's shoulder, who stroked the young man on the back with soothing movements, pretending that he didn't hear sobs and that salty tears didn't leave a wet spot on his white shirt.

“But?”

“But why do I still hope that he needs me? Why can't I throw away those idiotic notes that the raven brings every night to my window? Why do I still need him when I hate him so much?”

“Because you are human, Orpheus.” Hob raised a hand to his head to stroke his tangled hair. “You are a kind-hearted human who wants love. It's not shameful.”

Orpheus sobbed again, and Hob hugged him tighter. He saw Johanna and Rachel returning and slowly shook his head to give them more time. It seems that by forcing himself to smile, Orpheus lost the last of his strength, which was necessary to hold back tears. He had never cried before Hob, and he would hardly have been happy if his new acquaintances had seen his tears.

"Do you want to tell me whom you're talking about? And what happened to you?”

Orpheus fell silent, tensing up. He stopped crying, but kept his fists on his shirt open, and then shook his head.

“Not now. Sorry.”

“It's okay. Tell me when you're ready. And if you want. I don't rush you and don't demand anything from you. You don't have to say what you don't want to.”

“Thank you. i'd... I'd like him to be like you.”

Hob smiled. He didn't break his arms until Orpheus was the first to pull away. His eyes were red and swollen from tears, but he tried to pretend that nothing had happened. The boy wiped his nose on his sleeve and grabbed his bag. He murmured goodbye and ran out of the pub, not wanting to lose his dignity for even a minute more. Hob watched him go and sighed heavily. He rested his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands. It was... hard. Hob felt the warmth of a gentle hand on his back, exhaled nervously, and dropped his head on Johanna's shoulder, closing his eyes. On the other side Rachel took his hand.

When the friends went home, Hob grabbed his phone and texted Morpheus that they needed to meet as soon as possible.

Chapter Text

Morpheus didn't expect Hob to want to meet him again so soon. No more than three days had passed since their last meeting, but Hob demanded to speak to him immediately and threw off the address of the pub where he would be waiting for him. Morpheus stared blankly at his message, trying to get his brain to work after a brief nap. He allowed himself to sleep for only three hours, realizing that due to his need to leave the house much more often than usual, his daily routine had changed more significantly than he expected, and Morpheus had not yet had time to change his schedule so that there was enough time for sleep, and to work, given the regular meetings with Hob and the obligatory walks with Jessamy. His pet was very offended if she wasn't allowed out for a long time. Moreover, now he comes with her to Calliope's house every night to send another note to Orpheus, which further violated his old schedule, according to which he had been living for almost three years. Honestly, he didn't understand why he was doing this, since he is absolutely sure that all his messages go to the trash can.

Morpheus blinked sleepily. In the last thirty minutes he stared at his phone screen, nothing had changed. Sighing, he sent Hob the time: ten o'clock at night. This is the only hour that he is able to highlight. In addition to the new book, he has a lot of work to do with future film adaptations of his story. A film was originally planned, but after a long discussion and heated debate, it was decided to make a TV series. Morpheus was too pedantic when it came to his books and demanded that every little detail be transferred to the screen, which made the directors hate to work with him.

But one friend of Lucienne's was a big fan of the Morpheus books. She had introduced them several years ago, and despite the man's slightly intrusive nature, the writer had no animosity towards him. By a lucky coincidence, Matthew worked as a director, and he was the only person to whom Morpheus could trust his story. And he was also the only one who took up the collaboration with the most insufferable author of our time. So far, Matthew has not disappointed him, but the main work on the series has not yet begun. Just before meeting Hob, Morpheus would have to call him to discuss amendments to a script that had already been corrected a thousand times.

Jessamy, adjusting to her master, often slept during the day, so she made a displeased sound when Morpheus made a noise in the kitchen in an attempt to heat up what his sister had cooked for him. She defiantly croaked and flew to the second floor. As the kettle boiled, Morpheus thought about what had made Hob bring the time of their meeting closer. He could wait until the days off, but it's the middle of the week, which is not the best time for him as a teacher. Unless something serious happened to Orpheus. But if something happened, Calliope would let him know, he is still a father. She would not hide from him important information regarding the health of their common son. Despite the difficult relationship, Morpheus cared deeply about him, and his ex-wife knew it.

In the past, Morpheus had no idea what to say to him and what topic Hob would bring up. This time as well. And this greatly strained the writer. Morpheus is used to controlling all the dialogues in which he participates, he always knows what to expect from his interlocutors. But that's not the case with Hob. Perhaps because their meetings are quite personal, and on non-work topics, Morpheus communicated only with his older sister. He didn't have any friends besides Jessamy. Lucienne could be his friend if they communicated not only about work, and personal assignments were not of a business nature. Morpheus often felt lonely, and a wave of despair washed over him. He knew that if he didn't wake up one day, no one would know about it for days, unless Jessamy flew out the window and brought someone with her. Loneliness is his faithful companion, from which he ran away in his stories. Most often, Morpheus wrote every time when he felt lonely, plunging into the world he invented, getting lost in adventures and giving pieces of himself to each of the characters. In other words, he was always writing. Every minute of his free time. If he stops writing without spending the last of his strength, he will begin to think, and being alone with his own thoughts is his personal hell.

Morpheus didn't immediately notice that the kettle had already boiled for some time. He thought about many things and was lost in reality, which was also facilitated by drowsiness. After making himself a cup of tea, Morpheus took the plate of food into his office, opened his laptop and continued to write. Write, write, write. Anything to stop thinking about the loneliness or Orpheus. Lucienne once said that he couldn't always run away from problems into his stories, but he'd been doing it for years, and he doubted that would ever change.

Working on a book, on a script, a business call with an editor, and a video call with the director: all of these made Morpheus's mood even more gloomy than usual. The time to meet Hob seemed like a lifesaver this time, as he could no longer bear the strain on his brain. He's very tired, he has not slept and eaten much, and he needs to start thinking about something else at least for a little while. Jessamy watched her master put on a warm coat from the other side of the room. Looking at her, Morpheus raised his arm bent at the elbow, inviting her with him, but the raven mockingly (as far as it is possible for a bird) croaked and hid behind one of the bookshelves. The man sighed, not hiding his disappointment. He would be glad to take her with him, but Jessamy apparently had other plans for the evening, and he is not able to force her.

Autumn was getting colder. Luckily, Lucienne was already waiting at the wheel of the car. Morpheus sat in the back seat and stared sullenly out the window, showing his unwillingness to talk about anything with his whole appearance. But he knew Lucienne. Unlike his regular driver, she never forced conversations and silently did her job, occasionally giving advice and expressing her opinion, which he did not listen to.

“It's a cold night. Should I wait for you?” Lucienne asked, glancing at Morpheus in the rearview mirror.

“Yes, that would be better. If I stay too long, I'll text you and you can go home. In that case, I'll go back myself.”

Morpheus looked at the address one more time to make sure they were going to the right place. He had never been in this part of the city, although it was a very short walk from this area to the university. But Morpheus couldn't boast that he knew any places in London, with the exception of those in which he lived and worked. If he is dumped a few miles from the center and his phone with maps is taken away, he will never be able to return home in his life. His inability to navigate in space and his complete lack of social skills make him completely helpless without a phone, since even the compass is just a toy with arrows for him to entertain Jessamy.

Lucienne pulled up in front of a pub called The New Inn. The building looked unremarkable, the kind that both students and the elderly usually go to: it didn't sparkle with colorful garlands, it didn't hear loud music, and inside, as far as the windows could see, there wasn't much room for dancing. A perfectly ordinary middle-income pub, but much larger than the cafe near the university where Morpheus first paid for Hob's dinner. Yes, such a place is suitable for a history professor who wants to relax away from home after a day's work. Morpheus thought that if Hob were a building, that he would be the New Inn.

After thanking Lucienne, Morpheus got out of the car and immediately hurried inside the pub at a quick pace. Even in a warm almost winter coat, the cold air penetrated to the very bones. He hated the cold. Also hated the heat. In principle, whatever the weather, Morpheus is likely to express dissatisfaction in it.

Inside the pub is almost empty. It worked until 23:00 and the staff was slowly getting ready to close. Morpheus counted only three visitors before seeing Hob in the very corner. There were several papers on the table in front of him, and he was counting something on a calculator. Morpheus quietly walked over to his table, unsure if he was supposed to be there as Hob looked very busy. But he was the one who called him, after all. Hob looked up when he noticed the shadow on the papers, which turned out to be some kind of documents, smiled politely and quickly began to clear the table, putting the documents with the calculator in his bag. Soon there was nothing left on the table but a half-empty cup of coffee. Morpheus sat down opposite. To his momentary disappointment, Hob took off his glasses, which made him look rather attractive, but Morpheus immediately buried these thoughts deep in his mind so that they would not interfere with him.

“Hi. How are you? You look shitty, to be honest. I bet you barely slept.”

“That's a normal state of affairs for me.” Morpheus frowned, noticing the tension in Hob's shoulders. Usually the Orpheus professor is relaxed, but this time something is not right. Why did he want to see him so soon?

“What happened to Orpheus?«

“Nothing new, don't worry. I want to talk about you.”

“Again? It couldn't wait for the weekends?” Morpheus was beginning to feel annoyed. It's not that he ever had days off, it's just that it took him a long time to mentally prepare for a new meeting, and surprises like that sucked almost all of his energy out of him.

“No, it couldn't. Your relationship with your son depends on it.” Hob crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes became hard and heavy, but at the same time remained warm.

Morpheus didn't understand how talking about him could increase the chances of Orpheus being forgiven, but Hob seemed to know what he was doing, so he had to nod. Hob smiled softly, however, Morpheus spent enough time studying people's emotions for his books to understand that his smile was not sincere, which made him even more wary.

“Orpheus told me about his depression.”

“And?” Morpheus raised one eyebrow. “I already told you about it. Do you have memory problems? How did you become a professor then?”

“Therein lies the problem, Morpheus.” Hob sighed heavily, resting his elbows on the table. “I already knew. From you. It's not right.”

“Explain the course of your thoughts, I do not catch the essence.”

Morpheus had a bad feeling. He was sure that Hob would start to accuse him of something, as Calliope did, and the stern expression on his face only confirmed the hunch. Hob shook his head slowly and closed his eyes for a few seconds, trying to form his thought as carefully as possible so as not to become his number one enemy.

“You shouldn't have told me about his illness, Morpheus. It's wrong.” Hob intertwined his fingers with each other and looked into the eyes of the interlocutor. “Put yourself in his shoes. Would you be happy if Lucienne told me something about you that you don't want to talk about? If someone told me about the details of your divorce, or personal experiences, or childhood trauma? Would you be grateful for that?”

Morpheus lowered his eyes to the surface of the table, thinking. It wasn't difficult for him to imagine such a picture, replacing Lucienne with one of his younger siblings. They would shamelessly give Hob all the skeletons in his closet. It has already happened more than once. Morpheus was furious, and would probably get even more angry if the situation happened again. So he shook his head and looked back at Hob, whose face softened.

“That's what I'm talking about. Orpheus doesn't want to talk about his depression. You must respect it and not tell anyone unless he give you his consent. You need to learn to respect his personal boundaries if you want him to talk to you again. This applies to me as well, by the way.”

Morpheus cocked his head to the side in silent question, peering intently into Hob's warm eyes.

“You sent me a bottle of wine. Thanks anyway. It's the most expensive thing in my apartment now. But that's not the point, I didn't tell you my address. It's a little... you know, creepy.”

“Your address is easy to find on the Internet.”

“Yeah, but you could just, well, ask me, you know? Don't seek information about me instead of asking questions. Please.”

The writer let out a quiet "hm". The silence that hung over them made Hob nervous, which he didn't hide. The man was obviously worried that he had said something that hurt Morpheus's feelings. But he was right, after all. It never occurred to Morpheus to ask where he lived. He instructed Lucienne to find the address and transferred money to her card so that she herself would choose the wine and send it. Never had a problem with stuff like this before. Perhaps because the writer sent gifts only to colleagues and only at the initiative of Lucienne.

“My apologies. What else did Orpheus tell you?” Morpheus clenched his hands in his lap into fists. He felt as if Hob was blaming him for something, although Hob tried to speak carefully, avoiding aggressive and emotional statements. But Morpheus still felt the pressure in his direction, whether it was real or not.

“Oh, well, I wanted to talk to you about that another time.“ Hob grabbed his earlobe, looking away. Morpheus's knuckles went white with tension.

“I'm listening.”

“He said you sent him to the doctors instead of helping him by yourself. I'm not blaming you, I'm just relaying his words.”

Morpheus inhaled noisily. Orpheus sees things differently than they really were. Morpheus had no choice, after all. What could he do? He is helpless, he has no medical or psychological education. Turning him over to doctors who could take care of him after his suicide attempt was the best thing Morpheus could do for him.

“Did he tell you why I did it?” His voice dropped a tone. “It was the only choice after he...”

Morpheus was unable to speak as Hob slammed the table with both hands, drawing the attention of the staff and the rest of the pub's patrons.

“No! Stop! Shut up, Morpheus! We just talked about it. You can't tell me anything about Orpheus that he wants to hide. Personal boundaries.”

Morpheus closed his mouth, looking at Hob with an annoyed look. No one speaks to him so rudely, except for family members, and he took it as an insult. The fury that he held back with the last of his strength slowly turned into an uncontrollable fire in his chest.

Hob rubbed the bridge of his nose and began rummaging through his bag. He took out a small card and placed it on the table in front of Morpheus, who immediately looked down at it.

“It's my therapist's business card. You should contact her, she is a good specialist and can teach you not to overstep other people's boundaries. If she doesn't fit you, she'll give you the contacts of other good doctors, and then...”

“You dare to doubt the clarity of my mind?” Morpheus looked at Hob's face, clenching his jaw.

“Don't twist my words, I didn't say that.”

“I don't need anyone's help, Robert Gadling.”

“If you didn't need help, you wouldn't be here today. We wouldn't have met at all, Morpheus!”

“Enough!” Morpheus stood up abruptly. He stared at Hob for a few long seconds, full of anger, before saying something he didn't want to say. “I no longer need your help, Professor Gadling.”

“No, Morpheus, wait!” When Hob jumped up from his seat, the man had already left the pub.

Hob didn't have time to catch up with him. When he ran out into the street, Morpheus' car had already pulled out of the parking lot.

The ride home was quiet. Morpheus stared out the window, repeating in his mind everything Hob had told him that didn't lessen his anger in the slightest. In fact, Morpheus didn't want to quit, but the words escaped his lips too quickly. He still needs Hob because he is the only person Orpheus trusts. But since that stupid professor thought he had the right to give unsolicited advice, Morpheus would find another way to talk to his son.

As soon as he stepped over the threshold of the house, he immediately realized that his thoughts were again becoming too loud. He can deceive everyone around him, but not himself. Morpheus knows that without Hob, the chance of reuniting with Orpheus is significantly reduced, and this angers him even more. Wanting to escape from himself, he took a new note, Jessamy, and hurried to the house of his ex-wife. From the first time Jessamy brought the note to Orpheus's window, he'd been consistently at one in the morning, sometimes half an hour earlier. Orpheus, like his father, preferred to stay awake at night, despite the fact that every morning he had to go to the university. He also suffered from insomnia.

Morpheus hid behind a tree and waited for Jessamy to knock on the closed window, watching her from his hiding place. When she returned, he waited two minutes and only then left. Orpheus was angry at the very presence of his father, and being in the shadows in this situation is the most optimal solution, although Morpheus is sure that his son knows who sends notes to him every night. Orpheus never met Jessamy in person, but knew that a raven lived in his father's house.

To get away from his thoughts again, Morpheus began to write. He wrote non-stop and didn't think about going to bed, despite all the efforts of Jessamy to tear him away from the computer and heaps of covered notebooks. Morpheus couldn't afford to relax, because then he immediately began to think about Hob and how he needed his help.

Days merged into one. Morpheus did nothing but write, sometimes called other people at work, but due to the lack of food and sleep, he became even more unbearable than usual. The editor was ready to terminate the contract with him, and Matthew, offended to the core, said that from now on he would approve all places for filming without his approval. Lucienne couldn't bear to watch Morpheus torturing himself for long.

“Sir, if you don’t mind,” she began to say, when she came to Morpheus’s for the third day in a row to feed the Jessamy, and he didn't move an inch from his place, “I think you should talk to Robert Gadling.”

Morpheus's hands hovered over the keyboard, and he cast a stern look at his assistant. The circles under his eyes were darker than at any time in six months, and his prominent cheekbones indicated that he needed something more substantial in his meal than tea and one chocolate chip cookie.

“It's none of your business, Lucienne. Please take Jessamy for a walk, I'm busy.”

“Sir,” Lucienne sighed heavily, “you are a smart man. Your stories are considered some of the most exciting and intricate. You know you need Professor Gadling. You know that so well that for the last three days you have not even gone out to Orpheus' house so as not to give yourself the opportunity to regret. I don't know what happened, but I'm sure he did nothing to deserve your anger.”

“I don't need your advice, Lucienne.” Morpheus frowned even more. Even the shadows on the walls seemed to move from his anger. “Get back to your duties.”

Lucienne wanted to say something else, but only sighed and went into the room where the sad raven was sitting. Jessamy didn't like the fact that her master stopped paying attention to her at all. Although she is the one most used to Morpheus's mood swings, she took it hard when he ignored her. Lucienne stroked her soft feathers sympathetically, whispering something to her in a gentle voice that Morpheus couldn't hear.

He didn't see them leave, but he did notice the keyhole opening later. Deciding to ignore it, Morpheus continued to write steadily until the guest who entered slammed his laptop right in front of his nose. He raised his head and was about to start screaming, when instead of Lucienne he saw Teleute in front of him, in whose eyes a fire was burning.

“Sister? What are you doing here?”

“No, what are you doing here?” Teleute frowned and grabbed Morpheus by the ear like a delinquent child.

“I live here.” the man tried to move to the other side of the sofa, but the sister pulled his ear, squeezing out a displeased hiss from him.

“You sit here and work for the third or fourth day, you don’t care about your son or your pet, and you dig in your last chance for a favorable relationship with Orpheus! How can you be so dumb, Morpheus?”

“Lucienne sent you.” Morpheus snorted and brushed the woman's hand from his ear. Teleute sighed as she sat down next to him.

“You need to listen to her advices. What happened between you and that professor?”

Morpheus snorted again and turned away from her, pouting his lips.

“Nothing.”

“Then picked up your bony ass and went to him!” Teleute painfully pinched his thigh. “Stop running away from your problems. How can you be so smart and so stupid at the same time? Forgot what Calliope told you? You haven't even made any progress with Orpheus yet, and you're already giving up. It's like you don't love him enough to fight for his forgiveness.”

“I don’t even know why he is offended by me.”

“So find out, foolish head!” Teleute hit him with a pillow, got up from the sofa and pulled her brother along. “You're going to do something right now, or I'll throw your laptop out the window.”

Morpheus would not have believed it if someone else had threatened like that, but it's Teleute, who really doesn't care how much important information is stored in this computer that has not yet been uploaded to the cloud. She will keep her word, he knows it. Looking at his sister with an offended and devastating look, Morpheus snatched his hand from her grasp, took one of the small pieces of paper from the table and left the house, putting on his coat along the way. As soon as they walked out the door, they ran into Lucienne and Jessamy on her shoulder.

Lucienne should have been punished for her interference, but the menacing look standing next to the sister loudly said that whatever he did to Lucienne, it would come back to him in triple size. His assistant is under reliable protection, and Morpheus will not even dare to issue a fine to her. Accepting his defeat, Morpheus raised his hand with a still offended face, and Jessamy gladly moved to it. Without saying anything, he went along the already learned road towards the Orpheus region.

Jessamy, although glad that her master was moving again, was offended, and expressed her resentment by pulling Morpheus's hair. He courageously endured bullying, realizing that he deserved it. When they arrived, Morpheus was surprised to note that Orpheus's window was open despite the chill of the slowly creeping winter. Hiding behind a tree, he gave his raven a note and let it go to the window.

“There you are!” came the voice of Orpheus from above.

Morpheus lifted his head, looking at the window through the branches of the tree. He didn't see his son's face, but he saw his hands, which carefully stroked the Jessamy.

“You were gone for a long time. I... worried. That something happened to him. Thank you.”

Orpheus gave Jessamy a cracker and closed the window when she flew away. Morpheus's heart jumped in his chest, and his knees trembled so much that he had to grab onto a tree trunk to keep from falling. He couldn't believe his ears. Orpheus worried about him. Orpheus thought about him. Orpheus care about him. Hob's advice works.

Morpheus hugged his raven, resting his forehead against hers. It was the first positive shift in their relationship in several years. Considering only the last two years, this was the first time that Orpheus spoke of him without anger and disgust in his voice. All resentment against Hob immediately disappeared, as if it had never been. Hob has performed a miracle, and Morpheus cannot refuse it.

At first, he thought of sending him another bottle of wine, but stopped himself, remembering Hob's displeasure that Morpheus had found out his address. He didn't know how correct this act would be, so he decided not to risk at all. Joy for the words of Orpheus almost completely covered the excitement. Morpheus decided to wait until the next evening to meet with Hob in person. He sent a short apology to Matthew and began to think about what to say and give Hob. Jessamy sat on the back of a chair in Morpheus's office as he sat at his computer looking for the right gift that would do for both gratitude and apology. When an idea came to him and he was about to order a product, Jessamy croaked loudly and pecked at his shoulder or head, showing her disapproval. For peace of mind, Morpheus should have considered her opinion.

In the end, the choice fell on a vinyl record. Jessamy approved of this choice. Morpheus wasn't sure if Hob was a collector, but the case on his phone clearly hinted at his fondness for rock music. He turned one last time to Jessamy, who was curiously watching her master's every move.

“Are you sure he likes the Beatles?” in response, the raven began to pull his hair in a not the most merciful way. “Okay, okay, enough, I get it. Everyone likes the Beatles.”

The hardest part is to wait for the right time and come. Morpheus was more nervous than he should have been. He went to the vinyl store in the morning, as soon as it opened, without being able to fall asleep once again. As usual, to hide from his excitement and endless stream of thoughts, Morpheus began to write, but, surprisingly, the work was very hard. He kept losing the idea of the story. He couldn't abstract himself, his eyes now and then fell for a while in the corner of the computer. In the end, growling in despair, he took one of the neatly folded pieces of paper from the table, put on his coat and, with a raven on his shoulder, went to Orpheus.

At this time, he should still be at the university, but Morpheus just needed to keep himself busy until the evening. Jessamy threw the paper on the ledge by the closed window when she couldn't get through to the owner of the room. For the next few hours, Morpheus walked around the city with his pet, which took quite a lot of energy from him, considering that in the last days he had slept no more than two and a half hours in total. When the X-hour came, Jessamy stayed at home, while Lucienne drove Morpheus to the university gates.

Upon arrival, Morpheus looked at the building for a long time, not daring to enter its territory. In his hand he held a shopper with a record in it. Lucienne opened the front window and looked at him with some concern.

“Sir?”

“I'm fine. You can go home, your work is done for today.”

“I'm not talking about that.”

Morpheus looked at her over his shoulder, and she gave him a small smile.

“I'm proud of you, sir.”

Not knowing what to answer to this, he only nodded uncertainly to her, took a deep breath and went to the doors of the educational institution. Classes are about to end, Morpheus once again looked at Hob's schedule on the university website, asked one of the students the location of the desired audience, and on unsteady legs went up to the third floor. Morpheus had not sincerely asked anyone for forgiveness for a long time. And he was afraid that Hob would refuse to help him in the future. Thinking through all the possible scenarios in his mind, he stopped when he heard Hob's ringing voice reverberating down the hallway from behind the open classroom door. He summed up the lesson, and the ringing of the bell made Morpheus flinch at the unexpected sound.

The man stood at the door waiting for the students to leave the classroom. Looking inside, he noticed that Hob was surrounded by two young men, to whom their professor was explaining something. Taking another deep breath, Morpheus crossed the threshold.

He took only a few steps before being noticed. The students turned around, and Hob's eyes widened in surprise, which made Morpheus feel even more awkward.

“Come on guys, go home. If anything changes, I'll email you.” Hob smiled at his students, looking at them. They said goodbye to him and hurried off, leaving them alone.

“Good evening, Hob.”

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again." Hob began to put his things, apparently in order to at least something to occupy his hands. There was no malice or reproach in his voice.

“I came ...” Morpheus held out his hand with the shopper. “to apologize. And thank. I shouldn't have done...what I did.”

Hob stared at him with undisguised surprise on his face. He slowly took the shopper, carefully, as if taking food from an animal, looked inside and smiled.

“I don’t know if you collect such things, but…”

“No, I collect edged weapons, if you're interested.” Hob looked up, and Morpheus looked away, feeling like a fool for the wrong gift. “But that doesn't mean I don't like vinyl. In fact, I got a small collection of records from my father. I think this one would be a great addition to it. Thank you.”

“I should be the one to thank you.” Morpheus sighed and forced himself to look at Hob again. “Your advices, they... Help. Really. I didn't think that Orpheus would be waiting for my notes, but he is waiting for them. I don't think he hates me the way he used to.”

“He thinks he hates you, but he doesn't. Trust me, he still loves you.” Hob slung his bag over his shoulder and held out his hand to Morpheus. “Peace?”

The writer lowered his eyes to the palm and, without thinking twice, shook it, nodding. He didn't expect it to be so easy. He thought that Hob would be offended or angry, but there was no negative emotion in his voice even for a second. They silently left the classroom, and then out of the building. After hesitating, Hob pointed his thumb toward the road.

“If you want, we can celebrate our reunion at my place. You will see where I live so that you can legally send me your thanks in the future.” He grinned, winking.

“I suppose it's a good idea.” Morpheus smiled faintly, physically feeling something like a huge boulder fall from his shoulders. Hob hesitated, obviously not expecting agreement, but his wide smile showed how glad he was to hear it.

Due to lack of sleep, Morpheus hardly noticed everything around him. He followed Hob with absolutely no bearings, although he had a feeling that if he were a little more alert he might be able to tell what area it was. Perhaps he was even in it. Hob talked about how hard it was for him to find a suitable cabinet for all the records that his father once collected, and that he was too afraid of damaging them to put in a record player. Morpheus let out a low hum from time to time to show that he was listening, but in fact, half of Hob's words didn't stay in his head long enough for him to grasp their meaning.

Hob let Morpheus into his apartment and apologized for the mess. Everywhere lay books, papers, folders for storing papers, in some places even maps. Hob's apartment was very different from Morpheus's, but he still felt comfortable in it. A house is a reflection of the person who lives in it, and Morpheus caught himself thinking that he was starting to like Hob.

Morpheus hung his coat on a hanger and stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, unsure of where to go.

“Sit on the sofa, I'll make tea for us.” Hob patted him on the shoulder before leaving for the kitchen. Morpheus did as he was told.

Sitting on the soft cushions of the sofa, he continued to look around the room. There were hardly any paintings on the walls, but instead there were old maps and, surprisingly, the weapon that Hob was talking about. A long katana hung next to the TV, a saber a little further from it, and two old blunt axes on the other wall. Quite an unusual hobby.

When Hob returned with two cups in his hands, he saw that Morpheus had fallen asleep. Smiling, Hob put the cups on the table, carefully changed Morpheus's position to lying down, put a pillow under his head and covered him with a blanket. It's not hard to tell from the tired expression on the man's face how much he needs rest, and Hob was happy to provide him with all the comfort he needed for a good night's sleep.

Chapter Text

Some people think that the dreams of writers are the most vivid and colorful, because their imagination is able to create the most incredible pictures. But this is not so, at least not with Morpheus. If he slept soundly, he didn't dream of anything. He thought for days on end, and only a good sleep helped him to rest. But Morpheus very rarely slept a sound long sleep, he didn't even remember when he had last really slept.

When Morpheus woke up, he didn't immediately open his eyes. He lay, inhaling the pleasant smell emanating from the soft pillow. It smelled of caramel, mint, shaving cream, and something sweetly musky. Morpheus involuntarily turned his head to bury his nose in the pillow and fill his lungs with the scent. A warm blanket created a sense of security, it covered all of Morpheus to the very eyes, leaving only a third of his head outside. Sleep slowly released the man from his arms, and just as slowly he came to the realization that he wasn't at home. Morpheus lazily opened his eyes and immediately squinted at the bright light filling the room. In his own house, the windows were always covered with dark curtains, and the lamps were the only source of light, but here the sun's rays reflected literally from every piece of furniture.

Regretfully tearing himself away from the pillow, Morpheus sat down on the couch. The blanket fell on his knees, and he immediately felt that he was freezing. Bright blue eyes surveyed the room, but the brain categorically refused to work, as if it didn't want to part with the rest that it had not received for too long so soon. Morpheus noticed books of various genres lying on all surfaces, plants on the window, a TV with a curved screen on the wall, and several types of edged weapons. In the corner near the bookcase was an acoustic guitar, next to it was a chest that looked like a historical artifact, just in front of the couch on which Morpheus sat, a medium-sized glass table. Too low to eat regularly, but not enough to make it inconvenient to place snacks and drinks while watching movies. On the floor underneath was an old-fashioned brown carpet.

Memory to Morpheus began to return. Last night he agreed to go to Hob's house. And, apparently, immediately fell asleep. As far as he remembered, there had been more books scattered the previous evening, and more mess in general. Before Morpheus had time to come to a logical conclusion, he heard footsteps from the room behind him. Turning around, he saw Hob in a stretched white T-shirt, loose khaki pants and matching slippers. His hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail. Noticing Morpheus, he smiled broadly.

“Good morning. I don't remember ever seeing you so rested.”

“How much did I sleep?”

Hob sat down on the couch arm next to Morpheus. His eyes rested on his hair and he burst into a ringing laugh. The hair on one side of his head stuck up, as if Morpheus had been licked by a cow in his sleep. Hob patted him to move the unruly strands down, and the large hand lingered on his head a little longer than it should have.

“Approximately 12 hours. You needed this dream, trust me.”

Morpheus blinked like an owl. It's useless to argue, he really needed a good long sleep, especially after so many days of non-stop working. He couldn't remember the last time he let himself sleep that much, or when his body felt so good. He felt like he was reborn.

“I already got you a disposable toothbrush, go to the bathroom, and I'll find something to feed you.” Hob's eyes lingered on his hair again, and his hand twitched automatically in a hidden desire to touch it, but Hob couldn't afford too much.

“How often do you use disposable hygiene items?” Morpheus put his feet on the carpet and was surprised to see that it was much softer than it looked.

“Constantly. I can never predict when my friends will spend the night here”.

Morpheus had to cover his mouth with his hand to yawn. He yawned so wide that there were tears in the corners of his eyes. Hob looked at him with an incredibly bright smile, as if he was glad for his dream more than for his own. Awakening was always the longest process for Morpheus, in the next half hour he would be too absent-minded and slow, so, after changing his mind, he lay back on the sofa, resting his head on the pillow, and wrapped himself in a cocoon. Hob never took his eyes off him, which sparkled with amusement and curiosity.

"You're just charming, have you been told that?"

“Perhaps you should wear glasses.” Morpheus snorted back, but without his usual annoyance.

“Oh, so you’re being sarcastic with me now? Wonderful. Okay, since you're not going to get up, I'll make you a full breakfast. You hardly eat more than you sleep.”

Hob jumped down to the floor and before leaving, covered Morpheus's head with a blanket up to the top of his head with a sly chuckle. The man sighed, but remained in that position for a few more minutes until he needed fresh air. Stretching his head out, he heard dishes rattling from the direction of the kitchen.

His phone must have been left in his coat. He needed to check his mail, but Morpheus was too comfortable to move, despite the fact that it wasn't his big bed with soft mattresses and silk sheets, but an ordinary sofa. Morpheus closed his eyes and seemed to doze off again for a few minutes, because when he opened them again, Hob was already standing over him with his attractive smile.

“Breakfast is ready, princess. Get up.”

“Don't call me that.” Morpheus sighed and, with obvious difficulty, tried to get up off the couch again. This time he did manage to make it to the bathroom.

Turning on the water in the sink, he just stared at it for about a minute, then looked up at his reflection in the mirror. His face was not as pale as usual, the circles under his eyes had visibly diminished, and his hair had turned into an even bigger mess. Some strands were still sticking up, despite Hob's attempts to smooth them down. Morpheus noted with surprise that he liked the cheerfulness in his own eyes. Maybe he really needs more sleep. It would be nice to spend a whole day just sleeping once every few weeks.

The process of brushing his teeth was delayed due to the fact that the water again hypnotized the writer. Morpheus's head was unusually empty, and he didn't know what to do without an endless stream of thoughts. Of course, this is temporary until he fully wakes up, but because of this emptiness, he was distracted by literally everything. Being so absent-minded, Morpheus did not notice the obvious: he is comfortable in Hob's house, as in his own.

The fact is that Morpheus could never sleep in a strange house, even dreams in hotels were difficult for him. The unfamiliar surroundings felt hostile, and Morpheus was always on the alert, as if someone could attack him as soon as he relaxed. But the atmosphere of Hob's house was almost as cozy as in Teleute's house. So warm and safe that he fell asleep as soon as he sat down on the couch. It doesn't look like him.

Morpheus doesn't often apologize to anyone, and yesterday's apology seems to have broken a hole in the wall he's built around himself. The simplicity and ease with which Hob accepted him seemed unbelievable. He has never been forgiven so quickly.

The man wiped his face with a towel and left the bathroom. Feeling a slight trembling in his body, he took a blanket from the sofa and put it on his shoulders, trying to warm himself with everything possible.

“Are you cold?” Hob asked uneasily as he placed a plate of pancakes on the dining table.

“My house has underfloor heating.” Morpheus grumbled, as if it was a logical answer. Hob chuckled, placed a cup of hot tea next to his plate, and hurried out of the kitchen. Morpheus sat down at the table and stared at the pancakes, which looked still warm. Hob cooked them. Himself.

Hob quickly returned with soft navy blue slippers and threw them at his guest's feet.

“Don't want to make you sick.”

“You can cook?” Morpheus watched as Hob pulled up another chair to sit next to him.

“Well, I've been living alone for a long time. You need to know how to take care of yourself. Don't worry, they're edible, I'm a good chef”.

Morpheus didn't even think about blaming Hob for the incompetence of his culinary skills. Although he hardly ever had breakfast, suddenly his stomach rumbled, demanding food. Morpheus tried to remember what he had eaten the last few days, and only chocolate chip cookies came to mind. Refusing to eat in such a position is unreasonable. To Hob's surprise, Morpheus took the chocolate syrup and poured out so much that the pancakes themselves were practically out of sight, and only then began to eat. Morpheus had an avid sweet tooth, though he denied it every time someone pointed it out. In particular, his heart belonged to milk and dark chocolate. Hob sat with wide eyes, but said nothing. He rested his head on his hand and watched with undisguised pleasure as his guest tried to eat pancakes and not get himself stained with chocolate, so as not to lose the remnants of his pride.

Morpheus didn't like being stared at for long periods of time, but now he didn't care. The first bite he swallowed made him feel how hungry he really was, and all attention immediately focused on the plate in front of him. He ate carefully, not letting the chocolate stain him too much, but in the end his lips were completely dark brown, like lipstick. Morpheus first ran his tongue over his lips, and then he still used a napkin. Only after the pancakes were finished did he grab the mug of tea with both hands and close his eyes for a few seconds, enjoying its warmth.

"Do I need to know how long you haven't eaten or slept?" Hob asked cautiously, still keeping his eyes on him.

“No. Believe me, you don't want to know.” Morpheus pressed a mug to his lips, filled his lungs with the aroma of tea, and finally took a small sip, warming his throat.

“I thought so. Listen, I kept wanting to ask you something about Orpheus.”

“I'm listening”.

“You said he was waiting for your notes. How often do you send them?”

“Every night since you advised me to do it.”

There was silence. As Morpheus looked from the mug to Hob, whose face had become long and showed something between surprise and horror.

“Every night?”

“You said to do it as often as I can.”

“But that's not what I meant!”

“How did I know what you meant?” Morpheus frowned.

Hob groaned loudly and buried his face in his hands. He growled in Old English. Morpheus didn't understand a word, but he was offended in advance and pouted his lips. Instead of presenting something, Hob took a deep breath, exhaled, and looked again at Morpheus, whose appearance resembled a cat that was taken away from the bowl of food right during the meal.

“Okay, that was my mistake, sorry. I will be clearer. You're lucky Orpheus didn't take it as stalking. So please stop doing this. But not abruptly. Try to talk to him about it. Carefully, choose your words and avoid justifications.”

"You won't blame me?" Morpheus did his best to hide the surprise in his voice, but his indifference sounded so false that he almost groaned himself.

“Of course not. As I said, it was my mistake. But we are only learning to understand Orpheus and each other. The main thing is that nothing terrible happened because of this, which means that everything can be fixed.”

And Hob smiled his radiant smile, which was so infectious that Morpheus smiled back at him. Not so wide and bright, only lifting the corners of the lips a little higher than usual. Hob's smile helped dissipate the anxiety and worry in his chest like it never existed. Morpheus noted that, although he was finally awake, his head was not filled with thoughts and an endless stream of pictures, dialogues and plots. Looking at Hob, he thought only of Hob and Orpheus. Nothing else. It was as if by some ancient magic, the history professor made sure that Morpheus didn't think about anything except what was happening around him here and now. He hadn't experienced such grounding for a long time, and he liked it. Perhaps Hob can help him with another case not related to Orpheus. But he still needs to think about it properly.

Morpheus returned to his tea. Hob thought about something, but didn't dare to speak. He looked away, lowering his eyes to the surface of the table, scratching it with his short nails, sighing and pushing his hair back from his face.

“So, about what happened…” He hesitated, but got himself together to raise his head again. “I'm sorry. I understand why you were angry. My friend always told me that I'm not the most tactful person, and I'm working on it, but it's not always possible to control. I shouldn't have given you that business card. This won't happen again.”

Morpheus set the mug down on the table, still holding it in both hands. He watched with undisguised curiosity every emotion that flickered across Hob's face. Sometimes he could be read like an open book, all the feelings that he experienced were written on his face. And for now, he was embarrassed. In fact, Morpheus sulked a little at him for this act. Up to this point. Hob was nervous, pounding his fingers on the table, unable to keep his eyes on Morpheus' face for long, but every time he mustered up the courage to look into his eyes again, ready to face any reaction from him. It was, perhaps... cute. Hob was cute. And Morpheus liked him more and more with every minute he spent with him.

“Your apology is accepted.” He answered arrogantly and pressed the mug to his lips. A loud sigh of relief made him smile again, hiding it behind a mug.

Hob is truly a unique person. So sincere that Morpheus wondered if they were real emotions, but the man's eyes burned with a fire that could not be faked. Hob created a sense of comfort next to him, which made Morpheus less and less willing to leave his apartment. Suddenly, as if remembering something, Hob checked the empty pockets of his pants, and then abruptly stood up and began to search for something. Morpheus watched with a lazy look as the owner of the house ran into another room, and only then he himself got up and left the kitchen.

The coat hung in the same position in which Morpheus hung it. The writer took his phone out of his pocket and looked with horror at the number of missed calls and messages. He always kept his phone on silent so he wouldn't be distracted. Looks like Lucienne lost it. She, Teleute and even the driver Mervyn called and texted him several times. Probably he should have warned her before accepting Hob's invitation.

Morpheus returned to the couch, folded his legs under him and wrapped himself in a blanket. He needs to go home, but he has no idea what the address of Hob's apartment is, since Lucienne recorded it last time. And he wouldn't want a car to come right here. It can provoke rumors among his colleagues and family, despite the fact that Lucienne has never been involved in spreading them. But his sister can come along with her.

Hob continued to look for something and almost groaned in despair. He turned to Morpheus with a pitiful puppy-dog look.

“Can you call me? I can't find the phone and I need to text my graduate student urgently. I promised her”.

Morpheus nodded and instead of immediately texting Lucienne that he was fine, he went to his contact list and pressed the call button. There was a loud vibration between the cushions of the chair. Morpheus stood up on one foot to reach him, and pulled out the phone, which had almost sunk into the pillows. He looked at the screen and raised one eyebrow when he saw the name of the calling number.

“Sleeping Beauty? Seriously?”

“You fell asleep at my house!” Hob was indignant in justification and took his lost thing. Morpheus looked at him with open condemnation, but Hob ignored that look as best he could.

“Is there any public place near your house? I need to text my assistant to pick me up.”

“Across the street is the New Inn.” Hob sat down next to Morpheus, concentrating on his correspondence. Morpheus nodded and texted Lucienne that nothing happened to him and where he needed to be taken from.

Morpheus leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes. He was not used to rest, not used to an empty head, not used to the fact that another person was next to him. He needs to go home, he needs to work. Although he has already written too much in the past days, depriving himself of food and sleep is well ahead of his schedule, spending a whole day relaxing is too much for him. He can't afford it. Morpheus knew very well that as soon as he left this apartment, his thoughts would attack him again, like hungry wolves on a wounded doe, and in order to prevent them from eating him, he needed to work continuously again.

Morpheus felt eyes on him. Hob looked at his hair and thought about something, clutching the phone in his hands.

“What?” Morpheus tried to sound annoyed, but it sounded more like a lazy snort.

"Will you mind if I smoothed your hair again?"

“I will.”

“I thought so.” Hob chuckled. “I'm just really surprised. It looks as hard as straw, but is actually very soft.”

Morpheus tilted his head, peering into the face opposite. Hob's thoughts are almost as chaotic as his own.

It's amazing that Hob already knew so much about Morpheus, yet Morpheus didn't know anything about Hob. What does he live on? What does he do in his free time? Why is it so important for him to help other people? Hob seems to be an open person, but he hasn't told anything about himself all the time, remaining a mystery. It's as if an open book is locked at some point and doesn't even let you know the plot, limiting the reader to only a superficial description of the characters.

Hob has no framed photos of his family, and there is no indication that anyone regularly stays at his house overnight. He also spoke of his father in the past tense. So, he has neither a family nor a permanent partner. Accordingly, he can be lonely just like Morpheus. But on the other hand, Hob mentioned friends.

“Do you have a lot of friends?” Morpheus asked after a long silence. Hob stopped typing a work message on his phone, put it down on the table, and turned halfway to Morpheus, resting his elbow on the back of the couch.

“Want to know more about me?” Hob chuckled teasingly.

“Perhaps. You know about my biggest problem, which no one knows about except for a few people. My knowledge of you is limited only by your profession.”

“Fair.” Hob shrugged. He removed the elastic from his hair and put it on his arm, shaking his head. “Well, I know a lot of people. And I have quite a few comrades, including colleagues, but I think there are only two closest friends. I've known Johanna for a very long time, we met many years ago when I couldn't boast of good mental health, and since then I've not let her get rid of me. I know Rachel a little less, but I love her as much as I do Jo. They are beautiful girls and I'm lucky to know them.”

There was something subtly tender about the way Hob talked about his friends. His gaze was warm and loving and a little misty, as if he had allowed himself to drift into a memory for a few moments.

“You love them.” Morpheus concluded.

“Very much. They are both like sisters to me. But if you ever meet them, don't tell I said that. Jo already calls me too sentimental.” Hob laughed. Morpheus doubted very much that he would ever have to meet these girls, but for the sake of appearances he nodded.

Hob loves people. He loves them so much that Morpheus feels something like admiration. And if there will be a new character in his book who will have that much love for humanity, well, try suing him.

Hob volunteered to escort his guest to the New Inn. It wasn't until he stepped outside that Morpheus realized why the area had seemed familiar to him the previous evening. He was driving down the same road when Lucienne took him to the pub meeting, but he was so tired that he didn't notice. Perhaps their meetings will need to be held in this place all the time. The pub is close to Hob's house and at the same time not far from the university.

A familiar black car was already waiting at the entrance to the pub. Lucienne was standing next to it, talking to the man behind the wheel about something. Stepping closer, Morpheus heard the familiar hoarse and smoky voice of his driver.

“Welcome back to work, Mervyn.” he greeted, peering through the open window.

“Thank you, boss. Long time no see.”

“Are you okay?”

“Better than ever.” The man smiled wryly, pulling a cigarette out of his mouth. Lucienne breathed a sigh of relief.

“Sir, please let me know where you are next time.”

“I fell asleep at Hob Gadling's place.” Morpheus nodded towards the professor who stood behind him. If there is no Teleute with them, then there is no point in lying, since Lucienne won't allow herself or Merv to get into his personal affairs. “Hob, this is my assistant Lucienne. And my driver Mervyn.”

“Nice to meet you.” Hob smiled and shook hands with Lucienne, who gave him an equally polite smile.

“I'm happy to meet too. You do a lot for Morpheus and Orpheus.”

“I try as best I can.”

“Enough.” Morpheus looked irritably from one to the other. “Let's go home, I have a lot to do. Thank you for your hospitality Hob. Goodbye”

“Always at your service, my lord.” Hob bowed theatrically, not hiding his grin. Morpheus rolled his eyes and sat in the back seat. Lucienne said goodbye to Hob and took a seat next to the driver.

Well, Morpheus had a few ideas, but they all need to be sorted out gradually. He sent a message to his sister that he was returning home, and then warned Calliope that in a couple of hours he would come to talk with Orpheus. Or rather, try to talk to him. Before that, he needs to take another portion of revenge from Jessamy and, perhaps, try to take her with him.

He was worried before meeting Orpheus. It's been so long since they met face to face. Just in case, Morpheus put the last note in his coat pocket, stroking the offended raven on his shoulder, which didn't stop pulling his hair. He was already so used to it that he hardly noticed the pain, and Jessamy was annoyed by this. She tried with all her might to cause a painful groan from her master, but her efforts didn't bear any fruit.

To calm his nerves, Morpheus took up one of his many notebooks and began to correct what he had already written. He tore out some sheets completely and threw them in the trash can. When it became easier to breathe, he gathered his strength and text Merv to drive up. Morpheus rarely called anyone, preferring text messages. The calls made him anxious. In addition, very often he needed a lot of time to think about his answer, which is not so noticeable through correspondence. Everyone with whom he more or less talked knew about it, so they called him only in the most extreme cases.

Luckily, Jessamy agreed to go with him. She sat comfortably on his lap in the car, playing with the button on his black coat. Morpheus had already lost count of how many times she tore off his buttons, but he couldn’t scold her for it — she’s just a bird, and these are her instincts.

Calliope was surprised to see Morpheus with a raven on his shoulder. She, of course, knew that he had a poultry, but she had never seen her and was not eager to get acquainted with her. However, she let them both into.

“Orpheus is upstairs. Take you to him?”

“Not worth it. I'll wait until he comes down.” Morpheus stroked Jessamy's feathers. She calmed him, but not so much that his hands stopped shaking, which Calliope noticed. She went to the carafe of water, filled the glass and handed it to her ex-husband.

"Are you sure you should show yourself to him?"

Morpheus clenched his glass in his hand, nodding. If he abruptly stops sending notes, then it's not known what Orpheus might think of him. But he couldn't continue to do that, as Hob told him. The last thing Morpheus wanted was to further aggravate the relationship with his son. Calliope looked at him with sympathy and without contempt. She seems to appreciate his attempts to get back into Orpheus' life.

Calliope carefully put her hand on his shoulder, stroked the raven with a slight movement of her hand and called Orpheus. Morpheus winced. He heard the door on the second floor open and light footsteps on the stairs. Having descended, Orpheus froze when he saw his father standing in the corridor. The boy frowned and his face immediately darkened.

“Hello.” Morpheus said, returning the empty glass to Calliope. She took advantage of this to leave them alone. Before leaving, she once again put her hand on Morpheus's shoulder in an attempt to support him, and then disappeared through the door.

Orpheus didn't answer. He was looking at him with an almost physical malice that Morpheus was beginning to think he shouldn't have come. And then Hob's words surfaced in his memories.

He thinks he hates you, but he doesn't.

Oh, how Morpheus hoped it's true. Orpheus crossed his arms over his chest. He waited but didn't leave. Fine. This is good. The last time Morpheus tried to talk to him, Orpheus simply ran away from him.

Morpheus forgot everything he wanted to tell him, lost all his words and thoughts. He'll have to improvise if he doesn't want this meeting to end with one word.

“I wanted to apologize for all the messages you received. I didn't think it could be too intrusive. If you don't like it, I'll stop sending them.”

“You never think.” Orpheus replied sharply, practically spitting out the words. “I don't need your notes. I don't need anything from you.”

Morpheus didn't expect a different answer. He took out the last note, handed it to Jessamy's beak, and the raven left his shoulder. The bird flew to the railing of the stairs, next to which Orpheus was standing, and stared at the boy with its beady eyes. Orpheus's face softened and for a split second he couldn't help smiling. He liked Jessamy.

“This is the last one, I promise. You don't need anything from me, but if you want...” Morpheus hesitated, not knowing how to choose the right words. He really needed Hob, who would help him in this. “If you want, I can send Jessamy to you from time to time. She likes you too. You could... spend some time with her. If you want.”

Orpheus bit his bottom lip. He timidly reached out and scratched the wing of Jessamy, who made a contented rumbling sound. The boy thought for a long time, but still took the last note from her beak. Jessamy jumped onto his shoulder and began to comb through his brown hair with more tenderness than her master's. Orpheus smiled again and almost laughed, but at the last moment he pulled himself together and frowned again. Jessamy pecked lightly on his shoulder and returned to Morpheus' arm. Orpheus followed her with his eyes, and then looked at his father.

“I do not care.” he replied, but Morpheus could see from his eyes that Orpheus had lied, and he really wanted to play with a tame raven.

“She has nothing to do with what happened between us.” Morpheus said without taking his eyes off his son. “Just because you like her doesn't mean you like me. Maybe if she flies to you once a week, it will make both of you a little happier?”

Orpheus clenched his hands into fists. He looked from his father's face to Jessamy. It fought pride, resentment and love for animals inside him. Decision made, he snorted and turned around, climbing back to his room.

“I don’t care, the main thing is not to see you. But I won't chase her away.” he said at last. As soon as Orpheus got up to the second floor, he slammed the door loudly, and Morpheus let out a breath.

Calliope walked up to him with quiet steps and smiled softly.

“This is progress, Morpheus.”

Morpheus disagreed, but didn't argue. The coldness with which Orpheus addressed him, even three years later, hurt more than the sharpest knife.

While Calliope escorted Morpheus to the door, Orpheus unfolded the last piece of paper in his room. The largest of all that was before.

«I never wanted to hurt you so much. This is what I regret the most in my life. Love you.»

Morpheus released Mervyn, saying that he would get home on his own. It was hard for him to breathe, the angry face of Orpheus still stood before his eyes. It hurt so much that he wanted to scream. Light rain began to fall from the sky, and Morpheus wrapped his coat tighter around him. Guilt ate at him, he was so cold inside that even warm clothes could not warm him. He needs something to hide from himself.

Morpheus put the phone to his ear, listening to the ringing begin. He didn't notice how he began to call someone.

“Morpheus? Something happened?” came Hob's worried voice, and the man flinched as if cold water had been poured over him.

“I'm going back home. I was with Orpheus.”

It seems his own voice was so subdued that there was no point in asking how it went. Instead, there was a short silence, and Morpheus remembered Hob's face as he considered the right words to speak without hurting his interlocutor.

“Can I help you?”

“Tell me something.” Morpheus' voice trembled. “Please.”

Hob didn't ask any more questions, he just started talking. He knew how to talk about everything in the world. He seemed to never run out of topics to talk about, even if his interlocutor was silent and only hummed to show that he was listening.

Hob talked about a job he was currently doing, but not related to the university. He said he owned New Inn and was sorting through paperwork because his manager had made a mistake. The rain continued to fall. It wasn't strong enough to get Morpheus wet, but the man still felt wet to the skin. Thoughts continued to swirl in his head, fueled by guilt, but Hob's voice and Jessamy's play with his hair grounded him and kept him from drowning in self-flagellation.

Morpheus listened to Hob all the way to the house and, even after stepping over the threshold, didn't hang up the call.

Chapter Text

Hob had no idea how his desire to help a sad student would turn out for him. Oh, now it's getting personal. Because of Morpheus, yes, but not only. Hob began to find himself thinking that he was a little more worried about Orpheus than the usual professor should have been. He quickly became attached to people, but avoided close relationships with his students for years, however, now all his efforts to keep the distance have failed.

Orpheus began to spend more and more time in Hob's company, although they hadn't met outside the university since he met his friends. Orpheus obviously needed the company of someone who understood and who wasn't his parent. He entrusted Hob with a draft of his song, which, as a musician, is a sign of great trust. Hob was very afraid of losing what he had won with such difficulty. Thanks to him, Orpheus seriously thought about the advice to become part of some university musical group. It turns out that the boy can play not only the lyre, but also many other instruments. One day, Hob casually mentioned that he had some guitar skills, and Orpheus made him promise that someday he would teach him.

Hob is confident that his closeness with the boy will help him rebuild his relationship with his father. Initially, he doubted whether Orpheus himself needed this. He thought that, perhaps, everything was lost for Morpheus and Orpheus wasn't interested in their relationship from the word at all, but as soon as he began to cry, it became clear that the son needed the father just like the father needed the son. Only the resentment in the soul of Orpheus is so strong that he cannot let it go. Well, that's what he has Hob for, right? A cheerful history professor who will give good advice, listen to music and provide a shoulder for bitter tears.

Autumn gave way to winter, but Hob felt the warmth of summer inside him. Conversations with Morpheus stopped revolving solely around Orpheus, and that pleased him, maybe a little more than it should have. Something has changed between them. It seems they have become friends. Hob shamelessly sent him memes with cats and the caption “it's you”. The dumber the meme was, the more persistently Morpheus promised that he would block Hob's number. But he didn't. Hob knew that the grim writer on the other side of the screen struggled with a smile after each of those pictures.

They didn't just meet once a week. Sometimes twice, sometimes even thrice. Most often, Hob waited for him at his pub, but sometimes he had to change places so that the employees would not start gossip about "Gadling's new boyfriend." Hob had nothing against such gossips, for the most part he himself gave them ground for them to make their work a little more interesting. One day, for several weeks in a row, the pub workers were firmly convinced that he was dating Johanna Constantine, and Hob did everything to make them think so, until one day Johanna kissed Rachel in front of the waitress. Bartenders, waiters and cooks accused Gadling of lying, but he only shrugged his shoulders and said that he neither denied nor confirmed their guesses. Therefore, now his employees looked more closely at the people with whom Hob spends a lot of time.

But Morpheus wouldn't have liked that kind of attention, and Hob didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable, especially as things warmed up between them. Hob really liked Morpheus, there was something in his languid voice and a subtle rise in the corners of his lips that caught him. Hob set himself the goal of making him really smile, and then even laugh. When was the last time this man laughed? He must look even more charming when laughing, Hob must see it with his own eyes.

The weather deteriorated markedly in the second week of December. Hob was waiting for his friend in a small cafe, and brightened up his waiting with work. Before him lay a pile of unchecked essays, and the professor only hoped that this time not a single drop of coffee would spill on the students' work. Or his white sweater, which was bought recently. Every time the sound of the bell hanging over the door reached his ears, Hob involuntarily looked up, and then returned to work with a disappointed sigh. Morpheus was late, which was unusual. This man was one of those people who came every minute, not a second earlier or later.

It's probably a good thing he didn't take Lucienne's phone number. With his paranoia, he wouldn't want to bother her every time Morpheus didn't show up for a long time. It's a trait that still has to be worked out with a psychotherapist. Hob was very nervous when he didn't know what was happening to the person, the experience made his palms sweat when friends were more than 5 minutes late. In the first two years, he immediately began to look for news of any accidents with victims in fear of finding familiar names in the articles. Now, fortunately, he is more in control and understands that this is unnecessary excitement, but in most of these cases he had to do breathing exercises to calm his nerves. For all his optimism, the man doubted he would ever be able to stop being paranoid.

When Hob looked up again, he couldn't help but smile. Morpheus stood before him, even more sullen than usual. His coat had not changed, but a black turtleneck with a closed neck peeked out from under it, the bags under his eyes began to return to their usual intimidating color, and his hair stuck out as if he had just been hit by a truck. Morpheus sat down on the chair across from him, focusing his gaze on the surface of the table. Hob had already learned that facial expression: "something happened, but I'm too proud to tell about it."

“What black cat crossed your path this time?” Hob chuckled as he put the essays back into his bag. Morpheus pouted even more and turned his head to the side, turning away from him. Hob raised an inquiring eyebrow, propping his head on his hand.

“Jessamy didn't want to let me go.” Morpheus grumbled as if Hob had urged her on. “Due to frequent visits to Orpheus, she has lost the habit of loneliness and now requires constant attention from me.”

“How lovely.” Hob laughed despite the annoyed look directed his way. “But Orpheus sees your face more often.”

“Oh, yes, I'm so glad to see how disgust changes into annoyance. What progress.” The sarcasm sounded too depressing even for him. Hob sighed and gestured for the waiter to come over to them. Without asking, he ordered himself and Morpheus each a chocolate dessert. If this personification of social awkwardness couldn't refuse anything, then only chocolate, which Hob secretly found very cute.

“Maybe you can bring her with you? I would love to meet your pet. I wonder what the famous Jessamy looks like.” he suggested cautiously. Morpheus frowned and looked out the window, thinking about it, and then shook his head.

“She doesn't like winter. Me too. If not for you and Orpheus, I wouldn't leave the house.”

Hob was about to suggest moving their meetings to his place, but he stopped himself in time. No, it's a bad idea. Morpheus values his personal space, and his home seems to be the only place where he feels safe and comfortable. He himself must offer if he wants Hob to cross his threshold. In these few weeks, Hob has learned to understand him, although Morpheus's train of thought remains a mystery to him. There seems to be a real chaos going on inside his head around the clock.

Morpheus wasn't strong in dialogues, he was silent for most of the conversation and only occasionally commented on something. It was very rare for him to speak for himself, but luckily Hob was the complete opposite. He managed to catch the few things that can help his friend to talk. After all, Hob has been paid for years for his ability to speak and bring even the quietest and most modest students into discussion.

“Why a raven?”

“What?” Morpheus stopped taunting his dessert with his fork, completely destroying its shape.

“Why do you have a raven?”

This question had actually interested Hob from the very beginning, from the moment Jessamy was first mentioned in the conversation. Morpheus's face softened slightly, and his eyes dropped back to the plate. He made a low humming sound before speaking.

“I love birds.” He paused, and Hob thought that was the end of his answer, but then the man continued. “I didn't want to have a pet. My sister says I can't even take care of myself. But Jessamy... She fell out of the nest ahead of time, didn't know how to fly yet, and the cat drove her into the corner of my gate. I couldn't leave her to die when I saw her. Took her home, but didn't know what to do with her.”

Hob's lips curved involuntarily into a warm smile. He had never heard Morpheus talk about something with such tenderness in his voice.

“She... She reminded me of myself.” Morpheus sighed. “We were both alone and lost. I think she has done more for me than I can comprehend. I guess she's my only friend.”

“She was your only friend.” Hob corrected pointedly and winked. Morpheus gave him a critical look, as if seriously considering the veracity of this statement. Hob knew he was teasing him, but that look cracked his confidence anyway.

“Right.” the man concluded with a smirk, looking into Hob's eyes.

“You're a bastard.”

Morpheus pretended not to notice how someone else's foot pushed his own under the table.

“Although I doubt that you can call a friend a person who calls you at two in the morning demanding to urgently open the tiktok that he sent.”

“Hey, that was important! That cat had your eyes!”

Hob had to ignore the kick now.

Of course, he wouldn't call if Morpheus had a schedule like a normal person. But then Hob had a day off, he spent most of the night watching the series, and he knew that Morpheus was working at that time. It would have been easier if this undercover vampire had sent him the exact time he slept, but Hob had to figure it out on his own. In any case, he almost never text him before 11 am.

Hob is tired of hanging around in cafes. He needed fresh air, which he received appallingly little in recent days due to work. It was still a long way before the Christmas holidays, but the realization of the approaching winter exams didn't please him at all, and this affected his performance. At the suggestion to go out for a walk, Morpheus made the most disapproving expression he could muster. Then Hob tried to pay for their little snack, and Morpheus had to agree. His pride and sense of duty couldn't afford Hob paying anything when they met.

Morpheus tucked his nose into the collar of his turtleneck to keep out the cold. The real frosts haven't yet arrived, but if you look at him, you might think that the temperature has already dropped to incredibly low degrees. Hob, on the contrary, easily endured both cold and heat, so the onset of winter didn't affect him with such a tangible negative effect.

“Tell me about Orpheus.” asked Morpheus, trying to melt into his coat. Hob looked at him out of the corner of his eye and mentally scolded himself for the stab of pity that had pierced his heart.

“We have been talking about music lately. I had no idea he was so much into it! Seriously, he's the only person in my life who can play so many musical instruments. Who plays the harp these days? Do you know anyone besides him?”

Morpheus grinned, and fire lit in his eyes.

“I know. I taught him.“

Hob stumbled over his foot and almost fell down. Morpheus had to pull his hand out of his pocket to grab his elbow and prevent him from kissing the asphalt.

“You didn't!”

“Do you think the lyre was his first instrument?” He raised one eyebrow. Hob didn't have an answer. “I wouldn't be surprised if he asked you to introduce him to the guitar.”

Hob turned his head sharply in his direction with unconcealed surprise.

“I saw a guitar at your house. Can you play on it?”

“Well, not on a professional level, of course.” Hob sighed as he adjusted his scarf. “Actually, I haven't played in a long time. For years. I learned it in high school to impress one girl.” He smiled, and something in his chest lit up with the memory. “I studied chords from books for a few nights, and then took her out for a walk to play for her. I made so many mistakes out of excitement, but she still looked at me like...”

And then Hob fell silent. The warmth in the heart turned into burning pain and lingering longing. He will never forget Eleanor's smile, but the day came when he forgot her look. Not the one that is captured in the photos, but that innocent and timidly in love, when love between them was just born. She looked at him then with admiration? Or with embarrassment? Maybe with fun? Hob forgot. He couldn't remember no matter how hard he tried. It was one of his most treasured memories, and it began to dissolve just like the memory of her smell and the sound of her laughter. Hob learned to play the guitar for her. And played for some time after her death, but it was painful. When his fingers touched the strings, he thought of her, how she always listened to him and sometimes sang along with him.

Eleanor absolutely didn't know how to sing and didn't hit a single note, but, God, how he loved her singing. Which, too, now faded into his memory.

“Hob? Are you okay?” Morpheus' impenetrable face showed concern. Hob didn't notice him moving closer to him, and the attention on his face made him feel uncomfortable.

“Yes, everything is fine. I'm fine, as always.” He smiled broadly at him and quickened his pace, hoping to run away from the fragments of memories that could never be united again.

Hob is fine. He will always be fine. It can't be otherwise. This phrase has slipped out of his mouth so often that now he says it automatically every time he hears such a question.

He is okay. Even if the heart hurts and demands feelings that Hob is unable to regain.

He urgently needed to change the topic, but at the most inopportune moment, fantasy stopped working as it should. For the first time, a tense silence reigned between them, which was colder than the frosty wind on the street, and you can’t hide behind warm clothes from it. Hob was grateful that Morpheus hadn't questioned him. Even if he is silent because he doesn't care. Indifference is much better than pity, which Hob was already sick of, too often people showed it to him when they found out about the tragedy of his family.

That Morpheus had closed the distance between them could very well be just a figment of his imagination.

“I know it’s too early to ask about it ...” Hob began the conversation again, when the longing for the past life receded.

“Hm?”

“Do you have any plans for Christmas? It's only the beginning of December, but I would like to know in advance.”

Morpheus looked at him with that look on his face that Hob described as humiliated surprise.

“I don't celebrate Christmas. I'll most likely work. Why are you asking?”

“Great. I want to invite you to spend this holiday together. Nothing special, just drink something, talk and go to bed.” Hob found the strength to the true smile. “I spend it every year with Jo and Rachel, but it seems to me that they want to be alone at least once that night. But they can't let me be alone.”

Morpheus made a low thoughtful sound and turned his gaze to the road. It was clear from his slightly furrowed brows that he was thinking about this proposal, but his face took on such concentration, as if he was pondering the question of the universe or the coming global warming.

Winter didn't feel like winter without snow, but in recent days it had rained so often that all the inhabitants of the city were grateful for the absence of excessive dampness and ice. Hob looked around, noticing that some stores were already starting to decorate for Christmas, even though it was early in the month. He understood how important it was to give Morpheus enough time to think about sharing time. He needed to calculate his energy, desire and strength for communication, despite how easily he managed to talk to Hob.

“I don't think it's a good idea.” Morpheus finally summed up, his friend's smile instantly fading away from his eyes. “I even send gifts to units. I don't know how to do it right.”

“It's our first joint holiday, we can agree not to give anything to each other this time. Just your company will be enough. But if you don't want, I won't insist.“ Hob once again gave his friend a smile, but Morpheus realized from the wrinkled nose that this time it didn't work to disguise sadness.

“Only the company? No noisy celebration?”

“Absolutely right. Food, wine, heart-to-heart conversations and all.”

Morpheus raised his eyes to the overcast sky, where the clouds had covered the sun since morning. Taking a deep breath of the cold air, he coughed, winced, and tucked his nose back into his turtleneck.

“Fine. I agree.”

Hob smiled from ear to ear. He couldn't help it and playfully nudged Morpheus with his shoulder. The gesture was ignored, but the blue eyes smiled despite the man's best attempt to keep his face impassive. This happened more often around Hob, and Morpheus even once complained about it to the Jessamy, only he kept silent about the fact that he began to like to lose control of his emotions, especially when Hob made him smile with his sincerity.

The walk was short. Less than an hour later, Morpheus had to leave. The dissatisfaction at the call, which interrupted their conversation, was so clearly reflected in the marble face that Hob could hardly contain the sound of tenderness in himself. Morpheus tried not to show any signs of affection, but every time some little thing indicated that he enjoyed spending time with him, Hob wanted to jump for happiness.

Flashbacks flew out of Hob's head as he said goodbye to Morpheus. At home, he made himself hot coffee and settled into a comfortable armchair with a book in his hands. Recently, he began to devote more time to fiction. Sometimes Hob could read twenty pages in a week, and sometimes half a book in one evening. So far, he was mostly read the works of Morpheus. Nothing will help to understand the writer more than his own stories.

Plunging into the books invented by his friend, the realization came of how vast Morpheus's fantasy was. He writes about things that the average person doesn't think about, he prescribes his stories to the smallest detail, including small links at the end of the page to brief descriptions of some historical events of the world he invented, even which don't affect the plot in any way. Hob read and thought how it was possible to come up with such a thing. Morpheus knew how to write, and Hob plans to read every book he writes. He'll never know what's going on in his friend's head, but at least he'll have some idea of it.

He was distracted from reading by the sound of a message. Sleeping Beauty sent the picture, and Hob felt his face crack with the breadth of his smile. It was a photo in which only part of Morpheus's face was visible, and the rest of the space was occupied by a raven with a white body, which sat on his shoulder and held a torn out tuft of black hair in its beak. Its beady eyes carefully looked at the face of the owner, and there wasn't a drop of remorse to be seen in them, but only a promise to make more trouble.

Morpheus: You wanted to know how Jessamy looks like. Here she is.

Hob: she's AWESOME!!! *-*

Hob: but you're still the princess x.

Morpheus: you're one step closer to my blacklist, Gadling.

Hob laughed, covering his mouth with a book. Oh, he adored this man, and could tease him every second of his life.

Hob succumbed to a fleeting impulse and saved the photo, not knowing why. Probably because of Jessamy. She really was beautiful, and one photo was enough for Hob to fall in love with her and want to fight for her with her own owner. And the fact that his gaze lingered on a sharp cheekbone and long eyelashes that fell into the corner of the picture is just a mere coincidence.

As the holidays got closer, the more work added, and soon Hob had to apologize to Morpheus for not being able to meet him. The winter exams were just around the corner, and some of Hob's classes were lagging behind in the program due to unnecessarily long discussions. He had practically no free time, but he still tried to give a few minutes to Orpheus, who had been looking at him strangely in the last few days. Sometimes it seemed to Hob that he wanted to talk to him about something, but he seemed to be afraid. Instead, Orpheus looked away and went about his business.

Communication with Hob had a positive effect on him, it can't be denied. Orpheus met a girl from another class who plays the cello, and she almost persuaded him to join her small musical group. Hob smiled as he listened to him talk about it. Maybe the boy will finally have some new friends his age he needs so badly.

“Thanks for volunteering to help me.” Hob said, standing on a chair and pulling old folders from the topmost shelves of his office cabinet. He finally got around to recycling five-year-old papers. Orpheus stood next to him and helped to get rid of unnecessary garbage. He smiled weakly at his professor as he took the last folder and term papers from 2017 out of his hands.

Hob jumped down from his chair, stretched, and grunted at the crunch in his back. Maybe it's time for him to do yoga again. Orpheus sat down on a chair, which had almost become his property, and began to separate files from unnecessary paper. Hob could see his face getting darker as he drifted off into his thoughts. Even in his eyes it's noticeable that exactly the same chaos is going on in his head as in the head of Morpheus. They are very similar, in fact. Both are very proud and at the same time vulnerable, in need of attention and comfort. But if they are told about this, both will get angry and leave. Hob is a dog person by nature, but for several months now he has had to take care of two wild cats so that they don't harm themselves.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Orpheus asked as he tossed the last stack of paper into the trash can.

“No thanks, you've already helped me a lot. Without you, I would have been working through this mess until next weekend.” Hob put away the empty folders and sat down at his desk with a heavy sigh. He glanced at Orpheus, who cringed but didn't leave. "Do you want to talk to me about something?"

“Yes, actually.” Orpheus bent his knees, climbing into the chair with his feet. His yellow duck socks stood out from the rest of his dark brown and dark beige outfits.

Hob threw away all his affairs, giving all his attention to the student. Orpheus hugged his knees and his hands trembled.

“I want you to promise not to call the doctors and tell no one what you hear. And don't treat me like I'm helpless.” Orpheus met his gaze. Hob swallowed, realizing that something serious was waiting for him, perhaps much more serious than any of their conversation before.

“I promise, Orpheus. I give my word.” He nodded, and that's what he meant. He won't allow himself to be scattered with other people's secrets.

“I tell you because I trust you. Do you want to know why I hide my neck?” Orpheus touched the high collar of his turtleneck. Hob nodded uncertainly again, following his every move, and the boy pulled it down.

Hob's gaze caught a scar right under the Adam's apple. Wide and deep, it looks like a mark from a sharp knife blade. The scar had long healed and even brightened, but it was so deep that it would stay with the young man forever. Hob's stomach sank at the thought of what the boy in front of him had gone through.

“Three years ago I tried to kill myself by cutting my own throat. I could not get.” Orpheus ran his fingers over the scar. “I don't know what I did wrong. There was a lot of blood, the knife fell out of my hands, and I lost consciousness. I woke up in the hospital. My mother found me and called the doctors. It didn't take me a few minutes to die.”

Hob clenched his hands into fists. Although he knew about the suicide attempt, the details made his insides tremble, he was struck by a cold sweat, and there were traces of nails digging into them in his palms. Orpheus spoke without looking away, he looked straight into the eyes of the professor and seemed to be trying to read his thoughts. At the same time, he was ready to run at any sign of a reaction that he would deem inappropriate. But Hob remained silent and didn't even move.

“Professor, have you ever loved?” Orpheus suddenly asked a question, thereby knocking the spirit out of Hob. “Did you love so much that you did not see your life without a certain person? That every breath was made just for them? That it seemed as if the whole world was enclosed in one pair of eyes?”

“I was married.” Hob replied in a hoarse voice. He couldn't help but look away, his shoulders slumped. “I lost her.”

“Then you will understand me.” Orpheus let go of his collar, hiding his scar. “I gave all my heart to Eurydice, I was going to marry her as soon as we came of age. We discussed it, and she was only glad. I thought I was going to have a happy life with the most amazing girl in the world.”

Hob closed his eyes for a few seconds. He is familiar with it. He was there, in his shoes, he dreamed of living together with Eleanor until old age. Sometimes at night, before going to sleep, her image with little Robin in her arms surfaced before his eyes. Once upon a time, Hob had everything he could ever dream of, but that was long gone from him. Life is unfair, that's a fact. But Hob is strong enough to keep fighting for his right to be happy, even if he has to outlive everyone he loves.

“Then she was killed.” said Orpheus coldly, and Hob immediately raised his head. His eyes widened at what he heard. “My friend killed her in an attempt to rape her. She was defending herself and he accidentally hit her on the head. My life ended at that very moment.”

Orpheus buried his nose in his knees, hiding his trembling lips. Hob wanted to break away and hug him, but he sat where he was, knowing that it wasn't all that Orpheus wanted to share with him. There is something else. But what could be worse? The poor boy has been through too much, no wonder he's so broken. Orpheus' heart is broken into many pieces and hardened.

“My father sent me to a psychiatric hospital.” Orpheus continued, hiding his face. His voice trembled, and tears were heard in it. “He got rid of me and my problems so that I wouldn’t interfere with his work. He abandoned me. I've been locked up with all these psychos for a year. He never once asked how I felt. He never asked me what I was thinking about. He doesn't care about me. And now that I'm on my way to recovery, he's deigned to come back into my life to break it down again.”

Hob felt lightning strike him. Morpheus... Morpheus couldn't do that. Morpheus, who goes out of his way to get closer to his son.

Sad blue eyes flashed in his memory, and the weight of guilt they reflected. His face, which darkened every time he had to get around the cause of disagreements with his son. Morpheus never once said that he was innocent or that he deserved forgiveness. He...he could. The worst thing is that he could do such a thing without thinking about what harm his act could cause, even if it was done with the best of intentions.

Hob jumped up and in two steps was next to Orpheus. His hands wrapped around his trembling shoulders, he pulled the silently weeping Orpheus to him and bit his lower lip, trying to cope with the storm of emotions inside him. He felt disappointed and angry, but those feelings were not directed at Morpheus. They just were. Hob didn't know what he was angry about.

He often wondered what Morpheus did to earn such strong dislike from Orpheus, who was a rather kind and understanding child. And here's the answer that, frankly, Hob would rather not know. Orpheus went through a real Hell, he survived only thanks to a miracle and his mother arrived in time.

He wanted to say that he was sorry, but it was hardly the words that were expected of him. Hob was walking on thin ice right now, and he needed to find words that wouldn't hurt.

“You didn't deserve such a fate, Orpheus.” Hob said softly, trying to keep his voice steady. “I can't imagine how you feel. You are a strong person. What happened to you is unfair. But you'll be happy again, I know.”

“How do you know that?” Orpheus sobbed, clinging to Hob's chest like a wounded kitten to its savior.

“Because every storm ends sooner or later. Night turns to day, like black stripes turn to white. You move on, you live, which means that in the future there is something else that will help you feel the love of life again. Don't worry, I'll stand behind your back to push you towards changes in time. If need be, I'll catch you after a failure and we'll try again.”

Hob allowed himself for a few seconds to imagine that he was holding his son in his arms. That it is Robyn's breath that he feels on his chest, that it is Robyn holding on to him like a lifeline. Just a few seconds. Perhaps it's not right, because Orpheus is the one who needs his support right now, but, oh sweet Jesus, Hob so much wanted to be a father. He missed his son every second of his life. It's not something you can get used to.

Orpheus' weeping soon ceased. These were not those strong sobs, as then in the pub, but rather tears of relief. Orpheus kept this to himself for a very long time, he couldn't talk to anyone about it, except for doctors. Hob smiled reassuringly as the boy pulled away from him and handed him the pack of tissues that was always on the table. Orpheus mumbled something that looked like an attempt at gratitude. Hob ruffled his hair, pulled a chair closer to him, and sat down beside him in case he needed his shoulder again.

Orpheus stared into space with his red eyes, trying to come to his senses and calm down. Hob looked at him, waited for the boy to talk again, and suddenly hated himself for trying to see his son in him. It's wrong. Orpheus doesn't deserve to be Robyn's replacement, he should be a separate person, but that part of Hob that desperately wanted to be a parent has awakened and now stretched its paws to the poor student.

“I didn't know you were married.” said Orpheus, which sounded too loud in the silence for his professor's ears.

“It was a long time ago.” Hob smiled bitterly. “I have something to live for, although I was in a similar state. Its okay now. I work, I have fun, I spend time with friends.”

“So you won’t be alone at Christmas?”

Hob's insides went cold with fear. The excitement that his friendship with Morpheus might be discovered washed over him like a wave, but he managed to keep this feeling inside, without betraying himself either by facial expression or voice.

“No. I will be with a friend.”

“That's good. You care so much about me, and I began to worry that you might be as alone as I am. I'm glad I was wrong.”

Hob patted Orpheus again with a warm smile. This boy was much kinder than he tried to show himself.

“Thank you for your concern, little prince. I appreciate it. You'll be with your mom at Christmas, right?”

“Including her.” Orpheus sighed. “We are leaving immediately after my exams to Greece to visit relatives.”

Hob felt sick just thinking about airplanes. Of course, this is the safest transport of all modern ones, but... Hob couldn't even look at them, no matter how hard he tried.

“I have a request to you, Orpheus,” his hand fell on the skinny shoulder of the young man, whose head turned to him, “text me when you will be at the airports after landing. Please. I beg you. It's important.”

Orpheus' eyebrows twitched slightly in surprise, but Hob looked at him in all seriousness. When it comes to flying, his paranoia grows to immense proportions, which in a few years of his life brought a lot of problems, especially with Johanna, who loves to travel. Before leaving, Hob always received her flight data so that he could follow the movement of the plane via the Internet at any time.

Orpheus promised, and Hob breathed out, though the uneasiness inside him didn't go away. He also needed to discuss what he had learned with Morpheus as soon as possible. He needed to look at what had happened through his eyes in order to understand what to do, since now Hob was in a complete stalemate. He wasn't prepared for such a situation, and had no idea what Morpheus could do to earn his son's forgiveness. But there is hope, right? You have to remain optimistic.

As soon as the door closed behind the student, Hob immediately grabbed the phone and made an appointment for Saturday evening. Morpheus confirmed the time. Well, that's good. The man looked at the open dialogue, not knowing what to do. It seems that he thought too long, and didn't immediately notice the new message.

Morpheus: are you okay?

Hob: sure. why such a question?

Morpheus: don't know. I felt like

Morpheus: doesn't matter. I'm going back to work.

Hob smiled involuntarily. Morpheus is his friend, they can come up with something together. Two heads are better than one, right?

Saturday night didn't immediately go as Hob had planned. He was about to have a serious conversation about Orpheus, and foolishly chose the New Inn. As soon as Hob arrived a few minutes before the appointed time, he was captured by Johanna. Despite all his attempts to explain and leave, she and Rachel weren't going to let him go, arguing that they had not seen each other for a very long time. It's true, but... Hob felt his soul leave his body when he saw Morpheus enter the pub. He didn't even have time to warn him.

“Yeah, so this is the guy that Hobsi traded us for.” Johanna purred, and with the speed of light she was next to Morpheus, not letting Hob stop her. This is bad. This is very bad.

Hob didn't hear what Johanna was saying, but when he met Morpheus's eyes, he put on the most plaintive face he could muster. Jo grabbed Morpheus by the arm and dragged him towards the bar like a limp doll.

“Hob spends too much time with you, you know? He completely forgot about us.” Johanna complained as she seated the writer next to his friend. Rachel giggled, and Hob only wanted to fall in place.

“I didn't know they were here, I swear.” Hob whispered, but Morpheus was too unsettled to react. He lost his eyes clapped, looking at one girl, then another.

“Are they friends of yours?” he asked, watching strangers decide for him what to drink.

“Unfortunately.” groaned Hob. “But we can leave. Run away. They won't chase us.”

“No.”

Hob thought he heard it. He looked at Morpheus, then at Johanna, and then back at Morpheus.

"Excuse me, what did you say?"

“It might be interesting.” Morpheus grinned like a cat, making Hob feel like a pile of rocks had fallen on him.

Hob loved Johanna, unconditionally, but he wanted to protect Morpheus from what awaited him. But Morpheus didn't want this protection. Johanna looked at him with a challenge, and it seems that this acted on the writer like a red rag on a bull. He was ready to throw himself into the pool with his head if someone challenged him. It remained to pray that they both survived the night.

At first, everything was harmless: Johanna asked about something, Rachel told something, Morpheus ignored some questions, and some answered, and Hob watched every action of his friends, not hiding his suspicion. In the first ten minutes, Morpheus and Johanna had a fight, but over the next five minutes they somehow made up, Hob didn't even understand how it happened. It seemed that everything should end in a civilized way: the usual acquaintance of adults, that's okay. Hob turned away once to help the bartender with the cash register, and when he returned, Johanna had already forced Morpheus into a drinking contest.

All attempts to dissuade Morpheus from this venture failed. Rachel just patted her friend on the shoulder reassuringly, but he knew she was standing by her crazy girlfriend's side.

No one can ever beat Johanna in this game. Hob had to drink too, to calm his nerves. To his relief, Morpheus was in a good mood and not one "you dare" didn't go through the night. At times he even enjoyed this little struggle. But Johanna knew what she was doing, and by one in the morning Morpheus could no longer stand on his feet, and she only staggered slightly.

Hob had never wondered what a drunken Morpheus looked like before. But in vain. His pale face turned red, and his drunken eyes constantly searched for a fixed object to focus on. Even sitting on the bar stool, he nearly fell over several times, and Hob decided he had had enough. The bill for the whole farce fell on Johanna, since it is entirely her fault. Hob threw Morpheus's arm around his neck, grabbed him by the waist and led him towards his house.

He himself drank a little, and was able to move on solid legs, but Morpheus turned into jelly.

“I need to…go home…” the man groaned, laying his head on Hob's shoulder, who was dangerously close to picking him up and carrying him normally.

“No, my friend, I won't risk sending you into a taxi in this condition. Sleep at my place.”

"But Je...Jess....J..." Morpheus made an annoyed sound, getting angry at his slurring tongue. “Jee... Bird. My bird. She will be upset.”

“If you fall at your front door, I will be upset.” Hob retorted. Morpheus, although he weighed very little, but dragging him was a difficult task when his legs practically didn't move.

Drunken Morpheus was unusually talkative. He continued to mutter something all the way, not shutting up for a second. Hob smiled as he tried to say difficult words and then pretended to cough or sneeze to hide the difficult syllable. In the end, he couldn't help laughing, and Morpheus fell silent for a while. Hob thought he had offended him until a slender finger poked him on the cheek.

“Your laugh. I like it. Do it more often.”

Hob nearly fell down the stairs. Something in his stomach collapsed at these words, but it could well be attributed to the alcohol he had drunk.

With grief in half, they got to the apartment. Hob took Morpheus to his bed and literally threw him on top of her, despite the grumblings that his pillow muffled.

“Sleep, princess. I'll put activated charcoal and water on the bedside table, and bring a basin just in case. Tomorrow morning you will curse Johanna.” Hob squatted down to take off his boots as the incoherent mumbling continued.

Once the shoes were done, Hob straightened up and went to the kitchen. Before he could take two steps, Morpheus grabbed his arm and turned him around. His friend was already on the floor with bare feet, silently rising from the bed in the seconds that Hob had his back to him. Strong arms wrapped around his waist, and a cold nose poked into the space between his neck and shoulder. Hob froze.

“You are good, Hob.” Morpheus whispered, squeezing him into his arms. “I like you. Very much.”

Hob stopped breathing. At that moment, he really felt something. It wasn't alcohol, it wasn't imagination, it wasn't a coincidence, it wasn't a fleeting impulse. It was something.

Chapter Text

As promised, in the morning there was a glass of water on the bedside table next to the bed, and next to it was a pack of activated charcoal. Morpheus slept like the dead, and the basin by the bed was left unused. Hob worked in the living room, or rather tried to work. His thoughts kept returning to the last night.

He felt something. He couldn't yet determine the nature of this feeling and was afraid to make a mistake, because it concerned Morpheus, a person who became his close friend and whom he cherished. Hob stared at the laptop screen but couldn't see anything. Before his eyes stood a drunken Morpheus with a flushed face, and the body still remembered his strong hugs. Of course, he knew that Morpheus likes him, he didn't doubt it, but it was one thing to know, and another to hear these words from him. Hob prided himself on being able to analyze his feelings and not take rash actions. He needs some time to sort out his thoughts. Some part of him was glad that Morpheus was able to give rise to new feelings in him for a short moment, unlike anything else, but the other was very scared of this discovery. It caused something in his stomach to curl into a tight knot. He didn't want to ruin his relationship with Morpheus. Hob was already too attached to him to let himself ruin everything.

Hob was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a sound from his bedroom, like something falling to the floor. He hoped that something wasn't Morpheus. Given the amount of alcohol he had drunk, his friend would now be in the worst mood of all that he could find. When the door opened, Hob closed and put down his laptop, ready to jump up and help with anything at any time. Finally, Morpheus showed up. His face was paler than ever, his hair turned into one big tangle, and in his eyes there was so much anger and hatred that they could kill a man. And yet, Hob couldn't help smiling.

“I'm starting to get used to you waking up at my house.”

Morpheus gave him a menacing look and went into the bathroom, slamming the door loudly. Immediately after the pop came a hoarse groan from the unexpected sound. Hob coughed into his fist to keep from laughing out loud. He had already put an extra towel in the bathroom, so that Morpheus could safely take a cold shower to revive himself a little. For several minutes there was no sound outside the bathroom door, which began to worry Hob, but as soon as the water was heard, he went to the kitchen with relief to prepare breakfast for Morpheus.

Hob hadn't slept in hours, and he didn't get much sleep at night. His chest was tight from something he couldn't identify. But it will have to wait. Now he needs to take care of his friend's hangover.

There was something comforting about seeing the morning with Morpheus. Both last time and this. Hob liked to see him in such a relaxed state, he looked like a house cat and Hob wanted to pat him all the time. While eating breakfast, Hob hummed something under his breath. He tried not to think about yesterday, so as not to inconvenience either himself or his friend. When the sound of the water faded outside the bathroom door, Hob set the plate on the table and leaned against the door frame, waiting for the sight of the wet cat, with a satisfied grin. What he didn't expect was that Morpheus would walk out in just his pants, holding his sweater in his hands.

Hob shouldn't have been staring, but he couldn't stop his eyes from going down. He thought that Morpheus was as skinny as a pine branch, but in fact his body turned out to be strong and muscular. Most likely, before meeting with Hob, he worked out in the gym to maintain his shape. Although the muscles didn't hide the fact that he was still terribly thin. Hob never even saw his hands because of the long sleeves. The gaze slid from a thin neck to sharp collarbones, then down to a strong chest, pumped up arms and abs on a flat stomach. He swallowed at the sight of hipbones protruding from under his low-waisted jeans.

“My sweater is dirty.” Morpheus said in an accusing tone. Hob nodded, but his words fell on deaf ears. Morpheus raised his head and then an eyebrow questioningly. “Are your ears blushing?”

“What?” Hob forced himself to look Morpheus in the eyes, and immediately he felt very ashamed. “Sorry, I… I didn’t expect you to decide to please me with such a view.” He chuckled, but mentally slapped himself for not keeping his mouth shut. Morpheus looked down at his body, as if he had only just noticed that he had gone out without a top piece of clothing.

“I can't wear a sweater.” he said, pouting. “Someone spilled a martini on him yesterday.”

“Don't talk like I did it. It was Johanna.”

“She's your friend.” Morpheus replied, as if that fact was enough to put all the blame on him. Hob sighed.

“Go to breakfast, I’ll give you some of my clothes. I’ll wash your sweater and return it. In my defense, I warn you. But of course, why listen to me? You were so sure of your victory! And neither my persuasions, nor even the sympathetic look of the bartender alerted you at all.”

“Hob.”

“What?”

“Stop grumbling.” Morpheus went to the kitchen and, without stopping, handed him his sweater. Hob rolled his eyes. It didn't even surprise him that Morpheus was acting like he was at his own home.

He threw the long-suffering sweater into the washing machine and disappeared into his bedroom. The blanket lay halfway on the floor, like the second pillow, the sheet was crumpled. Hob smiled wider, imagining how Morpheus slept on white sheets, hugging one of the pillows, how he wrapped himself in a duvet and how hard it was for him to get up. Hob shook his head and opened the closet for a suitable spare. The blood was pounding in his ears, he mentally told himself that he shouldn't think of Morpheus sleeping in his bed with such an inexplicable feeling of tenderness. He needed to think about something else, and urgently.

And then he remembered the reason they had met yesterday. They were supposed to talk about Orpheus, Hob wanted to find out what Morpheus was thinking about in those difficult days when his son almost made the biggest mistake of his life. Johanna ruined everything. Maybe they should talk about it now? But Morpheus isn't in the best of hungover moods, and will most likely kick Hob out of his own house if he hears something nasty about him. It's better to wait for the right moment. On the other hand, there is no right moment to discuss your child's suicide attempt.

Hob stopped thinking when he found some reasonably warm clothes. As a good friend, he should consider Morpheus' clothing preferences and give him a plain black jumper. But Hob decided that today he was a bad friend, so he pulled out of the closet a purple “bi(tch)” hoodie that he bought to order a couple of years ago. Under the inscription was a screaming possum. There is no point in the drawing, Hob was drunk when he wanted to buy a new hoodie. He has never regretted this purchase in his life.

Before leaving the room, he touched the pillow on which Morpheus slept with his fingers.

“Put it on, or you'll freeze.” Hob threw a hoodie over the head of a man who was sitting at a table mesmerizing a glass of water in his hands. It seems he ate a little more activated charcoal than he should have.

Morpheus took the clothes in his hands, looked at the drawing, and gave Hob his favorite judging look. But he didn't complain and put it on over his head.

“Did you cook the eggs?” he asked, staring at the plate.

“Yeah, with bacon.”

“For me?”

“The least I can do to alleviate your condition.”

Hob sat opposite him. Morpheus looked like the fact that someone was cooking something for him seemed absurd. He looked at the pancakes the same way the last time, as if they were a figment of his imagination.

It seems that Morpheus is not capable of a quarrel. Well, then talking to him doesn't seem like such a bad idea. Hob carefully thought about how to start the dialogue, picked up the right phrases and was going to voice them, but Morpheus spoke first.

“I want you to go somewhere with me.” The words came out abruptly, both reassuringly and indifferently, indicating that the man had thought about them for an indecent amount of time, and rehearsed them carefully in his head, but still didn't decide how to say them correctly. Morpheus didn't look up, took his fork in his hand and began to eat, trying to pretend that he didn't care about Hob's answer. But his hands were trembling slightly. Hob was at a loss for words.

“Where? Why?”

“Every year I leave the city for three days, I rent a private house in the forest. It gives me solitude with nature, helps with inspiration.” Morpheus paused to chew his food. “The seasons of my trip alternate. This time it's winter.”

"But why do you need me?" Hob noticed how Morpheus flinched at the question. The man clutched the cutlery in his hands and lowered his head even lower, so that Hob could not see his eyes.

“You… ground me.” he sighed heavily. “The last time I was there, I forgot to eat for three days, absorbed in work. I can't take Lucienne as she will have to force me to do what I don't want. With you... With you, I'm more connected to the real world.”

And then Hob forgot everything he was about to say. Butterflies that he had buried long ago awakened in his stomach, and the blood flowed faster in his veins, dispersing the pleasant warmth that emanated directly from his chest throughout his body. Morpheus wasn't drunk, and he said the same words as at night, only skillfully paraphrased them.

I like you.

Morpheus pretended to be very engrossed in the plate, although he hardly ate, only rolling the bacon from one side to the other. He was afraid to look into the eyes, afraid to hear a refusal, and hid these fears behind a mask of indifference. Only his lips compressed into a thin line and the nervousness of his hands betrayed him with giblets.

“Certainly.” Hob breathed, feeling himself bewitched by some dark sorcerer. “Anytime, Morpheus. I'll gladly keep you company.”

Morpheus nodded. The only reaction that helped Hob understand his emotions was a slight drop in his shoulders.

“After Christmas. Is this the right time for you?” Morpheus's voice became much quieter, as if he was either afraid or ashamed of something. Hob wanted to pinch his nose and pat him on the head, but he did none of those things. Let's not forget that Morpheus is still a wild cat who just allows to be taken care of and be around him.

“Like I said, anytime.” Hob rested his head on his hand, not noticing the stupid smile on his no less stupid face. Only then Morpheus looked at him, raised an inquiring eyebrow, and again buried his face in his plate.

It might be a problem, but Hob will think about it later. All that matters now is that Morpheus, with a terrible hangover, sits in his hoodie and eats the scrambled eggs he cooked. Hob has prepared breakfast for his guests many times, whether they be lovers or friends, but with Morpheus it's different. Conversations, atmosphere, eternally dissatisfied face.

Most importantly, Hob didn't remember for a second that Eleanor loved bacon and that Robyn always left egg yolks on his plate.

Morpheus should have called his driver or Lucienne to be taken home, but after breakfast he wrapped himself in a blanket and lay down on the couch. Hob heard quiet groans and curses, from the stream of words he could make out only "kill" and "avenge." Well, that's a common reaction the morning after drinking with Johanna. Hob sat on the edge of the sofa. It was only when his hand touched the soft hair that he realized what he had done and froze. Morpheus had made it clear last time that he didn't like being pat, but Hob was too big an idiot to remember that in time. The man stopped grumbling, and Hob was ready for a fight or a dramatic exit from his house. Morpheus turned his head slightly to look up at Hob, and God, he had never looked at him with such a plaintive look.

“The head hurts…” he whined, ready to burst into tears. Hob exhaled reverently. His hand was still in his matted and still damp hair, but Morpheus said nothing about it.

He should call a taxi or Lucienne himself. Morpheus needs a soft bed and sleep to get over his hangover. But the selfish part of Hob reveled in the fact that his friend allowed himself to be so defenseless in his house.

Well, it's okay if Morpheus gets a little sick here. Hob didn't disturb him and went about his business while his friend struggled desperately with a headache and nausea. Hob sat down at his laptop in the same room so that Morpheus would be in his line of sight in case he got really bad.

Several hours passed, Morpheus practically didn't move, even sniffled. Hob glanced at him from time to time, made sure his friend was still alive, and went back to work. There were only a couple of weeks left until Christmas, and he needed to get as much work as possible if he left with Morpheus during the Christmas holidays. He hasn't been out of town in a long time, actually. The last time was maybe two years ago, when Johanna and Rachel talked him into taking a little road trip. But for this adventure they almost went to jail due to the fact that Johanna got into a fight with a policeman who persistently tried to call her on a date. Morpheus shouldn't have that problem.

The vibration on his phone made him look up from work. Morpheus made a protesting sound and covered his head with a blanket. Hob rolled his eyes, grinning, and took the call. The number was unfamiliar, but he recognized the voice on the phone immediately.

“Mr Gadling? Good afternoon, this is Lucienne. Sorry to bother you. Is Morpheus with you?”

“Hello. Yeah, he's here, sleeping on my couch and spoiling me.” Hob held back his laughter as the man crawled out from under the covers and stared at him with a cold gaze full of desire for revenge. Lucienne breathed a sigh of relief.

“God bless. I need to pick him up, he has an important work call coming up soon. Tell him to be ready to leave in half an hour.”

Hob didn't have time to say anything as the call ended. He blinked slowly, realizing that he was about to have the most fun 30 minutes of his life, in which he would try to get Morpheus to go outside.

The fact that Lucienne has his number isn't surprising at all. She knows his address, after all. But he had no idea how Morpheus would work in such a state. The man completely refused to get up, so Hob had to take the blanket away from him. Morpheus looked like he had been betrayed. Perhaps only a headache prevented him from starting to argue, because Hob could see in his eyes how much he wanted to. Instead, he sat down, pulled the hood on his head, and crossed his arms over his chest. The next few minutes passed in silence, but Hob could physically feel the accusing gaze on him.

“Why bitch?” Morpheus asked, breaking the silence so abruptly that Hob flinched.

“Actually, more bi than bitch.” Hob chuckled. Morpheus raised his head, interest flickering in his eyes.

“And you?...”

“You didn't know?” he laughed, nudged his friend with his shoulder. “I thought I look like a bi. God said Adam and Eve, not Adam or Eve.” the man winked, incredibly proud of his bad joke.

“I see. Now I know.”

Hob had expected some kind of confession, like "me too" or something like that, and felt a pang of disappointment when Morpheus didn't say anything.

It seemed unethical to ask such questions, so despite his curiosity, Hob didn't force himself on him. As soon as there was a knock on the door, he jumped up and rushed to open it. Morpheus sighed as loudly as he could, and lazily, gathering all his will into a fist, got to his feet. He put his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and trudged after Hob. Lucienne stood at the threshold. She smiled politely at Hob.

“I apologize again, Mr. Gadling.”

“Just Hob, please. Morpheus isn't feeling very well, so be gentle with him.”

“Don't talk about me like a child.” Morpheus growled behind him. Lucienne's eyebrows went up as she scanned Morpheus' clothes with her eyes, and her understanding smile made Hob feel uneasy.

“I think you look much happier than usual, sir.”

Morpheus snorted as he pulled on his boots. He threw on his overcoat and crossed the threshold with obvious reluctance.

“Hob, if you have any questions about the trip, call Lucienne. See you.” Morpheus started down the stairs, grabbing the railing. Lucienne didn't follow him, and Hob stared at her questioningly. The woman took a notebook and a pen from her coat pocket, wrote something, tore off the paper and handed it to Hob.

“I'm glad you agreed to look after him. Please see to it that he eats regularly. This is a list of foods that he won't eat even under pain of starvation.”

Hob ran his eyes down the list and couldn't help but grin. Morpheus didn't welcome cabbage, cottage cheese, all kinds of purchased sauces, sausage, beef, raisins, dried fruits... As if his tastes hadn't changed since the age of seven. He was even more picky. More and more like a spoiled cat. But the last product on the list puzzled Hob, to say the least.

“It says... Eggs.”

“Morpheus hates the taste of eggs. He doesn't mind that they are used in dishes, the main thing is that they are not felt on the tongue. Are there any other questions on the list?” Hob shook his head, staring down at the leaf in his hands. “Fine. Goodbye, Mr G...Hob. Thank you again for taking care of him. He needs it more than he shows.”

With a final smile, Lucienne hurried after Morpheus, leaving him alone. Hob closed the door and leaned back against it. Morpheus hates eggs. Hob didn't know about it. If he had known, he would have found an alternative, feed him something else.

But Morpheus ate everything that was offered to him. He didn't say a word about his preferences. Hob could see the gratitude in his eyes. Heart beating faster, Hob slid to the floor, grabbed his phone and immediately dialed the number he had listed as emergency.

“Johanna! You, me, the New Inn, now. This is urgent! I have a problem.”

Johanna Constantine is someone Hob could always rely on. Even in the midst of her working day, she could give him a few minutes and come from the other side of London. Today is just one of those days. It was her shift, but for the sake of Hob, she agreed with the client to postpone the appointment for half an hour later, promising a small discount for the inconvenience, and immediately after the call she went to the pub. Hob was waiting for her, nervously clutching the soda the bartender offered him. He was in a bit of a panic, and he urgently needed to discuss it with someone who knew him and to whom he could entrust any secrets. Jo, although a rather peculiar woman with sharp jokes and direct criticism, but she never left him without help.

When Johanna sat down across from Hob, all the gas was out of his water, but he didn't take a sip. Apparently, his expression was so serious that she refrained from joking about their drunken evening.

“Tell me what happened. I don't have much time.”

Hob looked up at her, took a sip of water, and sighed, lowering his head.

“I fell in love.”

Johanna raised an eyebrow in disbelief, just like Morpheus. For her, it wasn't considered something serious enough to break from work. Hob had already dated many people, but these romances never lasted more than six months. Most often it was only a couple of months, then Hob began to feel guilty about his devotion to his dead wife and destroyed his relationship.

“I'll hit you, Gadling.”

“You don’t understand, that’s all… It’s different now. It's not like it's been all these years. It's almost like... Almost...” Hob faltered, pursed his lips and continued very, very quietly. “Almost like Eleanor. Only differently. I haven't felt this way since I was with her. This feeling is very similar, but it is different. I don't know how to explain it.”

Johanna's face softened, though Hob didn't see it. He stared at the surface of the table, knuckles white from how hard he held the glass. Jo placed her hand on his wrist, causing him to loosen his grip a little.

“Does it upset you?” she asked carefully. Hob immediately lifted his head, looking into her eyes.

“No! Not at all!” he replied quickly, straightening himself up and clearing his throat. “No. I feel something. You know, I've been so long... I thought everything inside me died with my wife, that I became stale. I want to love him. I like it. I missed that feeling so much. Jo, I can't remember the last time I felt so alive. Even if he doesn't need my love, I'll protect it. I need to love him, whether it's mutual or not.”

“Him.” Johanna crossed her arms over her chest. She grinned at him kindly, her eyes narrowing slightly. Hob grabbed his earlobe and smiled shyly, looking away.

“I fell in love with Morpheus.”

Johanna's face fell slowly. She didn't say anything for about a minute, he couldn't even hear her breathing. With every passing second, Hob felt dumber and dumber.

“Is that the one who has problems with his son?” she finally asked.

“Yes.”

“Who was got drunk to the snot last night just because someone dared question his abilities?”

“ ....Yes.”

“Remind me, sunshine, what's your favorite colour?”

Hob blinked rapidly, not understanding the connection, but decided not to risk the question.

“Red.”

“It explains the stuff.” Johanna sighed. She took the glass from her friend and drank the rest of the water. “And what are you going to do?”

“Nothing.” Hob shrugged. “Morpheus is going through a difficult period in his life now, I don’t want to add problems to him with my feelings. I'll love him as long as he allows me. He needs a friend. He breathed new life into me, and being his friend is the least I can repay him.”

“What if he wants to find a partner?”

Hob chuckled. Johanna didn't know Morpheus. Certainly not the way he knows him. Morpheus is absorbed in his son and work, that's all he cares about. He pushes people away, ignores them. He built an invisible wall around himself to protect himself from those around him. Well, when it's over...

“It will be a problem for the future me. In the meantime, I will enjoy the fact that I love him.”

Johanna couldn't help but roll her eyes. She said more than once that Hob is sometimes too infantile in his decisions. But she knew better than anyone how he longed to love. It is not so important for him to be loved, many loved him, but his heart yearned to love itself, for real. Even if Hob exaggerates the significance of the feeling he is experiencing, it makes him happy.

“Fine. But if he upsets you, I'll hang him by his cock over your pub, mark my words.”

Hob laughed. But he knew that Johanna wasn't joking.

And she can't blame him for staying awake at night trying to catch the scent of Morpheus on his pillow.

The closer the holiday got, the less time Hob had to not only talk to Morpheus, but even think about him. However, he was the first and last person Hob texted to at the beginning and end of the day. Wishing him good work at night and sweet dreams in the morning has already become a ritual for Hob, which he did on the machine. Feelings grew stronger and brighter, they fed him from the inside, helped him to work twice as hard and faster than usual, and for the first time in many years, Hob finished all his work on time by Christmas.

And yet, despite his productivity and success at the university, he missed Morpheus very much.

Two days before Christmas, Morpheus sent him the address and said that he would be waiting for him at his place, arguing that Hob's house wasn't equipped for the presence of a raven in it for the whole night. Hob nearly lost his mind at the thought of going to his house for the first time. Naturally, he had to share his excitement with his friend. Johanna was of little use, however. She immediately invited them to go to bed at midnight and have a good time.

“Jo!” Hob groaned. “I don't even know if he likes men.”

“So ask him. "Listen, buddy, do you like cocks? Because I just have a nice one."”

“Constantine, shut your mouth!” Hob sprayed her with a spray bottle, because during the dialogue he was carrying of the plants in his house. Johanna laughed wickedly and threw a small ball at Hob that she had found in his closet. The ball flew through the open window. He didn't long rejoice at the new find in his junk.

Hob never asked Morpheus about his sexuality. But, like a real queer, he had a gay radar built inside him, and Hob just knew that Morpheus couldn't possibly be straight.

Hob couldn't remember the last time he looked forward to Christmas. He wanted to take groceries with him, but he thought that Morpheus would most likely order something from the restaurant. Well, that's good. But he still grabbed one small bag with him.

The house looked exactly as the man had imagined: large, dark, on the outskirts of the city, where there was no extra noise. More like Dracula's mansion, but more stylish and modern. Hob pressed the doorbell and waited. The door didn't open for a long time, and he was already thinking of calling Morpheus and checking the time, when the sound of opening locks was heard. A shock of black hair peeked out from a small slit, then piercing blue eyes. Convinced that it was really Hob, Morpheus opened the door wider and walked back into the interior of the house without a greeting.

Hob chuckled as he stepped inside. The first floor was a huge hall with an adjoining kitchen. There was quite a bit of furniture, except for bookcases full of books. There was a desk against the wall, above which was attached a board, completely overflowing with colorful stickers. Apart from the mess on the table, the house can be called clean and tidy. And, of course, there were no Christmas decorations anywhere. Morpheus sat down on the black leather couch, tucked his legs under him, and began typing on his laptop.

“Wait a couple of minutes, please. I'm almost done. Get to know Jessamy.”

Oh yes, Hob was looking forward to this meeting, perhaps even more than meeting Morpheus. Hearing his name, a loud croak came from the second floor, then the sound of wings. A raven with a white chest landed on the back of the sofa. Hob gasped, set the bag down on the floor, and carefully sat down on the very edge of the furniture so as not to startle his new friend.

“Oh, you're beautiful.” he breathed reverently. Jessamy tilted her head to the side, she was in no hurry to approach the new man. Although the presence of a stranger surprised her, her owner never let anyone into the house except Teleute, Lucienne, and very rarely younger sister Mania.

Jessamy jumped onto her owner's shoulder to get his attention. Morpheus looked at her and gently stroked the feathers on her chest.

“This is Hob, he's a friend. You can get close to him.”

But the smart bird didn't believe in only words. In protest, she pulled Morpheus by the hair, causing him to hiss in pain and Hob to laugh softly. But Hob was ready for this. He took from his pocket a small shiny button that had long since come off one of his old jackets. He knew it would come in handy. Seeing the shiny thing, Jessamy immediately left the owner alone. All her attention turned to the button, she returned to her original place and began to approach with cautious, jerky steps.

Hob waited patiently. He extended his hand to give her a small offering. When Jessamy got close enough, she stared at the man's face for a long time, then abruptly snatched a button and flew off to the top shelf of one of the bookcases.

“She made her treasury there.” Morpheus explained. Finally, when he finished typing, he closed his laptop and carried it to his desk. Hob kept his eyes on Jessamy, who hid behind the books, leaving only a black tail visible from her.

Both men watched her from opposite ends of the sofa, but close enough to each other that they could touch with outstretched hands. Jessamy eventually left her treasure and returned to her guest, this time sitting much closer to him. She peered into his face with the utmost care, looking for any signs of danger. The button appeased her, and, flapping her wings, she moved to Hob's shoulder.

“You are a charming girl, aren't you? May I pet you?” Hob slowly raised his hand to the bird. Jessamy showed no signs of discomfort and allowed him to scratch her chest, which made her growl in satisfaction. Hob gasped again in admiration. It took him several months to fall in love with Morpheus, but Jessamy stole his heart from the first minute.

“She likes you.” Morpheus nodded approvingly and extended his hand to take the pet for himself, but Jessamy croaked loudly and flew over to Hob's other shoulder. “Treason.”

"I think you'll have to fight me to get her back." Hob began to scratch Jessamy's feathers again, for which he was rewarded with another satisfied grunt. Morpheus rolled his eyes theatrically and propped his head on his hand as he watched his beloved creature choose another person. But as such, he, to his surprise, didn't experience jealousy.

Jessamy exploited Hob for a long time, forcing him to pet her. Every time he stopped, she started screaming loudly. Morpheus grinned wickedly and didn't even lift a finger to help his friend until the raven left him to return to his hidden treasury. Hob looked at the bird with loving eyes and firmly decided that he would no longer allow Morpheus to hide her from him.

“By the way, I have something for you.” Hob smiled slyly, picking up his bag. Morpheus's smirk disappeared instantly, he looked at Hob with an inscrutable gaze and furrowed brows.

 “We agreed on gifts.”

“Look what's inside.” Hob winked, still smiling.

Morpheus reluctantly took the bah in his hands and pulled out its contents. And then he giggled. Yes, it was definitely a giggle. Sounds like the sound of a midnight bird of prey caught in a trap. The strangest sound Hob has ever heard. But in order to hear it again, he was ready to jump off a cliff.

Morpheus was holding his black sweater in his hands. Clean and smelling of lavender. They had not seen each other since that day, and neither of them had the opportunity to return things to each other.

“I knew you'd like it. Merry Christmas my friend!” Hob ruffled his hair. Morpheus smiled. Really smiled. It was a real smile, not just raised corners of the lips. Not wide, but real. If Hob didn't already love this man, he would fall in love with him right now.

“Merry Christmas, Hob.”

It was just over an hour before nightfall. Hob told Morpheus about everything he had encountered at work during their missed meetings, and Morpheus listened with interest. Even he himself shared a little the results of his work, mainly regarding the future film adaptation of his book (which Hob, by the way, has already finished reading). Their conversations were joined by expensive wine from Morpheus's bar and food ordered from a Japanese restaurant, which neither paid much attention to. From time to time Jessamy returned to them. Sometimes she tried to steal something from the food, sometimes she demanded affection, and sometimes she just pulled the hair of the owner out of mischief, which Hob considered very cute.

The fact that it was already night, Hob learned from the sound of a notification on his phone. Looking at the screen, he saw a new message.

Orpheus: Merry Christmas, professor. Thank you for everything you do for me.

Hob couldn't help but smile. The fact that the boy remembered him was very pleasant. But when he looked at Morpheus, he noticed how dark his friend's face became.

“I'm glad he doesn't forget about you.” Morpheus said, but without sincerity in his voice. Hob couldn't blame him. It's impossible for him to imagine how Morpheus feels, being rejected by his son. Even knowing the details of their quarrel, Hob still didn't see him as a monster who wanted to get rid of his child. If it was really his wish, he wouldn't have been trying to regain Orpheus's favor for so long.

“Morpheus, look at your phone.”

“For what? He won't text me.”

“Morpheus, look.”

The man sighed. Without enthusiasm, he took out his cell phone and unlocked it. Taking advantage of the moment, Hob snatched the mobile phone out of his hands and jumped to his feet. Morpheus immediately rushed to him to return his thing. Hob dodged as best he could while probably making a big mistake at the same time, but his premonition screamed that the result would be good.

“Give it back now! Hob! Don't you dare text him!”

“Morpheus, wait! Trust me!”

“No! Give it back, Gadling! Now! He won't reply! I'm even in his blocklist, in case you forgot!”

Hob held his hands up as Morpheus nearly grabbed the phone. The vibration made them both freeze in place. Hob looked at the message line, smiled, and slowly handed Morpheus his gadget back so that he could see the screen.

Morpheus: Merry Christmas, my son.

Orpheus: Thanks. You too.

Morpheus stared at the screen. He didn't move, hardly breathed, his eyes were wide open. He read those three words over and over again, not believing that he had received them. And Hob stood next to him smiling with all his teeth.

Orpheus replied. So he unblocked his number. And he didn't ignore him. Something happened and Orpheus replied.

“Sometimes you have to take the first few steps yourself.” Hob smiled kindly.

When Morpheus got over the shock, he exhaled nervously and loudly and suddenly rested his head on his friend's shoulder.

“You are truly a miracle, Hob Gadling.” he whispered in a trembling voice, clutching the phone to his chest.

Hob felt his cheekbones turn red. He couldn't stop smiling and hesitantly hugged Morpheus by the shoulders.

By the way, Morpheus didn't return the opossum hoodie to him.

Chapter Text

It must have been the quietest Christmas for Hob and the happiest for Morpheus. In his family, holidays were treated much more simply, many of them were ignored, and only after marrying Calliope, Morpheus began to find out why they were needed at all. The purpose of each holiday is to have fun, relax, spend time with loved ones. Calliope taught him this, but after the divorce, he again forgot about the true essence of the holidays. However, sitting next to Hob, listening to his ringing laugh and seeing his bright smile, Morpheus remembered. He might even start looking forward to the holidays if they all went like this, with Hob.

Night is the time of Morpheus, clearly not his friend. Hob is a morning person, but he kept Morpheus company until late at night, even when he began to fall asleep on the go. Despite sleepiness, all attempts to put him to sleep failed.

Hob persuaded him to watch a Christmas movie. Morpheus didn't remember the last time he turned on the TV. To be honest, he forgot he even had a TV. He bought it for Jessamy, who as a chick loved to watch programs about animals in the wild, but her hobbies changed with age, and the TV has never been turned on since.

Less than fifteen minutes into the movie, Morpheus heard a soft snore to his right. Hob's head lay on the back of the sofa, he fell asleep in a sitting position, and Morpheus smiled weakly, remembering how he had slept in the same way at his house almost two months ago. Time flew by so fast. Morpheus managed to get Hob to a horizontal position. There was a problem with pillows: there were only three in his house, two of which lay on his bed, and one in Jessamy's small cat bed. He took both of his own, put one under Hob's head, and on the other lay himself on the opposite side of the sofa. Their legs were intertwined, but Morpheus was determined to watch Hob's chosen movie from beginning to end. Perhaps by immersing himself more in pop culture, he will be able to better understand Orpheus.

Morpheus was still clutching the phone in his hand. He couldn't believe that Orpheus replied him. It would seem such a trifle, but, being ignored for more than three years, it meant a lot to the unfortunate father. Hob gave him Orpheus' reply for Christmas. Morpheus was about to kick himself for almost refusing his help at some point.

At the end of the movie, Morpheus dozed off just like Hob did. Jessamy nestled comfortably in the nest in the space between their legs and wasn't going to leave it until one of the men accidentally chased her away in her sleep.

Morpheus dreamed of Orpheus. Small, no more than five years old, the boy sat on his knees and listened to his father read him one of his books. Morpheus was able to read beautifully and expressively, he used this skill to cradle his son until he was old enough to fall asleep on his own. Morpheus held a book in his hands and hugged the child whose eyes were already closing. Then someone's hands reached out to take Orpheus to put him to bed. At first it was the gentle hands of Calliope, which he isn't able to confuse with anyone else. But, as soon as they lifted Orpheus, the skin on them became tanned, and the palms were rougher with many small calluses. Morpheus knew who they belonged to. He raised his head to look at the man, but the moment he should have seen his face, the dream changed and now Morpheus was under blue and crystal clear water. He was drowning. The light above grew further, the water colder. Arms and legs floundered in an attempt to emerge, but nothing worked, the lungs began to burn from lack of air. It was terrifying to look down, he didn't want to know how soon he would reach the bottom, from which he could not push off. Resigned to his fate, Morpheus closed his eyes.

First there was only darkness. There was no more air left, Morpheus felt how life was leaving him. He didn't cling to it. The slight vibration of the water made him open his eyes and look away. Next to him went to the bottom Hob, whose had not been before. Morpheus knew that he was alone in the endless ocean, but now Hob was sinking, dreamily looking up at the fading light, and a light, carefree smile played on his lips. Hob turned his head to Morpheus, smiled wider and held out his hand. He didn't say anything, but Morpheus seemed to be able to hear his thoughts. «Hold on to me so we fall together». Morpheus unsteadily grasped his hand, and immediately realized that he no longer needed air in order to breathe underwater. And the light from above became brighter, illuminating the endless depths of the ocean, the bottom of which Morpheus never saw.

The annoying sound of a vibrating phone snapped him out of his sleep. There was a soft groan from the other side of the couch, then a light kick, a displeased croak of a raven, and a flutter of wings. Morpheus with difficulty opened one eye and a look full of hatred focused on the source of awakening. Everyone who had his personal number knew that he wasn't allowed to call him in the morning and afternoon, even if it was something urgent. Such matters were resolved through Lucienne. Morpheus should have turned off his phone when he went to bed, but he hadn't done that since Calliope called him on the worst day of his life. If something happens to Orpheus again, he should know about it right away.

Panic washed over him for a moment. What if that's Calliope again? What if Orpheus got into trouble? Morpheus immediately grabbed the phone and breathed a sigh of relief as another name flashed on the screen. Relief quickly turned to anger. A video call at 11am is the height of impudence. Morpheus yawned widely, settled into a sitting position with his feet dangling to the floor, and reluctantly accepted the call, only to let the troublemaker see how angry the man was.

“Matthew, I'll kill you.” Morpheus's voice was hoarse from sleep, but quiet and terrifying. A familiar round and panicked face stared back at him from the other side of the screen, the man's graying hair sticking out in all directions as if he hadn't gone to bed yet, hinted at by circles under his eyes that could compare to those of Morpheus.

“Boss, it's urgent. I'm leaving Scotland in three hours and you still haven't confirmed the location. I don't want you to quarter me if you don't like the angle of the fucking rock!”

Morpheus stared at his colleague with a blank face, trying to remember all the photos and videos he had received from Matthew for the past month. It's problematic to do such things when he just woke up, and his computer is too far away to open all the necessary files and refresh his memory. The loud voice from the phone made Hob groaned again, who still managed to stay in a dream. In protest to an outsider, he lightly hit his friend with his heel in the face. Morpheus, completely annoyed and bewildered, turned his head towards him and already opened his mouth for indignation, but the pacified face made it clear that Hob wouldn't hear a word. Damn, Morpheus wished he had the same sound sleep. He wondered if it's even possible to wake him up?

“Boss, is that… You’re like… well…With a man?…” Matthew coughed awkwardly.

“Yes.” Morpheus pushed Hob's leg off his knees and only then realized the context in which his answer had sounded. “No. Not really. This is my friend.” he looked again at the sleeping unshaven face and added hesitantly, “He's a man.”

“Friend?” Matthew asked incredulously. ”Friend, like, friend-friend? Like a friend colleague? Like me and Lucienne? Or a friend... you know...With benefits?”

“I have friends besides you and Lucienne.” Morpheus snapped. “It's a long story. Yes, the place is suitable, fill out the papers.”

Before Matthew could ask anything else, Morpheus ended the call and collapsed back onto the pillow. Sleeping on a couch half-occupied by another person wasn't at all comfortable, but he didn't want to get to his feet. Moreover, if he gets up, Jessamy will immediately begin to ask for food, but for now she dozed near her treasury, unhappy that she was kicked out of the cozy place. Morpheus snorted into the pillow and closed his eyes, instantly falling asleep.

This time he slept more lightly than usual, and woke up as soon as he felt Hob emptying half of the couch. Jessamy, hearing the sound of the pepful man, croaked and flew out of her hiding place. The bird landed on Hob's shoulder and began gently stroking his hair with its beak. Morpheus snorted. That's unfair. She treats him so gently, and the hair of her owner, who has taken care of her all her life, she tries to uproot at the first opportunity.

“Oh, did I wake you up? Sorry.”

“I don't have anything for breakfast.” Morpheus turned to the other side. “You better go home and pack your things. We are leaving in the evening.”

“Already? Why in the evening?” Hob fondly scratched Jessamy's chest feathers. She left his hair alone and pecked at his hand, which the man immediately withdrew. Morpheus smiled at the hurt sound Hob made. Something about Jessamy showing his temper even on him made him feel good.

“Because I work at night. Me or Lucienne will send you the time later.” Morpheus yawned loudly and pulled his knees up to his chest. “Feed Jessamy, if it's not difficult for you. She'll show you everything.”

Hob again tried to stroke the raven, which pecked at his hand more insistently. As soon as Jessamy noticed that he was going to the kitchen, she immediately flapped her wings and outstripped him. The smart bird tried to open the locker with its beak, behind which was its food, but it was locked specifically so that the raven wouldn't overeat. A small key hung on a hook below it. Hob somehow pushed Jessamy away from the door, opened it, pulled out a bag of bird food and poured it into a special feeder that stood on a separate small black table in the corner just for her. She was already waiting for breakfast near the empty feeder and urged the man on with her loud croaking. Hob hissed at her several times, afraid to disturb Morpheus's sleep, but in response to his hissing, the croaking only grew louder. Morpheus' bird is as stubborn as he is.

“Hey, are you sleeping?” Hob whispered when he finished feeding the raven. Morpheus looked at him over his shoulder with a frown.

“Yes, it's definitely possible to sleep with both of you in this house.” he growled viciously, to which Hob smiled guiltily.

“Sorry. I'll go home so as not to disturb you and have time to get ready.”

“Shut the door behind you.” Morpheus closed his eyes again. Today, it seemed like everyone wanted to disturb his sleep, which irritated him very much.

Morpheus wasn't a hospitable host. He didn't care what Hob thought of him, since he already knew that his new friend wasn't the nicest person in this country. And yet, Hob craved his company. Morpheus couldn't figure out why. Hob needs a good friend, which he wasn't. All this time, Hob just gave and gave. His time, attention, support, help. And what did he get in return? One vinyl record and a lot of problems.

Before the divorce, Calliope called Morpheus an egoist. Because of his selfishness, he lost his wife and son. The man felt that he didn't want to lose Hob. But he didn't know what to offer him in return, so that a balance would appear in their friendship.

After Hob's departure, there was a deathly silence in the house, broken only by the sounds of Jessamy. Attacked by his thoughts, Morpheus picked up the phone with a sigh and once again opened the correspondence with Orpheus, which consisted of only two messages in the last three years, except for a few that Orpheus ignored. It would be better if Hob was his father. Hob understands him. Morpheus was choking with envy and maybe a little jealousy. But he's a bad father, Hob could be better. It's surprising that he has no family or children.

Reluctantly, Morpheus got up from the sofa, realizing that he wouldn't be able to fall asleep a third time, and text Lucienne, who would have to send Hob a time when they would come for him. After a short dialogue, this time was set — 18:00. Well, there are still enough hours to work, get together and call Teleute, who will look after the house and Jessamy in his absence.

Jessamy never participated in Morpheus's travels. She was used to him disappearing from time to time, and after returning, she mocked him for a very long time because of it, but Morpheus simply couldn't afford to risk her. Jessamy hated collars, leashes, and special bracelets, and made loud scenes every time he tried to put something on her. And in an unfamiliar area, it's dangerous to let her out: suddenly someone or something will scare her, she will fly away and won't be able to return. Traveling with her somewhere from London is dangerous. It would be better for Morpheus to suffer her revenge than to drive around the forest and look for her. He doesn't even want to think about what will happen to him if something happens to his favourite pet.

Morpheus made a strong tea and thought for a long time, looking at his bar, whether to add alcohol there. Jessamy, after finishing her meal, tried to steal a shiny teaspoon from his mug.

“I won’t give you anything, traitor. Have Hob bring you spoons from his house.” Morpheus narrowed his eyes like a cat, clasped the mug in his hands and went to his desk. Raven didn't understand the reason for the touchy tone, so in the blink of an eye he was on the desk, suspiciously looking at a bunch of colorful stickers. “Don't even try, I'll buy a cage.” the owner warned sternly. The bird screamed loudly and flew to the second floor. Oh, she knows the word "cage". There was one in the house, they had to give it to a local shelter because of a quarrel between a bird and a man for two months.

With more than five hours, Morpheus had time to make a few more adjustments to the script, call in the cleaning, answer the costume director and a few actors, and gather the necessary things that fit into one small suitcase. There were few clothes there, yet Morpheus didn't plan to leave the house, despite the solitude with nature. Change of scenery also played an important role in his work. The main part of the luggage was occupied by books, notebooks and notepads necessary for work. The laptop and all technical accessories fit into a separate compartment. And only two types of clothing: if it's very cold and if not. That's enough for three days. Food is Lucienne's headache.

An hour before they left, Morpheus sent Hob a photo of Jessamy, which had stowed away in an open suitcase. Something tender and warm bloomed in his chest from the fact that Hob fell in love with his bird so much from the first sight of her. Jessamy is important to him, and Hob's opinion, as probably his closest friend, means a lot too. Hob replied that he was going to steal her while Morpheus was sleeping.

Well, Hob doesn't need to know how many of his messages cause Morpheus to smile a little or even a barely audible chuckle.

Morpheus didn't tell Teleute that this time he wouldn't be alone at his small travel. She still didn't know anything about Hob, except that he helps him with Orpheus. Perhaps she suspected something about them becoming a little closer than her brother had originally planned, but she didn't say anything about it and didn't even start talking about Orpheus or his professor. For which Morpheus is grateful to her. He himself isn't used to the fact that Hob has become an integral part of his life. Teleute safely helped her brother put the suitcase in the trunk, hugged him goodbye and didn't go into the house until the car disappeared around the corner, while she didn't stop waving her hand.

Morpheus appreciated all his colleagues and subordinates, although he didn't always show it. They all had their own merit, thanks to which they won his respect. But listening to Mervyn's endless chatter as the car drove up to Hob's house, Morpheus wondered why he was working as his driver. Couldn't they have found someone more silent? On the other hand, not everyone will agree to come at any time of the day or night. Plus, Merv played the role of a security guard at social events and could easily knock anyone out.

“Your face is too mournful.” Hob said smiling as he sat in the back seat next to Morpheus.

“Sit here with Merv for an hour and you will understand me.”

"Where's Jessamy? Won't she be with you?”

“With us. And no. She cannot be taken out of the city, she can be lost. My sister will look after her.”

Hob hummed in understanding. It was a little over two hours to get to the rented house, and Merv immediately began to talk about something again with Lucienne, who was sitting in the front seat. Lucienne didn't even have to answer, she only made some sounds from time to time to show that she was listening to him. Morpheus groaned silently, throwing his head back. Hob offered him one earphone, smiling. He held a phone in his hand and was about to turn on some kind of video: either a cartoon or something else.

Morpheus thought for a few seconds before taking the earpiece and moving closer to Hob. Yes, it really was some kind of animated series. Surprisingly, this work of art quickly captured the attention of the writer, and he couldn't tear himself away from the screen, because of which he didn't notice how Hob looked at him from time to time, and his gaze on the marble face lingered a little longer than necessary. Even Merv's chatter turned into background noise that Morpheus stopped hearing.

“Enjoying, huh?” Hob whispered to him with a slight chuckle. Morpheus, not distracted from the plot, put his index finger to his lips. The uneven breath that felt on his skin made him flinch. Hob gently grasped the hand and removed it from his face. His hand was far less rough than in Morpheus's dream, and for a split second he felt a pang of disappointment when Hob let it go.

By the time the car stopped, Morpheus and Hob had already found a point of contention and had been trying to prove something to each other for the last twenty minutes. Mervyn and Lucienne looked at each other. Their boss had never spoken to anyone for so long, loudly and emotionally. It was new. Even when they unloaded things, the argument didn't stop.

"Why are you so protective of Catra? You haven't even finished watching the first season! As someone who is rewatching this series for the third time, I declare that in these episodes she acts like a bitch.”

“One more hurtful word in her direction, and you will sleep on the rug.” Morpheus slammed the front door in Hob's face.

“Listen here, you son of a bitch!” Hob flung it open with all his strength and with a firm step went inside the house. Merv exhaled a cloud of tobacco smoke as he stood with Lucienne near the car.

“Well, Lush, should we bet that they will sleep here?” he asked melancholy, scratching at his red hair.

“Don't be silly. Let's go back.” Lucienne smiled and sat back into the saloon.

The house was large and comfortable, built of light wood. Morpheus immediately went up to the second floor, which had two bedrooms and one bathroom. He always slept in the same bed. Although "slept", of course, is a strong word. During his short trips to this place, Morpheus rarely closed his eyes, trying to squeeze the maximum productivity out of himself. He immediately closed the window with curtains and hung his few clothes in the closet. While Hob put food in the refrigerator and settled down, Morpheus set to work. The small coffee table was filled with books and notebooks in the blink of an eye. Taking a comfortable position, Morpheus began to read one of the books, from which many small colored bookmarks protruded. Since his main genre is fantasy, he very often turned to mythology, and before adding this or that reference to Greek myths to the story, they had to be studied from cover to cover.

When Hob finished with his things, he rested his elbows on the back of the old couch, leaning over Morpheus, who lay with his eyes closed and a book on his chest.

“Work is progressing productively, I see.” he chuckled. Morpheus opened his eyes and looked at the smug, always smiling face.

“I'm thinking.” he answered simply. “My job is not just writing. I study the material and build stories in my head. Before I start transferring them to paper, I have to work out every detail. Being a writer is not a sinecure.”

Hob walked around the furniture and picked up the notebooks that had fallen from the table.

"So what am I supposed to do here?"

"Make sure I don't get too carried away. I need sleep and food, but I forget about it when I withdraw into myself. Nothing else. Rest.”

Morpheus took a green marker and marked something in the book. Hob nodded and disappeared from sight. He made almost no sound, and while working on his notes, Morpheus completely forgot about his presence until someone's hand placed hot cocoa and a plate of fried vegetables next to him. Hob said nothing, only patted his friend on the head and left for the second floor. He kept quiet, for which Morpheus would have to thank him.

The hands on the clock showed twelve at night, then an hour, then two. Morpheus didn't even unpack his laptop and devoted all these hours exclusively to his manuscripts. Some torn sheets were already lying on the floor, a bunch of open books occupied all the free space around him. But plate and cup which Hob gave to him had been already in the dishwasher for a long time. A change of scenery greatly influenced inspiration, especially away from the city, and Morpheus turned into an obsessive, trying to do several things at the same time. It would have continued until morning, if he had not heard a scream from above, which instantly brought him back to reality.

Morpheus stood up, jumped over one step, went upstairs and without knocking burst into the room that Hob had occupied. What he saw amazed him. Even with his developed imagination, he couldn't imagine such a thing. Hob sat on the bed with his head in his hands, hiding his face in his knees and trembling. Trembling like a wounded animal.

“Hob? Hob, what happened?” Morpheus stepped closer. In the darkness, he didn't immediately notice that Hob was covering his ears, as if he didn't want to hear something. Morpheus sat carefully on the edge of the bed and touched his shoulder. Hob almost jumped on the spot and raised his head. Tears froze in his glassy, not yet awakened eyes, and his teeth clung to his lower lip to drown out the scream.

Morpheus always saw Hob with a smile on his face and sparkling eyes. He was an optimist, never lost heart and found light even in absolute darkness. He had never seen such Hob. Morpheus didn't know what to do. His hands covered Hob's and slowly lowered them down so he could hear his words.

“It's just a dream, Hob.” Morpheus whispered softly, causing his friend to flinch again and look away. One tear still rolled down his cheek, his lips trembled, and Hob hugged his knees, again hiding his face in them. Remembering how little Orpheus had nightmares, Morpheus put one hand on Hob's back, the other reached for the opposite shoulder, carefully turned Hob closer to him and hugged him. Whatever he dreamed, it terrified him. Hob didn't make a sound, but snuggled up to him and hesitantly wrapped one arm around Morpheus's waist.

Hob had never been so vulnerable. Whatever his dream was about, he clearly opened some kind of deep wound. How could Morpheus forget that even the brightest people face the horrors and injustices of the real world? He, as a writer, must always keep this in his head. Morpheus doesn't know at all what Hob went through. He never asked him about the past. Only once did a hint of something heavy appear when his eyes went blank while talking about playing the guitar. Maybe he should have asked then? Should he really get to know Hob? But Hob seems to be doing everything he can to protect something he hides deep within himself. Some part that he doesn't want to show anyone.

The trembling slowly subsided, and Hob removed his hand, however, Morpheus still held him in his arms. He is not strong in words, but when Orpheus was small, he was reassured by the presence of a parent. With Hob, this tactic seems to have worked as well.

“I hold you. Should I stay with you?” Morpheus whispered in his ear. Hob breathed nervously into his shoulder and said nothing. Perhaps he was afraid that his voice would tremble. When Morpheus released him, he didn't raise his eyes, looking somewhere into the void. There were no wet streaks on his face, which meant he hadn't cried at all. Morpheus's chest tightened at how miserable Hob looked. That's not right. Hob has such a beautiful smile that should not fade away, and his lively laughter seemed to paint the world around with bright colors. Hob is so beautiful when he is happy. Morpheus tucked a strand of brown hair behind his ear and placed a hand on his cheek.

“Hob, look at me.” he asked, to which Hob tightened his lips, inhaled more air, and finally looked Morpheus in the eyes. Despite how broken he was, he still tried to smile.

Morpheus stroked his cheekbone with the pad of his thumb and lightly pressed his chest with his other hand to make Hob lie down. Morpheus rested his head on a nearby pillow opposite him.

“Sleep. I will be with you until you fall asleep. I promise.”

Hob nodded weakly and pulled the blanket up to his shoulders. Morpheus saw his face gradually relax and felt his breathing even out. He had plenty of time to examine Hob's face from such close proximity. There were little freckles on his cheeks and nose that could easily be overlooked. Under the jaw line was a small scar, which was hidden by light bristles. Dark long eyelashes quivered slowly as Hob fell asleep. The hand was still on his cheek. Morpheus touched his face for the first time and he used to think that the vegetation on it was unpleasantly prickly, but, surprisingly, it turned out not to be.

Hob is indeed a very handsome man. More beautiful than the writer thought. He really wanted to transfer this beauty to paper, to give some character the same pleasant facial features, so that Hob would forever be imprinted in his work.

Morpheus guarded Hob's dream for a long time. He admired his face, touched his wrinkles and hair with his fingertips, and didn't notice the passage of time. However, in the morning, Hob woke up alone, as if Morpheus had never been with him.

It wasn't on the ground floor either. The place where he worked was littered with creative chaos from all the items he used. If Hob had looked a little more closely, he would have noticed one notebook, in which, instead of texts and diagrams, there were sketches of his sleeping face.

Morpheus slept no more than five hours. Even though he returned to this house every year, it was still hard for him to relax in it, so even for his biological clock, he left the bedroom too early. Hob was sitting in the kitchen watching some YouTube video. He promised that he wouldn't continue to watch the series without him. Seeing Morpheus walk into the kitchen like a ghost, Hob choked on his coffee.

“Morpheus!” he screamed. Morpheus put the electric kettle on to boil and turned sleepily to his friend, whose face was slightly reddened.

“What?”

“Clothes!”

“Ah…” the writer looked at himself. He stood in the middle of the kitchen in his boxers. “I sleep naked when I’m not passing out at your house. Forget you are here.”

“I suppose I should thank you for having pants in this case?”

“Shall I take them off?”

“Morpheus!” Hob cleared his throat and turned away, studiously ignoring him. Morpheus chuckled, made himself some tea and left it to cool, while he himself went back upstairs. When he returned, he was already wearing black sweatpants and a gray sweatshirt.

“That's better?”

“Shut up.” Hob by force of will did not look up from the phone.

Morpheus sat down next to him, warming his hands with a cup. He thought about last night. Hob showed no signs of stress. Should this topic be brought up? Morpheus wasn't good at such conversations, but he could not ignore what had happened either. Especially since he was going to become the friend Hob deserved.

“Are you okay?” he asked uncertainly.

“Yeah, sure.” Hob replied serenely, continuing to look at the screen of the device.

“And to be honest?”

Hob shuddered. He put the phone face down, his shoulders tensed and his brows furrowed.

“I think so, yes. Thanks for asking.”

“Do you want to tell me what you dreamed about?” Morpheus wondered if he should take his hand. But he's not sure how the gesture will be received. If you're not sure, it's better not to do it.

The silence dragged on. Hob doubted his answer and looked like a guilty puppy.

“You don't have to talk if you don't trust me enough. It's fine.”

“No, that's not the point.” Hob sighed and straightened his hair, pushing it out of his face. “It's just... I'm not sure I'm strong enough to talk about it. At least for now. Maybe someday. I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. I understand.” Morpheus took a few sips of sweet tea. "But you should bear in mind that I'll be glad to know what's on your mind. I won't judge or treat you differently.”

A low chuckle escaped from Hob. Then another. And, unable to restrain himself, Hob laughed. Morpheus felt offended at first. This is not the reaction he expected when he tried to show concern. But looking at his face, Morpheus smiled. The laugh was a mixture of relief and something else he couldn't understand.

“Thank you, Morpheus. I won't forget that.”

Morpheus wanted to touch that smile with his fingers. This is how Hob should look like. He must shine. Morpheus is a shadow, and a shadow is highly dependent on the light source. The brighter Hob shines, the more inspiration Morpheus feels, despite the time of day outside the window.

Taking a nearly full mug, Morpheus returned to his work. This time, he finally opened his laptop and began to transfer one of the diagrams he had drawn to electronic form, while correcting it. Hob walked past him, left a bowl of cereal beside him, then disappeared for a few minutes and then came back. He sat down in a large comfortable chair, threw his legs over its arm, put a pillow under his head and began to read one of the books he had brought with him. Morpheus smiled faintly. He liked being around Hob, because his presence gave him strength and comfort.

When he withdrew into himself, time again ceased to matter. The writer's world narrowed down to him and his notes, everything else no longer existed. He didn't notice Hob, or the sound of the wind outside the window, or the long-forgotten remnants of tea. He snapped out of his trance when he felt Hob's fingers in his hair and looked up at the man behind him.

“You need a break.” Hob smiled at him.

“I just got to work.”

“It's been four hours.”

“I don't need rest.” Morpheus turned back to his laptop. Hob sat down beside him and nudged him with his shoulder.

“Are you sure? But what if you get a little distracted by, maybe, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power?” Hob twitched his eyebrows, and Morpheus froze. Inside him, a struggle began between what he wants and what he needs. The book won't write itself, but... Morpheus sighed.

“Only a couple of episodes.”

“I knew you wouldn't resist.”

Morpheus snorted. He made more space by placing his notes on the table, but Hob didn't move an inch and their shoulders were still touching. When Hob turned on the cartoon, Morpheus forgot himself immediately. He even grabbed his hand just above the elbow at a particularly emotional moment and did not notice it.

And it's Hob's fault that "a couple of episodes" turned into them watching the whole season. When Morpheus realized how much time had passed, he frowned at Hob, trying to convey all his indignation and displeasure with one expression on his face.

“Don't look at me like that, you made me!” Hob was outraged. “I can't look at your cat eyes and say no when you're waiting for me to turn on the next episode. Sue me for this.”

Morpheus rolled his eyes. He moved back, lifted his legs, and with all his might threw Hob off the couch. It sounded like someone had shot a seagull.

“Get out of here, I have to work.”

“I can't. You killed me.” Hob groaned somewhere on the floor. Morpheus sighed, but still bent down to check if everything was all right with his friend. It was a mistake, as Hob immediately turned on his back, grabbed Morpheus by the arm and dropped him on top of himself with an evil laugh. The man growled low and tried to get up, but Hob held him so tightly to his chest that he could only twitch his arms. When the twitching stopped, Hob loosened his grip and Morpheus slowly rose on his elbows, looking down at him.

“You are unbearable.” he growled, but without anger in his voice. Hob just smiled and shrugged.

As soon as Morpheus returned to work, he again went completely into his fictional world and didn't leave it until Hob placed food in front of him, hinting at dinner. But he didn't touch his plate for about half an hour before Hob brazenly slammed the lid of his laptop in his face. There was no longer any strength to argue, so Morpheus obediently began to eat, fixing Hob with a displeased look.

Before leaving, he patted him on the head again, as he had done the previous evening. Morpheus was starting to get used to it.

The quieter the house got, the more Morpheus listened. He was afraid to hear the scream again. How often does Hob have nightmares? If only he could do something about it...

Worrying about Hob prevented him from fully concentrating on his work, which began to annoy him. Around one in the morning, Morpheus heard soft footsteps behind him and turned around. Sleepy Hob stood by the stairs, wrapped in the blanket he had brought with him.

“Sorry, may I sit with you? I can't sleep.”

Morpheus nodded. Hob sank into the same chair, curled up and closed his eyes. Usually Morpheus was nervous when someone was near him while he wrote, but this time he was relieved. As he continued to see Hob out of the corner of his eye, the anxiety subsided quickly and he was able to concentrate on his work.

Hob barely moved. Morpheus couldn't tell when he fell asleep because he didn't watch him as closely as he had the night before. When it began to lighten outside the window, he put the computer on the table, carefully folded all the records in the order known only to him, and got up from the sofa with a slight groan. His legs were stiff and his knees cracked slightly. Morpheus was about to leave for the room, but his eyes fell on the sleeping Hob. His back will probably hurt when he wakes up.

It's a bad idea. Very bad. Morpheus was strong, but he wasn't sure if he was strong enough to lift Hob without dropping him. But he also couldn't leave him in the shrimp position. Sighing, Morpheus went to the chair, gathered his strength and lifted the sleeping man in the blanket into his arms. It's hard, but tolerable. Trying not to bump into anything in the darkness, Morpheus slowly climbed up to the second floor, kicked open the door, and laid Hob down on the bed.

“How much do you weigh?” the writer muttered, looking at his friend who was snoring.

Hob will never know that before leaving, Morpheus left a light kiss on his forehead.

This time he managed to sleep. When Morpheus woke up, the first thing he heard as he left the room was Hob talking to someone on the phone. He froze on the stairs when he realized that it was about him. It's not good to eavesdrop, but Morpheus was never the right person either.

“Stop grumbling, he doesn’t keep me here as a prisoner.” Hob said while he was cooking. “And no, I'm not a housekeeper. This is my initiative. Look, what's wrong with me taking care of my best friend? No, you lost that status the moment you tried to put a pack of condoms and a rubber dick in my bag. Jo, how would I explain this baggage to him? Think what you're talking about!”

Morpheus covered his mouth with his hand, trying not to laugh. Collecting himself, he descended and entered the kitchen without making a single sound.

“Jo, I love you endlessly, but if you send him this photo, I will curse you to the seventh knee, I swear. Besides…” Hob turned, shouldering the phone. When he saw his friend, he almost dropped his bottle of milk. “Morpheus, clothes!”

Morpheus ignored his outrage and looked over his shoulder. Hob accurately calculated the time by which he should wake up, and prepared him breakfast in the form of toast. He took his phone and put it to his ear.

“Constantine, I'm taking him for a few minutes. Call him later when I'm at work.” Morpheus hung up the call and gave the phone to the owner.

“Audacity second happiness. Sit down, if you're not going to get dressed.”

Hob put breakfast in front of him and, like a limp doll, sat him at the table, not even letting him get a cup. Morpheus followed his every move with a lazy eye. Surprisingly, Hob even added the right amount of sugar to the tea. He didn't expect Hob to be so attentive to him.

“May I ask you something?” Hob said carefully. Morpheus took the toast in his mouth and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“You may.”

“You don't like eggs, do you? Why didn't you tell me about it then? Forcing yourself to eat something you don't like... I'd cook something else, you know”.

“I didn't force myself. If I don't want to, I don't eat.” Morpheus shrugged. “I ate because you made it for me. You showed concern when I wasn't feeling well. I'm not used to being taken care of. And I thank you for that. You showed attention to me, dedicated your time to me. The taste of awareness of such things was stronger than my dislike for eggs.”

Hob caught the reddened earlobe between his fingers and looked away. Morpheus wiped his hands with a napkin and smiled at him.

“Thank you, Hob Gadling. I'm lucky to have a friend like you.”

Hob chuckled nervously. He looked pretty cute when he was embarrassed. Clearing his throat, Hob looked out the window, then at Morpheus, his brown eyes twinkling.

“Get ready. I'll take you outside.”

“No. It's cold there.” the man clutched at his cup as if it could hold him in place. Hob looked him up and down.

“Said the man who sits in front of me in his underwear.”

“I don't have enough warm clothes for walks in the forest. I didn't mean to go out.”

“Huh, is it the problem? Sit here, don't go anywhere.” Hob stole one toast from Morpheus's plate and ran upstairs. Less than five minutes later he returned with his blue sweatshirt.

Looking at his confident face, Morpheus realized that he could not escape his fate.

Chapter Text

The snow has turned an ordinary forest into a fairy-tale place where magic happens behind almost every tree in the children's books. Hob strode purposefully ahead and talked about all the fun historical facts about snow and winter that came to his mind. He prided himself on his knowledge of useless information that can be told even to those who are not interested in history. From under Morpheus's black coat, a blue sweatshirt came out, hiding his nose, and sweatpants were only meant for warmth inside the house, so even Hob's socks didn't warm his legs much, but he courageously hid his shivers and allowed his friend to lead further and further. Hob stopped and half turned to face Morpheus when he realized that the distance between them had greatly increased.

“Come on, my friend, make your face simpler. You need to get out into the fresh air sometimes.”

“I’m quite comfortable in the house.” Morpheus tried to hide his nose deeper into the cloth. Hob snorted merrily. When he caught up with him, they went in step.

It's funny, when Hob first met Morpheus, he would say that this man is the personification of winter. He is just as cold and gloomy, his mood changing from any phrase is like a blizzard that sweeps away everything in its path. But now, oh, now it's different. Winter doesn't suit Morpheus. He was born for the warmth that comes in the middle of spring and breathes new life into people and nature.

“You fell silent.” Morpheus suddenly said. “You never told how that battle ended.”

Hob laughed and nudged his friend playfully.

“I didn’t think you were really listening to me. In general, more than nine thousand people took part in it. Can you imagine? Nine thousand people who play snowballs! During the civil war! Of course, the top banned such games after that. But in history it remained the Great Snow Battle of 1863.”

“Marvelous.” Morpheus' voice seemed to warm up. Half of his face was hidden by his clothes, but his eyes were smiling at Hob. What a blessing that one can blame frost in a reddened face. Hob is not used to this kind of attention from Morpheus, he always seems rather indifferent to everything that doesn't concern Orpheus. But lately he has become much more attentive to Hob himself and to what he says. He didn't ignore his messages when they couldn't see each other, and they corresponded every day. Unfortunately, Morpheus never agreed to a phone call.

The more Hob was in his presence, the more he fell in love with him. It gave him immeasurable pleasure to argue with him and tease him, as well as to take care of him. He furtively glanced at how Morpheus worked, and could not tear himself away from this view. Morpheus is so charming when he thinks and travels through the limitless universes of his fantasies. He always frowns when he suddenly stops writing or drawing, and Hob longed to smooth out the wrinkle between his eyebrows with his finger. Maybe even kiss it. Also, Morpheus pouts insanely cute when faced with difficulty, and on his face you can see all the pain of the world when he has to cross out something or tear out sheets from notebooks. Hob could watch Morpheus write for hours. Well, actually, he did. Hob was standing in the kitchen with a perfect view of the sofa where Morpheus worked. He wanted to give him just one look, and then he realized that the cup of coffee or hot chocolate in his hands was already cold, and for more than thirty minutes he stood motionless, lovingly watching every slightest action of the writer. Hob is grateful to all the gods for the opportunity to witness such a beautiful sight. He is sure that only a few could boast that Morpheus allowed them to be around during his brainstorming. Lest his friend regret it, Hob tried not to make any noise, to keep quiet for his industrious friend, as if he were not there at all.

Morpheus could sit in one position for several hours, but at the same time he never complained of pain in his body, as if it really was made of marble. Looking at the fallen snow, Hob wondered if he was as agile as he looked. But his devious plan died in the bud when Morpheus kicked him roughly, causing Hob to nearly fall face first into the snowdrift.

“Don't even think about throwing snow at me. You will not return from this forest.”

“It wasn't even in my thoughts!” Hob lied, trying to look as insulted as possible. Morpheus' brow twitched in disbelief, and his contemptuous gaze spoke louder than words. Hob raised his hands at head level, showing him his palms, and only then Morpheus resumed his step, slowly turning his head away from him.

Another little detail Hob noticed: Morpheus rarely looked anywhere but straight ahead. His chin is always held up proudly, like he was some kind of royalty. Perhaps his family is indeed from the upper class, given his financial condition. And yet, in Hob's sweatshirt and almost sleeping sweatpants, calling Morpheus a lord was out of the question.

Morpheus's head slowly rose, causing his nose and mouth to pop out of their warm hiding place. His lips parted a little, and if Hob hadn't been studying him so closely over the past few months, he wouldn't have noticed the uneven sigh. Morpheus's eyes looked up at the overcast sky, where the clouds hid the already dim sun. Hob stood beside him and also raised his head, trying to understand what he saw there.

“The sky inspires me.” Morpheus said softly in a dreamy voice. “It helps to think. Despite the vast size of the planet, all people are under the same sky. Realizing this every time is quite...amazing. When I... lacked your company, I looked up and thought you weren't as far away from me as it seemed. One sky, one earth, even one city.”

Hob inhaled too much frosty air and struggled to suppress a cough.

“Did you miss me?” the question came out too surprised, for which Hob felt ashamed. Hell, of course, they are friends, friends often miss each other. But this confession still made his stupid heart to disperse the blood through the veins faster and light the flame of hope for mutual feelings. Hob didn't like that. He didn't want to hope, he tried to convince himself that friendship was enough for him. Just being able to be close to Morpheus is already a gift.

“Your presence doesn’t bother me.” Morpheus answered him, and Hob smiled from ear to ear.

“You did miss me.“

Morpheus was silent. He continued to look at the sky without moving, like a marble statue. Snowflakes were falling from above, some of them entangled in his black hair and long eyelashes. Hob wanted so badly to brush them off, but he didn't dare touch that beautiful face.

“I like the sky too.” Hob admitted, but he wasn't looking at it at all. “It's the same color as your eyes.”

Realizing what he had just said, the man immediately pursed his lips tightly. Morpheus blinked and looked at him.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing. Let's go back, otherwise you'll get sick.” Hob grabbed him by the elbow and led him back to the house. Stupid, stupid Gadling. He needs to think more often before speaking. The hope that was born in his chest loosened his tongue and at the same time turned off his brain.

Luckily for him, Morpheus didn't comment it. Hob is unlikely to ever know for sure whether he heard him or not. But the gaze was physically felt on the back of the head. Hob would not forgive himself if he ruined their friendship with such stupidity.

Going outside wasn't such a bad idea. Despite Hob's confident step, the return journey took quite a long time, precisely because of Morpheus, who kept stopping to peer at some detail in a tree or bush. Especially for a long time they stood near the frozen lake. Hob wished they had their skates with them. He mentally promised himself to go with Morpheus to the skating rink one day. It will be a long fight with endless grumbling and maybe even a raised voice, but Hob will do anything to get his way and see the most beautiful creature on the skates. Wondering if he even knows how to ride?

The walk took no more than half an hour. To be honest, it took much longer for Hob to persuade him. As an apology, he immediately made two cups of hot chocolate with marshmallows and placed one next to Morpheus, who threw a blanket over the sweatshirt. He had said beforehand that he wouldn't give it away until he was warm, but Hob wouldn't mind if he stole it just like the previous hoodie. Morpheus in Hob's clothes looked very cute and small due to the difference in shoulder width. Hob sat down next to him and a comfortable silence enveloped them, broken only by the sound of the heater. Taking advantage of the moment, Hob examined the drawings that lay on the table. Some of them had sketches of some monsters, but basically all the paper was covered with tables and diagrams. Morpheus followed his gaze, took one of his notebooks, opened it to the correct page, and handed it to Hob.

“Such visual drawings help to work out the characters and the world.” he explained. On the diagram was written the name of the character, from which came a bunch of arrows. Everything was spelled out in it: from age and goals to a childhood nightmare. Interestingly, everything written was interconnected with each other. Hob hadn't thought about how difficult a writer's job was before.

Morpheus placed his laptop on his lap and set to work. Hob didn't flip through the notebook, and placed it carefully on the edge of the table. The worlds of Morpheus are a very intimate place. In addition, it would be very rude of him to try to find out from him what his new story is about. Hob learned to understand Morpheus. Maybe not completely, but enough not to offend him.

In order not to disturb his friend, Hob went to a room on the second floor. He took with him some papers for work. Although he had everything done for the university, he still had a pub on his shoulders, which also needed to fill out reports and accounting documents. And at the same time he called Johanna, remembering that their previous conversation had been rudely interrupted.

“So, Morpheus came to you without clothes and took away your phone. And you called me only an hour later. Anything you want to tell me, Hob "Casanova" Gadling?” For some reason, the amusement in Johanna's voice hurt his pride.

“There was nothing, Jo. He just... Well... He sleeps with no clothes on.”

“Next to you.”

“No!” Hob sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He shouldn't fall for her teasing. “As much as I wish you were right, I can't influence that. And I don't want to. Apparently, he has a habit of walking around the house in his underwear. I remind him that he needs to get dressed.”

“In vain. I'm pretty sure you really like the look.” Johanna giggled. Hob bit his bottom lip to keep from smiling, even though she couldn't see him.

“I can't deny it. He looks great.”

“You're a whore, Hob.”

“Shut up.”

Hob ruffled his hair, climbed up on the bed with his feet and laid out the documents in front of him with a calculator. Working with Johanna is difficult, but fun.

He didn't tell her that he fell asleep in one place at night, but woke up in a completely different. But the thought of Morpheus carrying him in his arms did strange things to Hob. Inside his stomach, something was twisting into a tight knot and pulling down hard, and his heart was beating so loudly that he was afraid that Morpheus would hear it. Hob has always been attracted to strong men, but this attraction was completely different, something unexplored.

Not to think about it, Hob listened with interest about how Johanna's Christmas went, talked to Rachel and promised her to look after her niece when he had time. Rachel liked to use him as a babysitter during her nephews' visits, but Hob loved children and always agreed enthusiastically. These kids grew up before his eyes, and the thought that he played an important role in their lives helped him feel special.

Hob thought he had more work to do than he actually had, and while talking to his friends, he didn't notice how he got it all done. Proud of himself, he put the documents in his bag beforehand so as not to forget them.

“Okay, I'm done. I'll go check Morpheus. We had a great chat.”

“But I would never trade you for a dick.” Johanna said offended.

“Really?” Hob chuckled. “As far as I remember, you did this when you dated Sam every fucking time.”

“It doesn't count.”

“Yes, it does. I never liked him. You have terrible taste in men.”

"Remind me who's your crush right now?"

“Good night!” Hob pressed the red button and sighed. It wasn't quite night yet, of course, but he needed to end this pointless conversation.

Grabbing the book, the man went downstairs. Morpheus was talking to Lucienne via video link. Hob plopped down next to him and waved at her, to which the woman responded with a kind smile. The call quickly ended, and Morpheus returned to his work. He glanced briefly at Hob and the phone in his hand, then arched an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Do you play virtual farm?” Morpheus asked, and in the even timbre of his voice Hob could make out a subtle sneer.

“And Tetris. Yes, I know. Come on, joke about my age, it's so hilarious.” Hob rolled his eyes.

“You know I'm better than that.” Morpheus snorted and turned back to his laptop. His fingers tapped on the keys. Hob relaxed. “Tell me, at what age do history teachers retire?”

Not finding any pillow at hand, Hob took his friend's notebook from him and hit him on the head with it. Morpheus looked both offended and pleased with himself.

”You're just unbearable!”

Hob could have sworn that for a split second, Morpheus practically laughed. Well, it was close. He'll get his laugh. Some day.

The closer the night drew, the more uncomfortable Hob felt. He hadn't had nightmares about his tragedy in a very long time, but the feelings that had blossomed because of Morpheus woke them up. And he is was to return to them. Hob struggled with drowsiness to the last: he cooked dinner, played games on the phone, read, watched different videos. And he didn't go far from Morpheus. It was more comfortable and calmly to be around him.

“Hob, it's late already.” Morpheus said as he saw the man next to him almost drop the book from his hands.

“It's fine. I'm still upbeat.” Hob suppressed a yawn and smiled. Morpheus didn't believe him, it was written all over his face. Sighing, Hob put the book down. “Can I stay with you again? To be honest, I'm afraid to fall asleep.”

“I told you that I would guard your sleep.” Morpheus smiled softly at him. “It wasn't just for one night. Your dreams are under my protection.”

Hob chuckled. He lay down next to him, turning on the side. His legs dangled uncomfortably off the couch, but the top of his head was touching Morpheus' thigh, so he was willing to endure anything to maintain that light physical contact. His friend didn't object. In this position, Hob couldn't sleep for a long time, but his head quickly emptied, and the fear just as quickly dissolved in his chest. He was almost asleep when he felt long fingers in his hair. Hob's eyes snapped open and he held his breath, but he didn't move. Morpheus's fingers massaged Hob's scalp and ran through his hair in slow, fluid motions. Hob swallowed. To look at the face of Morpheus, he needed to raise his head. If he did it, the hand could stop these unexpected caresses. Deciding it wasn't worth the risk, Hob closed his eyes again, relaxing. He couldn't help the happy smile on his lips.

Hob allowed himself to imagine how he caught his fingers in his hand, brought them to his lips and kissed each of them tenderly. He would rest his head on Morpheus's thigh, press his nose against his belly and wrap his arms around his waist. Maybe he would even lift his clothes up to kiss the soft skin underneath. He would whisper how much he love him and feel the touch of someone else's hand on his cheek.

The pictures in his mind were so vivid and realistic that Hob believed in them. And then he fell asleep. From time to time he woke up for a few seconds, either from pain in the lower back, or from stiff knees, but very quickly fell asleep again with the feeling of someone else's hand in his hair. Likewise, he woke up as his body rose above the couch, but sleep prevented Hob from realizing what was happening and immediately took him to the world of dreams.

When Hob woke up in his bed, he touched his forehead with his fingertips. He dreamed that someone's soft lips kissed him there. And he knew who they belonged to. It was a fleeting dream, but Hob had never dreamed of anything so real. It's like it actually happened. Hob hid his face in the pillow and groaned loudly. He is doomed and he is hopeless.

Hob spent almost an hour under the covers, trying to remember that dream, but nothing came of it. But he remembered Morpheus's hand in his hair, and it kindled the fire in him again. Hob could read signs and hints, but damn it, it's Morpheus. None of his words or actions can be judged by the standards of normal people. He has his own rules. It's impossible to know for sure what is acceptable to him in close friendships and what is not. Hob wasn't about to act rashly. It would be better for him to look at him longer and try to catch hints of reciprocal sympathy than to jump into the abyss like this. Hob values him too much to act recklessly.

He didn't want to get out of bed, although the clock showed almost noon. Hob spent another hour browsing social media and replying to a couple of messages. Apart from Johanna and Rachel, no one knew where he was. For everyone else, he was just "away on family business." Johanna had already joked that Morpheus somehow quickly became a family. In the end, he had to force himself to part with the blanket and pillows, change clothes, wash himself and go to the first floor. Walking past the couch, Hob noticed sticking out black hair. He stepped closer and smiled. Morpheus fell asleep right at work. On his chest lay a notebook, a notepad, a red pen and a pencil. Hob rested his elbows on the back of the couch where his sweatshirt was hanging, and propped his head on his hand, not wanting to deny himself the opportunity to admire such a beautiful sight.

Morpheus's lips were slightly parted, one of his hands rested on his stomach, and the other lay under his head. His eyelashes trembled barely perceptibly, his chest fell and rose evenly. He was incredibly handsome. Beautiful as the night sky itself, adorned with stars. A man like Hob is not allowed to touch this work of art. And yet, yielding to desire, Hob gently touched the line of the jaw, stroked it with his thumb, ran his hand up to the chin. He wanted to touch those gorgeous pink lips, too. They looked incredibly soft. But Hob couldn't. This man didn't belong to him. Sighing, Hob removed his hand, not wanting to wake the sleeping beauty with his actions.

Morpheus is far from innocent. He is not a saint. And yet he is not a monster either. Hob couldn't imagine Morpheus locking Orpheus up in the hospital on purpose, that he wanted to get rid of him. Of course, Orpheus is easy to understand, he told how he sees the situation with his own eyes. And, it's likely that his vision is much more consistent with reality than the vision of Morpheus. But Hob needs to know what he was thinking, otherwise they both can't be helped. Hob knows how to be fair. Although he loves Morpheus, Orpheus is also important to him. He is attached to this child.

Morpheus stirred. In an attempt to turn on his side, the belongings lying on him fell to the floor. His eyes opened, he blinked slowly and looked at Hob, who watched with a smile as his friend woke up from his sleep.

“Good morning princess.” Hob cooed, tilting his head slightly to the side. Morpheus blinked again. Then he took a seated position and looked around as if he were in this house for the first time.

“I fell asleep. At night.” he said hoarsely. Hob chuckled.

“Yeah, like all normal people. Congratulations, you are one step closer to mere mortals.”

“Very funny.” Morpheus picked up his things from the floor. Hob jumped over the back of the coach to sit next to his friend.

“Something happened? Or just not in the mood? I found a chocolate bar yesterday, I can bring it if you want, it will make your morning a little bit better.”

Morpheus clenched the pencil in his hands. Hob thought he was about to break it.

“Not necessary.”

He wanted to say something else. Hob felt it. But rushing Morpheus to speak is like making a sleepy cat chase a mouse. So Hob waited for the whirlwind in the writer's mind to help him find the right words.

“I had a dream about Orpheus.” Morpheus sighed. He avoided looking at Hob, his eyes downcast. Like he was ashamed. Like he blamed himself for something. Hob could guess what else the dream was about. Morpheus had really taken Hob's advice months ago seriously, and was now thinking very carefully about what he should and shouldn't say. Hob was proud of him for that.

“Orpheus told me what happened.” Hob admitted. He really wanted to touch at least the skinny shoulder, but to keep his hands in place, he interlaced his fingers into the lock. “He told everything. About Eurydice and...other things.”

Morpheus nodded. He put his belongings aside, and Hob noticed a shudder go through him.

“Do you despise me now?” that's more of a statement of fact than a question. Hob snorted, shaking his head.

“You're such an idiot. We spend so much time together, and you still don't understand that I won't leave you, even if you kill a person?” he smiled reassuringly. “Now tell me your version. Orpheus said you wanted to get rid of him. I like Orpheus, but I don't believe in that”.

Morpheus clenched the hands in his lap into fists. He was silent for more than two minutes, Hob could almost hear the gears working in his head. It's a tough topic, but they've avoided it long enough. Maybe he'll even feel better when he speaks out.

“I didn't want to get rid of him.” Morpheus began. “I just… didn’t know what to do. I came to him when I found out about what happened to Eurydice. She was a good girl, she and Orpheus really loved each other. I contacted my siblings, found the best lawyer, and made sure the murderer got the punishment he deserved. But I was more busy with the trial than with Orpheus himself. I didn't see how the death of Eurydice affected him. When the murderer was put behind bars, I thought it was all over. Three days later Calliope called me in tears. I rushed to him immediately.”

Morpheus paused. He inhaled noisily and closed his eyes, the trembling in his hands becoming more noticeable. Hob brought him a glass of water, but Morpheus didn't touch it, only focused his gaze on its surface.

“I arrived at the hospital, but neither I nor Calliope were allowed to see him for several hours. When we were allowed to enter the ward, he was lying unconscious. Pale and with a bandaged neck. He looked like a corpse. I will never forget it. We spent the whole day with him. When Orpheus woke up, he didn't say a word, didn't even look at us. His glassy eyes were focused on nothing and…” Morpheus bit his lip as his voice trembled. Hob still put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it, trying to keep him from getting lost in those terrible memories. “and... And he looked so...disappointed that he was awake. He didn't say anything the next day either. Like the third one. He needed help, but I couldn't help him. So I told Calliope that Teleute, my sister, and I had found a suitable hospital. If Orpheus returned home, he would repeat his attempt. Who knows, he would have succeeded a second time. Calliope tried to tell me that before sending him there, I need to talk to him. But I was so... scared that I didn't listen to her. I wanted to send him to a safe place as soon as possible. Where there are people who can help him. Because I am powerless. Orpheus decided that I did this because I didn't want to take care of him by myself. I wanted. Want. But this is beyond my capabilities.”

Morpheus pinched the bridge of his nose. He was breathing heavily, clinging to the edges of his shirt. Hob gave him time in silence. Morpheus rarely talked so much. Actually, Hob didn't expect this. He thought that Morpheus, in his usual manner, would put a huge story in two or three sentences, but he told him everything. In general, everything. Morpheus trusted Hob. This story was not easy for him, and he was on the verge of crying. Tears froze in his reddened eyes, he did his best to keep them there.

“You can still do something for him.” Hob said softly and smiled. “Talk to him. He should know that you wanted to do the best. That you were afraid of everything what happened. Orpheus is a smart boy, though terribly stubborn. He may need time to think it over, but he will definitely understand. Morpheus, he needs your words. Much more than I. I will prepare him for this dialogue, and you'll tell him everything that you have just told me. Even now, he wants your care and wants to feel loved by his father.”

Morpheus licked his dry lips. Finally, he found the courage to turn his face to Hob, and there was surprise in his eyes. What an idiot he is. He believed with all his heart that Hob would turn his back on him. He wonder how much more time must pass for Morpheus to understand that Hob will even jump into Hell after him and won't regret it for a second.

“Stop doing that.” he muttered darkly. Hob was at a loss, expecting anything from him but these.

“What?”

“Stop smiling at me when you're upset.”

Morpheus removed Hob's hand from his shoulder, but, surprisingly, did not let go of it.

“Why are you so sad? Don't try to say it's because of me. There's something else.”

Hob chuckled nervously. Something in his chest hurt a lot and he hated that feeling. It arose every time Morpheus got close to Orpheus. First the joy for both of them, and then...this. 

“Did I disappoint you?”

“No! No, no, no, not at all. Never. Morpheus, you have to work hard to disappoint me.” Hob smiled again, but the smile quickly faded under the piercing gaze. He sighed. “I'm sure you'll soon be able to manage without my help. As soon as Orpheus speaks to you. And, well... I'll miss you. Both of you.”

Morpheus's hand squeezed Hob's. It was cold as ice, but for some reason this gesture warmed her more than the strongest heater in the house.

"You don't want to do business with me when our deal is up?"

“I just won't be need anymore.” Hob smiled bitterly. “I wish I could delay this moment, but I can’t watch you suffer.”

Morpheus let go of Hob's hand and slapped him so hard on the back of the head that he nearly fell to the floor. Hob grabbed his head with both hands, whining like a dog.

“If you say such nonsense again, I'll set Jessamy on you.” the writer threatened. “I thought about being a better friend for you, but now I don’t think you deserve it. You are the most unintelligent person I know, and I have no idea why I'm still interested in you.”

Hob remembered the touch of his fingers in his hair. He remembered the tight hugs he had been wrapped in before going to sleep. Of course, the rational part of him understands that their friendship is much more than a temporary period in the process of reconciliation between father and son. Morpheus takes care of him, clumsily and awkwardly, but completely sincerely.

But another part told Hob that he wouldn't be needed. He had been a vest for the tears of students for several years, most of whom quickly forgot about him when their problems were solved. Hob was used to this arrangement of affairs, he even liked it, because in any case he helped confused and frightened children. Hob was sure Orpheus would be the same. And this prospect suited him exactly until Morpheus's messages began to make him smile, until he began to count down the days until the next meeting with him. His therapist recommended to pay more attention to the rescuer syndrome, but Hob ignored her words. A terrible mistake.

And now Morpheus... Morpheus was worried about him. Perhaps even worried about the fact that his personal problems hurt Hob. He wanted to grab his hand again and warm it in his warm palms.

“Morpheus, I want...”

Kiss you.

Kiss you until your lungs hurt from lack of air.

“...hug you.”

Morpheus tilted his head to the side, gave Hob an almost bored look, sighed heavily and spread his arms in different directions. Hob didn't wait. He immediately swept him into his arms, pressed against him as tightly as he could, buried his nose in his pale neck. Morpheus felt so small and timid in his arms, despite all the muscle his clothes hid. The same words were repeated in his head, which Hob didn't dare to say aloud.

I love you. Fuck, I love you so much, it almost hurts.

Morpheus relaxed, clasped his hands on his back and rested his chin on his shoulder. Hob felt another heartbeat in his chest, and for a few moments he doubted whose heart was beating with such unearthly speed.

Hob was lost in these embraces. He could die in them. Like this, clinging to the person to whom he gave his heart. It doesn't matter if it's mutual or not. It doesn't matter in what sense Morpheus is attached to him. Hob loves him, and he absolutely loves to love him. He wouldn't trade that feeling for anything.

Time was frozen. Or maybe they froze. Hob heard only silence and the barely perceptible breathing of the person he was embracing. At this point, he didn't need anything else. Perhaps he could sit like this until the evening, but he noticed that Morpheus's breathing had become too even. Hob laughed silently. Only this man could fall asleep while cuddling with someone.

Unlike Morpheus, Hob didn't doubt in his strength. He easily picked him up and carried him to bed so that the industrious writer could have a good rest before the next working night. They probably had less than a day left in this house. Hob didn't want to leave. To be honest, he too enjoyed spending the night with Morpheus under the same roof, cooking his meals and watching him work. Maybe try to get permission from him to come to his house a little more often? Or, on the contrary, invite him to his place with Jessamy. Any variant of Hob will please.

Before leaving, Hob indulged himself with a few more minutes of admiring the sleeping Morpheus. He really wanted to take a photo so he could look at that cute face every time he missed it. But Hob pushed the idea out of his mind. He decided he would only do it if he could ever call Morpheus his own.

It wasn't until Hob was walking down the stairs that he realized that Morpheus hadn't promised to talk to Orpheus. Okay, maybe he needs to think about it. They still have time. Hob tried not to think about how he would have to explain their friendship to the boy in the future. In his heart, he hoped that the situation would somehow resolve itself. Maybe Orpheus will get so close to Morpheus that he will invite him to his concerts at the university. And there will be no need to explain anything. Orpheus will think that they met there. Although it's very, very unlikely. Orpheus has not even decided yet whether he will participate in concerts.

Morpheus slept for another two hours. He woke up in a better mood than he had been, and even tried to smile at Hob in gratitude for breakfast. He said that Merv and Lucienne would come pick them up at night, so Hob had to quickly pack ahead of time, knowing full well his habit of forgetting the most important things in the most inconvenient places. As soon as Morpheus sat down at the computer, he went to work and didn't react to anything, it seems that he didn't even hear anything. Knowing that they would soon have to see each other no more than twice a week, Hob settled down beside him with a book. He put his jacket under his head as an alternative to a pillow, and lay in almost the same position in which he fell asleep at night. He was pleased just to be next to Morpheus, to hear the clatter of keys and quiet unintelligible grunts. As an absent-minded pale hand fell on his head, Hob involuntarily closed his eyes. Maybe Morpheus didn't realize what he was doing, but the butterflies in his stomach weren't alleviated by the suggestion.

Morpheus devoted the entire last day of the trip to work. He wasn't even distracted by the tea that Hob made him, and before leaving he had to pour it into the sink, because Hob's teeth hurt from such sweetness. Exactly at twelve o'clock and not a minute later the car arrived. Lucienne and Mervyn helped move the luggage while Morpheus finished counting his waste paper. Convinced that he didn't hear them, Lucienne thanked Hob for taking care of him, while Mervyn expressed admiration for his patience.

On the way home, in order not to fall asleep, Hob turned on the second season of the animated series with Morpheus and mentally begged the stars to stop time and not let them be separated. Unfortunately, the prayers went unheeded. Merv stopped outside the house across from the pub, and Hob sighed heavily.

“I had a great time with you, mate. I hope I didn't interfere with your work too much.”

“You made my schedule useless.” Morpheus got out of the car to say goodbye to his friend. “But I have never felt more energized since returning. So I guess you've done well with my request. Thank you.”

Hob chuckled. He raised his head to his windows, then looked at Merv sitting in the driver's seat. He did not want this little holiday to come to an end so much. But now, it's all over. Three days went by too quickly.

“Listen, I won’t be starting class any time soon, so we could go somewhere one of these days. Take a walk, for example. Or you let me play with Jessamy. I'm madly in love with her and dream of seeing her again.”

“I'm afraid it will have to wait.” Morpheus clasped his hands behind his back. “I have a full medical examination every six months at my sister’s hospital. I try to take care of my health. Sometimes. And it takes time. I'm being checked from the state of the brain to the integrity of the toenails.”

“Bourgeois!” Hob snorted, not hiding his envy. “It will take me two or three salaries for such an examination.”

“I can negotiate with my sister, and you will be accepted free of charge. As my friend.” the man smiled. “Consider my gratitude for taking care of me”.

“You know, I should refuse, but a man of my age will not miss the opportunity of an exciting tour of hospitals.” Hob laughed softly. Before leaving, he took a step forward and hugged him. "See you then, my friend."

Morpheus returned his embrace, gave him a slight smile as he parted, and returned to the car, which immediately drove off. Hob was left alone in the dark street, suddenly feeling very lonely. Wasting no time, he texted to Johanna that he was expecting her at his house tomorrow to tell her in full detail about the breathtaking number of ambiguous situations that had happened between them during these three days.

Chapter Text

The quiet days were over and now each new one was worse than the previous one. The film adaptation of the book was in jeopardy, because at the last reading Morpheus completely quarreled with the actor of the main antagonist and the whole team had to urgently look for a replacement. Realizing that at this rate, work could be very much stalled, Matthew decided to start filming two months ahead of schedule. He knew Morpheus well and anticipated all possible difficulties better than anyone else. As time has shown, the replacement of the actor was still the most innocuous of all problems.

Morpheus was very upset and angry that his plan to leave the house as little as possible before the beginning of spring collapsed due to Matthew's new deadlines, and his irritation didn't let the costumers or makeup artists relax, but the actors fell under the hot hand most of all. Only Matthew remained more or less untouched, since the writer respected his old comrade and greatly appreciated the trepidation with which he treated his books.

“Stop!“ Morpheus yelled, getting up from his chair. Matthew took a deep breath. It was the third pause in five minutes. If they continue like this, they will finish filming only in the next life.

Morpheus quickly walked up to the new actor, a tall man with blond hair, and literally poked his nose into the script.

“I said that improvisation should be kept to a minimum. Follow these lines. Not one extra word.”

"Maybe you should stop stopping me from doing my job?" the actor grimaced in displeasure. Out of everyone on set, he pissed the writer off the most and seemed to enjoy it. Morpheus was one step away from being fired, but Matthew practically begged him on his knees to be patient, because they couldn’t find a better option. Unfortunately, his college was right. This upstart was ideally suited in terms of external parameters, charisma, and even voice.

“Corinthian, you're stopping yourself from doing your job. I'm the creator, I know how my maniac should behave. And you, please, listen to me if you want to keep your place in this project.” Morpheus circled with a red pen the phrase that Corinthian had changed for the third time, stubbornly refusing to pronounce it word for word. “One more time! There will be so many takes until you satisfy me.”

With that, Morpheus returned to his seat. Matthew opened his mouth to express his thoughts about the excessive demands, but a menacing look prevented him from uttering a word. No, Matthew wasn't afraid of him, but he knew that when it comes to his books, the writer becomes a real nightmare for everyone he works with.

Corinthian mimicked him, squared his shoulders, and a new take began. Which also turned out to be a failure. This time, Morpheus wasn't satisfied with his gestures, despite the fact that the actor gave up and said his phrase exactly as it was written on paper.

“Boss, I think you're being too, you know, picking on Corinthian. Because he argues with you.“

“He doubts that I understand my characters.” Morpheus rolled the script into a tube. Beside him, Lucienne closed her eyes with a heavy sigh, but silently handed him a bottle of water. She already knew when it made sense to argue with him, and when not. Now is definitely a moment when Morpheus will stand his ground, even if he himself realizes that he is wrong.

The next few takes, Corinthian seemed to be specifically mocking Morpheus and his pedantry. Thinking that a murder would soon take place on the site, Matthew announced a short break. Morpheus was jerking his knee in annoyance, hunched over in his chair. In his mind, he imagined strangling this annoying actor who dared to doubt him and his vision.

Taking advantage of the fact that he was coming to his senses, Matthew grabbed Lucienne by the elbow and pulled her aside.

“Loosh, if it goes on like this, we won't physically be able to meet the deadline before going to Paris. And it was so difficult to persuade to postpone the dates! The boss will eat me alive! Help! Do something with him, please.”

Lucienne's face was filled with all the compassion a human could possibly have. She glanced at Morpheus, then at Corinthian, who was discussing something with another actress, and then looked hard at Matthew himself, who looked like a mad scientist with his protruding hair and despairing eyes.

“I'll try to come up with something, but I can't promise anything. I'm afraid I don't have enough influence over him to temper his anger.”

Matthew whined. Deciding that these all were beyond his strength, he poured a decent portion of rum into a thermos of tea, mixed the resulting drink, took a long sip and walked back to Morpheus as if he had been sent to the scaffold.

Morpheus hated everything that happened here. Deep down, he knew that in some cases Corinthian might be right, and that perhaps he could change the character for the better, but writer's pride refused to admit it. Of course, this actor wasn't the only one who made some changes, but others spent hours discussing them with Morpheus or Matthew, and only after long discussions they received permission or a ban on their initiative. Corinthian wasn't going to beg permission. He did what he wanted. Bloody hell, he knew he couldn't get fired. Morpheus was infuriated.

At this rate, Matthew will have to carry sedatives to work every day. Over the next few hours, Morpheus was on the verge of starting a fight, and Corinthian had more and more fun. Lucienne was the only one left in icy calm and by some miracle she managed to persuade her boss to finish work on the site for today. Having taken an oath with Matthew that he wouldn't be loyal to the actors, no matter how much he liked them, Morpheus left the pavilion and walked past Merv's car, pulling his phone from the inside pocket of his coat as he went. And he did something he usually doesn't do.

“Hob, where are you?” he asked as soon as Hob took the call. Even through the silence on the speaker, he could see his surprised face. For all the time, Morpheus called him only once, when he was very upset. Now he was furious. Morpheus wasn't about to waste seconds on texting, demanding an immediate response.

“Wondering where a capable person can be on Wednesday at three o'clock in the afternoon?” Hob chuckled. “I'm at work. Teaching right now. Something happened?”

“Yes, happened. I'll be there in two hours.”

“What? Wait, I'm working until seven today, I can't...”

Morpheus hung up. He urgently needed Hob, as the only person capable of bringing him to his senses. Or at least the only one who can help him express his emotions. The way to the university was incredibly long, much easier to turn around and get in the car, but Morpheus needed some fresh air.

It's unbelievable how arrogant people can be. That's why Morpheus hated working with them. Why did he even give his permission to adapt? His books are selling well, his popularity is growing, and more and more strangers are asking to stop for an autograph. Morpheus learned all the areas of the city in which more well-read people lived, and skillfully avoided them so that no one would touch him.

On the way, Morpheus did one more thing that he almost never did — he bought a coffee. For all their disdain for the taste of caffeine, even it can be improved by adding a bunch of tooth-rottingly sweet syrups. It helped him to ground himself a little and stop thinking about a bad day for a while.

He was allowed into the university without any problems. As soon as Orpheus entered it, Morpheus became its sponsor, and he was immediately given a pass, even though he practically didn't use it. Morpheus spent a lot of money on various updates for the uni, all so that Orpheus had the opportunity to fulfill himself in any sphere that he wanted to try. Basically, of course, Morpheus sponsored everything that was even remotely related to music. The best musical instruments, the best equipment — everything for Orpheus to receive a decent education.

Morpheus pulled the handle on Hob Gadling's office door, but it was locked. Snorting in annoyance, he leaned against the wall and drank the last of his disgusting coffee. His gaze was focused on one point, and his thoughts traveled from his new story to the arrogant actor, and anger flared up in his chest with renewed vigor. Morpheus didn't notice when Hob approached him, and didn't even hear how he called him, so he flinched and dropped the empty paper cup as soon as Hob's hand fell on his shoulder.

“Wow, what happened to you? I'm used to see you being absent-minded, but never with such an angry face.” Hob opened the office door and let him through. The man picked up the cup from the floor before Morpheus did and, without looking, tossed it into the wastebasket.

Hob doesn't need to know all the details, so Morpheus only told him the most important thing: that someone dared to question his understanding of his own characters. He spoke measuredly and evenly, but at the same time there was an icy note in his voice that he couldn't control. Hob didn't interrupt and let him speak. When that didn't help allay his anger, he suggested him throw something at the wall, but Morpheus refused. It wasn't enough for some asshole to piss him off enough to throw things.

“Well, have you thought about discussing this role with him? You're a writer, you should know that we all have different perceptions of the characters that are described in the books. You can find common ground if you try.”

"I'm not going to discuss anything with him! Are you doubting me too?” Morpheus clenched his jaw so hard that his teeth ached.

“No way! Sorry I made you think like that. But you need to somehow work together, so I'm trying to come up with an alternative.”

“I do not need your advice! I didn't ask for it. Don't act like you know what you're talking about!” Morpheus straightened up sharply to his full height, the chair behind him fell to the floor. Hob looked away, sighed, and walked around his desk to get closer to his friend.

“If you want to take out your anger on me, then know that it's unpleasant for me. You came here on your own and now you're shouting at me for trying to help you. Don't want to talk normally? Go home, rest and text me when you're ready for a constructive dialogue. I'm not going to fight with you.”

Morpheus snarled quietly as he walked past him and grabbed the doorknob, ready to leave. But froze in place. Hob stared at his back as he sat down on the corner of his desk and folded his arms across his chest. Morpheus turned around. Something inside him resisted leaving. And, it seems, it was the conscience that screamed at the top of his voice that he didn't know any right to offend Hob.

They silently looked at each other, deathly silence didn't come only thanks to the ticking of the wall clock.

“I…” Morpheus began, but pulled himself back. Hob's eyebrows went up, indicating that he was waiting for more. Morpheus sighed, his hand lowered down. “...am sorry. I shouldn't have...shouted at you.”

Hob nodded, jumped off the table, and kicked the door open with his hip. Morpheus felt so uncomfortable that he would have been glad to jump out of the window, just not to be near him. His friend, however, smiled his cheerful and carefree smile.

"Come on, walk me to class. Let's figure out what to do with your actor”.

Morpheus nodded. He didn't like the power Hob had over him and his emotions. They've known each other for a little less than six months, but this man has already made him feel ashamed. And also his heart ached from the thought that he could hurt him. Morpheus felt indebted to him. Hob deserved anything but anger and screaming. It was the knowledge that he would not dare to hurt him that made him come to his friend.

Hob, as usual, forgave too quickly. It was enough for him to hear apologies, and his face began to shine again, like the June sun. Looking at him, Morpheus thought about how terrible his anger must be if it was so hard to piss him off. It's difficult to imagine Hob's face contorted with rage, but their trip together helped Morpheus remember that his friend is subject to all emotions, like any person.

It changed something in him. Morpheus remembered too often how Hob would tremble, fall asleep next to him and hug him out of fear and anxiety. The vulnerable side of Hob awakened something inside Morpheus, only he couldn't understand the nature of this feeling. Now he looked at him with a different look, and he sincerely did not want to harm him.

“Fuck.” Hob cursed softly and stopped where he was. Morpheus, half a step behind him, collided with him and looked over his shoulder. Orpheus stood right along the corridor and talked to some girl who was almost two heads shorter than him. Hob took a step back.

Yeah, really, fuck. When Orpheus turned his head in their direction, Morpheus's whole life flew before his eyes. Surprise was reflected on the face of Orpheus, but, fortunately, Morpheus didn't see contempt or rage. It was only then that he realized that Hob was no longer with him. He looked back and spotted him around the corner they had just passed. Hob pressed his index finger to his lips and winked at him. Morpheus nodded almost imperceptibly and went straight to Orpheus so that the student wouldn't see his professor hiding.

“What are you doing here?” Orpheus asked, frowning. Morpheus will have to lie to him. He promised himself that he would try to be as honest as possible with his son, but the situation forces him to hide the truth. Not so much for himself, but for Hob, who didn't deserve to be rejected by Orpheus in the same way as his father.

“I wanted to see you.” It was only after saying this out loud that Morpheus felt that it wasn't a lie. Yes, his coming to the university had a different purpose, but he really missed his boy. They hadn't seen each other for eternity, though compared to the frequency they'd met before, that "eternity" might not be that long. “I may not have time to bring Jessamy to you as often as before, but that doesn't mean I won't find it to catch a glimpse of you. Can you introduce me to this young lady by your side?”

Morpheus smiled politely at the girl, who immediately blushed and tried to hide behind Orpheus. The boy sighed and stepped aside, don't let her completely hide behind him.

“Father, this is Nuala, my friend. Nuala, this is my father Morpheus.”

“Nice to meet you.” Nuala smiled back at him. In her hands she held a small case, which most likely contained a flute.

“Mutually. I'm glad Orpheus is making new friends here. Hope you are having a good time together.”

“Actually, right now I’m trying to persuade him to join the group I’m in. Can you help me with that?” the girl winked at Orpheus, who rolled his eyes as if he wanted to make them go full circle. Morpheus chuckled softly.

“I'm afraid I can't help you here. Orpheus will listen to me last.”

“Yeah, yeah, that's all very interesting, but,” Orpheus took a lollipop from the pocket of his jacket and stuffed Nuala’s mouth with it, “why can't you bring Jessamy? Did she get sick? Lost? Is she fine?”

“She's fine, don't worry. I get home very late because of filming. My book is being adapted, and I have to control everything.”

“Orpheus, isn't your term paper about cinema this semester?” Nuala asked, and immediately Orpheus's face twisted in outrage. Morpheus really wanted to smile, but he wouldn't embarrass his son any more. As a child, Orpheus was terribly interested in all the behind-the-scenes work. One of the sisters of Calliope, who works in the theater, often took him with her to show how rehearsals and preparations for performances were going on.

“If you are interested, I can take you there tomorrow and show you how the shooting is going. I'm sure you'll like it. At the same time, you will collect material for the practical part.”

“My term paper is almost written.” Orpheus snorted, turning away. Morpheus skillfully hid his disappointment, paying attention to the way Nuala tugged at his friend's sleeve. They exchanged glances and, it seems, a whole silent dialogue took place, which the third person could not understand. “However... It would probably be useful to go once. If it doesn't bother you.” Orpheus crossed his arms over his chest and still did not raise his head.

Morpheus couldn't help but smile now. He put into it all the tenderness that he felt for his child, and the joy of being able to stay with him a little bit longer. His heart began to beat with inexorable speed, and it seems that he hasn't felt so happy for many years. Orpheus not only said more words to him than in the entire past year, but also agreed to go somewhere with him. This is such a big victory that it can't be expressed in words.

"Then I'll come pick you up tomorrow. May I walk you to the exit?”

Orpheus was about to refuse, but Nuala interrupted him.

“Of course, sir!”

Morpheus begins to like this girl. It seems that this time Orpheus was able to find a good friend. After the betrayal, it was very difficult for him to start trusting people, but he learned to do it again, which is a great progress in his treatment. Maybe the worst days are behind now?

Delighted by Orpheus's reaction, only after reaching the university gates Morpheus remembered that he did not say goodbye to Hob.

Morpheus was in an exceptionally good mood the next morning. He wasn't a morning person at all, and spent about two hours sleeping, but he had not felt so cheerful for a long time. At the same time, the man was worried that the day would go badly and Orpheus would be even more disappointed in him. Hob's good luck message helped a little to pull himself together.

All the way from Calliope's house to the set, father and son spent in silence. Orpheus listened to music on headphones and looked out the window, while Morpheus set himself up for the work ahead. If Lucienne and Merv whispered, none of the Endless heard it.

As soon as Orpheus was inside, subtle sparks flashed in his eyes. He refused to have his father show him what and how everything works here, preferring to find out it himself. Matthew was staring at the student like he was some exotic animal. He was familiar with Orpheus, but not close, they saw each other only a couple of times, when the boy was no more than fifteen years old. Nevertheless, Matthew smiled at him, pointed to a place from which he could watch the shooting, and as soon as Orpheus moved to a safe distance, he turned his attention to his father.

“Morph, with all my due respect, what the fuck is this?” the director hissed through his teeth.

“That's for his study.” Morpheus shrugged. “He won't interfere. I take full responsibility. I'll make myself some coffee and we can start.” deciding that the conversation was over, the writer moved towards the drinks.

“What? Since when do you drink coffee outside the house?” But Morpheus wasn't listening to him anymore. Matthew wanted to throw something at him, but he didn't have anything at hand, so he grabbed Lucienne as she walked by and pointed at Orpheus, asking a million questions with one glance.

“I only found out this morning.” Lucienne politely lowered his hand before Orpheus noticed. “Calm down. Perhaps his presence can help with our problem.”

“It takes the Lord God himself, or someone like him, to subdue this... this... Morpheus”.

Lucienne patted Matthew reassuringly on the shoulder.

Orpheus' presence was indeed holding Morpheus back in a way. There were no conflicts all morning. Perhaps his good mood also depended on the fact that Corinthian came only after a couple of hours. That's when passive aggression woke up in him, but so far he skillfully restrained it and did not let it go beyond the permissible.

Absorbed by the work on the site, Morpheus forgot that Orpheus was watching what was happening. The boy behaved quietly and only in between asked something from different members of the crew, mainly operators and sound engineers. He didn't approach the actors and, quite possibly, didn't pay much attention to their work, being more interested in other aspects. He even managed to ask Matthew a few questions, after which the director became noticeably kinder and stopped casting suspicious glances at him. Matthew has always been a little paranoid.

The lunch break was considered the longest of all others. Almost everyone discussed work issues over the meal, including Morpheus and Matthew. Actors, make-up artists, cameramen and other members of the team approached them every now and then. Extra discussion was always welcome, Morpheus tried to be as good-natured and involved as possible. He did it well. Until he noticed that Corinthian was trying to speak to Orpheus.

Morpheus immediately cut off the conversation in the middle and, without explaining anything, quickly walked towards his son. Orpheus stood in the very corner and silently looked up at the actor. There was not a drop of interest on his face, despite the fact that the man he didn't know seemed to be smiling too broadly.

"Orpheus, are you all right?" Morpheus asked as he approached.

“Yeah.” Orpheus replied, slipping the phone into the back pocket of his jeans. “I was making adjustments to my notes and now I am interrupted by…um…”

“Corinthian,” Morpheus prompted him before the actor himself could do it. “What do you want from my son?”

“I'm just wondering who he is and what he is doing here.” Corinthian began to justify himself in his most nonchalant tone. “No crime, my lord.”

“Stop calling me that.” Morpheus almost bared his teeth, but pulled himself together just in time. Two deep breaths and his expression was impassive again. “Orpheus, I don’t think you would like to make such acquaintances here that…”

“You don’t have to think about it,” Orpheus interrupted him, “I myself will figure out what kind of acquaintances I should have here. Don't play a good dad, it doesn't suit you. Corinthian, right?” the student pushed himself off the wall and held out his hand to the actor. Corinthian smiled his thirty-two shark teeth and shook it.

And Morpheus couldn't say anything against it. In fact, he knew next to nothing about Corinthian other than his work experience, education, and meddlesome nature. If he begins to forbid Orpheus to talk to someone, then this fragile truce between them will immediately collapse, and their relationship will return to the previous point. Morpheus isn't ready to take that risk.

Therefore, he left. He returned to Matthew and continued to work, doubting whether he was doing the right thing. He wanted to protect Orpheus, his child went through too much trials for his age. But he is not helpless. Orpheus got very angry every time someone did something instead of him, as if he was not trusted. And he couldn't stand hyper-custody either. Morpheus will try to watch from the sidelines. If Corinthian would even think of hurting his son, he would do anything to destroy that man's life. And Morpheus has enough power to pull it off.

Orpheus looked at the trail of his departing father with a raised eyebrow, as if he didn't believe that no quarrel had occurred. He was surprised, but it didn't prevent him from continuing his acquaintance with Corinthian. Orpheus is no longer a child, he had to see a lot of real life's horrors, but he is able to protect himself from someone he considers dangerous. So far, Corinthian is the third person in recent years who began to talk to him, not knowing anything about his tragedy. The first were Professor Gadling and Nuala.

It's hard to say if Morpheus found fault with Corinthian after this more than before. The arguments again turned into a raised tone, and even the presence of Orpheus ceased to restrain his father. Matthew, on the other hand, was more calm thanks to his thermos, which he didn't give even into Lucienne's hands. Something told her that by the time the project will be finished, the number of his gray hairs would increase. And, perhaps, alcohol addiction will be added to all health problems.

Filming continued until late at night, but Matthew tried to kick Morpheus out as quickly as possible, arguing that he needed to take the child home. Said child did indeed look tired, but he held firm until the very end. Morpheus glared at Corinthian who was seeing him off, but didn't say another word. Although, judging by the satisfied face of the actor, dissatisfaction doesn't need to be voiced in order for them to be heard.

The road back passed in the same dead silence. Everyone was busy with their own thoughts until the car stopped. Morpheus spent the whole day with his son and didn't worsen the relationship between them, this is a big progress.

“Orpheus, wait.” Morpheus said as his son almost opened the car door. Orpheus turned to him, bowing his head slightly.

“What?”

“Thanks for agreeing.” Morpheus felt all words instantly forgotten. He needs to say something else. Something important. But there were so many thoughts that they got tangled up like a ball of thread. “I'm glad I could be of service to you in your studies. If you need something else, anything, you can ask me. I will help.”

“I don't need anything. At least from you.” Orpheus opened the door and got out of the car. Morpheus hesitated for a second, and then did the same, but didn't run after his son.

“Wait!” he called, not taking a step. Orpheus stopped. “I want to talk to you. About what happened. Between us. For us to listen to each other.”

Morpheus wasn't sure Orpheus heard him. His son rarely parted with the headphones, and it's impossible to say when they play music, and when they have only an accessory function. But Orpheus turned around. His face showed no emotion and his eyes were blank, so Morpheus had no idea what his son was thinking and it was a little scary.

“You have changed.” Orpheus answered him quietly, but in such a way that his words reached the ears of his father. “And I still can't figure out if that's good or bad. I'll give you an answer when I find out.” and with these words the young man hurried to go home.

Morpheus remained where he was. Hob warned him that Orpheus would most likely not agree immediately. He was ready for it. But the boy made contact. His attitude towards him became a little warmer. That's good. Breathing a sigh of relief, Morpheus got back into the car and the driver drove him home.

Despite the daytime work, the night is still the time when he can and wants to create. Morpheus took a shower, changed clothes and sat down at the computer. He has so much to do in two weeks. So far, he has been on time in terms of deadlines, since the writer knew how to allocate his time correctly, but, nevertheless, he liked to finish the work a little earlier, so that he had a few days for a well-deserved break (during which he usually either slept or devoted all his attention to Jessamy).

The passage of time ceased to exist as soon as Morpheus picked up his notes. He immersed himself in his work and it took him a long moment to hear someone knocking insistently on his door and Jessamy croaking loudly at the annoying sound of the doorbell. The clock showed only one in the morning. Morpheus started early tonight. Perhaps it was Lucienne who brought some materials. He didn't even bother to look through the peephole before opening the door. At first he thought he was hallucinating.

Johanna Constantine stood in the doorway, supporting Hob with both hands, who was so drunk that he could not stand on his own. The woman looked tired and angry, and Hob was practically asleep on her shoulder, but as soon as he opened one eye and saw his friend, he immediately perked up and tried to say something. Except Johanna pushed him in the ribs, silencing him.

"He wanted to see you, so he's your problem tonight." she said and unceremoniously pushed Morpheus aside to carry the drunken body inside as soon as it began to rain outside. Morpheus was so surprised that he couldn't immediately react to such behavior.

“Wait, I didn’t invite you inside.”

“I don't give a shit.” Johanna threw Hob onto the couch. Jessamy immediately sank onto his shoulder and began brushing the hair out of his face. Hob muttered something affectionately to her and tried to stroke her, but missed and hit himself on the forehead.

Morpheus had never seen Hob so drunk before. He always knew the measure, and as soon as his tongue began to slur at least a little, he immediately stopped taking alcohol. Johanna laid his feet on the furniture, took off his shoes and jacket. Morpheus stepped closer. He sat on the edge of the coach, peering at how his favourite raven was trying to care for the poor fellow. Has something happened? Hob is hardly able to connect even a couple of words now. He rolled onto his stomach and snored softly. Johanna sighed heavily. Before Morpheus could open his mouth, she was already standing in front of him, grabbing his hoodie on the bib and leaning close to him until their noses almost touched.

“You did this to him.” she growled, nodding towards the snoring carcass.

“I don't understand.” Morpheus tried to pull away, but Johanna wouldn't let him. “Our conflict was resolved before it even started. I did not do anything.”

“You abandoned him.” Johanna's eyes blazed with the kind of fire that kindles fires in Hell itself. “You left him yesterday. You forgot about him. Just like today. Tell me, what have you texted him for all day?”

Morpheus frowned. He didn't like the tone in which he was addressed. And even more he didn't like that a woman unfamiliar to him accuses him of something, breaking into his own house.

And then he remembered that he really hadn't texted anything to Hob. Didn't even reply to his morning message. His thoughts were occupied by Orpheus, and he simply could not think of anything else.

“Exactly.” she hissed and pulled Morpheus closer. “Listen carefully, I'll only say this once, there will be no other warnings. Hob likes you even though I can't figure out why. He's a big boy and can handle you on his own, but if you break him, I'll be your worst nightmare. No matter what a big boss you are, I'm not going to let anyone take him back to the bottom I pulled him out of. You have no idea what he went through. Either you start taking him seriously, or I'll rip your throat out. Even an asshole like you should be capable of minimal respect for other people's feelings.”

Johanna clicked her teeth in front of his nose and finally released him. For a moment it seemed to Morpheus that Satan itself was in front of him. She wasn't like the woman who had made him bet on the amount of alcohol he drank just a couple of months ago. This Johanna radiated danger with her whole being.

While Morpheus gathered his thoughts, Jo had already flung open the front door, but remained standing on the threshold.

“Oh shit.” she scolded. Within a couple of minutes, a heavy downpour had dispersed outside. Morpheus approached her, but left a decent distance between them so that he would have an opportunity to react if she decided to pounce on him again.

“I can call my driver to pick you up.”

“Never. I don't want you or your puppets to know where I live. I'll call a taxi.” Johanna slammed the door shut to keep the winter chill from seeping into the house.

“Why?” Morpheus did not say that if he wanted to, he would find out where she lives, and her girlfriend, and the parents of both of them.

“Because of him.” Jo nodded towards the couch as she dialed the correct number on the phone. “If he wants to run away from you, he will need shelter.”

Morpheus inadvertently pouted his lips. The thought that someday Hob would try to get rid of him was hurt. Jessamy sat on his shoulder and gently rubbed her head against her temple. Her owner's hand naturally reached out to smooth her feathers, though Morpheus himself was barely aware of what he was doing, focusing all his attention on Johanna.

They stood a short distance apart in silence. The woman looked out the window, waiting for the car to arrive, and was not going to say anything more. But Morpheus had questions, a lot.

“Did he complain to you about me?” he asked one of them. Johanna looked at him, snorted, and shook her head.

“Not on you. He complained that now he is useless to you. You know, one romantic trip out of city isn't enough to cure rescuer syndrome. He is sure that either you will leave him, or he will leave when you no longer need him.”

“I communicate with him not because I need Orpheus.” Morpheus said indignantly, as he was greatly offended that they both thought he was using Hob. Hob has become his friend, he sincerely worries about him and doesn't want to be doubted about it.

Johanna said nothing, only shrugged her shoulders and turned back to the window. She wasn't going to argue with him.

“You're right.” Morpheus growled, pressing his back against the wall. “I don't know what he went through.”

“I'm not gonna tell you anything.” Jo snapped coldly. “But I'm sure he'll tell you by himself. Sooner or later.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Quite enough.” Jo glanced at Hob and smiled faintly. “We lived together for a while. I know him better than he does. I saw how he built his life bit by bit anew. Purposeful idiot.”

Despite the fact that she spoke exceptionally coldly to Morpheus, her voice warmed noticeably and took on a subtle tenderness in the last words. She took care of Hob. Morpheus didn't know how close they were. He never really cared about it. He only once asked Hob about his friends and never returned to this topic.

Something unpleasant stirred in his chest. Feeling like a snake that poisons every cell of his body with its fangs.

“You were a couple?” he asked, without considering the appropriateness of the question. Morpheus simply felt that he must know.

Johanna's face showed a strange emotion: a mix of surprise, indignation and disgust. Moreover, the latter was clearly addressed not so much to the question as to the person who asked it. She didn't answer him, just shook her head and silently walked out of the house to the car waiting for her. Morpheus was left alone with Jessamy on his shoulder and sleeping Hob.

The first aid kit at home has always been filled with all possible medicines that can come in handy at any time in life. There are many advantages when your older sister works in a hospital. But Morpheus couldn't remember what Hob gave him when he had a hangover, so he had to text Teleute and hope that she would answer before his friend woke up. Morpheus also put one of his own pillows under his head and with grief in half was able to find an old blanket in the dressing room, which he once used and apparently forgot to throw away. To keep Hob from falling, he pushed the couch as far as the adult on it would allow. Jessamy all this time sat on the shoulder of the owner and followed with interest his every action.

Instead of returning to work, Morpheus sat down on the floor, leaning back against the couch. He didn't like that Johanna and Hob were so close. Even more he did not like that she didn't answer his question, as if she had something to hide. Morpheus bent his legs, rested his elbows on his knees, and rested his forehead on his folded hands. This ignorance hurt, but not as much as the fact that Hob doubted him and his intentions to remain friends with him no matter what happened between him and Orpheus. And given the past day, Hob had every reason to doubt .

“I'm sorry, Hob.” he whispered quietly. Hob, of course, could neither answer nor hear. Jessamy moved to the sleeping man and settled herself on top of his pillow.

Morpheus sat motionless for a long time. Guilt was eating him up inside. What scared him the most was that tomorrow, when Hob woke up, he would be smiling at him as usual. He won't say a word about how his feelings were hurt. Such a fool. Always cares about others more than himself.

Jessamy's displeased grumbling was the first sign that Hob was moving. The man turned on his side to face Morpheus, but he was sleeping soundly. A pale hand brushed the hair from his face and tucked it behind his ear. Morpheus rested his head on the couch, dangerously close to Hob's face. He peered into the wrinkles and freckles of his friend, and his gaze for a long time rested on the eyebrows, closed eyes, nose and lips.

Morpheus should know him. For real. He'll take care of it when Hob wakes up.

Chapter Text

Many tragedies happen when no one expects them. Unlike the movies, in real life there are no ominous omens that hint that something terrible is about to happen. The sky was cloudless, the sun shone brightly, a barely perceptible spring wind stirred the leaves on the trees. It was the perfect day. Except for the anxiety that had kept Hob from breathing deeply since morning. He couldn't understand what was wrong, but with all his being he felt the approaching storm.

He was lucky then. Relatively. During those years, Hob was a college teacher and was asked to replace a colleague who had fallen ill. He couldn't refuse, because that person often helped out when he needed to run home to a sick child. The whole family was supposed to fly to the States for the weekend. Their friends a year later overcame all the difficulties of the move and invited them to celebrate it. Due to work, Hob had to change his ticket a day later, but Eleanor and Robyn had to arrive on time.

Hob drove them to the airport, helped with their baggage, kissed his wife and son for good luck, and left for college. The anxiety intensified with each passing hour, making him more and more distracted. But everything was fine. He convinced himself that it was just a worry about the flight, this often happened when his friends or loved ones went on a long trip. Eleanor texted him from the airport, sent pictures of Robyn munching on a donut, admiring the planes through a large window, or just sleeping in her arms while waiting. Hob smiled as he looked at these photos. He lived in love, he had almost everything he dreamed about. The family made grandiose plans for a new home, new travels, Eleanor promised him to get a dog as soon as Robyn was old enough not to hurt the pet. Hob loved life and every person who was present in it. He fell asleep and woke up with the woman of his dreams in the same bed, doted on his son, who grew by leaps and bounds. Eleanor had said that Robyn would grow up to be like his father, but Hob could see the distinct features of his mother on his face: he had the same blue-green eyes and snub nose.

In the message, Eleanor texted that they went to land. «Love you, Robbie» were the very last words Hob got from her. But then he didn't know about it yet.

In the middle of the lesson, some unpleasant feeling took possession of Hob. Something pricked him in the chest like a needle, and the anxiety that had been accumulating in his chest all this time instantly spread throughout his body.

Hob: are you okay? has the plane taken off yet?

Hob: honey? if you haven't turned off your phone yet, answer me.

Hob: okay, I guess I'm just panicking for nothing haha. kiss Robyn instead of me, I'll be with you soon xxx.

Sitting through the rest of the lesson seemed impossible. Hob said that once the kids were done with the task, they could put the work on his desk and leave, while he himself went to the staff room. There was an electric kettle and boxes of tea bags he needed to calm his racing heart. Hob wasn't a fan of green tea, but he had heard of its miraculous properties.

There was a small TV in the room that almost never changed from the news channel. He usually created background noise, so Hob didn't notice him right away. He took his personal mug (every teacher had one to cut down on the use of plastic cups), made himself some tea, and was so lost in thought that he didn't notice more teachers crowding around the TV. He was brought to his senses by an occasional nudge in the back and a quick apology.

Then Hob took the mug and walked a little closer to the crowd. Someone turned up the sound. On the screen, reporters showed a burning plane.

“At Luton Airport about thirty minutes ago, a plane caught fire during takeoff from the runway. It's assumed that's an engine malfunction, but no confirmations have yet been received. There are victims, survivors are urgently taken to the hospitals.” said the even voice of the news anchor.

The mug slipped from Hob's hands and shattered at his feet, spilling its contents across the floor. The teachers in front of him turned around: everyone knew that today he was supposed to be at this airport, and that his family was there right now.

For the first time in his life, Hob felt the ground slip from under his feet. His head was empty, he didn't hear a single word that his colleagues spoke to him. It’s like someone suddenly stuffed him into a box where there is no sound, no light, not even gravity.

No, it can't be. Most likely, it was the plane that took off before the one in which Eleanor is sitting. Her flight will be canceled or rescheduled because of this, and she is about to be able to call him. So it will be. She and Robyn are fine. Hob stormed out of the staff room, despite how soft his legs had become. With trembling hands, he dialed his wife's number and tried to get through to her, but the subscriber was unavailable.

Hob: El, what happened??? where're you??

Hob: answer me, please!! say you're both safe!

Hob: please be okay.

Realising that he could no longer stand, Hob sat down on the nearest bench in the corridor. He pressed the same button dozens of times, but instead of Eleanor's voice, only an answering machine answered him. The airport website didn't help either — it was overloaded, and it remained impossible to look at the new flight schedule, taking into account the disaster. Hob's mouth went dry, but he kept repeating in his mind that Eleanor must have a hard time with a kid in her arms to find time to get her phone in an airport full of panicking people. As soon as she finds a secluded place, she will call. Or text. It doesn't matter, she'll let him know that they're all right.

Hob kept trying to call his wife or access the site without interruption. Students and teachers were passing by him, but he didn't see or hear anyone. He must go there and pick them up. But the road, most likely, was blocked, and he couldn't get close to the airport, it's unlikely that even without a car they would let him in at the entrance.

Maybe it's only been a couple of hours, maybe more than ten. Hob didn't remember. This period of time was completely erased from his memory. He couldn't tell where he was, what he was doing, who he was talking to. But he will never be able to forget the call that gave rise to hope in him and immediately destroyed it. Extinguished like a newly lit candle.

“Eleanor!” he shouted into the speaker as soon as an unfamiliar number appeared on his screen. She could have borrowed a phone from someone to call him. Her own could easily be discharged at the most inopportune moment, as it usually happened.

“Robert Gadling?” came a rough, deep voice, not at all like his wife's.

”Y-yes, it's me.” Hob felt his heart begin to beat slower, and the skin-chilling fear soaked even into his bones.

“I'm sorry to inform you, but we need you to come to the hospital to identify the body.”

From that moment on, Hob's life stopped. The male voice continued to say something, but it no longer mattered. At first, all feelings disappeared, every single one. No hope, no fear, no grief. This call seemed to knock out all humanity from Hob. Only coldness grew inside him, invisible ice felt like it touched every organ that kept his body alive, turning him into an inanimate statue.

Hob felt nothing either when he left work or when he drove to the specified address. Everything happened as if in a trance. He even barely gave an account of his actions. And the low temperature of the morgue had no effect on his sense of self. Hob looked impassively at the bodies covered with blankets, he didn't even tremble. But as soon as the doctor threw back one of the blankets...

Doctors are not mean people. They allowed him to hold the cold body of the dead child close to him and sit with him on the floor. Hob was crying harder than ever. He whispered prayers in the boy's ear to open his eyes, wake up, breathe in the air again. Robyn hasn't yet seen life, but it has already ended. Hob had told him that together they would choose a puppy when the boy was five years old. Every day, Robyn came up with a new profession that he would like to master when he grows up. But fate didn't give him a chance to try himself in any of them.

Tears welled up with new force when he saw on the hand of another body, an adult, which lay very close, familiar silver rings. Eleanor spent all the morning choosing which of her rings to wear on their trip. She was very fond of silver jewelry and rarely left the house without them. Hob tightened his grip on his son and screamed. The pain was too much for him to bear. It crawled into every cell, touched every joint, every scar. It's like breaking all the bones at the same time. Each breath seemed to cut his throat from the inside. It's not fair. It shouldn't have happened.

Someone called Hob a man of luck, because he escaped certain death. Controversial assertion. Is it possible to call a person lucky who buried the two most dear to his heart people? He went to the cemetery every day, sat at the gravestones, sometimes he was telling something, but most often he was silent. Some of the cemetery workers from time to time saw him lying on the grave, tucking his knees to his chest.

Hob constantly thought that he should be there, in the ground, and rot with his family. He loved life more than anything else, but it has lost all colours and turned into one continuous suffering. However, something inside Hob still clung to it, he knew that even if he had the chance to go back in time to board that damn plane with Eleanor to share her fate, he would not take it. Never. Even when his life had already lost its meaning, the thought of parting with it didn't seem less absurd than before.

He retired from his college. Firstly, Hob couldn't physically be in a building that was all about Eleanor, but even more about the news release that broke his heart. Secondly, all the days merged together, he seemed to live in the groundhog day, grief took possession of him so much that he could not even go to the shower regularly, what can we say about work. For several months, Hob spent whole days in the cemetery. He would have slept there if they hadn't kicked him out when the sun went down.

Sooner or later, savings run out, and in order not to die of hunger, he had to look for a new job. A friend of his helped him get a job at another college where she was principal. It was a temporary position, but Hob wouldn't have been able to handle a permanent one. He was unable to work with children, hardly spoke to anyone, and avoided social interactions. Hob became a different person. His hair had grown to his shoulders, his almost invisible stubble had turned into a scruffy beard. Some people sometimes mistook him for a homeless person.

He was entrusted with some kind of paper work, which he did through force. His new colleagues tried to get to know him, but Hob showed no interest in them, didn't answer questions and didn't enter into dialogues. He could see from their faces that they all knew what had happened to him. Some didn't even try to hide their pity. But Hob didn't care. He didn't try to remember names or faces.

In the teacher's room of this college, there was also a TV, which, in the same way, worked almost without interruption. Except for the different colour of the walls and different furniture, Hob, one might say, remained in the same place. Only he didn't think it would be better for him to avoid TV for a while. When he heard the discussion of yet another plane crash, his entire body shook. Hob ran out into the corridor as fast as he could, tripped over his foot and collapsed to the floor. He heard more than felt how his heart began to beat too fast for a healthy person, black dots appeared in his eyes, and the air became sorely lacking. Hob opened and closed his mouth in an attempt to inhale, but he was choking, as if oxygen was deliberately not getting into his lungs. It was scary, as if Death herself had decided that it was time for him to reunite with his beloved.

He was grounded by someone's touch. When Hob regained consciousness, he felt that he was hugged by a complete stranger person. But it was what he needed. He had not been touched since the funeral. Nobody hugged him for six months.

"Shhh, I'm holding you, it's okay." whispered a female voice in his ear. “You're having a panic attack. Don't be afraid, I'm holding you. You are not alone.”

Perhaps this panic attack saved his life. Johanna Constantine was once a teacher too, but she only worked in the profession for a year and a half. Hob was lucky that he got into her college at that time. She was one of the few who didn't know anything about him, but she was the only one who noticed the state he was in when he ran away. She found him and did everything to calm him down. And Johanna never let him go again.

She was going with him to the cemetery and was holding his hand, she was waiting for him at the psychotherapist's office, was feeding him almost from her hands, she was reminding him to change clothes and was praising for every little thing that he was doing on his own.

Realising that Hob was drowning in loneliness and fear, and the ghosts of the past weren't going to let him go, Johanna invited him to move in her place. So many nights they spent in silence, sitting back to back, or lying on the floor next to each other and looking at the ceiling. Johanna was hugging him when he was jumping up screaming from nightmares, and sometimes they slept in the same bed for his peace of mind.

For Hob, she became a safe haven in the worst storm. Johanna was with him when no one else was left, supporting and helping in any way she could. Since Hob had little energy for hygiene, one day she sat him in front of a mirror, cut his hair and shaved him by herself. His hair was a little longer than before the tragedy, but that's for the best.

Hob slowly got to his feet, the treatment was long and tiring, but not ineffectual. Johanna first heard his laugh, only after almost two years of their life in the same apartment. Then she smiled, put one arm around his neck and touched his forehead with her forehead. It was the day Hob realised that the worst was behind him.

Hob now has a new style, a new home, new friends, a new job, and even a new name (no one else dared to call him Rob or Robbie anymore), but his wounded heart, demanding love, remains old.

The alarm clock on the phone rang, perhaps longer than usual, before being silenced. Hob struggled to open his eyes, feeling his head split apart. Recently, he increasingly began to dream of memories that he both wanted and was afraid to forget. It took him a moment to remember what happened yesterday.

He came to Johanna's work, sat on the floor of her studio and told her everything he felt. Hob remembered that. Then they went to a bar. And about the eighth glass of Margarita, his memory began to disappear, leaving only some incoherent fragments. Hob closed his eyes and groaned softly. He still has to rush to work, but his head hurt like a brick had fallen on it at night.

Turning to the other side, Hob noticed a glass of water and a pack of pills on a small black table. Only then he realised that he wasn't at his home, and not even at Johanna's. Before he began to think, Hob immediately grabbed the life-saving pills. God, he hadn't been this drunk in years.

The eyes closed again on their own. It takes time for the medicine to work. Why has humanity still not come up with a universal salvation from a hangover? Where does all the technological progress go?

Hob was almost asleep again when he felt a cool hand on his forehead. Morpheus loomed over him, a hint of worry on his face. It took Hob a few seconds to focus on him.

“How are you feeling?” his friend asked quietly, dropping to his knees.

“Like a rotten fish.” Hob chuckled weakly. Morpheus's brows furrowed a little and he picked up the pills he had left on the table as if they betrayed him personally.

“My sister said it should help you.”

“It will help. But it takes time.”

Hob couldn't help but smile. All the resentment that he felt for Morpheus disappeared instantly, as soon as he saw him. Hob didn't know how he ended up at his house, but he didn't want to find out right now either. More importantly, his friend is trying to take care of him without having the slightest idea how to do it.

“You should skip work today. I doubt you're strong enough to teach.”

“Are you worried about me? How sweet.” Hob chuckled and pulled away from the pillow with a heavy groan. “No, I have to go. It's my own fault for putting myself in this position. No one will pay me for a day of a hangover.”

Morpheus looked up at him and blinked slowly. He looked so confused that Hob wanted to hug him, but instead, he only allowed himself to pat him on the head. Morpheus was usually annoyed by this, but now he didn't react to this gesture.

“I'll be fine.” Hob assured him. Morpheus' eyebrow twitched upward, showing his disbelief. Perhaps Hob really looked too bad. He needs to wash and clean himself up.

Morpheus pointed to the bathroom door. Getting up from the sofa, Hob saw that at his feet lay a pile of small shiny things, which, no doubt, Jessamy brought him as a consolation. The raven itself was neither seen nor heard, but since her master was calm, it means that she is doing her bird business somewhere in the house.

In the mirror, Hob's face was indeed not the healthiest, and even cold water and mint toothpaste did little to improve his appearance. Well, there is nothing to do, he'll have to courageously endure the jokes of students and avoid the rector all day long.

He didn't use Morpheus's razor, but at home he should definitely shave in the evening so that the stubble doesn't turn into something more that requires careful maintenance. Hob didn't manage to be horrified by his own reflection in the mirror for long, as he smelled smoke, followed by a loud, condemning croak. He had no idea how croaking could even represent any sort of human emotion, but Jessamy seemed to be more emotional than her owner.

Thinking a fire had started, Hob ran out of the bathroom. In the kitchen, Morpheus fought desperately with a toaster that had a piece of bread stuck in it, while Jessamy flew around him and made more and more forcing sounds. Hob froze in the aisle, blinking his eyes stupidly.

"Um, do you need some help?"

Morpheus stopped pounding on the piece of equipment with a ladle and hid it behind his back with a straight face.

“I can't cook. And I don't have much food.” The toaster made a clicking sound, and the burnt bread jumped right into the temple of the man, who was trying to maintain his dignity in Hob's eyes. “But I have a toaster. And I thought... Well, you need to get to work. And you need food. I wanted to make toast. But I haven't used it in a long time.”

Hob tried to contain his laughter. Honestly tried. But he didn't succeed. Morpheus in a purple hoodie trying to get bread out of a toaster is one of the funniest things he's ever seen, which is why Hob laughed despite his headache. He even doubled over, hugging his stomach with his hands. Morpheus looked at him with disapproval, his lips pouting like a child who's been robbed of candy.

“You are the most charming creature I know!” Hob said as the laughter began to recede. Oh, how much he wanted to hug this amazing person. More than anything else. His sullen friend with a shock of unruly hair was born to spend the rest of his life in the Hob's arms.

By the way, Morpheus wore the same hoodie that Hob had once lent him. It was both strange and pleasant at the same time. The hoodie made him small and impossibly cozy. Well, it would be remiss not to mention that the word written on it describes his friend's personality quite well.

“Constantine brought you here yesterday,” Morpheus began to speak hesitantly, putting away both the ladle and the toaster. Hob was sure it was so that he would have a reason not to look at him. “said you wanted to see me.”

“Ah...oh...” Hob swallowed, clutching his earlobe. Yes, he could. But if Johanna brought him, then she definitely didn't let him say unnecessary nonsense, he is confident in her even more than in himself. “I hope I haven't given you too much trouble. Sorry about that.”

“You fell asleep right away.” Morpheus picked up a toast from the floor. Jessamy, who had been waiting for her finest hour all this time, brazenly snatched the bread from his hands and flew to her treasury under the gloomy, disapproving look of the owner, who would have to remove crumbs from everywhere. “And you have nothing to apologize for. I must do this. I was so... glad that Orpheus made contact with me that I couldn't... I didn't know how... I didn't think...”

Morpheus bit his lower lip, his knuckles turning white from how tightly he gripped the edge of the kitchen table.

“Hey, it's all right.” Hob approached him and carefully, fearing to frighten him away, put his hand on top of his. “I'm not angry. I was a little upset, but everything is fine now. I just thought you wouldn't need me. I value our friendship and am afraid of losing it.”

«I'm afraid to lose you» he wanted to say, but he didn't dare. Morpheus had a hard time with such dialogues. A lot of thoughts swirled in his head, and it is easier for him to put them on paper than to say them out loud.

“You can't be not needed.” he answered in a whisper, perhaps hoping that he would remain unheard. But these words warmed Hob's heart, made him smile and added courage to him. Putting his other hand on the back of Morpheus's neck, he hugged him.

Morpheus didn't resist. At first he stood like a limp doll, allowing himself to be hugged, but then Hob felt the hands of others unsteadily wrap around his waist and connect from behind. Hob would definitely be late for work today, but he wasn't about to let go of his friend. There was a faint smell of shampoo in his hair, and Hob closed his eyes, inhaling it slowly. Morpheus fit perfectly into his hugs, as if he really was made for them. His friend's nose rested on his shoulder, on which Hob felt a nervous breath. Morpheus was nervous and self-blaming, but he was forgiven once Hob's eyes opened that morning. He couldn't be offended or angry with him for a long time. It's impossible. As soon as Hob looked into his blue eyes, he became helpless in front of him, ready to do absolutely anything he wanted.

To his surprise, Morpheus was not eager to move away. He pressed a little harder against the strong body when Hob wanted to let him go, which forced him to keep the hug. It's not known how long they would have stood like that if not Jessamy, who in flight grabbed the owner by the strand and roughly pulled towards the empty feeder. Hob chuckled, and Morpheus, with a heavy sigh, put his hands at his sides and obediently trudged along behind the bird, which demanded its portion of breakfast. Apparently, one burnt toast wasn't enough for her.

Hob leaned back against the table, admiring every move Morpheus made in his hoodie. Perhaps not all the remnants of the alcohol had left his mind, as questions swirled on his tongue that he had not previously been able to afford to ask.

“You know, not many straight men wear pride clothes.” came out of his mouth before he could think. Hob pressed his lips into a thin line. Well, if anything happens, he will say that he is still a little drunk. Yes. Will it work? Unlikely. But suddenly he will treat him loyally.

“Firstly, I was going to give it back to you.” Morpheus said as he closed the locker door. He looked down at the hoodie as if seeing it for the first time. “I just... forgot. And it's warm. So...”

“You can keep it.” Hob waved his hand. “Purple suits you. And opossum too. Reminds me of Mervyn, by the way.”

“It really does look like him.” The corners of Morpheus' lips turned up slightly. He slowly ran his hand over the drawing and the letters, then lifted his head to look at Hob's face. “Secondly, I never said I'm straight.”

Hob might have fallen if the table hadn't supported him. Oh hell, he knew it. So does he have a chance?

“I prefer not to put any labels on myself.” Morpheus continued in a calm, even tone. “I don't define myself in any sexuality or gender. I am who I am. I feel comfortable in my body, but I don't think that anything would have changed in my sense of self with other genitals. And the fact that all my previous lovers were women is just a coincidence. Men can also attract me, as well as those who don't consider themselves to be either one or the other, or are in the middle. I don't care.”

Oh, that's much more than Hob expected to know. He definitely has a chance. Morpheus is attracted to men, and Hob considered himself quite a handsome and charismatic man. In addition, his easy flirting has never been perceived negatively. Hob got his second wind. He really wanted to ask if he was attracted to him.

“People call it pansexuality, princess.” Hob winked at him.

“I prefer it to be called only love.”

Of course, Morpheus is a romantic. He couldn't not be. Hob had already begun to think of ways to woo him, but in a way that wasn't too intrusive or embarrassing. In fact, he hadn't had to woo anyone in a very long time. Usually it was just going to the cinema or restaurants, nothing more. But Morpheus deserves to be treated beautifully, like a king. He deserved the closest attention.

Hob poured himself some water, his eyes fixed on Morpheus, who was picking at the surface of the kitchen cabinet with his finger. Looking like a lost cat, he was clearly thinking about something he wanted to voice, but for some reason kept silent. Well, Hob knows how to wait.

Even Jessamy stopped eating and, in confusion, turned her head from one person to another. While Morpheus was gathering his thoughts, Hob was already imagining how he would go to the flower shop and choose flowers for him. Giving roses is too banal. Maybe he should buy cornflowers? They match the colour of his eyes. Once Hob was familiar with the language of flowers, but the memories remained very vague. Some of the yellow ones mean only friendship, so he will have to avoid the yellow colour. But it's much easier to bring along Rachel, who once worked as a florist. With her help, he will definitely be able to collect the perfect bouquet for the subject of his sigh.

“Constantine mentioned that you've known each other for a long time.” Morpheus muttered, concentrating on his fingernail. Hob pulled himself out of his fantasies and bowed his head like an attentive puppy.

“Yup, a very long time. Almost ten years.”

“And she said you lived together.”

Hob's eyebrows went up. He didn't quite understand where his friend was driving, but because of the gloomy tone and offended face, he had to choose his words carefully.

“We did. I had problems and really needed someone by my side. I don't know where I would be without her. She is a good person. She saved me from loneliness and a bunch of other unpleasant things.”

“I see.” Morpheus's shoulders slumped. He paused, stopped mocking his kitchen furniture, and gave him a sidelong glance. “Do you love her?”

“Of course I do.” Hob set the glass down on the table. “I can’t help but love her, no matter how much she pisses me off at times. When I need to imagine a friend's face, my subconscious mind shows her face. I think of her like my own sister.”

“You were dating.” more of a statement than a question. Hob grimaced as if he had eaten a slice of lemon.

“There are appallingly few things in this life that Johanna and I haven't done, but sex is in the top three. After murder and human trafficking. I think even Rachel was more likely to interest me like that.”

Hob almost choked with the realisation that washed over him like a wave of cold water. The way Morpheus stood stiffly, avoided eye contact and spoke softly. The way what he said... Everything pointed to just one thing, which fueled the belief that Hob definitely had every right to pay attention to him.

“Are you jealous?” Oh shit, Hob needed to control himself more, but holding back a smile was an impossible requirement. Morpheus shook his head sharply. His lips pouted even more, his brows furrowed more, but even so, he couldn't hide the fact that he was taken by surprise. “You are jealous!”

“I'm not!”

Hob smiled happily. His mood improved dramatically, much to the regret of his friend. Morpheus bristled, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and led him towards the front door behind him. Hob's legs wobbled from his unaccustomed to walking backwards, but that only made him more amused.

“You have to go to a work.”

“So you're interested in me, right? Do you like me? Do you find me attractive?”

“Shut up.”

“Can I ask you out on a date?”

Morpheus thrust his jacket into his hands and fussily began to open the locks, trying to ignore the happy and teasing chirping of Hob behind him. Pushing open the door, he saw Lucienne standing in the doorway, just about to use the doorbell. Morpheus pushed Hob out of the house.

“Take him to the university and come back for me.” he commanded, looking sternly at his assistant. Lucienne, although somewhat surprised, only nodded. Strangeness in working with Morpheus is an everyday thing. And to be honest, she was used to Hob. It was getting harder and harder to think about her boss without Gadling behind him.

"A kiss for goodbye, princess?" Hob winked at Morpheus, who promptly slammed the door in his face. At first, this reaction made him laugh, and then he noticed that he was standing in nothing but socks, and pounded on the door with both hands with all his might. “Hey, give me back my shoes! It's not May outside, in case you forgot!”

A small crack opened in the door, from which a hand with boots stuck out, and immediately closed again. Hob snorted merrily. While he was putting on his shoes, Lucienne looked at him with an inscrutable gaze.

“Bastard.”

“Rob… Hob,” she immediately corrected herself and smiled politely, “could you do me one favour?”

Although Hob didn't know what to expect from Lucienne's request, that didn't stop him from being surprised that he was almost kicked out of the university in the middle of the day for some sort of "historical consultation." Judging by how quickly Lucienne managed to persuade the rector to steal one of the professors, she had the strongest gift of persuasion in the world. She also stubbornly didn't tell him where they were going. Lucienne only smiled and promised that Hob wouldn't be disappointed. He had no reason not to believe her. Despite the fact that they had very little contact with each other, Lucienne gave the impression of a person who could be trusted with life. Plus, she's been working with Morpheus for years. Holy woman, no less.

It wasn't until he was brought to the set that Lucienne explained to him the reason she had asked him to come with her. They needed someone who could regulate Morpheus and his temper tantrums. Hob had loved movies for as long as he could remember, but somehow he had no desire to be on the other side of the screen earlier. He was more attracted by the prospect of seeing his friend working. Filming was in full swing, and before even reaching the end of the corridor, Hob heard a familiar voice that was louder and angrier than usual. It will be fun.

Nobody paid any attention to him. Hob walked beside Lucienne with a confident step, not looking around. As soon as Morpheus came into his line of sight, he immediately walked towards him, leaving the writer's personal assistant behind, and with each new step his smile grew wider and wider. Morpheus's reaction was priceless: he saw a figure approaching out of the corner of his eye and turned sharply, ready to shout something, but froze with his mouth half open, his eyes widened, the wrinkle between his eyebrows smoothed out. It's difficult to say whether he was glad to see him, but he was surprised for sure.

“Hob? What are you doing here?” his voice was soft and almost gentle, especially compared to just a minute ago.

“Lucienne said you're hurting everyone here and I should stop you.” Hob winked at Morpheus, who immediately glanced at his assistant. Lucienne showed no remorse. She stood with a straight back and smiled. There was a whistle behind Morpheus.

“My lord, will you bring your friends here every day? May I too then?”

“You weren’t given a word.” Morpheus snarled, but with much less aggression than usual.

“Hey, be more respectful to him. He's your colleague.” Hob interceded immediately. Morpheus didn't hide the feeling of betrayal on his face, while the actor, pleased with the defense, broke into a smug smile.

“I like him. My name is Corinthian.” The man walked past the writer and grabbed Hob's hand in a firm handshake.

“Call me Hob. Nice to meet you. I'm a friend of Morpheus.”

“A friend? So I can give you my number?”

“Corinthian, you are at work.” Morpheus literally pulled the actor away from Hob, standing closer to him. Through the dark glasses that Corinthian adopted from the character into his personal style, he glanced at his boss, and his smile turned into a sinister one, as if he had learned some very important secret and would be ready to use it for blackmail in the near future.

“Oh, I understand now, my lord. Don't worry, I won't touch anyone else's. If he himself doesn't ask to be touched.”

The man bowed theatrically and skipped back to his seat in front of the camera. Morpheus followed him with his eyes and, turning to Hob, was faced with his most self-satisfied and sly grin.

“Not jealous, huh?”

“Hob.”

“Morpheus.”

Hob won their small exchanges and Morpheus turned away first, returning to his chair. While they were bickering with each other, Matthew slipped over to Lucienne.

“And who is he?”

“His boyfriend, you can say.” Lucienne chuckled softly. Matthew arched an eyebrow, looked over his shoulder at the boss and Hob talking to him, and turned his attention back to the woman.

“Does he know about it?”

“I think not yet.”

At least Hob really managed to calm Morpheus and drive away the remnants of his anger in a matter of minutes. He even became calmer than in the morning.

Hob mostly sat next to him and occasionally whispered something in his ear. Morpheus leaned his head closer to him and took into account his every word, even if he fundamentally disagreed with him. Every time he was about to yell at someone, Hob grabbed him by the shoulder and stood up for the offender. Now Morpheus argued more with him than with the cast. The crew immediately took a liking to him.

Matthew's jaw dropped. When was it that Morpheus listened to someone? And where is his favourite “you dare tell me how to do my job”? In his position, Morpheus always remained adamant, and any disputes awakened demons in him, which he didn't try to hide. But Hob spoke to him in a terrifyingly calm and measured tone, confident that the writer's wrath would bypass him.

Both Hob and Morpheus knew that he was the only one the writer apologized to with such enviable frequency. In addition, Hob knew well how to treat his friend, what words to emphasize and what facial expressions to use so that rage was replaced by any other emotion. Even with irritation, it's easier to have a dialogue than with bright anger. No one handled Morpheus better than Hob.

But sitting in one place for several hours is a real torture for him, so Hob stretched his legs from time to time and at the same time got to know people, most of whose names Morpheus forgot on the very first day. In half a day, Hob managed to talk to everyone and create a good impression of himself. With Matthew, he generally very quickly found a common language. Morpheus noticed how they both looked at him and giggled conspiratorially. He certainly didn't want to know what they were talking about.

Even when the sun had long since set, the working day didn't end. During one of the last breaks, Corinthian and Matthew went outside to smoke, and Hob tagged along while Morpheus had some important discussion with the cameraman. Matthew offered him a cigarette, but Hob refused without hesitation.

“Thanks, but I quit smoking a long time ago.”

“Hanging out with Morpheus and not smoking?” Matthew chuckled in disbelief. “So how do you restore nerves?”

“You can call me a masochist, but I genuinely like his arrogance.”

Matthew and Corinthian looked at each other meaningfully.

“You're a weird guy.” said the second one, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Share a secret, how do you manage to shut him up?”

"The magic of friendship." Hob laughed. Corinthian exchanged glances with Matthew again. They didn't even need to say anything to understand each other.

Soon Matthew was cursing when he heard his name from Morpheus's lips. Extinguishing his cigarette, he, with a tired look, went to the metaphorical cage to be torn to pieces by the tiger, leaving Hob and Corinthian alone.

“He got into the habit of bringing outsiders here to the site,” the actor complained, “yesterday he brought his son. But with him, he wasn't particularly restrained in expressions, unlike with you.”

“Orpheus was here?” Hob swallowed. Oh, that's bad. What if Orpheus wants to come here on his own and see him? What the hell kind of historical consultation can there be in a completely fantasy story?

“Yeah, I even managed to get his number.” Corinthian raised his glasses to his forehead, smiling proudly. “Funny boy. At first he seems being a dick just like his father, but he's interesting. He agreed to keep me company in the near future. Do you know him?”

“Something like that.” Hob sighed. It took him a few minutes to formulate his thoughts without sounding too pathetic. “Don't tell him I was here, okay?”

Corinthian narrowed his eyes curiously. He looked like a mixture of a bloodthirsty wolf and a cunning fox.

“I help him with something and I don’t want to spoil my relationship with him. If he finds out I was here with his father, he'll be furious. Sooner or later I'll tell him, but now is not the right time.”

Corinthian extinguished his cigarette against the wall, threw it on the ground, threw his arm around Hob's neck and led him inside.

“He agreed to communicate with me on the condition that I wouldn't say a word about my job and his father. But we can make a deal. You don't let Mr. You Dare hurt me, and I watch your back and stop little Orpheus from knowing that you're fucking his dad. Deal?”

“Deal.” Hob grinned. Corinthian patted his hair with a conspiratorial chuckle. "And I don't fuck Morpheus."

“I look to the future, my puppy friend.”

Corinthian kissed the top of his head before letting go. And it looks like he did it on purpose when Morpheus spotted them. In order not to get punished for his little dirty trick, Corinthian ran behind Matthew, sticking out his tongue at the boss. Hob couldn't help but laugh. Morpheus approached him with a sullen look, and he was already starting to come up with an excuse to calm him down, but his friend spoke first.

“Do you want to keep me company on the set in Paris?”

Hob closed his mouth without making a sound. He blinked once, twice, thrice. It's still not a dream, Morpheus stood before him, waiting for an answer. If earlier he only hinted at a possible interest on his part, then this proposal sounded like a real confession.

Chapter Text

“You're not going anywhere!”

The loud banging on the table attracted the attention of the few the New Inn visitors. Hob's eyes were downcast, he very rarely felt so ashamed, and he wasn't delighted by it. But he understood where such anger comes from. Johanna, sitting across from him, was staring at him like a wolf, not because she didn't respect his decision or couldn't stand Morpheus. Because she loved him. As did Rachel, who took a neutral seat between them.

Hob had just told them that he had agreed to go with Morpheus to Paris. Lucienne and Matthew even found a historic conference in the city so Hob could set up a business trip and gather materials for an article he needs to finish by early next month. By the way, he has not touched the article itself for a long time, so he will have something to do in Paris. Hob had the rare gift of concentrating anywhere and at any time if his body didn't let him down. Maybe, being away from the students who constantly grab his attention, he will be able to write a damn article in time.

His locked hands lay on the knees. Hob didn't raise his head, afraid to face the furious look of his friend. Okay, maybe he slightly underestimated the reaction that this news would cause. But he had his own reasons for agreeing to Morpheus's offer without hesitation. And the opportunity to woo him in this situation was only in second place.

Getting no response, Johanna sighed heavily. She was lucky the chair didn't fall back to the floor when she jumped up. Even without looking at her face, Hob could imagine what emotions it depicted. They knew each other too well.

“Why didn't you suggest taking the train when you found out about the plane?” Rachel asked softly. Hob couldn't have known that under the table she had kicked Johanna, urging her to calm down.

"You don't want your asshole to know about the phobia?" the poison coming from Johanna's voice could at least kill an elephant. Hob shook his head and buried his face in his hands. Only the thought of airplanes caused him horror and panic, but he knew what awaited him when he agreed. Morpheus asked if this type of transport suits him.

”I'm tired.” he answered hoarsely, raising his head. “I'm tired of being afraid.”

“Stop being an idiot!” Johanna barely restrained herself from hitting the table again. “Don't you see what's happening to you? It's not a shame to be afraid, you stupid ass!”

“I know!” Hob had to raise his voice to interrupt Jo, who was about to say something else. Luckily, she kept her mouth shut. “I'm not talking about that. Look, I've been suffering from this for ten years now. You know each other seven of them. And compare how many countries you have visited and how many I have.”

Rachel took Hob's hand in hers, to which he thanked her with a weakly smile. Johanna folded her arms across her chest, leaning back in her chair. Hob wasn't going to come up with some sky-high reasons, and he really didn't like to lie to his friends. Besides, he has no one else to discuss this situation with. Only they know what happened to him.

“All my life I dreamed of traveling,” Hob continued, sighing, “I wanted to see the world, live life to the fullest, so that I wouldn't regret anything at the end. But now when I have money and opportunities, I'm staying here. The first and last time I was on another continent was even before Eleanor's pregnancy. I have to take the risk, Jo. If I realize that I'm not ready yet, I'll hand over the ticket and go by ground transport, I promise. Let me try.” Hob extended his other hand and placed it in Johanna's. "I'm strong, Jo. I can do this ”.

Johanna gazed gloomily into his determined, self-assured eyes. Behind all the anger was fear, everyone at this table knew it. Jo had to constantly help him cope with panic attacks, she knew better than anyone the consequences that this trip could bring. But Hob knew what he was doing. Only an hour and a half in the sky. Pretty good for a start, right?

"And Morpheus will be with me." Hob's smile is happier this time.

“I don't trust him.”

“I do.”

Finally, Johanna sighed heavily, her features softening, and she squeezed her fingers into Hob's palm, unusually gentle for her nature.

“You've completely lost your mind.”

Jo smiled at him. This ended the dispute. Once everything was settled, Hob went to the girls' house and spent the whole evening playing board games with them. Due to work and Hob's love interest, the three of them didn't spend much time together, and he really missed both of his friends. He spent the night with them, and in the morning Rachel took him to the university.

Hob's thoughts rushed from the upcoming flight to Morpheus, because of which he became insanely nervous, then calmed down, this greatly interfered with the work. He broke out in a cold sweat every hour, and in order not to go crazy, Hob tried to occupy his head with something else: he began to check term papers, tests, essays, met with students and listened to them, but he couldn't escape from fear. By a happy coincidence, Nuala ran into his office and asked for help, which the good professor couldn't refuse.

The synthesizer he had to drag into the concert hall wasn't really that heavy, but Nuala was very afraid of dropping someone else's instrument, so she decided to play it safe from a possible disaster. Smart solution. Morpheus asked Hob about Nuala. The girl found a common language with Orpheus, but when and where they managed to meet is a secret that neither one nor the other was going to reveal. However, Hob could say with confidence that Orpheus would not have found a better friend at the music faculty. She perfectly complements him with her temperament, she knows how to be convincing and persistent, but not to go too far and see the boundaries. Nuala is one of the most empathetic students Hob has dealt with, and he assured Morpheus that Orpheus was in good hands. As it turned out, she even managed to persuade him to join the group. So far, only for one concert, but this is already an achievement. Maybe he'll like it and want to stay.

“I got a job as a professor of history, but I work as a loader.” Hob complained as he entered the hall. Orpheus helped him put the instrument in the right place.

“Would you really make a fragile girl carry such things?” the younger Endless replied caustically, snorting.

“Nuala is a delicate flower, but she isn't so fragile. Right, kid?” Hob looked over his shoulder at Nuala, who was taking her flute out of its case.

“Right, professor. But if Orpheus wants to carry all the heavy instruments instead of me, I will gladly play along with him.”

“Simulator.” Orpheus rolled his eyes and Nuala giggled.

The synthesizer was left out as both musicians picked up their favourite instruments and seemed to be tuning them. Soon there will be the first rehearsal of Orpheus in the new group. Hob got permission to listen to the two of them duet, so he sat comfortably in his chair and kept a close eye on both students. Orpheus looked a little happier. He was very lonely, but now he had someone near, besides Hob and his mother. Someone his age who shares his hobbies. Orpheus slowly blossomed, and his inner sun could ignite again at any moment. The boy went to this terribly long time, he deserved to feel happiness again.

At some point, Nuala stopped abruptly and, looking at the time, ran out of the hall with horror on her face. Hob stood up abruptly to go after her and help her with anything, but Orpheus stopped him.

“It’s okay, she went to meet the rest of the group.” Orpheus sat on the edge of the stage and put the lyre on his knees.

“Ah, I see. Then perhaps I should go so as not to disturb you. This is your first rehearsal with them, right?” Hob stepped closer to put his hand on the student's shoulder. Orpheus nodded. “Good luck then. I'm sure they'll like you. You are a charming boy.”

“Wait, professor.” Orpheus's fingers began to carefully pluck the strings of the instrument, creating a quiet chaotic melody. “May I ask you something personal?”

“Sure.” Hob smiled. He leaned back against the stage, waiting. Orpheus pursed his lips, as if doubting something. Involuntarily, Hob began to think that the question would somehow be related to the relationship between Orpheus and his father. That's logical. Every time Orpheus wanted to say something serious, he would talk about something that had to do with their difficult family situation.

“Have you been able to love another person since losing your wife?” Orpheus's hand on the strings trembled, as did Hob himself. He had already forgotten that he had told him about it.

“Yes, actually.” Hob folded his arms across his chest, tilting his head to the side. An image of Morpheus appeared before his eyes, which made him smile, no matter how hard he resisted. “I've been looking for love for many years, but I thought that I would never find it again. And when I stopped looking, it found me itself.”

"And you don't feel like a traitor?" Orpheus hunched a little. ”How can you love someone when you already gave your heart away once?”

“I suspect my wife sent my heart back by post.” Hob laughed softly. Looking at Orpheus, he gently stroked his hair. “I didn't betray her. I can never love someone the way I loved her. But I can love differently. She would be happy for me, as well as Eurydice for you. Why do you ask?”

“I'm afraid that someone might interest me in that way. And it will make me forget my Eurydice.”

”You will never forget her, trust my bitter experience.” Hob pushed off the stage and walked slowly towards the exit. “Don't resist, Orpheus. Go with the flow and find out for yourself if you want to love and be loved again.”

Before Hob had time to process Orpheus' words, his phone vibrated in his jeans pocket, alerting him to a new message. As his feet carried him back to the office, Hob looked down at the screen and his face lit up. How little he needed to feel happy. Just one person and tiny attention from him. Especially after confidence in mutual feelings was born in his chest. Hob certainly didn't pressure Morpheus. Perhaps he needs more time to admit his sympathy, which is visible to the naked eye. Hob is in no hurry, he will give Morpheus as much time as he needs. Even if he has to restrain himself from kissing his arrogant face.

 Morpheus: can you come to my house today? Jessamy wants to see you.

God, that's such a stupid excuse that Hob couldn't help but laugh. Yes, it's definitely Jessamy who wants to meet him. Not her owner at all. One hundred percent. But since Hob wants to be a good boyfriend, he won't tell him that he didn't believe his message for a second. Maybe. Well, he won't talk about it until the meeting. Hob knows himself well. He enjoys teasing Morpheus too much to ignore it.

Of course Hob arrived. He would have rushed to Morpheus at three in the morning if he had called. Only when he entered the house did the thought occur to him that he should have bought flowers. Or chocolate. Morpheus is crazy about chocolate, his heart can be conquered by one candy. But it was too late to run to the store.

As soon as Hob crossed the threshold, he immediately rushed to Jessamy, who held one of her owner's pencils in her beak. Ignoring Morpheus, he knelt before her and caressed her well-groomed wings, cooing compliments. Jessamy liked this attention, she proudly puffed out her chest, raised her head and made a satisfied sound, closing her eyes. She's just like Morpheus in the bird form. Even the expression on her face is just as proud, arrogant and happy.

When Hob's head turned, he noticed the bird's owner himself. He stood in the middle of the room, as if he didn't know where to put himself, and stared blankly at his guest and the bird. Judging by the confused expression on his face, he was clearly hurt that his friend treated him like an empty place, and didn't even bother to say hello. Hob chuckled, pleased at the reaction. Each time, Morpheus' emotions turned out to be better than he imagined.

“You said Jessamy wanted to see me. Did you too?” Hob wasn't at all a lover of a caustic tone, but in the presence of Morpheus, he basically had poor control over himself and his tongue. It's not his fault, he's just a lovesick idiot whose thoughts go back to how much he wants to touch those pretty pouty lips.

Morpheus frowned, whirled around on the spot and sullenly strode into the kitchen. Hob coughed to keep from laughing. He straightened his knees and crept up on tiptoe to his friend, who was making tea with nervous movements. Making sure that Morpheus didn't have a kettle of boiling water or a cup in his hands, Hob abruptly wrapped his arms around his waist. In surprise, Morpheus jumped up on the spot and immediately began to kick in an attempt to escape from the embrace. If he really wanted to, it would be easy for him to leave. But he remained in Hob's hands.

“And I wanted to see you. I missed you, princess.”

“I hate that nickname.”

“You love it.” Hob chuckled before unclenching his ring of hands. Morpheus hid his embarrassment behind a mask of annoyance, but Hob had studied him well enough to see true emotions.

“Why are you so sure?”

“Because in all that time, you never said, 'you dare to call me like that', huh.” Hob tried to parody his deep voice, but judging by Morpheus' wrinkled nose, he didn't do it very well. However, Hob smiled broadly. “If you really didn't like it, you would have been beside yourself with rage for a long time. And would leave me. But you're still here, in front of me, pretending that you don't like it.”

Morpheus glared at him for a long time. Finding no arguments against it, he turned away to finish making his tea. Hob tossed his head proudly, pleased with his victory, and returned with his friend to the Jessamy. The raven cleaned feathers in the same place. As soon as both people approached it, the smart bird immediately took off into the air to land on Hob's shoulder. Okay, Morpheus wasn't lying, Jessamy really wanted to see him. He simply left out that they both share this desire.

To Hob's outrage, where was his tea, Morpheus pointed him to the teapot and defiantly took a sip from his mug. He has always been and always will be a bastard. Damn, Hob liked it.

Morpheus hesitated for several minutes, but still found the strength to admit that he would like to watch one of the films that Orpheus likes in order to better understand his interests. Pride bloomed in Hob's chest. He had hinted for a very long time that his friend should have paid more attention to Orpheus and his hobby. Finally, Morpheus listened and began to take his first steps.

Hob didn't actually ask what movies Orpheus was watching. But he spent a lot of time looking at the pins on his backpack, so some of them stuck in his memory. Deciding that Morpheus wasn't ready for anime series yet, Hob turned on Scott Pilgrim. Jessamy nestled comfortably in his lap despite her owner's almost jealous gaze. Morpheus snorted, took a sip of his tea, and focused all his attention on the film.

Morpheus's face showed no emotion, Hob couldn't tell if he was enjoying watching. Even if not, he wanted to be a good father, so he made it his goal to watch to the end and maybe one day talk to Orpheus about the plot or characters.

Hob stroked the soft feathers of Jessamy, who cooed and frankly enjoyed the caresses. He was so carried away by the bird that he completely forgot about the film. Jessamy seemed to approve of him and wouldn't mind if he came a little more often. After some time, the raven flapped its wings sharply, made a circle in the air above the room and landed on a pedestal near the front door, after which the sound of opening locks was immediately heard. Morpheus paused the movie and turned his head lazily, not really caring who was invading his house. But Hob was surprised, not thinking that a man like Morpheus could give someone spare keys. It's definitely someone he trusts like himself. Only one person came to mind.

But instead of Lucienne, another woman entered the house. Jessamy climbed onto her shoulder and began to carefully comb through her curly black hair.

“Sister? Why are you here?” Morpheus put the almost empty cup on the table and slowly walked towards her. Oh, right, he has a sister. Hob forgot about it. Feeling a little nervous, he also got up from his seat and took a couple of steps behind his friend, but stopped.

“I'll be looking after Jessamy for a week soon, I've decided to move some things I need here little by little.” Morpheus's sister kissed the raven on the beak and thrust two packages into its owner's arms. Seeing Hob, her eyes lit up.

“Hi.” Hob smiled.

“Teleute, this is Hob Gadling.” Morpheus looked into one of the packages and, with a heavy sigh, put one on the sofa, and carried the other to the bathroom. Teleute's lips broke into a wide friendly smile. She walked over to Hob and shook his hand enthusiastically.

"Oh, so you're the famous professor my little brother keeps talking about? You look much prettier than I imagined. My name is Teleute, glad to finally meet you.”

“Keep talking about, huh?” Hob chuckled, glancing at Morpheus, who carefully pretended not to hear them both. “But he didn’t tell me much about you.”

“No wonder. Dream doesn't like to talk about himself and our family.” Teleute waved her hand in his direction. Hugging Hob's arm, she led him to the kitchen where Morpheus wouldn't be able to eavesdrop while he sorted through his sister's pile of beauty products. He himself had all the shelves in the bathroom filled with cosmetics, which explained the reason for his flawless skin and almost no wrinkles. Apparently, they have a family habit to take care of their appearance.

“Dream?”

“It has been his nickname since childhood. We called him that because he either slept all the time or was somewhere in his fantasies.”

“Oh, clearly. Dream. Suits him.” Hob allowed Teleute to seat him on a chair. Unlike her brother, she made both of them cups of coffee using his coffee machine, took them out of the stash of cookies, and sat across from him. The smile never left her face.

Teleute and Morpheus were at the same time similar and completely different. Teleute immediately created a feeling of comfort around her, behaving openly and friendly, while Morpheus was like a prickly hedgehog for a month or two before he began to warm up towards Hob. But they were both incredibly beautiful, and they had the same wise and hard look.

“So, tell me how you were able to melt my brother's icy heart so much that he wants you to accompany him even to work.”

Jessamy snatched a cookie from Teleute's thin fingers and flew off to her treasury, and Hob gladly agreed to gossip about Morpheus with his sister.

It was a good way to spend the rest of the evening. Every time Morpheus tried to interrupt them, Teleute kicked him out, and in the end she pulled Hob out of his house on the pretext that he would walk her home at such a late hour. Morpheus was extremely dissatisfied, but his sister didn't even give him a chance to object. Before leaving, Hob stuck out his tongue and gallantly opened the door, letting the woman go first.

Teleute cautiously sidestepped the topic of Orpheus, although Hob had no doubt that she was aware of the whole story. She also didn't hint at a possible romantic development of relations with Morpheus, but there was a feeling that Teleute appreciated Hob not only as a friend of her brother. She clearly knew more about their relationship than she let on. What did Morpheus tell her about him? It's unlikely he or she will ever answer that question, but Hob is pleased to know that his not-quite-secret lover thinks of him when they're apart.

“I like you, Hob. Take care of my stupid brother in Paris, okay?” Teleute kissed him on the cheek goodbye and went into the darkness, not allowing Hob to walk her to the threshold. A wise decision not to let a stranger know exactly which house you live in.

The next few days before the trip passed too quickly, because Hob was constantly busy with something. Which is a plus for him, because there was no time to think about airplanes. First, he prepared documents for a business trip, then he made a plan for Zoom classes, selected suitable conferences, and at the same time carried out his daily work. And one day Orpheus came with a broken lip, so Hob had to give him a whole lecture on the topic that physical force can only be used in the most extreme cases. As a good teacher, he said that Nuala's elder brother's insulting words towards her were not such a case. But as a man with a slight attraction to violence and a strong sense of justice, Hob approved of this fight. Orpheus, of course, doesn't need to know about it. Morpheus, surprisingly, didn't react in any way to the incident and only shrugged his shoulders when he found out about it.

Hob was very worried that Orpheus would add one plus one and realize that his father and teacher's business trips coincided in time. But then help came from where it wasn't expected. Corinthian stayed in London, there weren't scenes with his character in Paris, and the actor skillfully tickle the ears, so Orpheus didn't even know that Morpheus was going to leave somewhere. To be honest, Hob didn't trust Corinthian, but he did help distract Orpheus at just the right time.

When the fateful day came, Hob sat for about two hours looking at his suitcase. His knees were shaking as badly as his hands. He did the breathing exercises that usually helped him with panic attacks, but the anxiety only grew. Finally, he asked Johanna to come to him. Although she cursed at him, she didn't leave him alone in this state.

He needed to take with him some important thing as a talisman. Hob was rummaging through drawers of junk looking for something suitable and froze in place when a gold wedding ring fell into his hands. He wore it for a very long time, but he couldn't get rid of it even after he let go of the past. One of the few things from his previous life that he still has. Hob twisted the ring between his fingers, squeezed it in his hand and almost tried it on again on his ring finger, but pulled himself back in time and threw it back. Instead of it, he put two cheap bracelets on his left hand: pink and light green; Rachel and Johanna gave them to him by winning at some Los Angeles slot machine.

Jo asked several times if Hob was sure, to which she received a firm yes, which still didn't sound convincing when she held his trembling hands. But she didn't try to dissuade him anymore. Johanna hugged him, and in her arms Hob managed to relax. They didn't talk about flying. Johanna patted his back solicitously, and Hob clung to her like a wounded puppy. He always found comfort in her. If many traumatized people get service animals, Hob got service Johanna Constantine for mental health. In the good sense of the word. When the phone chimed that it was time for him to get out, Jo asked Hob one last time if he'd changed his mind. Receiving no other answer, she escorted him to a waiting black car.

As Merv loaded Hob's things into the trunk, Johanna gave her old friend a last squeeze.

“We'll meet you when you return.” she whispered so that only he could hear her. Hob closed his eyes, allowing himself to linger in this moment a little longer.

“Okay. I'll let you know the time and date.”

"Promise you'll take care of yourself."

“I promise.” releasing his friend from the hug, Hob kissed her on the forehead. “I can do it. You'll be proud of me.”

“You're an idiot, Hob.” Johanna sighed heavily, but smiled softly at him.

As soon as Mervyn whistled, Hob obediently got into the car. He greeted Morpheus with a smile, trying to hide his nervousness. They rode in silence, Hob looking out the window and not noticing how his knee twitched until Morpheus put his hand on it, but immediately removed it sharply, as if burned. Hob looked down at their hands, which were a couple of inches apart.

Hob's hand moved closer. Then more closer. His little finger timidly touched Morpheus's little finger and gently lay on top of it. Hob let out a small breath when Morpheus didn't push him away, and then held his breath as his other hand shifted the angle slightly so that two little fingers intertwined with each other. Morpheus didn't ask anything and didn't even look in his direction, but he tried to show support in his own way, noting that Hob was not all right.

Despite the phobia, Hob often visited airports to meet friends or colleagues, so the building itself didn't cause him anxiety for quite some time. He easily passed all stages of customs control and baggage check-in. He was very relieved of his heart, he thought that all this would be much more difficult for him. At passport control, Hob was already completely relaxed. Having met with the film crew, he immediately spoke to Matthew and it seemed that he didn't need moral preparation at all.

Until they moved on. The huge panoramic windows of the airport overlooked the runway, through them it was clearly visible how the planes take off and land, how they are processed and how the passengers' things are loaded into the luggage compartment. Hob stopped, looking out the window. Matthew and the others walked on, not noticing that he was behind, and Hob couldn't take a step. The sky was bright blue and incredibly clear, without a single cloud. The weather was exactly the same as ten years ago.

His throat became dry. Hob stopped hearing all sounds except the muffled roar of the plane's engines, and the voice of the reporter from the newscast popped into his mind. It wasn't until he touched the bracelets that Hob noticed that his hands were trembling again. An image of a burning plane appeared before his eyes, there was not enough air, the earth began to leave from under his feet. In an attempt to do a breathing exercise, Hob coughed, unable to get enough air. He gathered all his strength and ran towards the bathroom while his legs were still able to support his weight.

He had to deal with it. He was stronger than he have been before. Hob wasn't quite sure how he got to the sink, but he didn't dwell on it, turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face. He breathed through his mouth, trying to recover, his knuckles white from how tightly he gripped the sides of the shell. The fear grew stronger, he wanted to scream and cry, but Hob didn't let go of the remnants of his self-awareness.

He jumped on the spot as the bathroom door opened. Morpheus followed him, and seeing his friend's condition, his eyes widened.

“Are you okay?” Morpheus stepped closer. Hob opened his mouth, but he couldn't make a sound. His eyes filled with tears, so he cooled his face again with water and shook his head, unable to answer.

Morpheus stood close to him. He placed a hand on Hob's jawline and gently turned his face toward him to look into his eyes.

“Hey, look at me. I am here with you. Are you afraid?”

Hob wanted to lie, but in this form he couldn't deceive a child, so he had to nod. Morpheus turned him around and hugged him. He wasn't good at words, but his touch is just what Hob needs to feel the ground under his feet again. Hob wrapped his arms tightly around him, pressed his nose against his shoulder, and tried to catch his breath again. Morpheus's hand touched his head. With slow movements, he stroked his hair, afraid to scare him even more. It took Hob a full three minutes to recover. But even when the trembling had passed, he didn't want to let go of Morpheus. His embrace gave him a sense of security, and as soon as they were opened, Hob would again find himself in a dangerous environment.

“Do you have aerophobia?”

“Something like that.” Hob closed his eyes, breathing in the sweet scent coming from his friend. Morpheus sighed, gently pulled away, took his hand and led him with a confident step. “Hey, where are you going?”

“We're going to hand over tickets. We'll go by a train. Or by a car. It doesn't matter, but I won't let you on the plane.”

“What? Wait, stop. Hey stop!” but Morpheus didn't listen to him. He walked past the crowds of people, tightly gripping someone else's hand, and was not going to slow down, no matter how Hob tried. “Morpheus, listen to me! Dream, stop!”

Hearing the childhood nickname, Morpheus stumbled. Finally, he stopped and turned to Hob with a sullen and displeased expression on his face.

“Please listen to me.” Hob looked down at their clasped hands and did his best not to smile. “I deliberately agreed to the flight. You know, I didn't always have this phobia. And I want to face my fear. Maybe it's stupid...”

“You are right, it's very stupid.”

“But please let me do it. I'm scared, but I have to. For my own sake.” Hob looked up guiltily. Morpheus's gloom gradually dissipated, his friend studied his face and thought very seriously about what decision to make. He was worried about him, but Hob needed to get on that damn plane to close the gestalt for good.

"What can I do to...insure you?"

Hob smiled broadly and stroked Morpheus' smooth palm with his thumb.

“Don't let me go. With you, I can do anything.”

Morpheus lowered his head, looking down at their hands. Then he nodded. Hob thought for a moment that his flawless pale skin had turned just a touch of pink on his cheekbones. Even if it was only a figment of his imagination, Hob kept this moment in his memory as one of the most beautiful in his life.

The controller's loud voice announced landing, and Hob's limbs began to tremble again. Morpheus was about to say something, but Hob immediately moved towards Matthew, who was already looking for them all over the airport. With each meter, his steps became less and less confident, until Morpheus began to lead him again.

Only when checking passports, Morpheus let go of Hob's hand, took two steps behind the back of the airport worker and stopped waiting for his friend, not daring to enter the plane without him. When Hob's ticket was checked, Morpheus extended his hand to him.

Just an hour and a half flight. It's not that much. Still, Hob tried not to look out the porthole. He and Morpheus switched places so that he could sit on the side of the aisle and ignore the small window.

Takeoff is the worst thing for Hob. Confidence in his own abilities left him at the same speed with which the plane was filled with passengers, and the sounds of the engines only made it worse. In order not to hear them, Hob hurriedly took out his headphones. If he doesn't get even a little distracted, it will drive him crazy.

“Don't you mind if I…” Hob pointed to the headphones, feeling guilty for some reason.

“No. Do whatever can help you.” Morpheus smiled slightly in an attempt to cheer. Hob immediately covered his ears, turned on the first song on his phone and turned up the volume to the maximum. He just needed to survive the takeoff.

Morpheus opened the book. Hob clung to him like his life depended on it. Morpheus carefully pulled his hand out of the other's palm, but before disappointment reached Hob's heart, their fingers intertwined. Despite the loud music, Hob could hear his own heartbeat. A pulling sweet feeling mingled with a chilling panic. His head rested on Morpheus's shoulder, his eyes closed. Hob tried to imagine being somewhere else. For a while he succeeded, escaping into his embarrassingly simple fantasy of a home and a warm bed. And then Hob felt the plane begin to move. He opened his eyes and lifted his head, squeezing Morpheus's hand in a way that might hurt him. But instead of pointing it out, his friend's free hand carefully rested his head back on his shoulder, cold fingers caressing his cheek gently. Hob closed his eyes again and buried his nose in Morpheus's neck, trying to hold back the fresh tears. If he is destined to die on board the plane, then at least he will be next to his loved one.

Finally, the plane took off. Hob exhaled nervously, opened his eyes, and met Morpheus's restless gaze.

“I'm fine,” he whispered, “I'm fine with you. Be my strength.”

The entire flight, they were holding hands. Hob gradually began to feel relieved and then proud of himself. He flies in the sky. Ten years later, he flies in the sky again. Eleanor would be proud of him. Robyn would be happy for him. When he gets home, he must celebrate it.

When. Not if.

Although Hob endured the rest of the flight and even landing relatively calmly, he remained unusually quiet. Morpheus let go of his hand only when they were brought to the hotel, and for some reason it felt like too much loss. Hob apologized, said that he wasn't feeling well, immediately went to the room and lay down on the bed. The crew was supposed to start preparing for the main work only the next morning, but they were not going to waste the time remaining until nightfall. Since the script was still being edited and updated, it was necessary to steadily discuss new details. Hob was sure that Morpheus wanted to go after him, but he was stopped by the responsibility for the story. That's the right priority. Hob still didn't want to talk about anything. He didn't even unpacked his things before wrapping himself in a blanket. Fortunately, he managed to fall asleep quickly. It's the first restful sleep he had had in days, as his worries had kept him awake for many nights before the trip.

He didn't dream of anything. Hob rested and at the same time felt even more tired when he looked at his watch and saw that four hours had passed. It's almost midnight and it would have been wise to put your head back on the pillow, but Hob stepped out into the corridor and headed for another door. If his memory was right, Morpheus' room was on the same floor and only a few steps away. Still half awake, instead of knocking, Hob tried to open the door right away. He didn't have a key card, so it didn't succeed. But just in case, four more attempts were accepted.

“You will break down my door.” Morpheus either chuckled or sighed. Hob stepped aside to let him open the door.

They silently walked to the balcony, from which the lights of the Eiffel Tower were very clearly visible. Hob had only been in Paris as a teenager when his parents went there for the weekends, so for the first time he looked at the city with grown-up eyes. He rested his elbows on the railing, his movement mirrored by Morpheus, standing much closer to him than usual.

The sounds of a living city came from somewhere below. Hob and Morpheus looked at the tower and each thought of his own, but it seems that their thoughts touched on the same topic. Out of the corner of his eye, Hob tried to read the emotions on his friend's focused face.

“I've not always been afraid of airplanes.” he said suddenly. Morpheus's head turned in his direction, his blue eyes reflecting both the stars and the light of the city's lanterns at night. Because of his slightly hunched position, Morpheus was looking up at him. Hob couldn't bear the weight of his eyes and stared ahead. “I was married once. And I had a son. They died in a plane crash. It was real hell.”

Hob smiled mirthlessly. He felt the eyes on him and only hoped that there was no pity in them. There was plenty of it in his life, as well as a bunch of useless and lifeless "condolences" that did nothing to help him cope with grief.

“That’s why it was so important for me to fly with you. It was my last move to close the door to the past. And without you, I wouldn't have dared to do this.” Hob tossed his hair, feeling his tongue begin to speak on its own and he no longer has control over it. Then he laughed weakly. “It's amazing. The way you affect me and my life. Robyn would have been fourteen now and I could never imagine being a parent of a teenager, although I really wanted to. But Orpheus appeared. Sometimes I see my son in him. And it seems that I began to love him almost as if he could be my son. Not Robyn. I think about him, I worry about him, I try to take care of him. I don't want to stop doing this. I like to feel like a parent figure again.”

Hob regretted quitting smoking for the first time. He wouldn't refuse even the slightest puff right now. At least to shut up. But the words were torn from the heart. Morpheus was with him through his most difficult test, and all Hob can repay him with is the words he's wanted to say to him for a long time. And also share his story. Morpheus deserved to know.

“I thought I could never truly love someone again. But tried to build a relationship to feel something. And then you showed up and... And turned my life upside down. I started thinking about things that I hadn't thought about before, I started doing things that I hadn't done before. I'm just...” Hob didn't notice how he began to gesture with one hand, “I'm just going crazy. And I love it. The more often I see you, the more colorful the world around becomes. And when you today... When you were with me, I felt that I could. I was one step away from turning around and leaving the airport, but you came for me and...and...and I...”

Hob tried desperately to formulate the chaotic thoughts in his head. He never had problems explaining something, but all the necessary words suddenly began to lose their meaning, and he had to urgently find a replacement for them. Before Hob could exhale after his unfinished monologue, long fingers closed on his chin and turned his head to the side. Wet pink lips joined his in a careful, chaste kiss that felt more like lips only touching each other. Hob's heart skipped a beat and dropped somewhere in his lower abdomen. Morpheus pulled away before Hob could close his eyes and return the kiss.

“You talk too much, Hob.”

For a few seconds, Hob just looked into the blue eyes opposite him and couldn't believe what had happened. And then his brakes completely failed. He leaned forward, kissing Morpheus for real, wrapping his arms around his waist and pressing his back against the railing. Morpheus's lips parted pliantly, making the kiss more mature.

This moment came many times in Hob's dreams and fantasies, but the reality turned out to be a thousand times better. His cheekbones were flushed and his skin was covered with a heat that Morpheus couldn't help but feel. A kiss with him seemed to destroy the whole world around, or themselves in this world, and this is the best thing that happened to Hob. He could kiss those sweet lips non-stop, bruising them until one of them died of dehydration. Hob tried to control himself and even made an attempt to back away from Morpheus, but the other man pulled him into another kiss, slipping his tongue into his mouth, thus destroying all of Hob's ability to control himself.

Morpheus imperiously squeezed his hand on the back of Hob's neck, making it clear that the kisses would end only when he himself wanted it. Hob was glad to obey him. He would have been happy to suffocate from kisses, but more than them, the air was intercepted by feelings, which in a matter of seconds increased to unimaginable sizes. Hob felt with his whole body how much he loved this man. He lived for him, his heart beat for him. No matter how free-spirited he was, Hob gladly gave control of his life to Morpheus.

And as soon as Morpheus let him catch his breath, Hob took a moment to finally say what he repeated in his head every day.

“I love you, Morpheus. Stronger than I can put into words. You are my strength, my dream, I love you bastard.”

Morpheus smiled, straightened regally, and tenderly cupped his face in his hands.

“I know, my Hob.”

And then he kissed him again.

Chapter Text

As soon as Morpheus' lips touched Hob's, he finally realized exactly what he wanted. Morpheus wanted Hob. All of Hob. He wanted to kiss him nonstop, wanted to feel his hands on his waist, wanted to bathe in his adoring gaze. Morpheus couldn't immediately fall into the pool with his head, he spent many hours studying and analyzing his feelings towards Hob Gadling. He was one of those people who never notice the flirting point-blank, but even he could see that his friend was openly flirting with him. Or had he done this before? In any case, the only thing that matters is that Morpheus noticed it. And he wasn't surprised that it didn't push him away, but, on the contrary, lit some extinguished candle in him. After a divorce from Calliope, Morpheus found mistresses, but he didn't experience such vivid emotions with any of them.

It's difficult for him to trace the moment in which their usual friendly communication flowed into what was happening now. They hugged not like friends, texted not like friends, and teased each other on some other level. It was something between friendship and romance. Morpheus never liked gaps but it took him an embarrassingly long time to sort himself out.

The first desire that came with awareness of the senses was flight. Morpheus wanted to hide from Hob and never return to him again, to remain in his loneliness. But Hob still managed to somehow influence him, make him think not only about his feelings. In addition, to run away from him is to doom yourself to long painful suffering. It pained Morpheus to think that he might never see Hob again, never hear his voice, and never get one stupid message with a heart or kiss emoji at the end. Therefore, Morpheus didn't succumb to this desire.

But he still remained in doubt for a very long time. On the one hand, he wanted to call Hob his partner and was almost completely sure that he would not be rejected. On the other hand, Morpheus was terribly afraid to change something. He had recently found a real friend in whom he is interested and who is in no way connected with his work. It was unusual, new and insanely valuable. To take any steps in the other direction meant to put their friendship on the line, which could be so easily lost. Too much sacrifice.

Even despite his doubts, he became more and more confident that just friendship wasn't enough for him. He wanted more. He dreamed about more but some kind of catalyst was needed to make him do something.

When Morpheus felt how much Hob needed him, all the remaining barriers and walls built around his heart collapsed in an instant with a loud crash. Hob's hand was shaking in his, he clung to him as if his life depended on Morpheus. He called him his strength. Morpheus had awakened the beast inside him. A wild, angry cat desperate for affection from its prey.

Morpheus couldn't let Hob cry again. It seemed that his friend didn't even notice that his voice trembled during the monologue. His eyes practically filled with tears, despite how hard he tried to talk about his feelings in a nonchalant manner. Even Morpheus would find it difficult to explain how his heart ached from Hob's suffering. If he could, he would take all his pain for himself. The first kiss could be considered an attempt to share the whirlwind of emotions that Hob could not handle.

Morpheus had already forgotten how much he liked kissing. Or maybe he only liked kissing Hob. Feeling his tongue in his mouth and being pressed against the railing. Morpheus didn't want to end it. He didn't want to hear Hob talk, at least not that night. He would later enjoy the way the other person adored him. It could wait. The inner beast purred in pleasure and couldn't get enough of the kisses, so he just wouldn't let Hob leave. However, no one would know that they kissed all night in his room, like teenagers.

Morpheus was tired of waiting and doubting. He was determined to go along with his desires, especially when Hob looked at him like a blind man seeing a sunset for the first time. The match in his chest turned into a huge fire, which now seemed impossible to put out. All the worlds and fantasies in Morpheus's mind vanished, leaving only one name that he couldn't stop repeating.

Filming began at dawn. Morpheus couldn't miss it, no matter how much he wanted to bask in Hob's strong arms. His lips hurt pleasantly, but outwardly nothing indicated how they had been exploited a few hours ago. Morpheus fell asleep for the first time in the same bed as Hob, neither of them noticed how it happened, but there was simply no time to discuss and even think about it. Morpheus left Hob to enjoy his sleep before his first conference, while he left for work in an unusually good mood. He began to understand Hob's words about the world around him becoming brighter.

It was extremely difficult to concentrate. Morpheus involuntarily chewed his lower lip, remembering the night before. But he was a professional in his field and for the sake of the story in which he put his soul, he needed to pull himself together. Once he managed to do this, he had a new idea. Morpheus took out one of his endless notebooks and quickly jotted down the notes for the new book that he had to add. But first, this needed to be discussed with Hob. If he really wanted to do what he had in mind, he needed his consent.

“Look who's awake.” Matthew giggled merrily, looking behind his colleague. Morpheus turned around and couldn't control himself enough to hold back a gentle smile at the sight of Hob finishing his coffee as he walked and banging his forehead against the glass door. “Good morning, Hob! Where are you running to?”

Despite his obvious rush, Hob approached them anyway. The main crew was still preparing at the filming location, which was not far from the hotel, and Morpheus and Matthew had to go back to make another copy of the script, and they were just on their way back. Such a trifle, of course, could be entrusted to Lucienne, but they needed to discuss some points and not start a fight with each other, so she suggested that they should go together.

“I'm late for the damn conference. If I don't get a cab, I'll definitely miss a half.” Hob kept his eyes on the road, hoping to see a suitable car.

“Don't worry so much, you have three of them here!”

“I can't, they're all very important. And I need to talk to each of the speakers so I don't lose the damn bonus. Sorry, let's chat later, okay?”

Morpheus felt abandoned. Not only did Hob not even look in his direction, trying to catch the nearest taxi with his eyes, he also acted as if nothing had happened. He was about to get offended but the image of Hob, terrified to death, which didn't leave his thoughts, quickly calmed him. Morpheus took a step, stalking him like a predator approaching its prey.

“Good luck Hob.” he whispered in his ear in a low, languid voice that made Hob shudder. The ear immediately turned red and Morpheus smiled contentedly.

“You too. I'll be there in a few hours.” Hob turned his head and suddenly placed a quick kiss on the corner of Morpheus's mouth before running to the cab.

Morpheus stayed where he was, watching him go. Matthew coughed behind him.

“So, is he officially your boyfriend now?”

“No,” Morpheus folded his hands behind his back, “he will be my husband in the future.”

Matthew choked on tobacco smoke and dropped his cigarette, trying to breath.

Now Morpheus knew what he wanted. He's known this for a long time, but he took it for a long time. And if Hob turned out to be as good as a partner as he was as a friend, then Morpheus was not going to share him with anyone. He had always been the owner. If all went well (and he had no doubt about it), Morpheus would be ready to try his hand at marriage again. Married life with Calliope taught him something, so he was not going to rush into this.

Hearing the notification sound, Morpheus picked up the phone. The words of Matthew complaining about something didn't reach his ears and served as the same background noise as cars passing on the road.

Hob: let's talk when I get back? it's important for me to discuss what happened between us.

Hob: (and happens.)

Morpheus: ok. but I presume you have nothing to worry about. sure we want the same thing.

Hob: I know, but I want to hear it from you personally, little asshole x.

Morpheus chuckled. Hob should be back by noon. They needed a place where they couldn’t be overheard or interrupted. In addition, Morpheus wishes to receive some more sweet kisses. Previously, he didn't notice in himself such a huge need for someone else's attention.

As soon as Morpheus and Matthew returned to the set, both immediately switched to work. Despite the absence of Corinthian, they were still behind schedule due to the author's strict requirements, but everyone was starting to get used to this. Many managed to adapt to him, and some even managed to agree on something with him. Morpheus also got used to new colleagues and even warmed up a little to them, although he remained an unusually harsh critic.

The hours flew by like minutes. Morpheus was comparing the hands of his watch incredulously when Lucienne said it was time to rest. Reluctantly, he had to agree with her. He rarely used the lunch break for its intended purpose due to lack of appetite, so Morpheus decided to spend this time in seclusion. He was very exhausted after working with a large number of people, his head began to hurt from constant conversations and disputes. When he saw Hob in the lobby of the hotel, he smiled.

“How was the conference?” he asked, coming up to him. Hob turned around and almost tangled himself in his legs, in his hands he held some magazines and flyers.

“You scared me!” Hob grabbed his heart for drama, to which Morpheus twitched his eyebrow. “Great, they even gave me additional material. I'll start processing it tomorrow. Made some useful contacts. Luckily my French is not as bad as I thought.”

“I'm glad.”

Without agreeing, they went together and stopped near Hob's room. He needed to leave the magazines there, and it was also a good excuse for them to talk in private. As soon as Hob's hands were free, Morpheus grabbed him by the edges of his jacket and pressed him against the wall, kissing him demandingly. Hob laughed into his lips and gently touched his cheek with his palm, pressing Morpheus closer to him with his other hand.

“Did you miss me?”

“Something like that.” Morpheus's eyes barely left Hob's lips. He had to pull away, but he liked being in his personal space and being pressed against his strong body.

“So...” Hob raised his hand higher, touching his hair with his fingers. “Now I can tell everyone that you are my boyfriend?”

“Partner,” Morpheus corrected him, “I prefer the term partner.”

“Got it, my boyfriend.” Hob chuckled at Morpheus's rolled eyes.

“I'm starting to doubt my choice.”

Hob laughed and, to appease Morpheus, leaned forward for another kiss. Morpheus could melt away from the desire emanating from him. How long had Hob wanted this? How long had he thought about him in that context? Morpheus wanted to know. He needed it. He would definitely pull this information later.

“We have to discuss something, princess,” Hob said, breaking the kiss, which made Morpheus frown in displeasure. “There are things I need to know before we leave this room.”

“Like what?”

“Are we hiding? Secret romance? Or don't you care about the press that might catch us?”

“The press doesn't like me after Mervyn broke some expensive cameras of impudent journalists.” Morpheus rubbed his nose against his prickly cheek. “I want everyone to know who you belong to. But for now, we have to be careful. Orpheus should learn about this from me, not from gossips.”

Hob hummed in agreement. He gently kissed his lips again, pulling Morpheus to him by the neck.

“What about pet names?”

“You can try. I'll let you know which ones I don't accept.”

“You're a miracle, love.”

Morpheus snorted and demanded another kiss, longer and sweeter. And if it wasn't for Matthew, who started calling him, he wouldn't have let Hob go for a long time. They both had work to do.

Hob kept him company this time. He successfully fulfilled his function as the protector of the crew, despite Morpheus’ annoyance. Sometimes one look of contempt was enough to make him doubt something. Hob's control over Morpheus's conscience and emotions grew exponentially, and he didn't like that.

Morpheus used to dislike public displays of affection. He rarely even hugged Calliope in public, preferring to show his love only in private. With Hob was different. When Hob laid his hand lightly on his waist, Morpheus felt butterflies fluttering in his stomach (as much as he hated this expression, it wasn't easy for him to find other words for such a feeling). The same thing happened when Hob kissed him on the cheek as a thank you for Morpheus not yelling at the operator. All the people he worked with were smart enough not to point it out, not to stare, not to joke. Almost all. More than once, Morpheus caught Matthew's eyes on them, which could have burst from the amount of questions. They both knew he wouldn't get answers. All Matthew could do was question Lucienne, and she didn't know much more than he did, but she was more reserved. She only smiled when she noticed the interactions between Morpheus and Hob. She wasn't curious about how their relationship finally took off overnight, but she was happy for both of them. She was also pleased by the fact that Mervyn had bet her ticket to the theater. He was sure that Morpheus would be beating around the bush for a few more months.

Filming continued even at night. However, closer to two o'clock, Hob agreed with Matthew and stole Morpheus for a night walk around Paris, arguing that he wants to admire the city. For Morpheus, the time was perfect, even in the very center there were quite a few people. Hob took his hand unusually timidly, as if he could not believe that he was allowed to do this. Morpheus intertwined their fingers, marveling at how perfectly their hands fit together. It was like two pieces of the same puzzle.

They didn't talk much, but looked at each other a lot. Hob's eyes shone like never before, he never stopped smiling and glowed as if he had swallowed the sun itself. Morpheus already considered him very handsome, but such happiness only multiplied his beauty at times.

Although the end of January turned out to be quite warm, Morpheus was freezing. His skin turned red while Hob's jacket was half undone. It's unfair that they handle the cold so differently. Hob stopped, took both of Morpheus' hands in his and began to warm them with his breath.

“Why didn't you say you were cold? We would have been on our way to the hotel by now.”

“That's why I didn't say.” Morpheus smiled involuntarily, rejoicing at the care. “You look happy.”

“Jesus, Morpheus,” Hob laughed softly and kissed his fingers, “I'll be like this all the time now. Because I can do that. And that,” he slightly turned Morpheus's hands to kiss the inner sides of the palms, “and that,” lowering them, Hob kissed him on the lips. Morpheus exhaled unevenly, greedily returning the kiss. They needed to do it right away, from the very first meeting. Why did they even decide to be friends? It was much better and more enjoyable.

It would be great if they came to Paris on vacation. Hob was an excellent guide and could talk about any part of the city, it was interesting to explore the streets and houses with him. With Hob, everything felt new. Someday they will come back here just to be alone. In the meantime, they have more important things to do.

Hob taught remote lessons and wrote the article, Morpheus supervised the filming. They were both very busy. And if Hob was pleased that they could just be in each other's space, then Morpheus couldn’t get enough. It was vital for him to spend a few hours alone with him. Hob opened Pandora's box, still unaware of how demanding Morpheus was becoming by the hour.

Only on the fifth day they both had a free evening. They needed rest, so they sat in silence next to each other in Morpheus' room for a while. Hob was scrolling through Twitter, and Morpheus was reclining on him, immersed in his thoughts, which very quickly dissolved and left his head empty. Near Hob, this had already become commonplace. When Hob put the phone away to hug his beloved with both arms, Morpheus lifted his head to look at his soft smile.

“Hob.”

“What's up, princess?”

“Kiss me.”

Hob's smile widened and he happily complied with the request. So far he haden’t joked about the fact that his partner is a real kissing maniac, but it was definitely in his plans for the future. Morpheus never missed an opportunity to kiss him and melted when Hob kissed him first. Despite all attempts to control himself, he still dissolved and could easily lose his balance if Hob didn't hold him tightly to him every time, blocking all escape attempts. But he couldn't help but feel Morpheus losing himself in their kisses. Perhaps Hob was pleased with this, although he himself lost his head from just light touches. Both of them could be called equally in love idiots.

Morpheus was in Hob's lap in an instant. Breaking away from his lips, he examined his face with a thoughtful look, gently stroked his cheek, chin, hugged his neck. Then he straightened up, looking down at him imperiously.

“Hob, I want you to be mine.”

“I'm already yours, love. I can't think of anyone else since I saw you for the first time.” Hob smiled again.

“I want all of you to be mine.” Morpheus leaned over Hob's face, looking him intently in the eyes. “Have sex with me.”

Hob blinked, his hands twitching on Morpheus' hips. He carefully studied the emotions on his face to find any hint of a joke or doubt in them.

“Are you serious?”

“I have been thinking about this for a long time. I want it.” Morpheus followed his hand as it moved from his neck to his broad chest. “You've been waiting for me for quite a long time. Waiting for me to be strong enough to accept what's going on between us. You deserve a reward,” Morpheus approached Hob's ear and lowered his voice to a languid hoarse whisper, “Moreover, I want to lay my claim on you so that everyone who wants to talk to you can see the marks from my hands, lips or teeth on your body. And I want to wear the same marks on my skin. I want to possess you and for you to possess me. So what? Do you want to take me here and now?”

Hob gripped Morpheus' hips tightly and exhaled noisily. He wanted. The fool understands that he cannot refuse. His breathing quickened and the tips of his ears reddened.

“Love, no matter how much I want you, without prior preparation...”

“I have everything,” Morpheus grinned and looked into his eyes again, “when I called you to Paris, I knew that this would happen. I got ready.”

Hob's thumb touched the skin under Morpheus' turtleneck. He badly wanted to joke, but he restrained himself so as not to destroy the palpable sexual tension in the air.

“Really?”

“Yes,” Morpheus lifted his chin haughtily, “I knew this would happen when I gave you the opportunity to undergo a medical examination. Persuaded my sister to let me see some of the results.”

“You know, you could just ask me.” Hob couldn't help but laugh. He leaned forward, closing the distance between them, “good to know since when did you think of me in your bed.”

“I'm also clean, I can show a certificate. It's in the same drawer as the lube.” Morpheus tilted his head slightly and narrowed his eyes. “Don't disappoint me, Hob Gadling. Remember that I had no such experience with men.”

The last words broke everything that held Hob back. He immediately dug his teeth into the thin neck, but not hard enough to leave a mark on it. Morpheus tilted his head back, giving him more space. Hob's hand slipped under the black turtleneck, touching the cold skin, causing Morpheus to inhale noisily.

He almost squeaked in surprise as Hob rose effortlessly, holding Morpheus as if he weighed nothing. His legs wrapped around Hob's waist and crossed behind him as Hob slowly made his way towards the bed, kissing Morpheus’ skin as he did so. Morpheus ran his fingers through his long hair and made a small, contented sound, much like a cat's purr.

Hob lowered Morpheus onto the bed as carefully as if he were holding a crystal vase that could shatter from any wrong move. Morpheus snorted and pulled him back by his hair, forcing him to pull away from his neck to look at his face.

“I won't break if you use force, Hob. I like roughness.”

“Don't worry, I can combine it with affection, duck,” Hob buried his nose in the space between his neck and shoulder, “Let me enjoy you.”

Both of Hob's hands began to explore the body under the clothes, fingers drawing invisible patterns on the muscles and slightly scratching the skin. For the first time, Morpheus cursed himself for never returning to the gym. He was still in good physical shape, but he really wanted Hob to admire him, to look at him like a god.

And yet, Hob stopped when he removed Morpheus's turtleneck. His eyes ran greedily over his torso, chest, collarbones, shoulders and neck. Morpheus noticed how his pupils dilated and, in an instant, filled the entire iris.

There was practically no hair on Morpheus's body. He always thought that genetics had decided to play a trick on him and give away most of the testosterone that should have belonged to him to his younger brother. Hob stroked his smooth stomach, raised his hand to his chest and pinched his nipple.

“You really are a dream, Morpheus. My dream. Do you want my marks? You will get them.”

Hob bit him sharply on the collarbone, which brought him the first low moan. Morpheus grabbed his shoulders, gritting his teeth. Hob smiled, apologized for the bite with a kiss, and began to descend lower, kissing every inch of Morpheus’ supple body. It was easy to relax under Hob's lips, his hands gently caressing his sides and legs. Hob was in no hurry, he listened to Morpheus’ breaths and marked especially sensitive places with dark hickeys so as not to lose them.

A large hand covered the bulge in the tight jeans and Morpheus' hips trembled. Even though he looked at Hob's face, he could feel his growing smile.

“Take them off. Immediately.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” Hob buried his nose in his groin, rubbed it and too slowly and carefully began to pull his jeans down. Morpheus growled, pulling Hob's hair up, forcing him to rise for another deep kiss. Hob seemed to be testing his patience. Morpheus was about to chastise him, but instead he decided to pull off his shirt.

Hob had already seen Morpheus’ body almost completely naked, while Morpheus couldn't boast the same. He urgently needed to see Hob without clothes. He fantasized about it, but he knew for sure that the reality would be better. Hob may be covered with small, almost imperceptible scars, freckles or moles, and Morpheus was obliged to study each of them.

As soon as the opportunity presented itself, Morpheus ran his fingers through the hair on Hob's chest and groaned involuntarily as they touched his almost smooth chest. This difference between them excited him even more than the knee resting against his crotch. Morpheus pushed Hob away from him to look at him. He didn't notice how he held his breath as his eyes slowly followed his hands, lower and lower from his chest. Hob was in perfect shape, not too skinny and not too beefy. Morpheus had never had a man turn him on like this before. The path of hair disappeared beneath the trousers, and he immediately tried to pull them down so that nothing would interfere with his gaze, but because of the belt, this didn't work the first time. Hob let out a soft laugh, put his hands on top of his, and helped him take them off him.

The sight of an erection through his boxers filled Morpheus's mouth with saliva. He wanted to taste Hob, feel the weight of his cock on his tongue. He wanted to be fucked hard in the mouth with tears in his eyes and a sore throat. But that wish might have to be saved for another time, as Hob was fiercely determined to please Morpheus himself and wouldn’t let them switch places. Well, that was definitely a good thing as Morpheus was just as pleased with this turn of events. Few things satisfied his ego quite like Hob worshiping him and his body.

“You are so beautiful, princess,” Hob whispered in his ear, slowly pulling Morpheus's underwear off, releasing his half-hard cock. Wasting no time, Hob took him in his hand and, without stopping kissing for a second, began to slowly jerk off.

Morpheus clenched his teeth on Hob's neck. The low moan that sounded right at his ear was sweeter than the sweetest melody. As the hand movements became faster, Morpheus let go of Hob's neck and bit his lower lip. He felt the remnants of his composure slipping away like sand through his fingers, but he tried to hold it together, despite Hob's hot tongue and his skillful caressing hands. His fingers tightened on his chest hair as Hob's hard cock touched his through the thin fabric of his boxers. Morpheus closed his eyes, dissolving into the sensations. He felt like a hot stone, his whole body was already on fire and demanded more than just tenderness. Morpheus had never wanted to be possessed with such force before.

He knew Hob well. So Morpheus understood that Hob could mock him like that for hours. It costed him nothing to bring him to orgasm with kisses alone, so Morpheus was the first to reach for the nightstand and take out a jar of lube, which he had acquired a few days before the trip.

“If you don't fuck me right now, I'll kill you, Gadling.”

Hob flinched at the profanity that Morpheus usually avoids in his speech. He had never heard his partner say things like fuck before, which made his own cock twitch. And then he laughed into his neck but obediently took the jar from his hand. Morpheus spread his legs wider and raised an eyebrow in disapproval as he noticed that Hob still hadn't gotten rid of his boxers.

“Patience, my little dream. Don't rush me. I don't want you to get hurt.”

“Robert Gadling,” Morpheus cupped his face in his hands and looked into his eyes in an attempt to convey all the determination and confidence that was present in him, “listen to me carefully. I want you to fuck me so that tomorrow it hurts me to walk. I want to have bruises on my ass from your hands. I want you to make me lose my head and then cum inside so I can feel your seed. Do you understand?”

Hob exhaled nervously, his face reddened, and a wet spot appeared on the fabric of his underpants. Those words obviously did something to him as he couldn't even answer and just nodded. Morpheus enjoyed another wet kiss as he pulled the last piece of clothing down over his legs. Hob quickly got rid of it and breathed a sigh of incredible relief. As he lubricated, Morpheus looked down, grinned, and licked his lips. Hob's cock was thick and swollen with a reddened head, much better than he imagined. He liked dirty talk, Morpheus remembered that.

Hob touched the sensitive entrance with his fingertip and slowly pushed the knuckle inward. The other hand clutched his thigh so tightly that it would leave an imprint. Morpheus leaned his head back against the pillow and tried to relax as much as possible.

"Good," Hob said quietly, and the finger continued to slowly sink deeper until it was fully inside, "good. Well done. Good boy.”

Morpheus winced involuntarily at the praise he didn't expect to hear. Hob kissed his jaw, then his neck, leaving deeper marks as his finger began to move. Morpheus opened his mouth, realizing that he would soon run out of air. It didn't hurt, but the discomfort was there. He knew it would pass soon, he just needed to get used to it.

One finger was soon joined by a second, which made Morpheus close his eyes and tense for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure. The movements became more and more pleasant, especially when Hob began to spread his fingers like scissors inside and twist them in different directions. At some point, he found the right spot, from which Morpheus's pelvis rose and a louder moan escaped from his lips. Hob gently lowered him back to the bed and all his next actions were directed specifically towards that spot. By the third finger, Morpheus had already begun to sit on them, crushing the sheets in his hands. Discomfort and pleasure mixed so much that Morpheus couldn't separate them from each other, but he liked it, as well as the growing rhythm of the fingers flexing inside him. His cock was already flowing hard and making a real mess on his stomach, and all Morpheus wanted to feel was Hob inside. Fingers alone were not enough for him, despite how well Hob managed them. It must be completely filled by one specific person. Morpheus grabbed Hob's shoulders and squeezed as hard as he could, leaving small nail marks.

"I'm ready, Hob," he croaked, swallowing his saliva. "Come into me."

“What? I don't understand your request.” Hob chuckled and pressed all three fingers on the right spot, causing Morpheus to whimper softly.

“Fuck me with your cock, Hob. Please. I need to feel you.”

Hob kissed him briefly and slowly pulled his fingers out. Morpheus made a sound of displeasure, something between a growl and a whimper. He didn't like the empty feeling, the fire inside could burn him alive if he wasn't filled with anything. Hob picked up the jar again and pulled back a little, enjoying the view before him: an aroused Morpheus with reddened marks on his body, disheveled hair, swollen lips from kissing and, oh god, a reddened face.

“I think you should turn around and get on all fours. Can you do it for me, my dream?”

Morpheus nodded and did as Hob asked him to. He spread his legs as far as his position would allow and both of Hob's hands immediately landed on his ass.

“Like this. Well done. You're such an obedient boy, it turns out. Do you like being a little dominated? We have a lot of common kinks that we have to discuss.” Hob pressed his chest against Morpheus' back, licked the shell of his ear, bit his earlobe and buried his nose in his hair. “If you want to stop, you tell me. Any time. We'll stop and I'll take care of you. You won't endure anything. Promise you'll say stop when you feel that you need it.”

“I promise,” Morpheus looked over his shoulder at him, “I promise I wont let you hurt me.”

Hob smiled and kissed him behind the ear.

“Good boy.”

Then Hob abruptly pulled away and for several long seconds Morpheus felt no physical contact until the head of his cock, slick with lubrication, was pressed against his entrance. Hob was in no hurry, he rubbed and pulled away, amused by the way Morpheus reached out to him.

Finally, Hob pressed down and pushed his head inside. Morpheus groaned and grabbed the sheets. He was well stretched, so he didn't experience much pain, but this was all new to him. Morpheus had no idea how it would feel. Hob stopped and kissed him between the shoulder blades. He continued to enter only when his lover visibly relaxed, but he paused for a long time after every two centimeters, allowing Morpheus to adjust smoothly. When he entered to the end, Morpheus whined and trembled. It was good. And unusual. And it hurt a little.

“Should we stop?” Hob asked softly, stroking his back soothingly. Morpheus shook his head.

“Give me... a minute. You are very big.”

Hob began to shower tender kisses on his back. Despite Morpheus' demands to be ruder and rougher, he was grateful that Hob didn't go along with him at this stage. Hob was afraid of harming him, and, it seems, for the first time in his life, Morpheus felt that he was pleased to be under someone's care. He didn't need caresses before, but now something inside him demanded them more and more every moment.

It took a few minutes for Morpheus to get used to the feel of Hob's cock in his ass, but eventually he was able to relax and moved back an inch first to let Hob know he was ready. Hob began to move, very slowly and cautiously at first. He didn't even come out halfway, his smooth thrusts rocked Morpheus and knocked quiet sweet moans from him. It was just the right amount to let the remaining discomfort melt away.

Hob then proceeded to comply with Morpheus' earlier request to be rougher. The sharper and faster the jolts became, the louder Morpheus moaned. He fell face down into the pillow, unable to stand on his elbows, and even it couldn't drown out his usually quiet and languid voice, which made sounds in ever higher tones. When Hob slapped him on the buttock, Morpheus yelped not so much in pain as in surprise, and his hips began to sway even faster. He could sit on Hob’s cock himself if Hob decided to stop. His legs and arms trembled, his cock ached as the other hand began to caress again, and he wished Hob would never stop.

He couldn't get enough of everything, including the groans of Hob, whom he badly wanted to kiss. His cock seemed to go deeper and deeper, especially when Hob almost completely pulled it out before another push. The pillowcase was soaked through with tears and saliva, but Morpheus had never felt so good. He howled as Hob tugged at his hair, forcing him to raise his head. His eyes rolled back in pleasure, he felt more drunk than he had from the hardest liquor in the world.

"You like it, don't you, princess? Enjoying my dick?”

"H... Hob..." Morpheus didn't recognize his own voice, which had grown too high and broken, “deeper. Stronger. Don't you dare stop.”

Hob slapped him again, but he didn't let go of his hair. Morpheus howled at another push that hit exactly where Hob's fingers had been mocking. Now all the shocks were directed precisely there, and at the request of Morpheus himself, they were stronger and sharper. His ears were ringing with excitement, and Hob squeezed his cock at the very base, blocking his ability to come too soon.

"You're so good, my love," Hob loosened his grip on Morpheus's hair, allowing him to put his head back on the pillow, but without drowning out his moans, "so hot. You are perfect, Morpheus. Perfect for me.”

Morpheus whined again. He already felt at his peak, but he didn't want to end it. If he could, he would let Hob fuck him endlessly until they both collapsed from exhaustion. Feeling Hob inside him was so good, so much better than he imagined. Nobody else could compare to him. The emotional attachment to Hob only added fuel to the fire of excitement and desire to seal him in his body and never let go.

“Hob....ahh...damn, H-Hob... I fucking love you so...”

Hob pulled his hair again, but this time to kiss him. Their tongues intertwined, dancing with each other, and Morpheus didn't notice how he bit Hob's lip so hard that he tasted a metallic taste Hob only let out a delighted groan, licked his blood from Morpheus’ lips.

As soon as his hand unclenched on his cock, Morpheus immediately came. His eyes darkened and he saw stars. The ringing in his ears became stronger, and for several seconds he didn't hear the sounds of skin slapping against skin, but he didn't stop feeling Hob inside him. He had never had such a strong orgasm. Hob put all his strength into the last of the deepest and most powerful thrusts and came after him. As Morpheus asked, straight inside.

Morpheus's legs were trembling like never before and he collapsed completely onto the bed. He felt a thick seed slowly flowing out of him, and some strange feeling of belonging to another person purred pleasantly in his chest.

His head was spinning so much that Morpheus didn't notice Hob leave and return with a wet towel to clean up the mess on Morpheus's body. First, he wiped his stomach, stained with his own semen, and then wanted to deal with his legs and the sperm flowing from his ass, but Morpheus grabbed his hand.

“Wait. I want to...feel you inside a little longer.”

Hob smiled affectionately, put the towel aside and lay down beside him. Morpheus immediately wrapped his limbs around him and laid his head on his broad chest, burying his nose in his hair. Hob hugged him and kissed the top of his head. For a while they lay in silence and came to their senses. Morpheus heard the frantic beating of Hob's heart, which gradually returned to normal.

“That was the first time you said you loved me.” Hob said timidly, and Morpheus immediately opened his eyes. He lifted his head up and suddenly felt embarrassed. For him, as a writer, words carried much more weight than for ordinary people, and such a simple confession meant much more than hot, long sex. But he wanted to say it. And Hob deserved to hear it. Because he really loved him with all his heart.

"I love you." Morpheus repeated, despite his dry throat. Hob's glowing eyes and happy smile were worth the words. His face lit up just like when Morpheus had kissed him for the first time.

Morpheus realized that he would like Hob to always be this happy. It filled his heart with warmth and tenderness, and if a mere three words made him smile like that, Morpheus would repeat them every day, every hour, every time he looked at him.

“I love you too, dork.” Hob chuckled and rolled onto his side, pulling his lover closer to him.

Morpheus smiled happily, knowing that Hob couldn't see it.

Chapter Text

Throughout his life, Morpheus had been impossibly punctual and was never late for work or official meetings, no matter how much he hated to be present but he didn't come at exactly six in the morning, to the great joy of the whole team, especially Matthew, who always got lectured for being late by a mere two minutes. Morpheus didn't sleep. He lost track of time as he looked at his body in the large bathroom mirror. His pale skin was adorned with light bites and bruises that should disappear in a couple of days, but Morpheus took an indescribable pleasure in touching them and feeling a slight tingle of pain. A reminder of what Hob did to him. A sign of his belonging to him. Instead of a turtleneck with a high neck, Morpheus wore a shirt with a bruise on his neck peeking out from under the collar. He wanted it to be seen. He was proud to have been marked by the man in whose arms he had spent the entire night.

Hob was also adorned with a few bites and hickeys, but there were significantly fewer of them, which Morpheus planned to fix in the near future. In addition, Hob's lower lip was slightly swollen, but he looked no less proud of this injury than Morpheus. Looking at their sly faces, Matthew was about to comment on the look of both of them, but Lucienne stepped on his foot, forcing him to shut up.

In general, nothing had changed. Morpheus still went to work with his head and at times even forgot about the presence of Hob, who now and then absented himself for his business. A week for filming was a very short time, but they didn't manage to win more time, so Morpheus worked almost non-stop for the last few days and was very exhausted at the end. He clung to Hob in an attempt to hide from the outside world. Too many people, too much noise. He needed to rest in silence but he could not afford it yet.

"We'll be home in a few hours," Hob whispered softly, stroking Morpheus’ hair, who stood behind him and hugged him around the waist, nuzzling his neck.

Morpheus grunted something unintelligible and tightened his grip on the man in his arms. When he lifted his head and looked at Hob's phone screen, all weariness faded into the background and was replaced by bewilderment.

“What is that?” he asked darkly and menacingly, causing Hob to tighten his grip on the phone, fearing it might be snatched at any moment.

He looked at Instagram. That was nothing special, Hob was an active user of social media, unlike Morpheus himself. All of his accounts were strictly official and were mostly maintained by Lucienne, while Morpheus used them to read reviews of his books. Once, however, on a tip from his sister, he spent an entire evening chatting with teenagers, pretending that he was absolutely not the writer they had been discussing so passionately for several hours. This experience was... interesting. Before that chat, it never occurred to him that so many underage girls and boys wanted to see him in their bed but Morpheus didn't share his personal life with the public.

“That's... Instagram.”

“You know what I’m asking about,” Morpheus snapped and pointed at the photo, which already had a like, “what's that?”

It was a photo from Corinthian's account with a like on it. Moreover, it was a photo with Orpheus. A grinning Corinthian had taken a selfie with Orpheus with a can of soda in his hands. Morpheus was sure that his son was smart enough not to even try to go within a thousand feet of someone who was a bad influence. Hob swallowed nervously and tried to put the phone back in his pocket, but Morpheus grabbed his hand.

“You knew he was bothering my son and you didn't tell me?”

“Morpheus, calm down, please,” Hob sighed, noticing the growing anger in his partner's eyes, “he's not bothering Orpheus, I can assure you. They spend time with each other by mutual consent. If I were you, I would be glad that Orpheus has friends. And Corinthian isn't as bad as you think.”

“He is disgusting,” Morpheus looked at the photo again and grimaced, “He's arrogant and irresponsible. He doesn't know such words as shame and conscience.”

“My love, Corinthian helps us, by the way,” Hob’s voice softened, and Morpheus raised an eyebrow in disbelief, “it’s true! Thanks to him, Orpheus still doesn't know that you are in Paris. You should thank him.”

Morpheus snorted in displeasure. He released Hob and crossed his arms over his chest. Something about Hob's awkward smile made him tense. He was nervous and avoided eye contact, pretending to be very engrossed in his phone.

“What are you not telling me?”

“Nothing. I have nothing to hide from you.”

“Hob.”

Morpheus frowned. Hob sighed heavily and looked up at him with guilty puppy-dog eyes. It almost worked. If the topic didn't concern Orpheus, he would have grabbed Hob’s face with his hands, kissed him and forgot about this conversation.

“Okay, fine. I shouldn't say this, but okay. In general, Orpheus told me that there is a person who he is attracted to romantically. I don't know who it is, but he only communicates with Nuala and Corinthian, so it's definitely one of them. Whoever he likes, it's a good sign. Don't scare people away from him and let him love. He needs it. Even more than you.”

Hob smiled softly and took Morpheus's hand to kiss his knuckles. It was hard for him to accept. He absolutely didn't like Corinthian on all accounts, Morpheus regratted approving him for the role. The only thing Corinthian was good at was acting. As much as he annoyed Morpheus, he really did get used to the character well, despite all the controversy that arised on the set.

“It would be better if it was Nuala. I like her.”

Hob laughed, laced their fingers together, and kissed Morpheus on the cheek.

“Don't make a big tragedy out of this. Don't worry, I'm sure it's all for the best.”

Morpheus reluctantly allowed Hob to lead him into the room to pack. They should be leaving soon.

Problems needed to be addressed as they came up. Now the most important thing was to help Hob survive the next flight. In the last hour, Morpheus had asked three times if Hob would like to ride the train, but his lover, by his stubbornness, could compete with him himself. Morpheus was very proud of him, in fact. Not everyone was able to face their fear head on, especially twice. Hob showed such great fortitude that Morpheus was even a little jealous.

Johanna said he had no idea what Hob had been through. Even after learning about the disaster, Morpheus would never be able to fully understand the pain endured by the man whose smile lit up his face every day. Morpheus gripped Hob's hand tightly and tried to be as attentive to his emotions as possible. On the way to the airport, his lover began to shake again. Hob couldn't get rid of his habit of hiding his negative emotions behind a smile, but at least he let Morpheus notice the tremor this time. At such moments, he was like a shy puppy that proudly barked at the cause of his fear, refusing to run. Morpheus was grateful that Hob trusted him. It was his turn to take care of Hob now.

“I'm holding you, Hob," Morpheus whispered softly in his ear as they stood at the airport entrance. Hob chuckled nervously, then took a deep breath and opened the doors.

The further they went, the dimmer the smile on his face grew. Hob looked in panic towards the waiting room, from which the sounds of airplanes could be heard all too clearly. Morpheus led him in the opposite direction. They had about an hour before the flight, During this time Morpheus decided they were going to take a walk around the airport. Soon Hob stopped smiling altogether. He looked down at his feet and tried to control his breathing. Morpheus hated himself for not being able to talk about everything in the world as calmly as Hob. He needed to be distracted and cheered up, but he didn't know how. All he could do was get Hob as far away from the noise as possible.

“Hob? Are you okay?” Morpheus bit his tongue. Hell, of course Hob wasn’t okay. But those were the only words that could be formulated and voiced.

"I was able to fly here, I can fly away from here too." Hob bowed his head, resting it on Morpheus's shoulder. Their steps slowly slowed down until they stopped completely. People passing by paid no attention to them and hurried about their business. “I can do it because I'm with you.”

Morpheus' heart fluttered every time Hob said such things. The warmth from his chest instantly spread throughout his entire body and touched every cell, Morpheus could physically feel his significance to this man. Being loved by Hob was like a blessing and a curse at the same time. And if Morpheus was still cursed, then this was definitely the best thing that could happen in his life.

He hid Hob in his arms, pressing him against the wall. Hob was closed off from the outside world as much as possible in such a crowded place. Luckily it helped. Morpheus heard his lover's breathing become more and more even, and the trembling gradually stopped. He entered the plane a little more confidently than the last time, but Morpheus didn't let go of his hand for a second.

Headphones again became one of the instruments of rescue during takeoff. The music was playing so loud that Morpheus could hear it. He saw how hard Hob stared straight ahead in order to ignore the window that fell into his field of vision. The trembling returned as the plane began to move. Morpheus gently grasped his chin with three fingers, turned his face towards him, and pressed their lips together in a long kiss. He kissed him gently and slowly, trying in this way to drive out all the disturbing thoughts from Hob's mind, to fill it only with himself and his lips. Hob didn't move at first, but after a few long seconds his hand was on Morpheus's neck, pulling him closer to him.

The kiss helped Hob not notice the moment of takeoff. As soon as the plane gained altitude, Morpheus slowly pulled away and smiled softly, not seeing a hint of panic on Hob's face.

“You. Are. A dork.” Hob whispered with his lips alone, with a pleased and teasing smile. Morpheus rolled his eyes and turned back to the script on his lap, pretending to be offended, to which Hob chuckled softly and placed a light kiss on his cheek.

Hob kept himself busy by marking something in the papers he had acquired at the conferences, and at the same time didn't think about letting go of Morpheus's hand. Despite the fact that Morpheus was very fond of peace and quiet, he couldn't help but worry about Hob's condition when he remained silent for too long. If Hob was being very quiet, then he was definitely not okay. But by outward signs, one could say that he didn't hate the flight as much as the first time.

Realizing that his way of distracting Hob was effective, Morpheus again pulled him closer for a kiss during landing. He held his face in his hands and didn't let him move away until he was sure that his lover was okay. As soon as Hob realized that everything was over, he took a deep breath, wiped a drop of sweat from his temple with his sleeve and seemed to regain his usual energy more and more with every step that moved him away from the plane. Morpheus couldn't not smile as he watched Hob regain his arrogance and chattiness. The very character traits that he never thought would attract him.

They were waiting at the airport. Morpheus immediately spotted Johanna and Rachel. Constantine paced nervously in circles and twitched at every sound, while Rachel looked for a familiar face among the people passing by. Noticing him, she stopped Johanna and pointed towards Hob, whose hand was still clutched by Morpheus. Hob smiled as widely as he could. Morpheus didn't immediately recognize Johanna. It's not that she looked different. But her face has changed. He couldn't imagine that it could depict so much pain and suffering. Constantine seemed hard and rough to him, but in her wide eyes, knitted eyebrows and bitten lips, he could see how much she really was capable of worrying.

Hob dropped all his belongings, released Morpheus and ran towards Johanna, who was already rushing towards him. He picked her up and lifted her off the ground with a ringing laugh. Johanna put her arm around his neck and whispered something in his ear that Morpheus didn't hear, but which made Hob laugh again. As Rachel approached them, Hob pulled her into a triple hug and kissed her temple. Watching them from the side, Morpheus felt very lonely. Did anyone feel the same way about him? Did anyone miss him besides Jessamy? Teleute, the closest sibling to him, very rarely met him with such emotions. Hob seemed to be the only one truly happy to see him. Before Hob, no one needed him. Even Orpheus didn't notice that he wasn't in the city.

“Morpheus,” Hob's voice made him wince. Morpheus looked up from the floor and noticed that all three were looking at him. Johanna with some special suspicion. “are you alright?”

“I am.” Morpheus nodded, but Hob didn't even try to pretend to believe him. However, he didn't insist. Releasing his friends from the hug, Hob picked up the abandoned luggage and pulled Morpheus's hand out of his pocket to interlace his fingers with him.

Johanna and Rachel looked at each other, and then both looked at Hob. He shrugged, smiling. Neither of them said anything, but Morpheus was sure he had missed a silent dialogue. Rachel tried to take the suitcase from Hob, but he threatened to kick her if she tried again. Morpheus twitched an eyebrow, catching Johanna's incredulous gaze. While Hob was busy with Rachel, she gave him the middle finger. Despite all his restraint, Morpheus answered her the same way. He had no idea why Constantine treated him with such dislike. It's likely that this is due to the way she cares for Hob, but Morpheus wasn't going to tolerate such an attitude. Even though he couldn't do anything. They both put their hands behind their backs as Hob turned his head in their direction.

Mervyn was waiting outside, with Lucienne already joining him. Morpheus thought that he and Hob would return from the airport together, as they had come, but he expressed a desire to go with his friends. This could not help but upset, but Morpheus hid his emotions and didn't allow anyone to see them.

“So, tonight, I'm expecting all three of you at my place,” Hob said before parting, “at eight. No, at seven. Yes, at seven pm. If we don't celebrate my feat, I will drink myself alone.”

“Why do you need me?” Morpheus frowned. He felt less and less needed. And he really, really disliked sharing Hob's attention with anyone, even those close to him, who, quite possibly, settled much deeper in his heart.

“Because you are my fucking gothic boyfriend and I want to brag about you for several hours in front of my friends,” Hob pulled Morpheus to him and rubbed his nose against his cheek, “besides, I want to spend time with you. And so they get to know you better. Will you come?

Morpheus wanted to refuse, doubting he could endure an entire evening in Constantine's company. Their first gathering in a bar ended with a terrible hangover and thoughts of imminent death. But so much hope and happiness burned in Hob's warm eyes that his tongue did not turn to upset him.

“Fine. I will.”

Hob pulled him closer to him and kissed him in gratitude. Morpheus was starting to get used to kissing, and this time his legs didn't even buckle, although they were very close to it. While they were saying goodbye, Mervyn gave Lucienne his card with a disgruntled face so that she could buy herself a ticket to any play or musical she wanted. A dispute is a dispute.

Instead of returning home immediately, Morpheus drove to another place. He couldn't get out of his head what he had learned from Hob, and it made him panic. But Hob won't be able to understand him, he isn't the parent of Orpheus, so for the first time in several months Morpheus came to work to his ex-wife. Without knocking, he burst into her office at the local theater, where she spent most of her working time outside of rehearsals. Calliope looked up at him tired eyes, sighed and continued to work at the computer.

“Do you know who Orpheus spends time with?” Morpheus immediately got down to business, placing both hands on her desk.

“Yes, sure. Nuala brought him some exercise books once. Lovely girl.”

“I'm not talking about her. Do you know about Corinthian?”

Calliope sighed again and removed her hands from the keyboard, realizing that he wouldn't let her concentrate. She leaned back in her chair. Something between complete indifference and cosmic calm was read on her face.

“He's an actor who works in my project,” Morpheus began to explain, “Orpheus once went with me to the set, and he saw him. Today I learned that they continue to communicate. That they perhaps…” Morpheus cut himself off in mid-sentence, wrinkling his nose. He couldn't pronounce it. It's too much for him.

“Perhaps what?” Calliope blinked slowly.

“Perhaps…Orpheus…” Morpheus had to take a deep breath and gather all his strength into a fist, “they might be a little… closer than they should be.”

“Really?” Calliope crossed her arms over her chest, “I guess I should invite him to dinner.”

“No! You don't understand!” he practically slammed his hands on the table, but Calliope's hard look made it clear that if Morpheus left even one scratch on the surface of the dark wood, he would never again be able to cross the threshold of this building, “He is terrible. Nasty, arrogant, stubborn, resourceful and absolutely not serious. He has a bad influence on Orpheus.”

"Are you still in contact with Professor Gadling?" The sudden question made Morpheus shut up and lose his train of thought. He nodded somewhat hesitantly, "and what did he say to you about that?"

"Do not worry," Morpheus muttered displeasedly, removing his hands from the table.

“Then don’t worry. Orpheus is a big boy, Murphy. If his fellowship with this Corinthian becomes a mistake, let him make it so that he may learn something in this life. I'm glad you're paying more attention to his life, but don't go overboard. For God's sake, go home and relax. You panic too much. And now, with your permission, I'll get back to work.”

Morpheus looked into the eyes of his ex-wife with all his stubbornness. He couldn't simply accept that such a terrible creature as Corinthian was walking around his son. But Calliope refused to take his side. Giving up, he walked slowly towards the door, but stopped just at the threshold.

"Maybe you could invite Nuala to dinner? Hint Orpheus to spend more time with her, then...“

"Go home, Morpheus!"

Frowning even more, he had to leave. Calliope should have understood him. With a displeased face, he returned to the car, and Merv drove him home, where his feathered treasure was waiting for him.

Jessamy really missed him. She let out a satisfied grunt and, with an unusual tenderness for her, styled her black hair with her beak. No matter how Morpheus tried to push her away, Jessamy refused to get off her man's shoulder. All those few hours that Morpheus spent at work, she didn't leave her place, and even demanded to take her with him to Hob. She had to give in. After all, both the bird and the owner missed each other very much. Suspecting that they wouldn't return home for the night, Morpheus took all the things the raven needed, including her food and a bed to sleep in.

Before coming to Hob, Morpheus stopped at a store. Hob deserved a gift for his feat. It takes a lot of courage and willpower to overcome such fear associated with severe past trauma. Morpheus would like to give him something to remind Hob of how strong he is. And something to remind of him. Remembering the bracelets on Hob's hand, Morpheus' choice fell on jewelry. He spent two hours looking for something suitable, until he finally tucked a box containing a black gold bracelet and small red rubies into his overcoat pocket.

Jessamy was quiet and only became belligerent when someone talked about the fact that birds aren't allowed in the store. Morpheus soothingly stroked her feathers and whispered kind words to her, assuring her that no one would separate them for a very long time. He didn't know if she would be comfortable in an unfamiliar area, but he hoped that Hob's presence would give her a sense of security.

When Morpheus arrived, he cared more for the Jessamy than for himself in the company of Rachel and Constantine. Hob was surprised at the raven, but his eyes lit up instantly as soon as he saw her. The bird carefully walked down the owner's arm, and then abruptly jumped to Hob with a satisfied grunt. Jessamy lovingly tried to tuck strands of brown hair behind the ear and rubbed her head against his face, all the while flapping her wings in happiness. Hob laughed and stroked her affectionately.

"I hope you're at least a little happy to see me as she is."

"Do you want me to throw myself on your neck?" Morpheus chuckled as he took off his coat. He discreetly shifted the box of jewelry into the pocket of his jeans.

“You know, I do.”

“Only in your dreams.”

There was a bottle of champagne and some food on the table in the living room. Hob's friends were already talking to each other on the couch, but both fell silent as Morpheus appeared on the threshold. They looked at him as if they already knew his entire history from the moment he was born. It looks like they got all the key points of their trip from Hob. Morpheus immediately removed all the fragile and breakable objects that caught his eye from a prominent place, not wanting his beloved raven to make a mess and somehow harm Hob's property. He could feel with the back of his head how Johanna and Rachel were watching his every move, and such attention immediately began to strain. When he turned around, both girls grinned, and Rachel winked at him.

For the first, maybe thirty minutes, the main star of the evening was Jessamy. Everyone admired her, stroked her feathers and cooed affectionate words. Unlike the owner, Jessamy was pleased. She proudly stuck out her breasts until she got bored. After Jessamy pecked at Johanna's finger, it was clear she was beginning to tire of the attention. Morpheus smiled and arrogantly lifted his chin, looking at Constantine. Hob gave Jessamy a coin, and the raven flew to the very top of the bookcase. She didn't have a treasury in this house, but Morpheus wasn't surprised if it appeared after a couple of hours.

Hob sat between Morpheus and his friends. He talked about conferences, filming and the general impression of Paris. When his speech turned to flying, Johanna and Rachel looked at each other, and then took out a cheap keychain in the form of an airplane with a broken wing. Morpheus would have been offended by such a gift, but Hob laughed heartily and immediately hung the keychain on his key ring. Wanting to show his superiority, Morpheus took out a box.

“I also thought that you should be rewarded for your courage,” Morpheus took Hob’s hand and fastened the black bracelet on his wrist, “you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to.”

Hob smiled. He placed his free hand on Morpheus's cheek and approached him, kissing the tip of his nose.

“I'll never take it off, duck. From now on, it's my talisman. Thank you, my dream.”

Morpheus closed his eyes. His heart was about to burst out of his chest at the thought that Hob would always have something of him with him. A modest kiss on the lips left behind you a strong disappointment that Hob pulled away too quickly.

"You guys are awfully cute," Rachel said, causing Morpheus to feel slightly embarrassed.

“So now you have a daddy who gives you expensive gifts?” Johanna chuckled, twitching her eyebrows playfully.

“Don’t be jealous that I have such a boyfriend,” Hob hugged Morpheus and now they pressed close to each other.

“Partner.” he corrected him, but without much enthusiasm. Morpheus had already begun to get used to the word boyfriend. It sounded pretty sweet coming from Hob.

Johanna said something about bad taste in men, but Morpheus ignored her as Hob's hand rested on his thigh. This touch acted like an electric shock. Even through the thick fabric of his jeans, Morpheus felt the warmth of a wide hand, and if Hob had removed it, he would have hit him.

The conversation moved slowly between Hob and his friends, Morpheus acting as the listener. Surprisingly, he didn't get bored. Although Morpheus wasn't a gossip fan, the way Hob talked about his colleague, whom her husband cheated on, made even him feel some feelings for this poor woman. Jessamy flew in and out again to explore a new place. She nestled comfortably between Morpheus and Hob for a few minutes as Hob fed her whatever he could get his hands on. The thought flashed through Morpheus' mind for a moment that they were almost like parents to her. Jessamy tried several times to steal a new bracelet from Hob's hand, got upset when she didn't succeed, took the button from Morpheus' hands and disappeared behind the shelves.

After a couple of hours, Morpheus's legs were already on Hob's lap. Someone came up with the idea to play Mario Kart. Morpheus last played video games when Orpheus was twelve, but he did his best to outplay Johanna. However, the real master of the game was Rachel. Morpheus was very upset by his defeat, pouted his lips and refused to play on, despite Hob's best attempts to cheer him up. He leaned closer to him, laid his head on his shoulder, and frowned at the screen as the joystick passed into his partner's hands.

Morpheus was not accustomed to such rest. He didn't have a group of friends, and it was all new to him. But Hob didn't leave him unattended. Even when he was busy talking to his friends, he physically touched Morpheus, preventing him from feeling like an outsider. Hob helped him to relax and become interested in those topics that always seemed boring to him.

"I'm glad you're here with me," Hob said, pulling Morpheus so close that he nearly ended up in his lap, "you three are the only ones who know what happened. I don't think I could have done this without at least one of you. Thank you.”

Morpheus felt Hob's cheek pressed against the top of his head and closed his eyes. He found his free hand to intertwine his fingers with.

“We are very proud of you, Hobsie”.

“Exactly. Was able to not only fly a plane, but finally get a twink that you couldn't shut up about.”

“Oh, do you talk about me a lot?” Morpheus grinned, opening one eye.

“Don't listen to Jo, she wants to embarrass me.”

“Nothing can embarrass you more, Hob”.

Morpheus didn't listen to the continuation of the skirmish. He admired Hob's profile, and the redness of his cheekbones. The most handsome man Morpheus has ever met. If he could, he would purr, he was very flattered that Hob wanted to talk about him, that he was somewhat proud of just being around him.

Unlike Johanna and Rachel, Morpheus had no intention of leaving. With every passing hour he wished more and more to stay at Hob's for the night. Even Jessamy had already set up a corner for herself, stuffed with all sorts of shiny knick-knacks, and was ready for bed. As soon as Hob escorted his friends to the door and returned, Morpheus straddled his lap and kissed him hungrily.

“And since when did you start talking about me with Constantine?” Morpheus kissed the jawline and moved his lips to his neck.

“Honestly?” Hob laughed, “From the very beginning. As soon as I saw you, I couldn't stop thinking about you. I can’t say that it was love at first sight, but attraction at least.”

“Mmm. I see.” Morpheus's fingers gripped the buttons of his green shirt. “Thank you for your honesty. I'm flattered.”

“I take it you don’t want to call a taxi?” Hob couldn't help but joke, not hiding the pleasure of how obsessed his partner was with him. Morpheus pulled himself away from his neck and brought his face closer to his so that their noses touched.

“I'm not leaving this place until I make you see the stars, my Hob.”

Hob held his breath at these words and immediately lost all his malice. Morpheus had so many plans for him, and he wanted to implement everything in the very near future. Pictures of a lover pressed against a mattress were very exciting. But first, he would like to taste Hob on his tongue.

“Wait, love,” Hob interrupted him, carefully covering Morpheus’s hands with his own, “you can do whatever you want to me, but only on the bed and behind the closed door.”

“Why?” Morpheus bowed his head in genuine incomprehension. Hob looked slightly embarrassed as he nodded towards Jessamy.

“Well… You see, her gaze is too understanding for a bird.”

Morpheus looked at Jessamy. She didn't take her big intelligent eyes off people, and it seemed to him that she really understood everything. Morpheus felt like a pervert for the first time, so he quickly got off Hob's knees, but before he could take a step, strong hands immediately grabbed him and lifted him off the ground. The last thing Morpheus saw before Hob slammed the door shut with his foot was Jessamy, who at the last moment decided to catch up with them, but didn't have enough time.

After that night, Morpheus spent less and less time alone. Things of each other’s gradually appeared in both houses. When Hob first traveled to the second floor of Morpheus’ home, he was very shocked that he had a separate dressing room with a huge variety of clothes. Morpheus liked to dress nicely but the situation with Orpheus greatly worsened his morale, so much that he didn't care what he wore so Morpheus could leave the house in the same outfit for several months in a row. Now, thanks to Hob, he was returning to a more or less normal state.

Morpheus didn't hide the fact that he knew the further their relationship went, the more nervous Hob became. He was terribly afraid that Orpheus would find out about them. Hob seemed to feel guilty, even though he wasn't to blame for anything to do with starting his and Morpheus’ relationship. He mentioned Orpheus less and less in conversations, unless Morpheus asked him something directly. The secret of their relationship hung in front of his son like a menacing cloud, and Morpheus began to think about how to correctly present this information so that Orpheus would not get angry at Hob. He was willing to sacrifice all his progress with the child. It was noticeable to the naked eye that paternal instincts were waking up in Hob, that he really wanted to take care of someone and be a good mentor. Perhaps Orpheus also somehow helped him, without suspecting it. Hob lost his son ten years ago, and Morpheus would never be so cruel as to take Orpheus away from him, Morpheus could tell that Orpheus helped Hob with the grief for his lost son.At least, unlike Hob, Morpheus deserved his son's hatred. It was his idea, after all. He forced himself on Hob. But he didn't have the courage to talk about this with Hob himself, so Morpheus secretly made plans on how to tell Orpheus the truth and at the same time take all of his son’s anger upon himself.

Morpheus felt the approaching storm. As if something bad and irreversible is approaching at a terrifyingly slow speed. In order to use the remaining "quiet" time correctly, Morpheus tried to establish contact with Orpheus, and one day he again appeared at the university. But before going to his son, he couldn't help but visit his beloved history professor. And since it was a special day for many, Morpheus took one red rose with him.

“I see you are very popular with your students, Professor,” Morpheus grinned as he met Hob leaving the classroom at the door. He put various small gifts into his bag as he went, mostly chocolate bars. 

Seeing Morpheus, Hob almost dropped everything from his hands.

“Fuck Morpheus! You’re like a real ghost.” Hob sighed, but immediately smiled and kissed his boyfriend briefly on the lips. “Usually students use Valentine's Day to thank me for all the support I give them. Many of them saved a lot on a psychologist thanks to me. Although, of course, there are those who don't stop trying to ask me on a date.”

Morpheus raised his eyebrows. As soon as Hob's hands were free, he pulled the rose out from behind his back.

“Poor kids. What a pity that you are already dating.” Although there was not a hint of pity in Morpheus's voice, he put on a mournful face to enhance the effect. He lifted his other hand and touched the bite peeping on his neck with his fingertips. Hob laughed, carefully took the flower, which had not a single thorn on its stem, and put it just as carefully into the bag so that the bud could only just be seen. He didn't want to draw too much attention on the way to his office.

Morpheus volunteered to see him off, and at the same time took advantage of the moment to invite Hob on a real date. Hob agreed before he could finish the sentence. The students passing by in a stream didn't even turn their heads in their direction, only a few threw greetings to their professor. Morpheus was about to put his hand on the small of his partner's back when a sudden voice made him flinch on the spot.

“Father?” Orpheus stood among the crowd of onlookers and with rounded eyes looked straight in their direction. Morpheus stopped feeling gravity. It became difficult for him to breathe, every cell of his body went cold. He was sure that he wouldn't run into his son. He had acted impulsively, the desire to see Hob blinded him, and now he would have to pay with this fragile trust, which was won with such difficulty.

“Oh, is that your father?” Hob smiled at Orpheus, who nodded warily as he stepped closer. “Sorry, I didn’t know. I saw my favorite writer in the corridor and couldn't pass by, imposed on him with a request to get an autograph or a photo. Now it's clear what such a famous person is doing here.”

Morpheus turned his startled gaze from Orpheus to Hob, on whose face not a single muscle twitched at the lie he had just invented. However, Orpheus's shoulders slumped noticeably. He believed.

“Anyway, it was a pleasure to meet you in person, sir. I'll leave you alone, I have a lot to do. Have a nice day.” Hob shook hands with Morpheus, winked at him, and hurried to disappear among the crowds of students. Morpheus was overcome by a wave of relief. Thanks to the fact that Hob didn't freeze in the same way Morpheus did, they avoided a real catastrophe.

“What are you doing here?” Orpheus shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt, drawing his father's attention to him.

“I wanted to take you home. If you let me. Otherwise, I'll leave.“

Orpheus arched an eyebrow. He glanced at the clock on his phone, shifted from foot to foot, and, sighing, turned to leave.

“Okay. Let's go.”

Morpheus smiled. Probably wider than he should. Orpheus finally doesn't push him away. The sincere feeling of happiness bought by being close to his child instantly pushed all the anxiety out of his head. But given a similar incident in the past, Morpheus gave Hob a quick text that he would pick him up after work. Now he won't forget about him.

They walked in silence most of the way. Morpheus looked at his son every now and then and thought about how to start a conversation. He didn't know how to do it, and even interacting with Hob didn't greatly affect his social skills. In addition, he was terribly afraid of spoiling the fragile truce between themes . Surprisingly, Orpheus spoke first.

“Don't think Professor Gadling is some crazy freak. He's just... Very open to emotions. You are lucky to have a reader like him.”

Morpheus looked away and bit his lower lip, holding back a smile. He knew he was very lucky. And the fact that Orpheus was afraid that Hob made a bad impression on him warmed his heart very much. They really got pretty close.

“I didn't think so. Your professor seemed to me a rather pleasant person. I bet he taught you a lot.“ Morpheus wanted so badly to touch his child, but he was afraid that Orpheus wouldn't like it. He needed to change the subject or it would be difficult to continue talking about Hob while holding back his true feelings. 

“How are you doing outside of uni? How much time do you spend with Nuala?”

“Not a lot. Mostly only at rehearsals and between classes. She has only recently begun to confidently hold the flute in her hands, before that she played the cello, and is trying to practice more.”

Morpheus could make a terrible mistake if he didn't think carefully about his questions. But he needed to know immediately. He couldn't sleep or eat when he remembered Hob's words, and unpleasant images kept flashing through his thoughts when he came across Corinthian.

“She is a very nice girl. If... If you want to try to impress her, I'm ready to help. Or to impress someone else. Whoever you are interested in, I will try to support you. I don't know how good i can do this, but I'll try. For you.”

Orpheus raised his head to see his father's face. Looking at him, it was very hard to tell what Orpheus was thinking, but Morpheus exhaled when he saw no anger or hatred. He was too accustomed to the way Orpheus reacted negatively to all of his father’s tempts to play a part in his life again. But something had changed for the better.

“Nuala is a beautiful person and a wonderful friend, but I've never thought of her in any other way.”

Morpheus' worst fears were confirmed. Orpheus is such a smart boy, so why? Why damn Corinthian? There were so many adequate people in the country, but Orpheus was attracted by the most abnormal.

“It’s amazing to hear such words from you, to be honest,” Orpheus suddenly added, “You would never have said something like that before. You've always been overconfident and refused to admit that you can't do something. So thanks. I will remember it.”

They stopped at the front door. Orpheus seriously thought about something, standing in that space and then sighed and turned to his father.

“I'm ready to talk to you.”

Chapter Text

Hob was waiting for Morpheus at the gates of the university. More than fifteen minutes had already passed since the appointed time, and Hob began to think that Morpheus had either forgotten about him, or that something had greatly delayed him. He touched his bracelet in an attempt to numb his anxiety. He'll have to call in five minutes. It's okay if Morpheus forgot. Such things happen sometimes. Besides, he must have been very nervous when Orpheus noticed them. Another second and everything would be ruined.

There was a sound of quick footsteps, and Hob automatically turned his head. Morpheus was running towards him. Hob immediately let out a sigh of relief, overjoyed that he hadn't really forgotten about him and, more importantly, that he was perfectly fine. Usually when a person is running, they slow down before stopping. But Morpheus did not. Hob realized too late that a collision was inevitable, and before he could take a step to the side, Morpheus literally knocked him off his feet and fell with him to the ground. And then he heard...

He heard the strangest sound in the world. And it took a few seconds to realize that this sound was a laugh. Morpheus was laughing. Laughing, hugging him on the cold pavement. This sound was some terrifying combination of the tantrum of a dying goose, the creak of the world's oldest door, and thunder. It was terrifying. But Hob caught himself thinking that he was ready to kill crowds of people, just to hear it as often as possible.

As Morpheus rose on his elbows, looming over Hob, his face glowed with joy for the first time. Stars danced in his beautiful eyes, and Hob had never seen such a wide smile on his lips. In that moment, he fell in love with Morpheus once more. Much stronger than before. His whole world had narrowed down to this man who was laughing like a child. As soon as the laughter subsided, Morpheus leaned his forehead against Hob's forehead and closed his eyes, still smiling.

“I love you, Hob. I love you very much.”

“Who are you and what have you done to my scowling emo boyfriend?” Hob smiled softly. He tried to remember every second of this moment, to live it to the maximum and keep it in his memory as one of the best in his life.

“You saved me. You are my miracle, Hob Gadling,” Morpheus clasped Hob's face in his hands and kissed it persistently and gently, “Orpheus talked to me.”

“What? You have to tell me everything! From start to finish! Immediately!”

Morpheus nodded. He got down from Hob and helped him to his feet, after which he led him towards his house. Hob had never seen Morpheus smile like that. All his previous smiles had been reserved and only slightly mischievous, but now he didn't look like himself. Hob instantly forgot about all the problems he had at work. He wasn't worried about graduate students, colleagues, or a terrible schedule. He was glad to see the happiness of his loved one.

On the way, Morpheus said that he had canceled his restaurant reservation for the evening as soon as he left his ex-wife's house. After what happened, he wanted to spend time alone with Hob and tell him about everything at home, since it's too personal and too big achievement. His hand gripped Hob's tightly, and his eyes sparkled with such sparks that they took Hob's breath away. The endless love was so clear in Morpheus's gaze that Hob could barely keep his knees from trembling. Obviously, the conversation with Orpheus went well, but he couldn't even imagine that anything could cause such emotions in the most gloomy person in the world.

For the first time, Morpheus spoke more than Hob. He had great storytelling abilities, as if he was born to write and tell stories to other people. Morpheus began by proposing to Orpheus to talk for the first time, but was refused. Hob didn't know about it. Morpheus also confessed the reason he kept it a secret: he was ashamed. He wasn't used to rejections and took them too close to his heart. Hob then learned that Morpheus texted to his son from time to time. He asked how he was doing, how his day was going and if he had any news he would like to share. At first, Orpheus ignored them, but gradually began to answer. More recently, monosyllabic answers have become a little more detailed, but he could still feel the tension and fear of Orpheus to open up to his father.

Hob barely restrained himself from screaming with delight. He was incredibly happy that things with Orpheus were finally getting better. Morpheus tried very hard, stepped over himself and, finally, achieved a significant result.

In some unimaginable way, Morpheus managed to keep the intrigue right until they came home. He continued to tell everything that he was silent about, but he didn't say a word about the most important conversation. It wasn't until he settled into the living room and cracked open a bottle of wine that Hob was finally privy to what had happened between father and son.

Morpheus had never been so honest with Orpheus and himself before. The conversation began with the fact that he apologized to his child for everything what happened between them, and said that he never wanted to cause him so much pain. He took Hob's advice and told Orpheus what he was thinking about when he decided to send him for treatment without getting his permission. Morpheus confessed to Orpheus that he was too scared for his life and allowed fear to blind his mind. And that it's the biggest mistake he made in his life, which he'll never stop regretting. Morpheus also promised that he would leave him alone and would not appear in his life again, if only Orpheus told him right now that he really wanted it. But even if that happens, he will never stop loving his son.

And Orpheus... Orpheus understood him. And accepted. His father hadn't been this sincere with him since he was a child, and it definitely made him feel their family connection again. After all, they were close a long time ago. Once Morpheus spent every minute of his time with his son, taught him to read, sing, play musical instruments. Orpheus is in love with music thanks to both of his parents. And these childhood memories are his most precious treasure, which the boy is afraid of losing and devaluing. Orpheus didn't lie that he had ceased to be offended by him, Morpheus's act left a deep wound on his young heart, but at least such sincerity on the part of his father helped get rid of the endless anger at him that had been seething in his veins for all three years. Orpheus said he felt like he could forgive him one day if Morpheus continued to change for him.

Orpheus agreed to spend time with him, but on the condition that he himself would choose when, where and how much. He warned that he didn't want to be around his dad for hours. For now. But, if Morpheus really wants to mend their relationship, it could change.

They talked to each other for quite a long time, ignoring the clock, so Morpheus was late. Hob listened to him and couldn't believe what he was hearing. That really happened. Orpheus is ready to take steps towards. Incredible. And the tenderness and pride with which Morpheus recounted their dialogue made Hob scream inside. He was so unimaginably happy for both of them that he was speechless and couldn't even praise Morpheus when he stopped talking. Morpheus, who Hob knows, might take this as a negative reaction, get upset or angry and leave. But Hob didn't know this Morpheus yet. It was the first time he had seen this truly happy part of him. Morpheus just smiled softly at his silence and set his glass down on the table.

“That all happened only because of you, my Hob,” Morpheus moved closer, gently running his hand over Hob’s jaw, “you taught me to apologize. You taught me to voice my thoughts. You've shown incredible patience with both me and my son.” He tucked a strand of brown hair behind his ear and cupped his chin with thin fingers, placing his thumb in the hole in it.

Hob swallowed. He suddenly felt very small next to Morpheus. Like a doe trapped by a big black panther. Hob didn't even notice how his hands were no longer squeezing the glass of wine. The pounding of his heart echoed in his ears, and all Hob could do was try to keep breathing.

“You forgave all my rude words, all my screams. No matter how hard I tried to keep you at a distance, you got under my skin. My Hob, my dear heart, my silly little thing. I won't rest until I give you the whole world. It's the least I can do in gratitude for your time, patience, and love.”

Oh shit, Hob is not used to such words. He felt his legs tremble and his face flush with colour. In the eyes opposite, he saw nothing but boundless adoration directed at him. For a moment, Morpheus ceased to be a man, he became a deity who can really create and destroy any world at the behest of Hob. Which is strange, because Morpheus is the one who should be worshiped, but he was ready to fall at Hob's feet himself, despite all his pride.

Morpheus placed a light kiss on the corners of Hob's lips before gently pulling away and heading towards his desk. While he was searching through the drawers, Hob used the time to try to pull himself together. The words of Morpheus literally immobilized him, confused all his thoughts and ignited the blood in his veins with a real hellish flame.

Hob looked up as Morpheus returned to him. In his hands he held an unmarked black notebook, but Hob recognized it. It's one of those notebooks that Morpheus uses for work. He handed her over to Hob. Although his smile had already disappeared, his eyes continued to sparkle like never before.

“The idea came to me a long time ago, but I was waiting for the right moment. I will put the whole world at your feet, Hob, but firstly I must do something that you will definitely not forget. I'm going to write a special story, and a special story needs a special hero.”

Hob noticed a dark blue bookmark pulling out of a notebook. Receiving a nod, he opened it at that spot. There was a plan for a new book that Morpheus began working on in parallel with another. The one that will go to the editorial office from day to day and will be published in a few months. This new one didn't have a title yet, but it had a brief description: it was going to be a story about the ghost of a boy trying to remember who he was in life, and at the same time he helps a wandering man find the meaning of life. In the end it turns out that this man was the father of the boy.

Hob's eyes dropped lower. All the air was gone from his lungs when he read what was written next.

Name of the ghost boy: Robyn.

“If you allow me to write about him, then please supplement my notes with his character and appearance,” Morpheus continued cautiously, “I know that I won't be able to completely copy his personality, but I will do everything so that you see your child in this character. I can't bring him back to life, but the memory about him will forever remain in my book.”

Hob closed the notebook, pressed it to his chest, hugged Morpheus with his free hand and buried his face in his solar plexus, drowning out the incoming sob. His partner is a rich man, he could give him anything, any trinket, the price of which would be twice his apartment. But instead, he chose the gift that Hob couldn't have dreamed of. Hob hadn't cried hard in a very long time, he skillfully held back the tears every time the memories overtook him, but this time they were running down his cheeks faster than he had time to realize. His shoulders trembled, and Morpheus's hands lay on his head and began to gently stroke his hair. Hob made no attempt to calm down and allowed himself to cry. Despite everything they had already done in bed, this moment felt the most intimate of them all. Hob couldn't even understand why he was crying. The emotions that overwhelmed him found an outlet through tears, in which love, grief and gratitude were mixed.

Hob wept quietly, but for a long time. Morpheus waited patiently and tugged at his hair, even Jessamy joined them and rested her small head on his thigh.

When the tears subsided, Hob didn't change his position. He felt that the fabric of the black turtleneck was soaked, but instead of pulling away, he squeezed the waist of his loved one a little tighter. Morpheus' hands moved from his hair to his face, forcing Hob to raise his head and look at him. Cold fingers carefully wiped the wet tracks from her cheeks.

“You are so beautiful, dear heart. I regret that I couldn't tell Orpheus about us.”

“Ah, yeah, we all know that the standard of beauty is red eyes, right?” Hob chuckled weakly. He turned his head slightly to kiss Morpheus's hand. “Don't worry about it. Take your time.”

And Morpheus didn't take these words quite the way he should. He didn't rush at all. But Hob knew that he just didn't have the courage to confess to Orpheus, especially after he could lose everything again. Hob encouraged his partner in every possible way, but the burden of guilt on his own shoulders grew heavier. Sometimes it was even unbearable for him to look into Orpheus's eyes. They deceive him, and he believes them. It's vilely. They both are cowards and idiots who lack the courage to face the consequences of everything they have done. Hob didn't regret the relationship that had begun with Morpheus even for a second, he loved him very much and was happy next to him, but sometimes he caught himself thinking that they should have started dating after confessing to Orpheus in their cooperation. Maybe then it would be a little easier.

Even when Hob wrote about Robyn in Morpheus's notebook, the image of Orpheus kept popping up before his eyes. If Robyn had lived to his age, they would have become friends. Hob wanted to believe that Robyn would grow up to be an open and cheerful boy who could help Orpheus overcome difficulties.

He rewrote the descriptions of Robyn many times. Hob is a historian, for many years of his work he had to write only dry facts, not paying attention to his thoughts and personal attitude to this or that historical event. His hand isn't full of fiction. Therefore, realizing that Morpheus would do it better than him, instead of describing his appearance, Hob put in a notebook a photo of his son, which he still carried in his wallet to this day. Once there was also a photo of Eleanor too, but he had to remove it so as not to torment his conscience.

Hob hated how he blamed himself more and more every day. He was driven mad by the thought that the longer Morpheus was silent, the more painful it would be for Orpheus. He didn't want to hurt him. Orpheus had just begun to smile. And the boy also became much more attentive to the people around him. Once Orpheus pointed out to Hob that he had become happier. Luckily, he didn't ask why.

Morpheus did everything possible so that Orpheus wouldn't regret his decision. He even tried to treat Corinthian more favourably. Honestly, it didn't always work out. Morpheus still couldn't stand him, but Hob noticed how hard he was trying. And he also noticed his guilty looks of a wet cat, when he once again failed to confess to his son. Hob wasn't angry with his lover, however, he was angry with himself. That he allowed this situation and couldn't control himself until it was all over. Spring came, and none of them had the courage to stop lying to a child.

“I think I should make you a copy of the keys to my house," Morpheus said lazily, settling himself comfortably on his lover's chest. Hob stroked his hair and stared up at the ceiling as he desperately tried to escape his anxiety and think of something else. For example, about what they were doing twenty minutes ago on Morpheus's black silk sheets.

“You already have mine and enjoy using them,” Hob kissed the top of his head, smiling into his dark hair. A wave of warmth and tenderness enveloped him when he was coming at home and saw Morpheus, who was either working or relaxing on his bed or sofa. It happened infrequently, but such moments painted life in brighter colours. It's not a feeling that will pass in a week, a month or a year. He now has someone to return home to.

Morpheus mumbled something unintelligible. He would have fallen asleep if not for the loud doorbell, which made him groan loudly and Jessamy burst into hideous croaks.

“That's Teleute,” with a heavy sigh, Morpheus had to get up from Hob and reach for his clothes.

In some incredible way, Teleute found out about them before Morpheus had time to tell her, so he warned her not to break into his house on her unexpected visits as if it was her own. The last thing Morpheus wanted was for anyone else to see his partner naked.

Hob candidly stared at the way the love of his life donned underwear and a purple opossum hoodie. Morpheus adored it and wore around the house all the time. Although increasingly began to replace it with Hob's shirts and T-shirts.

“You're enchanting, princess.”

“Get dressed,” Morpheus threw his pants in his face, “she'll see me like this and understand that you're here. And you've already become good friends, as far as I can tell.”

“Your sister is one of the best women in my life.” Hob laughed.

"Hurry up, I don't want to take the brunt of it."

Morpheus leaned down to kiss him gently on the lips, and with great reluctance descended to the first floor, where Jessamy continued to scream. Hob rested his head on the pillow for a few more seconds, filled his lungs with his new favourite scent and slowly crawled under the bed for his underpants.

He didn't bother and went downstairs only in the pants. Morpheus can’t avoid jokes anyway, why pretend that they are doing innocent things? However, when Hob came close enough to the door, he saw that it wasn't Teleute at all who was standing on the threshold.

As soon as the blue eyes darted over Morpheus's shoulder, they instantly widened, and Hob no longer felt the support under his feet. Everything was supposed to be not like that. They shouldn't have messed things up even more. As silence fell, Hob began to realize the picture that was taking shape in the boy's head.

“Oh, wonderful,” Orpheus said coldly through clenched teeth and took a step back, “great. Now I understand.”

It seemed that the disappointment that overtook Orpheus could be felt physically. Instead of showing all his anger, he hid his emotions behind an indifferent expression, but his eyes... Everything was read in his eyes. Hob and Morpheus are traitors to him. Those who played on his feelings for their own benefit.

“Orpheus, I swear, everything is not what it seems at first glance!” Hob wanted to run to him, but his legs refused to obey. He stood as if nailed down, unable to move.

“No, don’t bother,” then Orpheus looked up at his father, “that’s why you suddenly decided to change, right? I knew you couldn't be trusted. Both of you.”

“Orpheus, I…” Morpheus’s voice broke as if it didn’t belong to him at all.

"Don't ever come near me again! You bought me! Bought from him like some kind of thing!”

Morpheus wanted to touch him, but Orpheus recoiled from his father's hand, as if from fire, and ran away. He didn't cry. He wouldn't let either of them see his tears again.

For them, time has stopped. As Hob looked from where Orpheus stood to Morpheus, he was struck by lightning.

Hob promised himself that he would take care of him and Orpheus. But there was so much pain and regret on Morpheus's face. He was terrified, he was confused and very, very scared. Hob wanted to go up to him, hug him and reassure him that they could fix this mistake, but he felt that he had no right to touch him, even to be near him. They are both injured because of him.

"I... I'm sorry..." Hob wrapped his arms around himself and began to slowly walk back towards the stairs. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... It's my fault. Sorry. If I... I should have... Sorry.”

Hob rushed upstairs. He quickly put on a shirt, shoes, grabbed the things lying on the bedside table and hurried out of the house as soon as possible. Morpheus was still standing with the open door as he ran away. He tried to grab Hob's hand, but his own were trembling violently and wouldn't be able to hold him. Equally shocked by reality, Morpheus couldn't even throw anything after him.

Instead of getting home, Hob stopped in some damp deserted alley. He leaned back against the wall, slid down to the ground and wrapped his arms around his knees, hiding his face in them. What an idiot he is. Morpheus put in so much effort and it all went down the drain because of Hob. He was supposed to protect them, but it turned out the opposite.

About an hour passed before Hob decided to leave the alley and return home. His phone was silent, Morpheus didn't text anything to him, Orpheus, of course, too. Hob curled up on his bed, not knowing what to do anymore. He didn't want to contact anyone, it would be easier if he just disappeared. But it's impossible. So Hob tried to sleep in order to hide somewhere from these tearing emotions.

The next day, Orpheus didn't show up for Hob's lesson. Perhaps he didn't come to the university at all, Hob expected it. Now the trust of Orpheus for him is forever lost. Over the course of the day, his own emotions subsided a little, and the voice of reason began to wake up, which convinced that Hob was to blame for this exactly as much as Morpheus, and nothing more. But he hated himself so much for that look on Morpheus's face. He wanted to beat himself up. Hob twitched as he heard the phone vibrate.

Morpheus: I need time to be alone. but that doesn't mean I'm mad at you. it's not your fault.

Morpheus: can I come to you when I'm ready?

Hob: sure. anytime.

Morpheus: I don't know what you're thinking about, but I still need you.

Hob hid his face in his hands. He didn't reply to the last message, not knowing what words he should choose. At least Morpheus isn't offended by him. And despite everything, he still wants to see him. Yet. Unsure that he deserved it, Hob still tried to think rationally, although it was difficult to do. They won't achieve anything if they feel sorry and hate themselves. But damn, how bad Hob felt about Orpheus. The boy entrusted him with the most intimate, looked at him with respect and admiration, shared with him the important events of his life. And how did Hob repay him? Slept with his father.

Orpheus didn't appear the next day, nor the day after, and Nuala avoided the professor by all means. Hob had no intention of bothering her or the other members of the group with which Orpheus was preparing for the concert closing the spring festival at the end of the month. But he was terribly worried that Orpheus could do something to himself. He is unstable and now his life could be in danger again. Every day, Hob, despite all his atheism, prayed to all the existing gods that Orpheus wouldn't do something irreparable.

Hob returned home four days later to find Morpheus in his living room. No emotions were reflected on the marble face of his loved one, which immediately frightened him. They were no longer texted off from that day, and because of this he was immediately seized by panic. Hob expected that now Morpheus would refuse him, say that it was all over, and they shouldn't see each other anymore. He clenched his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms, and prepared himself for the most terrible words.

Instead, Morpheus spread his arms out to the sides in an inviting gesture. Hob didn't know what to do for a few seconds, and then fell into his arms.

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Morpheus.”

"It's not your fault," said a soft, velvety voice. Morpheus held him close, blocking any attempts to leave.

“But I...”

“It is not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. Don't hang my mistakes on yourself, Hob,” Morpheus flinched slightly and buried his nose in his hair, “I lost Orpheus. I don't want to lose you too. Please don't leave me.”

Hob exhaled nervously. He wanted to dissolve in it, to forget himself, to remain in these hands until the end of his days. Morpheus didn't push him away. They are still together.

“Do you know if Orpheus is okay?”

“I don't. He doesn't want me to know where he is, which is why he hasn't come home yet. But he told his mother.”

Well, at least he's alive and not in the hospital. This information brought relief. Next to Morpheus, this nightmare will be easier to survive.

They both worried about Orpheus and didn't know what to do next. But they had each other. Hob couldn't sleep all night, he hugged Morpheus until the morning, and, surprisingly, he felt a little better. Emotions subsided, allowing to think more sensibly. Hob didn't want to give up. He loved Orpheus and wouldn't have forgiven himself if he hadn't done anything to justify himself before him. But Orpheus is very similar to his father. There is no point in pestering him when resentment boils in him, he will not listen to him anyway.

Hob had no intention of manipulating Orpheus through someone else. Conscience for a very long time didn't allow him to contact those who are close to Orpheus, however, anxiety still won. But Hob didn’t learn anything new, except that Orpheus found a reliable person.

Hob: do you know what's going on with Orpheus? where is he? is he okay?

Corinthian: sorry bro, my mouth is shut. I like you, I honestly fulfilled our part of the deal, but you fucked up. I'm on his side. no offense, Birdie needs me more than you rn.

Hob: i see. please take care of him.

Corinthian: ok.

Hob closed the dialogue with a sigh. In place of Corinthian, he would have done the same, probably. Gathering his remaining strength, Hob put away his phone and went to conduct a lesson. He has a lot to do.

Being alone with the thoughts after everything that happened is not the best idea. So Morpheus practically didn't appear at his home and, together with Jessamy, spent the whole day at Hob's. He mostly wrote and only went to bed when Hob left for work, but his presence was a little comforting. Hob was falling asleep to the quiet sounds of the clatter of keys, and Jessamy often snuggled up to his side. Of course, both men were still too depressed, and they didn't talk too much to each other, but it didn't prevent them from finding solace in the mere presence of a loved one nearby.

Orpheus came into view two weeks later. March was already ending, which means that there were only a few days left before the concert. No matter how angry Orpheus was at someone, he wouldn't let anyone or anything stop him from creating. Hob saw him in the corridor, when he was discussing something with Nuala and a few other guys, holding, presumably, notes. He didn't approach him and left before Orpheus noticed him. Hob didn't know how to talk to him or what to say. Perhaps the boy shouldn't be touched until the concert is over. He hasn't performed on stage for a long time and this is a very important event for him, Hob cannot afford to spoil his mood.

The decision to leave Orpheus alone before the concert was made instantly, however, this plan lived for only several days. Surprisingly, it wasn't Morpheus who ruined it, but Orpheus himself, who suddenly burst into Hob's office and slammed his teacher's desk with both hands, causing him to flinch and look up from checking his tests.

"You're going to tell me right now what the fuck that was!" shouted Orpheus, staring at him demandingly, “And you will only speak the truth! Be honest, did you sell me to him? Has he demanded your body as payment? He's awful, but not in that way!”

Hob was taken aback and for a few seconds he didn't understand what was happening. Orpheus... came to talk? Himself? Doesn't he avoid both of them? To hell, he needs to seize the moment, there may not be a second such good chance to explain. Hob gathered up the papers in front of him, shoved them carelessly into a drawer, and motioned Orpheus to a chair. The student chuckled in disbelief, but sat down, continuing to glare at him.

“No, Morpheus didn't ask me for anything like that. I'll tell you everything, but you have to listen to me. Wait until I'm done to ask your questions, okay?” Hob tried to speak as calmly as possible. Fortunately, his work as a teacher taught him this. No matter what emotions raged inside him, he knew how to pretend not to panic. Orpheus thought for a moment and then nodded slowly.

And Hob told him. Everything. From start to finish. He began by remembering Orpheus from the previous school year, that he was worried about him and didn't know if he should even interfere in his life. Hob kept absolutely nothing from him for the first time. Well, except for a few details of their relationship with Morpheus, which concerned only the two of them. Hob admitted to helping him, but he never set out to convince Orpheus to forgive his father. For all the time, Hob didn't even think about making Morpheus look innocent, didn't try to make Orpheus forget all the insults. Moreover, he said that this attitude towards Morpheus is natural after everything he did, but he sincerely wanted to do better, only no one taught him to think ahead. Hob also admitted that he fell in love with Morpheus, but Orpheus and their agreement for help had nothing to do with this feeling.

Hob told everything, including his advices to Morpheus. This secret lay on his shoulders for too long, and, having confessed to Orpheus, it suddenly became easier to breathe. Finally, Hob wasn't constrained by anything, finally, there was no more fear of saying something wrong and being caught in a lie.

Orpheus listened attentively, but it was difficult to guess from his face what he was thinking or what emotions he was experiencing. When Hob finished his explanation, he let out a breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling his strength drain away.

“I did it because I was worried. First for you, then for both of you. I really wanted to help. And It's hard to hide the whole truth from you. I'm sorry. And your father too. He loves you very much and wants to correct all his mistakes. I'm sorry we were so dishonest with you.”

“Why?” Orpheus finally asked. “Why did you help him? I don't understand.”

Hob smiled faintly. He lowered his eyes to the table, not sure if he could talk about it if he looked at Orpheus. The bracelet on his arm glittered from the rays of the sun falling from the window.

“You know that I lost my wife. But along with her, I also lost my son.” Due to the fact that Hob avoided eye contact, he didn't notice how Orpheus's eyes widen. “I know how Morpheus feels. I was in his place, in a way. Especially when you told me about... Well, you know. There's nothing worse for parents than losing their child. And I know the hard way what fear Morpheus experienced that day.”

“That's why you help me too...” Orpheus said in a hoarse voice, barely audible, “You were in my place when I was talking about Eurydice. And you were my father when you found out about the suicide attempt.”

Hob took a sip of water to relieve the sudden dryness in his throat.

“Yeah, you can say that. But, you know, I like taking care of you two. I would keep doing this if you would let me. This time without lies and secrets.”

Orpheus turned away. He put his hand to his throat where the scar was. A minute passed in complete silence, and then Orpheus stood up.

“I need time. What you have said is quite a lot.”

“Of course,” Hob followed Orpheus with his eyes to the door, and added before the boy could leave, “do you mind if I come to your performance? If... If me and your father come?”

Orpheus chewed on his lower lip, frowning again. Hob was already ready to refuse, but before leaving, Orpheus threw a quiet "i don't" and instantly disappeared from the office.

Instead of texting to Morpheus right away, Hob decided to wait until evening. And this time seemed the most real flour. He was impatient to announce that they had both received permission to attend Orpheus' speech. Despite the fact that this is a university concert, and as a teacher, Hob had the right to come to it, he would not have gone if Orpheus didn't like it.

Apologizing to Orpheus helped Hob energize for the rest of the day. Time passed terribly slowly, but, sooner or later, the working hours come to an end. As soon as Hob finished the last lesson, he immediately ran home as fast as he could, not even bothering to take his personal things from his office.

Morpheus lay on the bed and played with Jessamy. On the floor there was a real mess of books, notebooks and papers, which he dealt with all day. It seems that Jessamy demanded his attention too insistently, and he had to interrupt his work in order to devote a few minutes to his favourite pet. Morpheus was completely dressed in Hob's clothes and felt no shame at the stolen T-shirt and sweatpants. Hob took off his shoes and jacket as he walked, went into the bedroom, and without any warning climbed on him, burying his nose in his neck. Jessamy croaked in displeasure, pecked at Hob's thigh and flew away, while Morpheus timidly hugged him in confusion.

“Hob… Did something happen?”

A smile involuntarily blossomed on his lips. Hob pulled back to look into his lover's eyes. Apparently, his face shone so much that Morpheus understood everything without words: his pupils narrowed in surprise, and his lips parted a little.

“That means?...”

Hob nodded before he could even formulate the question, and lay down on him again, gripping him tighter in his arms. Now Morpheus's embrace became more confident, he wrapped all his limbs around him and exhaled noisily through his nose. Hob could feel in his chest how fast the other's heart began to beat.

He has a good feeling. Everything will be fine now. Orpheus is not such a complex person as his father. Morpheus would never have come to sort things out after such an insult. Sometimes it seems to Hob that Orpheus is acting more mature than his own father. Yes, he also avoided and hid, but there was so much confidence in his voice that Hob had no doubt: it was his own decision to come to talk.

The last day of March fell on a Saturday three days after the conversation with Orpheus. Hob and Morpheus were equally nervous, but Hob was more able to control himself. He was going to watch the concert from beginning to end, because, in addition to Orpheus, other of his students performed at it, who would be glad to see him. He invited Morpheus to come later, but he categorically refused. Hob got ready pretty quickly, wearing a khaki jacket and trousers and a white T-shirt, but he had to wait a long time for Morpheus. They spent the night in his gloomy two-story house, as Morpheus needed all of his dressing room. Hob managed to play Tetris, a virtual farm, feed Jessamy, caress her, but his companion still couldn't put himself in order. Tired of wandering around the house doing nothing, Hob went up to the second floor and opened the dressing room door.

“By the time you get ready, Orpheus will already get a degree.”

“I'm almost ready.” Morpheus stood very close to a large mirror and painted his eyes with eyeliner. Hob's glance quickly scanned his black attire, which, although it didn't include any sequins or any patterns, still stood out very much. At least because Morpheus was standing in a long skirt. Due to the fact that he leaned heavily on his right leg, Hob could see that under it were also tight leggings (or something else tight, Hob didn't understand the types of clothing, it took him two years to learn how to distinguish between a sweatshirt and hoodie).

“It seems I know who will come to our future wedding in a dress,” Hob chuckled and leaned his shoulder against the door frame. Morpheus turned his head towards him, examined him from head to toe, and returned to touching up his eyes.

“First, learn how to dress normally, and then we will discuss a possible marriage.”

“Look who's talking, Mr. Goth.”

As soon as Morpheus was done with his makeup, he threw his eyeliner at his partner, to which Hob just laughed. After saying goodbye to Jessamy until evening, they finally left the house. Because of Morpheus, they were half an hour late, but luckily, Orpheus's group closed the entire event. Hob couldn't find an empty seat, so they had to stand against the wall.

In fact, Hob adored university events and participated in them very often. He was the one who helped activists run the first massive Pride Festival in June when he only joined the university, and every June since then, students have been coming to entice him to join in creating the now-annual event. He loved the spring festivals no less, just at this time of the year, young people wake up with the energy that they lacked all winter, and they look happier than ever. Hob loved to see those young faces radiant.

The hall was attended by other professors and students, as well as strangers. Most of these events are open to spectators who have nothing to do with the university, but getting a ticket is not easy. Hob didn't go into details, but he heard that almost all guests must be invited either by the speakers themselves or by one of the organizers.

Many students nodded and waved to Hob both from the stage and from the audience seats, some came up and exchanged a few words with him in a whisper. Hob knew everyone who approached him. He felt intense pride in these children when he saw their smiles, for he remembered how much most of them cried in his office.

“Your students really love you.” Morpheus said softly after another girl hugged Hob.

“You can't imagine how long it took me to make this happen.” Hob found his hand and laced his fingers with it. Morpheus smiled warmly.

Toward the end of the concert, several people left the hall. From experience, Hob could tell that they were friends or relatives of those who had already set out, who had come only for the sake of one or a few people. But new faces have also appeared. Hob nudged Morpheus with his shoulder and pointed him to the front door on the other side, from which Corinthian had just appeared. Morpheus squeezed Hob's hand with such force that it hurt him.

“Hey, calm down. Take a breath. I know he pisses you off, but he's a friend of Orpheus and you'll have to put up with him. And maybe not just a friend. I bet while Orpheus didn't appear at home, he lived with him.”

Corinthian also saw them, smiled with all his teeth and waved his hand. Morpheus pointedly turned away, but a light kick with his knee made him wave back.

“Great, you are making progress. I'm proud of you, princess.”

“Shut up.”

Hob smiled. He gave Corinthian a thumbs up and turned back to the stage. The host announced the closing of the spring festival, and finally Orpheus appeared with the other members of the group. Despite the noise, Hob heard Morpheus exhale sharply, as if he had been suddenly punched in the stomach.

“Hey, what's wrong?”

“He... There is the brooch on his clothes. Brooch in the form of a lyre. I tried to give it to him in September.”

Hob narrowed his eyes. Orpheus really put on the shining badge of the lyre, from which the light of the spotlights reflected. Hob smiled so wide his cheeks hurt. Orpheus understood them. Orpheus forgave them.

From the first notes, Hob recognized the melody that Orpheus began to play. The one with the ending constantly changing. Despite the sound of other instruments, Hob was sure it was the same melody. Magical music designed for fairy tales.

Naturally, Hob was proud of all his students, but pride in Orpheus felt differently. It mingled with the incredible relief that washed over him and Morpheus. The storm that raged in both of them because of the experiences and endless guilt finally dissipated, and Hob was able to breathe deeply. He felt how it became easier for him to breathe, smile and even think. It's hard to remember the last time Hob felt so free.

Orpheus' place is on the stage. He was born to play music, and do it for a live audience. You have to see how he plays. With a lyre in his hands, Orpheus turned into a real angel, it can be seen with the naked eye that he devotes himself to his work with his heart and soul, like Morpheus doing to writing.

Hob only looked up from the stage once to watch Morpheus' reaction. And he was no less amazed. Morpheus's face reflected admiration, pride, inspiration, relief and love. Orpheus conquered his own father.

The lyre of Orpheus was wonderfully combined with the flute, and with the synthesizer, and with the guitar. It seemed to fit any other musical instrument if it was held by the hands of Orpheus. Music bewitched the hall, penetrated into the heart of every spectator and ideally ended the spring festival of the university. When the melody died down, there was deathly silence for several seconds, and then the hall burst into applause. Someone even swooshed, and Hob knew for sure that someone was Corinthian.

It took another fifteen minutes for the host to make the final speech and people to start dispersing. Many of the speakers went to the hall to talk with their friends and share their emotions. Orpheus's group too. While Hob and Morpheus were trying to squeeze through the crowd, a woman of incredible beauty had already approached him. Orpheus smiled broadly at her and said something unusually energetically to her, and then she hugged him and, standing on her tiptoes, kissed his forehead. Hob guessed there was his mother. Morpheus was once married to a living incarnation of a Greek goddess.

Instead of approaching him next, Hob pushed Morpheus forward. Orpheus immediately fell silent, and Calliope stepped aside to give them more space. Hob's heart raced again with excitement. He knew that everything would be fine, but it didn't stop him from worrying. And Morpheus experienced the same. He didn't know what to say to him, he was afraid that he would ruin everything again, and a whirlpool of various thoughts was spinning in his head about what he should have done right now, but the fear of once again pushing Orpheus away was the strongest.

Orpheus held out his hand to him and smiled awkwardly, looking up at his father with his large bright eyes. Morpheus was taken aback for a few seconds, hesitantly took his hand, and, discarding all his fears, pulled Orpheus towards him, hugging. Morpheus's eyelids closed, his mask cracked, showing on his face all the anxiety, all the regret that he had experienced day after day for several years. Hob didn't hear what Morpheus whispered into Orpheus's ear, but he knew. And Calliope knew as well. Morpheus said the words that Orpheus needed to hear from him. The words that can heal even the most wounded soul, if they spoken by the right person.

Before Hob realised it, the boy pulled one arm out from behind his father's back to hug him too. He was no less confused by surprise than Morpheus, but he felt happier than ever before. Only now they both fully believed that the worst was finally behind them.

Orpheus introduced Hob to Calliope. This magnificent woman already knew quite a lot about him, thanks to the stories of her son, and was very glad to meet such a famous professor of history in person. When Corinthian approached them, Hob was almost nervous again at the sight of Morpheus' pouting lips. But, stepping over himself, he shook hands with him in greeting, and Hob exhaled louder than he should have, which caused Calliope to laugh softly. Orpheus watched Morpheus's behavior with suspicion, well aware of his dislike for Corinthian, and such friendliness caught up with even more suspicion. Oh yes, Hob forgot to tell him that, after thinking logically, he and Morpheus found out who exactly Orpheus likes.

After saying goodbye to the group, Orpheus agreed to go with Hob and his parents to the pub. They were followed by Corinthian, who caused the road to the New Inn to change at the last moment to the road to Hob's place. No one understood how it happened, but Hob was glad that he managed to clean the house the day before the concert.

Calliope and Corinthian were both amazed by the collection of edged weapons and asked Hob to show him everything he had. Finally, he had the opportunity to brag about it to someone, since Morpheus wasn't interested in weapons at all, and Johanna and Rachel had already listened to the same stories hundred times. Hob took an old crossbow out of the closet, removed a perfectly sharpened katana from the wall, let Corinthian hold the axes in his hands. But Hob had to pick them up immediately, as soon as he offered to leave them in the wall.

Calliope "accidentally" poked Morpheus several times with the tip of an ancient knife, which made Corinthian wildly delighted. Morpheus, on the other hand, absolutely didn't like how his ex-wife and potentially future boyfriend of his son quickly caught one wave and began to actively bully him. Orpheus, on the contrary, frankly enjoyed it and didn't even think to hide a malicious smirk. Hob decided to step aside before one of them switched to him, and immediately took all the most dangerous weapons.

Putting back the crossbow, Hob noticed an acoustic guitar standing alone in the corner of the room. After hesitating, he took it, sat down in a chair and began to tune the strings. Then he played some chords. Playing the guitar no longer brought him pain. Hob ran his fingers over the strings one more time, but stopped when he noticed Orpheus walking up to him. Smiling, Hob made way for him and handed him the guitar. Orpheus' eyes immediately sparkled, he grabbed the instrument with great zeal and tried to correctly repeat the position of the fingers. Hob sat down on the arm of his chair, carefully adjusted two of Orpheus's fingers, nodded, and Orpheus played his first chord on the guitar. In Hob's memory, the boy had never looked so excited and excited, so he didn't hesitate and helped him move his fingers to a new chord.

Fleeing from his tormentors, Morpheus sat down on the carpet not far from them. Hob met his eyes, died and resurrected in the same second from the tenderness with which Morpheus looked at him and his son. Somewhere in the kitchen, Corinthian with Calliope found the wine once given by Morpheus, glasses clinked. Orpheus repeated a new chord, Morpheus smiled, and Hob realized that he now had a family again.

A few months later, when Hob was returning from work, he was greeted by Morpheus and Johanna at the doorstep. They still didn't get on very well with each other, so seeing them together is a rather unsettling sign, and Hob went over all the possible reasons why they could team up in his head. But they all disappeared into oblivion when he went home and saw in the center of the room a basket with a small black puppy. Hob immediately fell to his knees next to the dog, took the baby in his arms and laughed with the joy of a dream come true.

And two years later, Morpheus published a book about a ghost boy, which began with the words: «Dedicated to Robyn Gadling. The boy who didn't have time to see the world, but whom the world will always remember.»