Benji kicked his legs under the dinner table while he waited for Lyro to return. It helped soothe the anxiety he felt whenever his father was a short distance away. He leaned forward and crossed his arms, humming a song from one of his favorite bands.

“Benji?” came Lyro’s voice. “I’m home!”

“Welcome back,” Benji said, lifting his head and jumping from the chair. He pushed the chair flush against the table, and the legs squeaked. When he came to the door, Lyro was putting his damp coat on the rack. “How, uh… how were things?”

Lyro regarded him, glancing at Benji’s shoes. “You’re still wearing your shoes. Were you planning on going somewhere?”

To avoid an extra step, Benji thought to keep his shoes on so he could get food to G. He hadn’t suspected Lyro would pay attention to such a tiny detail.

A sigh escaped Lyro’s lips, and he brushed past Benji toward the kitchen. “I’ll go ahead and start dinner.

Benji’s heart skipped. “Y-You’re staying?” Lyro stopped with his hand on the doorframe to the kitchen, raising a brow. “I-I-I mean, it’s just, uh, surprising! You know?”

Lyro continued to stare, drumming his fingers along the frame's spine. A few more seconds passed, and he shook his head before entering the kitchen. “Take your shoes off. You’re going to dirty the floor.”

Benji clicked his tongue. He kicked his shoes off by the front door, then quietly slinked into the kitchen. Lyro was already opening cabinets and pulling down cans of beans and tomato sauce by the time Benji approached the table. He put a hand on the back of one chair, an uneasy feeling searing the ends of his nerves. “What’s the occasion?”

Lyro hesitated as he reached for another ingredient, then continued as if nothing had happened. “A father should make a meal for his son every so often.”

Benji didn’t disagree with that, but Lyro had a lot of nerve to talk like he had any experience being a proper father. And why did he pick tonight of all nights? “Only now you want to make meals?”

“I wasn’t there for you when you were younger,” Lyro said, procuring a small tube of turkey from the refrigerator, “so I’m making up for lost time.”

Benji frowned. “You think it’s that easy.” He meant to frame it as a question, louder than a whisper. Instead, it came out like a statement, as if he were trying to wrap his own mind around the concept. “It’s not.”

“I know.”

What nerve. What did he know of being abandoned and left to fend for oneself? Countless nights were swept into the darkness while his mother sat beside a windowsill, praying for the return of a useless man. The grief he felt when he discovered she was dead still haunted his memories. She’d fallen asleep with her arms wrapped around him. In the morning, she was gone. Needle marks littered her forearms, and blank eyes looked back at him.

If not for his sister, then…

“Sit down,” Lyro said. “This won’t take long.”

Benji took the seat closest to him, kicking his feet back and forth in anticipation. The silence was thick, unnerving. Lyro’s piercing stare glanced at him on occasion. He hated it when he did that. It felt like an insect was checking on him constantly to see if he’d moved.

Somehow, Lyro managed to get food on the table twenty minutes later. Lyro scooped up a helping of the chili he made, and plopped it into a small bowl with a spoon. After sticking a spoon in, he set the bowl on the table, then spooned another helping for a bowl of his own.

Benji poked and stirred the chili with his utensil. Lyro sat down with a bag of shredded cheese and sour cream.

“In case you want it,” Lyro said before bringing a spoonful to his mouth.

Benji’s lip twitched, and he quietly mixed some cheese and sour cream into his chili. Try as he might, he couldn’t keep his attention on the meal for long. He wanted to hit Lyro, scream at him, tell him to get lost. But he couldn’t. Like it or not, Lyro was his father. That much wouldn’t change.

Even if Sunny’s parents were no longer alive, at least she had fond memories of them. At least, he assumed. He’d never heard her speak of her mother, but she always had a bright smile whenever her father came up. Benji shared the sentiment when it came to his mother.

Benji watched him for a time, then continued to eat when Lyro noticed.

Why did he leave?

G and Kiska seemed like such natural friends, even if their means of communicating were a bit… odd. Sunny was doing everything in her power to discover the reason for her father’s death. Perhaps he could be brave, too, and… ask why.

“I… need to ask you something,” Benji managed.

Lyro hummed as he enjoyed his chili.

His heart hammered against his chest. Be brave. Come on. “Why did you leave? Why did you abandon us?”

Lyro stopped chewing, looking up from his meal. He watched him for a few moments, then swallowed his food. “I didn’t want to.”

Benji tightened his grip around the spoon. His eye twitched, and tears threatened to fall. “Liar.” When Lyro didn’t say anything, he bowed his head. Looking away from him made it easier to talk. “You never cry. Never smile. Never laugh. It’s creepy. I feel like I’m talking to a robot.”

“Son—”

“Don’t call me that!” Benji spat. “You weren’t there when we needed you most. Mom spent countless days looking for you! Praying that you’d come back! Crowlei told me everything!”

“... Then why are you asking me?” Lyro said, his voice monotone. “Sounds like you have your answer already.”

“You’re not even going to try and tell me that I’m wrong?” Benji asked, aghast.

He was too young to remember much of the event, except what his sister—Crowlei—had told him. He had to go away somewhere far for some deal or practice. His absence broke the family apart, and Crowlei often spoke of him with regret in her voice.

Some time after, Crowlei disappeared as well.

“I see little purpose. You’ve decided what I am.” Lyro spooned another helping of chili, then began to chew. He swallowed. “I understand that what I did was wrong. I’m not going to debate that. All I can do now is make amends.”

“You don’t sound like you want to,” Benji growled. Even at Benji’s worst, this man could somehow maintain composure, maintain that terrible voice. He should be yelling at him, getting angry, crying alongside him. Yet he continued to sit there, as if they were discussing the weather. “Why are you even here? Why show up now?”

It was no good. Tears fell down Benji’s cheeks without mercy. Thoughts paraded in his mind, taunting him with the idea that his mom would still be alive if Lyro had never left. Perhaps Crowlei would still be here, and they could be a family.

Instead, this soulless husk of a man sat before him, pantomiming good will and promises that would no doubt be broken again. Like a machine calculating its next move.

“You’re terrible!” Benji screamed. “Terrible! You just walk back in like nothing happened! Like Mom didn’t die! It should’ve been you! Not her!”

That seemed to draw a reaction out of his ‘father,’ albeit a minor one. Lyro gaped, and his eyes widened subtly.

Benji pounded his fist against the table. “Answer me this: why were you there for Crowlei, but not me?”

Lyro paused. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I wouldn’t understand? Are you joking?” Benji growled.

Lyro averted his gaze. “The situation was… is complicated.”

“I hate you.” Benji’s appetite was shot, and he didn’t care to have this conversation anymore. Pushing his bowl of half-finished chili forward, he leapt down from his chair and marched up the stairs to his room. Unsurprisingly, Lyro made no attempt to stop him, and even as he marched he could hear Lyro continuing his meal as if nothing had happened.

Benji made his way to his room, then slammed the door behind him. In a fit of anger and upset, he fell forward onto his bed, and buried his face into a pillow.

His muffled cries filled the room as rain began to pelt the window.