It continued like this, and Iago found it impossible to satisfy any part of himself with cold food from the fridge, but he had no drive to do anything else. At least eventually he got sick enough of the fridge beeping at him to reach up and close it, then laid down in front of it as the sun set and the house became dark. The hum of the freezer at his back lulled something in his brain and he looked blankly at the underside of the counter.
Thought. Maybe he'd redo the counters at some point. Or. Maybe not.
Darkness settled. A vehicle that sounded familiar rumbled past the lightless house, turning the corner and running headlights through the kitchen. For a wild moment he was
certain this was it. Sokol had come back and he hauled himself up and to the window again, this time leaning eagerly to see, hoping--and then immediately dashed as the unfamiliar sedan rolled down the street, away, without stopping.
And for a moment he felt a well of frustration that bordered on anger. But it wasn't him, it was a lion who demanded,
demanded that
his lion be brought back. To him. Immediately.
How dare this happen. The separation was cruel and unjust, and this time Iago couldn't sate the beast with anything so petty as food or pacing. Lion lion lion, and if he couldn't have that he would at least claim physical form so that he could show his upset himself.
Kicked his paws out of denim and left his phone laying on the floor as the dark maned lion reached to swipe everything sitting on the counter off of it. Shredded the yellow pages that had been useless anyway, leaving it scattered between the hall, the kitchen, and the dining space, where he knocked over every single dining room chair and shoved the table up against the window.
Mad but... mourning. Making crooning noises as he paced the house, looking for someone who was not there. Someone who he tragically could not
feel. It was heartbreak, and he was a dying lion who climbed onto the dining table and looked out from a dark house into a dark street through sheer curtains. Laid there like the most overgrown house cat, wilting. Everything was wrong.
Fell asleep there, and woke with a startle only two hours later as if he were on a perfect timer. A man again, confused for a moment why his heart raced immediately with dread, on autopilot as something other than his brain put his bare feet to the hardwood floors and through the kitchen to find his phone. Maybe he'd woken up like that because he'd missed a call or, or, or--
No. Nothing. Not a text or even... just...
It was that point he cried, unable to stop it, just so stricken by the idea that he might have lost him. The lion's anger spent, just scared, like he'd threatened to be weeks ago when Sokol had needed to talk to Ingrid. Sitting in a drafty sea of cheap shredded paper, exhausted in every way. Nearly midnight as this day passed them by this time without resolution.
Are you?He cleaned up the mess he'd made just to have something do. Then, everything heavy, went back up to the bedroom.
But he'd never been a good sleeper before Sokol. This time it was a thing smattering of stars he stared at through the skylight, he realized that his ability to sleep alone had utterly vanished. Months and months with that man to put his arms around, to push his face into at the very least...
There would be no sleep tonight. He took a pillow down to the basement, to the couch they had very specifically sought out for this space. Their hideaway, in many ways. Iago collapsed there, feeling no better for it, and turned on a movie to watch on the lowest volume, as if the steady tones of Captain America might soothe him. They did not. He didn't even feel distracted or entertained, burrowed into a throw blanket with his phone directly next to his head.
The sun came up. It was, somehow, an entirely different day now, and he'd lost all sense of a world that existed outside of here and the invisible line between himself and a man who he could not find.