Mathis listened in silence to the sounds of Frank moving through the house. Then out of the house. Perhaps just to get some air, or take a walk. Mathis couldn’t bring himself to move for a few more minutes. Perhaps it was shock, in some way, that kept him rooted to the spot and trembling. Was it the shock that kept his eyes so dry? Or was it something else that made him so... cold.
There was not one thing he felt in full. Parts of guilt, of grief, of regret. Of relief? Only part. It was all too much to feel at once. He knew he would need time to address it all, but he couldn’t do so on the floor of his studio.
Swallowing back the lump in his throat, Mathis pushed to his feet, and cast his gaze around. It was just as easy to feel like smashing all of it to pieces as it was to wish to preserve it just as it was. There was so much he was walking away from. He could not think on what parts he would keep, and which he would entirely cut himself free of.
He couldn’t stay. Not tonight. He couldn’t lay in a bed; which one would he even sleep in?; while Frank lay in another, contemplating what next to do. Staying would only make him rethink it all. He would find himself back in the same place, forcing himself to fit inside the fragile mold to preserve something flawed and fragile. He’d just make a fool of himself, and waste both of their time.
Tonight, he’d go. They would have to decide later who kept the house, or if they sold it and went separate ways. It felt only fitting that he should be the one to go. Frank had a group rooted to the city. Mathis was not confined to any borders. Not anymore.
In silence, he left his studio, and headed for the bedroom. Frank had not returned from outside, but his presence had faded from nearby. Good. Easier, this way. He did not rush as he moved to the closet to bring down a small suitcase from the shelf. He pointedly ignored Frank’s clothing hanging before him, and only turned to collect a few things from his own side before heading for the bed. Once, he’d thought that the next time he would be packing, it would be in preparation for their wedding. Now he piled in a few changes of clothes and basic toiletries, destined for...
Where would he go? He’d figure it out after he left. The walls around him felt suddenly constricting. His the familiar room he’d shared with Frank swelled around him, taunting him with the threat of bringing about memories he did not care to recall right now. Mathis packed a bit more quickly.
Soon, he was leaving the room, and toting the suitcase into the living room. There, he paused, peering down at the coffee table and the ring upon it. He thumbed the space where his own should be, realizing he’d left it behind in the bathroom when he’d gone to work the clay. His stomach lurched. Part of him insisted on turning around to go retrieve it. He’d worn it every day for two years. It had symbolized so much for him. A promise, now broken.
He kept moving, going to the kitchen for his car keys and wallet. There upon the window sill over the sink, sat the ceramic potato he’d made for Frank those years ago. The stupid potato. Why had he used it to propose? All of it felt so foolish now.
As he turned to leave, he glanced toward the sliding door, and the clothes upon the patio caught his eye. Frank had gone for a shift. He wondered how close he’d been to losing control during their talk. He was always more prone to it than Mathis was. It was rarely ever a struggle for him anymore. Never a question of balance between him and the cat. Only the matter of if shifting was appropriate or not. It never seemed to be so symbiotic for Frank.
Frowning slightly, he turned, only to be once more stopped in his tracks. Dolce sat beside her bowl, peering up at him hopefully. He swallowed thickly as he dropped to a knee and patted the floor for her to approach. She did so with gusto, her body wagging as she propped her little feet on his thigh and stretched to kiss his chin. Guilt bore into him. She would be confused. Her life was forever changed, and she knew nothing of it. Innocent in the matter, she wouldn’t understand.
Mathis scritched her behind the ears. He wouldn’t leave her. Not forever. If they had to manage some sort of... custody. Too much to think about now. Tonight, she was best off here. Frank would return some hours later, and she wouldn’t be alone. He bent to kiss her patchwork head, then slowly stood. Enough drifting about his own house like a phantom. He’d haunted it long enough.
He gave nothing else a second glance as he moved back through to the front door. A murmured promise to Dolce that he would see her later was the only thing he broke the silence with before he stepped through the door.
—
When Frank returned, a message would be waiting for him on his phone.
I could not stay. Give me a few days and we can figure the rest out.
Mathis