Eddie had never been to Boston. She'd always wanted to go. Never found the time.

            She knew that Axel was nervous for the trip—leg bounced the entire flight. The closer they got the more he looked out the window. He'd never held Eddie's hand before but he crushed it as the flight went on; her fingers were purple by the descent—but she didn't quite know how she felt. Eddie had heard a lot about his mom, but not a lot about his dad. That didn't feel like an accident.

            Getting through BOS was easy, which was nice. Eddie had only packed a carry-on and Axel's luggage was one of the first on the conveyor belt. He held her hand a lot tighter when he saw it. Muttered something about who he must've pissed off to deserve getting out of the airport quickly. That was about the only time he spoke the entire trip to the hotel. Didn't even look that excited when they passed Fenway Park. She waved a hand in front of his face to make sure he was still on Earth and all he did was rub her hand a couple times with his thumb.

            Eddie took a seat on the bed and waited until he was done frantically unpacking both of their clothes—minus the ones Eddie had taken to get the airplane clothes off her—to ask the question she knew the answer to. "Doing okay over there?"

            Axel jumped when she spoke. Like he'd forgotten she was there. Because the bras and 57 pairs of underwear he'd unpacked without asking definitely belonged to him. He was in the hotel room by himself, of course. He turned around. "Hi. Sorry. Pardon?"

            "Are you—" Eddie pointed to her... person? Person was yuck but boyfriend at that stage of the game was diabolical and she wouldn't be using it. "—okay?"

            Axel let out a laugh that bordered on Eddie having to call the nearest mental health hospital. "No."

            "Can I help?"

            "I don't think so."

            "You done unpacking?"

            Axel looked around at the suitcases at his feet. Empty. "Do you have anything else?"

            "You packed more than I did."

            "What if I forcibly shit myself to get away from him? I need a change of clothes."

            Eddie held her hands up in defense. "That's your business."

            "Ha." Axel pulled his shirt off and dug through the clothes he'd just finished folding. Threw the airplane shirt on the floor and tossed on a shirt that Eddie was pretty sure was her pyjama shirt but she wasn't going to mention it. She'd steal one of his to sleep in.

            "Do you have a time you're supposed to be meeting... him?" Eddie couldn't use his name even if she wanted to. Axel had never told it to her. That also felt on purpose.

            "Dinner," Axel said. "I—uh—needed a buffer after landing."

            "I'm not judging you."

            "I'm—sorry." Axel shook his head. Put a hand on his hip and tore the other one through his messy hair.  "Maybe this was a bad idea. I'm already just—you didn't need to see this."

            "This?"

            "Home version of me." Few people had ever looked that disgusted to say the word home. Especially someone who proudly wore Red Sox and Patriots boxers and t-shirts when he wasn't wearing something to make other people, and himself, laugh. (It was worse for her to note that he was actively wearing Red Sox boxers while he chaotically changed his pants and almost faceplanted into the dresser doing so.) (Eddie tried not to get too distracted by the tattoo on his thigh—like she always did—and focus on the problem at hand.)

            "You booked a hotel room in your hometown because, I'm assuming, you don't want to room with your dad."

            "Correct. Sorry, again."

            "Why the hell would I let you do this alone?"

            Axel stared at her for a moment. A little wide-eyed. He walked over to the bed and laid down, feet still on the floor. Eddie watched his chest rise and fall a couple times. He put his hands over his face. "You really don't need to—"

            "Axel," Eddie said. "I'm not going anywhere."

            Axel stayed quiet for a moment. Clearly focused on reminding himself to breathe. "This is not the best version of me you're gonna see. I don't know if you're going to like this version of me."

            "The thing is," Eddie said. "I've kissed people in worse states."

            Axel looked at her. "Really?"

            Eddie nodded. "Texas."

            He laughed. And it felt nice to hear him laugh. "Oh, god."

            Eddie laid down beside him. Rested her head on her fist so she could turn in his direction.

            "Why are you looking at me like that?"

            Eddie raised an eyebrow. "Because I'm worried you're a second away from spiralling again."

            Axel brushed her hair behind her ear gently. "Thank you for coming with me. I—This trip isn't easy. And he—he makes me crazy. These trips are also a reason I started going to therapy."

            "That's understandable."

            "It's really important to me that you're here." Axel put his arm behind his head. Looked at her for a long second. "I really—just—I can't thank you enough."

            Eddie tapped him on the chest a couple times and pushed herself up off the bed. "You've got a few hours to show me your favourite spots in the city. Where are we going?"

            "What?"

            Eddie took his hand and it didn't take much effort to pull him up. "I've never been to Boston—"

            "You've never been to—"

            "—Show me around, Axe-man."

            "Oh, let's not go there."

            "Are the Patriots playing today?" Eddie stood as tall as she could on her toes. He was still taller than her. Tried to feign enthusiasm for football. She could name a handful of teams but that didn't mean she understood the sport in the slightest.

            "The Patriots don't play until September—"

            "Newbury Street, then?" She gave him a quick kiss. Tried to distract him from the fact she'd looked up the best spots to check out in Boston in case he needed an escape from this visit.

            "Eds."

            "Oh, I've got it—"

            "You don't have to—"

            "Want to go to Fenway? We can tour it if there's no game."

            "Eddie." Axel put both his hands on her biceps. Squeezed a little as he tried to call her back to reality.

            "What?"

            "Do you actually want to do that or are you trying to do things you think I want to do?"

            "I..." Eddie stopped. Rolled back onto her heels. Frowned a little. "I like baseball."

            Axel put his finger under her chin and gently raised her head to look at him. "Do you actually want to?"

            "What do you usually do?"

            Axel looked slightly amused. "I pace the room until there's indents on the floor from my trail. Order too much room service—and I mean booze and not food. Pass out. Then I go see... him. All the other times I've smoked a bunch of cigarettes before going. This time I'm trying not to."

            "Is that what you want to do? The room service and existential dread, I mean."

            "I've... never done anything else," Axel said. "I visit my mom on the last day. As a break. That's the... good of the trip. If you want to call it that."

            "Axel..." Eddie made a face.

            "I know it's horrible," Axel said. "But I just—you grew up in San Francisco, right?"

            Eddie nodded. Meekly.

            "I grew up here," Axel said. "I didn't move until I was 22. This place is... it's all I know and it makes me sick to be back here because he's here. Do you know how scared I was that he would come visit my mom while I was here a couple weeks ago? Except he never comes to visit her. And I still looked over my shoulder the whole time. I just—I hate Boston."

            "You—" Eddie's sob story about wanting to move to Chicago or New York was Axel's reality—except he'd run away to the place Eddie had wanted to get out of for so long.

            "Except I don't." Axel seemingly forgot his hand was on Eddie's arm and squeezed it harder than she'd anticipated. "I hate him. And he makes me hate this place. And that's not fair because I love Boston.

            "I love the fuckin' people and I love the snow at Christmas and I love walking around and seeing the streets I grew up with. I love looking at the misspelled graffiti even though we're high in education and I love the parks and the harbour and I fucking love a lobster roll even though it's bougie," Axel said. "And I love hating the Yankees and I love when the Patriots won all those Superbowls and I loved watching the 2004 comeback World Series with my mom. And I loved Boston when she was here but now she's gone and it's like it's gone black and white and I can't figure out how to bring colour back to it."

            By the time he was done, Axel had sat back down on the bed. Held Eddie close and pulled her hips to his chest. Eddie hugged his head into her chest and Axel took a deep breath.

            "I thought San Francisco would be the opposite of Boston," Axel said. "And then I just missed it more but every time I come back here I can't stomach the city. And, god, I fucking love her but I don't want to spend my entire trip in a cemetery. That would kill me. I just—if I could see her one more time, she'd show me around some random corner of a building and I know whatever she found would bring the colour back to the city. It's like she took it all with her."

            Maybe it made her emotionally stunted, but Eddie didn't expect that from him. From anyone. She knew her emotions but she could never quite voice them as eloquently. She didn't know what to say when someone shared with her the worst moments of their life. It wasn't in her wheelhouse. Punching something to feel better? Eddie could get behind that. Concisely explaining complex emotions? Fuck if she knew how.

            "Is it bad sometimes I wish he'd died so I never had to see how awful he is without her?"

            That was a new one: complicated emotions explained in a way that Eddie would've preferred to be a punching bag.

            "I mean—" Axel kept talking and Eddie hoped it wasn't to fill the silence she was providing. "—I don't wish he was dead. Well. I wish she was alive but I wish he was... better. At being who he is. Because he hadn't been a good dad for long before she was gone but he didn't even try once she was. And—and he's allowed to feel grief but I was fuckin'—" Axel waved his hands. "I can't get into this right now or I'll never fuckin' go to that dinner."

            Eddie kissed him. Tried to pull away, Axel pulled her back. She attempted to ignore how his hands shook as he placed them on her cheeks.

*

Maybe Eddie shouldn't have waited until Boston to wear a dress in front of Axel.

            He looked even less like he wanted to leave the hotel room. Even after being dragged out of their cab and into the restaurant. That would've at least made sense: his dad was waiting in the restaurant for them. But his wandering hands in the cab said that he had other reasons for not wanting to leave. Shame that Eddie had to be the bigger person and force him to see the one person he didn't want to. She would have much preferred something else, too.

            "You could dress like this for anyone and you dressed like this for him?" Axel shout-whispered at her. Finally found his words as they were being led to Mr. Canterbury's reserved table.

            (Which Eddie thought was pretentious as fuck and Axel snorted when she muttered those exact words under her breath.) (Might've laughed harder because he was also, technically, Mr. Canterbury.)

            "I didn't dress like this for him, I dressed like this for you." The black dress was nothing special. It was knee length, haltered. She had a small silver chain that August had bought her for graduating high school; Indy had the same one. Twins and everything. It had a small diamond pendant, April's birthstone.

            "Shouldn't have."

            Eddie could've said the same about him. Suit and tie for dinner; fit everywhere on him perfectly, she'd made sure to look. Hair pushed into place. A wristwatch. A silver ring on his right hand. He'd even put on dress shoes when Eddie knew for a fact he'd contemplated a clean pair of high tops.

            "I've had press dinners that were at restaurants less fancy than this. So, yes. I did. And I'm meeting your dad."

            "Guess that's third base."

            Eddie couldn't laugh. Not because she didn't want to. But because they'd reached their table. And there was a set of piercing blue eyes trying to figure out who Eddie was and why she was at the table despite there being four seats.

            She'd never seen a photo of Axel's mom, but unless his dad had severe facial reconstruction, his dad's genes hadn't tried when they made Axel. Bright eyes. Salt and pepper hair that still had streaks of black. Tall—though, maybe Eddie was short. Even in heels. There was something to say that it was probably a relief that Axel didn't have to look in the mirror everyday and see the man he despised as much as it hurt more that he looked like the one person he wanted to see more than anyone else in the world.

            There was already a bottle of chilled wine and a pitcher of cold water for the table.

            Axel cleared his throat and held his hand out. "Uh, hi, sir."

            Eddie wanted to drag him back out of the restaurant the moment sir left his lips. He'd hardly be kicking or screaming.

            "Son." Their handshake was stiff. Firm. Rigid. The man in question turned to look at Eddie. Held his hand out to her. "To whom do I owe the pleasure?"

            "Eddie. Yamaguchi." She shook his hand. Panicked about whether her palm was sweaty.

            "Nicholas Canterbury," he said. Axel's accent was thicker than his but there was no denying his father was Bostonian, too. The three of them took their seats and he tutted his tongue at Axel. "For heaven's sake, son. You're not going to push in her chair?"

            "I've got it, it's okay," Eddie said. Fully capable of doing so, she pulled in her own chair. Crossed her ankles and tried to ignore she'd missed a spot on her leg while shaving.

            "Just because you have it doesn't mean he shouldn't have volunteered the effort, Miss Yamaguchi." Nicholas picked up his menu and glazed over it. "I taught him better. Just like I taught him to never be the last person to a dinner you're invited to by someone else."

            Axel busied himself pouring water and wine for the table. Eddie thanked him quietly.

            "And yet—" Nicholas rested the edge of the menu on the table. Took a sip of wine. "—here we are. I'm sure Miss Yamaguchi's parents taught her better than that, too."

            "My parents—um." Eddie folded her hands in her lap. She squeezed Axel's hand when he found hers. "It's really okay. I can tuck my own seat in."

            "What have you been up to, son?" Nicholas asked. "Anything special?"

            "I—" Axel swallowed hard. "Nothing much."

            "He's being modest," Eddie said. "He took some incredible photos in New Orleans. Published in Sports Illustrated and Boxing News. Featured on NBC. Absolutely gorgeous work."

            "Did you write the article as well, boy?"

            "No, sir," Axel said. It was his turn to squeeze Eddie's hand under the table. "Just the photos."

            "That's likely because you never finished that comparative media studies degree," Nicholas said. He closed his menu. Eddie wanted to hit him with hers but that would mean she'd even touched it.

            Axel made a face but wiped it off as quick. "Can we please not?"

            "Would've been a fine career," Nicholas said. "Journalism, or something of the like. A publicist, even."

            "Photography is working out for him," Eddie said. "He's fantastic at it."

            "Every single phone in this day and age has a camera," Nicholas said. "Hardly something to build a career out of when everyone can do it with something in their pocket and post it on some social media site for all their friends to see."

            "Not everyone lands in Sports Illustrated," Eddie said.

            "Not everyone goes to MIT either," Nicholas said. "Though, not everyone drops out once they're in. So perhaps I've made a moot point."

            "Sir, respectfully," Axel said. "That was over a decade ago."

            "And yet now you're a photographer."

            "And I live on my own. Pay my rent on time. Put food on the table. Live decently." Axel looked like he was trying to navigate the conversation without bringing up his album releasing soon. She didn't blame him.

            "In California," Nicholas said. "Away from here."

            "It's a good place," Axel said.

            Nicholas hummed. "Never been. Your mother was always the traveller."

            "I think she'd like California," Axel said.

            "She'd been," Nicholas said. "With you. Maybe you were too young to have gone. But that didn't seem to matter to her. Always running around with you anyway."

            "You were always invited," Axel said.

            "Yes," Nicholas said. "But someone had to work for a living."

            "She was touring."

            "Playing dive bars in different states while dragging an underage child across the country when he should've been in school is not what I would call working," Nicholas said. "Touring's an interesting way for her to put it."

            "Can we just—" Axel stopped himself. Took a deep breath in. Squeezed Eddie's hand. "Can we let her rest, please? She would've done that for us."

            Nicholas Canterbury glared at his son before darting his eyes over to Eddie. "So, Miss Yamaguchi."

            Eddie picked up her menu and focused on the too-expensive food listed in front of her. She'd probably have to have a salad to appease certain company at the table. She had the feeling if she didn't order pasta like she wanted, she was going to upset the other party at the table. "Yes?"

            "What is it that you do?"

            "I'm a boxer," Eddie said. She became very self-conscious of her arms in that dress at that moment. The thought of asking Axel for his suit jacket made her feel worse.

            "So he takes photos of you for money?"

            "Eddie's fighting for the title," Axel said.

            Eddie grimaced. Tried to hide it. Knew that...

            "So you don't have a title?"

            ...Was the next question to grace the table.

            Axel mouthed sorry when she looked at him. She shook her head quickly. He wasn't to blame for his father's shitty behaviour but he downed his entire glass of wine anyway.

            "I—Well, I've never fought for it before," Eddie said.

            "Are the odds in your favour?"

            "I'm not really meant to look at that," Eddie said. "It could get me suspended."

            The rules to ensure that nobody in the WBA gambled were stiff. Suspension was the least of her worries at that point. Two suspensions in the same year would earn her more than a slap on the wrists—even if they were only talking hypotheticals.

            "Sounds like no."

            "Could go either way," Eddie said. "What do you do?"

            Axel's eyes widened a little bit. He let go of Eddie's hand to pour himself more wine. Drank his glass as quickly. Two, Axel. Zero, the other two. He poured himself a third glass as Nicholas looked at Eddie, an amused expression on his face.

            "I'm the Dean of the College of Computing at MIT," he said. Cooly. Like he was wasting his breath and sucking the life out of Eddie and Axel at the same time. "Your boyfriend didn't mention that to you?"

            "I'm not her—" Axel stopped himself when he realized Eddie hadn't protested. It wasn't that she felt different, it was that they hadn't even really tried anything out yet that they hadn't tried before confessing their feelings. And that wasn't information she was going to give to a man she just met.

            "Oh," Nicholas said. He pursed his lips a little. "Interesting."

            "It's still new," Axel said.

            "And so you brought her for... moral support?" Nicholas stared at him. "Could've warned me. I could've brought Amber. We could've all chatted about how you needed help to get into university and left the moment it got hard."

            "Who the f—Who's Amber?"

            "Honestly, son, you can't think I haven't been dating since your mother—"

            "I didn't—" Axel took a breath. Tried to convince himself. "I need to go."

            "Oh, son, grow up—"

            "Not because of that," Axel said. "I don't care who you date."

            "You can't be serious that you're leaving—"

            Axel dug his wallet out of his pocket. Threw down a couple bills. "For the wine."

            "Maybe you need to slow down on the drinking and think about—"

            Axel grabbed the bottle as he stood up. If he was paying for it, Eddie figured that was fair. "I can't do this so I'm not going to."

            "You need to be more mature."

            "I don't give a flying, fat shit in the middle of an empty fucking field who you date, Nick," Axel said. "I care that you didn't even ask how are you when we walked in and you've been nothing but an asshole since we sat down."

            "Mind your manners and don't forget where you came from," Nicholas said.

            "I'm so sick of that being a reason to do this every single year."

            "You promised your mother—"

            "She wouldn't want me to sit here and let you verbally abuse me like you do every time I come here."

            "That damn therapist of yours has put some idea in your head in you think a conversation is abuse."

            "You're so—" Axel ran a hand through his hair and messed up anything he'd done to mellow it out. "Have you been shitting on her because you're dating someone else?"

            "Hardly."

            "Oh, so that's just what you think of her?" Axel threw his hand up in the air. "Lovely."

            "Your mother had delusions of greatness and I had to support her in any way I could. It's fine if you couldn't see that, but the least you could do is listen when I'm telling you now."

            "Always nice to come here when you've never been to California," Axel said. "Thanks for literally nothing."

            Nicholas slammed his hands on the table and pushed himself up from his chair. "I'm not the one who brought my fuck buddy to a family dinner and proceeded to make a goddamn scene in the middle of a fucking restaurant."

            Eddie stood up. It didn't take much to stand between him and the table. But she'd seen the look in Axel's eyes before—it had been in her eyes, plastered everywhere for the world to see, as she hopped the ropes to punch Giovanni Perez in the nose. Though he deserved it, Axel didn't need that on his conscience.

            "Okay, we're going to go." It didn't take much effort to stand between Axel and the table, but it did take time to catch his attention. "Axel."

            "You piece of sh—" There were tears in Axel's eyes he was fighting for his life to keep from falling.

            "Axel James Canterbury—"

            "Axel, hey, look at me." Eddie grabbed his chin and moved his head. There was no chance in hell anything else was going to work. She used her other hand to pry the wine bottle out of his iron-clad grip. "We're going. Okay?"

            "Honestly, son, you're a grown man. You don't need a woman you hardly know to tell you what to do."

            Eddie had to hold Axel back. Force him to look at her again. He drew the smallest breath in before his eyes darted back to the problem with a mouth.

            "How old am I?" Axel asked.

            "What?"

            "How old am I?" Axel repeated. "All those birthdays you never said anything to me, all those years gone by. How old am I?"

            "That's absurd."

            "If you can tell me," Axel said. "I'll sit down."

            "I know how old you are," Nicholas said. "I was in the hospital room."

            "It shouldn't be that hard a question, then," Axel said. "I'll even take you telling me when my birthday is."

            "People are staring. And fix your fuckin' hair, you look like a slob."

            "Still waiting."

            "I am your father."

            "Tell me how old I am."

            "It's hardly exciting to be 29, son. But if that's what you needed to hear, there you have it. Same age your fuckin' mother was when she had you."

            Axel's expression softened—almost disappointed, but not surprised in the slightest. He let out a breathy laugh and tucked his hands into his pockets. Nodded his head in his father's direction. "Please don't expect my visit next year."

            Nicholas' face cycled through too many emotions in too short an amount of time. "Your mother would be so fucking disappointed to see that you've made nothing of yourself."

            Axel gently took the wine bottle from Eddie, turned on his heel, and walked straight out of the restaurant.

            Eddie looked at Nicholas as he tried to comprehend the scene in front of him. That he'd actually lost. If she'd known him better, it might've been incredible to see.

            Nicholas cleared his throat. "Do tell my ungrateful son that if he ever wants to smarten up and remember who brought him into this world, he knows where to find me."

            Eddie swallowed hard. Wished her dress had pockets so she could tuck her fists away. "I think he'll be okay without you."

            "He's going to live an awfully lonely life without his parents."

            "If you try to contact him," Eddie said, "and I find out about it, I'm going to come back to Boston and punch your fuckin' veneers in."

            Nicholas nearly snapped his neck to glare at her. "I recognize you now, Miss Yamaguchi. Always talking with your fists over your words. How unladylike."

            Eddie smiled sweetly at him. "Have an awfully lonely life without your son."

            Once she'd passed the doors of the restaurant, it was easy to find Axel. He was the only person trying to hail a cab who looked ready to pay the driver to hit him instead of take him to a different destination. No wine bottle in hand, so that explained how he nearly fell off the curb.

            "Axe—" Eddie jogged over and grabbed his wrist to turn him around.

            He practically melted into her. Wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his head into her shoulder. Eddie held the back of his head with one hand and rubbed between his shoulder blades with the other. Ignored how his shoulders shook, how he'd seemingly shrunk several inches and felt shorter than her.

            "I'm so sorr—"

            Eddie kissed the side of his head. "It's not your fault."

            "I shouldn't have—"

            "You don't need to apologize for him."

            "I—" Axel's voice broke. He smelled like wine. She could feel his hot tears sliding down her shoulder.

            Eddie waved at a cab passing by that she'd spotted. Hailed it down. Quickly replaced her hand on him. "Let's get out of here, yeah?"

            "I fuckin' hate Boston."