For All The Flowers Watered By Storms

 📅 spring, 2044

【ᴄᴡ ғᴏʀ ғʟᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢ, ɴᴏɴsᴘᴇᴄɪғɪᴄ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ sᴇʟғ-ɪɴᴊᴜʀʏ ᴀɴᴅ sᴜɪᴄɪᴅᴇ】

The spring night was comfortably cool and felt a lot like clarity to Kohao, who stood out on the back porch of the townhouse and drank in the moonlit air. Traffic noise was omnipresent as always just outside the City That Never Sleeps, but it was routine and muffled enough for all to still feel calm and quiet: A welcome reprieve from a rather chaotic past few days.
He leaned back against the deck’s wooden railing and his eyes slid from the faint light of the stars overhead to the yellow glow from his daughter’s bedroom window. 

Kohao knew it would be rude to call so late at night, but he wanted to talk to Anarchy and dialed his number anyway, crossing his fingers that the phone would be on vibrate and he wouldn’t be waking the whole household up. Enough rings went by that Kohao started to think Anarchy had turned in for the night, but just as the thought crossed his mind, he heard a click at the other end of the line.
“K-O? What's up, is everything alright?” Anarchy asked as soon as he picked up; sounding awake, if somewhat concerned. 
“Yeah, no, don’t worry—everything’s okay,” Kohao said quickly, “Sorry. Just...a lot has happened. I’m fine! But I wanted to hear your voice.”
“Queer of you,” Anarchy replied dryly, “But for real—what’s going on, man?”

Kohao sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling over-emotional and like there was no way he could manage to get across quite all of it—not without talking Anarchy’s ear off—but he propped his elbow on the porch railing and tried.
“Well...You know Slick, right? Oli’s friend? Logan?” he asked.
“Yeah. The one who was cutting last year. He just came out to you a week or so ago, didn’t he? You said at practice he did. Just after he and—God, name name name...Roscoe, that’s it—started going out. Is he okay?”
“He’s fine, yeah, he...Wait. How do you know about him and Roscoe?” Kohao asked, his clear bafflement drawing a laugh from Anarchy.
“Coop is friends with Roscoe’s little brothers. I know the gossip.”
“Apparently,” Kohao half-laughed, “Not all of it, though: Slick’s been staying over with us a lot the past few months, ya know? His home life’s not been excellent. Not like yours, but…” Kohao trailed off.
“No. Like yours,” Anarchy said. It wasn’t a question, and Kohao smiled through his self-directed eye-roll.
“I’m transparent, huh?”
“Yeah, and you’ve really taken to him. Anyway, though, is he the one making you call me at 10:30pm?” Anarchy asked, and Kohao would have felt guilty—but there was an audible smile to Anarchy’s tone and Kohao knew his call wasn’t actually unwelcome.

“Nope, he’s actually upstairs in Oli’s bedroom right now. Their light’s still on; I should yell at them to go to bed,” Kohao said, but he knew his humor sounded strained and he swallowed hard before going on; “I think he’ll be staying. For good. He had a fight with his father and marched himself over to our house, cat and all, just like we told him he could. He’s been with us for a couple days now. JJ’s using the litter box and Slick seems a little less nervous around Will, so...things are working out just fine.”
“And you? How are you holding up?” Anarchy asked.
Kohao sighed introspectively.
“I’m...I mean, I wasn’t lying, I’m fine. It’s just...it’s crazy, ‘Key. It’s crazy,” he replied, shaking his head, emotional and ramble-prone; “...The other night when we were both sleepless—he’s got insomnia too—we talked for a while, and something he said...Well. He said I was a better dad than he’d had at his house.” 
Anarchy murmured a quiet “wow,” and Kohao tilted his head back, smiling but feeling tears at the edges of his eyes. 

“I managed not to cry in front of him at least. I’m probably gonna now, though. I never thought I’d be a dad, ‘Key, I never thought I’d be a father figure! But somehow I’ve made it here. Slick and I...We had this whole conversation. Never thought I’d be opening up to a sixteen-year-old kid how much it hurts to consider yourself ‘nobody’s son,’ that the idea of being a son is comforting and that losing it is painful...but we had that conversation and at the end of it I said if his dad didn’t deserve to have him as a son, that I’d still be proud to have him as one...and he said ‘okay’ and kinda smiled a lot. Fuck. It’s like...I made it. I made it here. I’m not my dad, I’m not who my mom was: I’ve managed to be the kind of parent who can make a kid feel loved.” Kohao choked on his words and took a moment to scrub his hand over his eyes.
“You really have. And he’s lucky to have you, K,” Anarchy said, and Kohao could hear the smile in his voice again, “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know, though: I’ve watched you raise Olivia. I don’t think there’s been a single second that that girl has doubted her dad loves her.”
“It’s because of you,” Kohao replied instantly, nearly interrupting Anarchy, “You and Athena and everyone else. Like, just...Thank you, so fucking much, ‘Key, for not giving up on me. I’m so glad that that angry twenty-something version of me never managed to kill himself. I’m so glad Athena picked up the phone all those years ago. I made it because of you all and with any luck Slick’s gonna make it, too, with a lot less pain than I had to carry.”
“Yeah, K-O, you made it,” Anarchy replied softly, sounding distinctly choked up, “And I know he’ll make it too. He doesn’t need luck: He’s got you.”

Kohao tried and failed to stifle the sound that welled up from his chest, accompanied by further tears in his eyes, and Anarchy patiently let him collect himself; casually giving updates on the kids and relaying that Jaime still called almost every evening and it wasn’t seeming like the thrill of working for NASA was gonna wear off anytime soon, while Kohao dried his eyes and steadied his breathing.
“That’s great. I still remember their high school graduation...We’re old, ‘Key,” Kohao laughed, finally. “I’ll let you go so you can sleep. Say hi to Chey for me.”
They bid each other good night, with mutual promises to talk again soon—they’d need to; the 30-year tour for BGJTLB was on its way.

After they hung up, Kohao found himself plunged into quiet again out on the porch, still staring at the bedroom window above. A couple minutes passed before there was a flickered shadow upstairs; movement; the window slid open and Slick leaned out onto the sill, lighter in hand, a cigarette taking place of whatever his last comment to Oli had been. 
“Nuh-uh, I don’t think so,” Kohao called up at the click-spark and brief orange luminance from the lighter; “The nicotine addiction look wasn’t cute on me when I was your age and it’s even less cute now that I’m pushing 50. No smoking in the house.”
Slick startled, then his expression went sheepish and he ducked his head, half-hiding behind the eve.
“No, yeah, sorry, sir,” he called back. Kohao heard Olivia make a disgusted noise and he laughed, himself.
“Don’t call me sir, either. Get to bed, you two. It’s late.”
“It’s Saturday,” Olivia responded from out of view. 
“And it’s going to be Sunday soon enough.” Kohao smiled to himself and shrugged. “Your call, but when I wake your mom up by climbing into bed late, I’m blaming all of it on you both.”

Willow rolled sleepily over when Kohao joined her under the covers, reaching out to drape an arm across his chest and tuck her head into the crook of his neck. 
“Did you call ‘Key?” she mumbled.
“Yeah. Needed to.”
“I know. He get through to you?”
Kohao furrowed his brow. “Get through to me? About what?”
“What an amazing father you are.” She nuzzled against his shoulder, fading back into sleep. “You keep proving it...gotta take the credit some day.”
Kohao swallowed hard and pressed a kiss to the top of Willow’s head, momentarily speechless.
“No, yeah...I’m getting it,” he murmured. “I’m getting there. And I’m so, so glad.”