He was small again, and not in a good way. Before him was his mother, eternally disapproving. The sneer on her face was familiar, an expression he loathed. As if it were routine, he could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. Perhaps it was because this was routine. Piano cowered, curling up into a ball. He knew what was coming...he could feel it in his bones.

And then came the pain. His thigh stung with the pain of needles. She had slapped him. It took everything in him to not cry out. He knew that if he cried, it got worse. Restraining himself was hard, and it'd only get harder.

"What did I tell you about being gay, Piano?" she asked sternly.

This is something you cannot stay down for... This is something you believe in. Don't stand down, tell her!!

But another voice in his head told him no. If you speak out, she could hurt you again...

He brushed aside the voice. Piano had grown since then. His life had changed. He had a reason to fight back. And fight back he would.

"What did I tell the judge when Dad divorced you?!" Piano cried, fighting to get back to his feet.

The woman's shadowy figure recoiled in shock. She grabbed him by the collar, pulling him so close to her that he could smell her nasty breath.

"You are a sinner, Piano...such a sinner..."

Struggling, he pushed her off. "Love is not a sin!" Piano cried. "I love him, and you can't change that!!"

All of a sudden, there was a whip in her hand. She lashed out and it cracked, snapping against his chest. He was helpless as he got launched across the void, rolling onto his stomach before it went black.

Suddenly, he shot awake. Panting, he sat up, tears rolling down his cheeks. Looking to the edge of the mattress, he saw a small form - their young son. The poor kid was terrified.

"...a-are you okay, Dad?"

He nodded slowly. "Y-yeah...I'm fine, Em. I just...just had a horrible nightmare..." Piano answered, putting on his glasses so he could see them all better.

Xavierre rolled over, his eyes half-open and sleepy. "...wha-? Emory, what're you doing up so late...?"

"I...Papa, I...I heard Dad shouting... I just wanted to make sure that...that he was...that you weren't-"

Piano shook his head. "No. He's not my mother... He'd never treat me that way..."

Emory cocked his head in an innocent curiosity, a gesture with contexts the short-haired man was able to pick up.

"...Emory," Xavierre began. "...we'll explain later. Go back to bed...please..."

The little boy was afraid. "B-but...can't you tell me...?"

Piano turned to his husband, giving him a look that was vaguely readable as "just tell the poor kid" in their less-than-decent lighting. With that, Piano clambered out of bed, probably on his way to the bathroom to clear his mind and whatever else needed that treatment.

"...come here..." Xavierre said quietly.

The little boy clambered up onto the bed, wiggling into the blanket beneath him.

"Listen...Emory... Your dad's mom wasn't very nice to him..."

"Why?" he interrupted, his tone one of an innocent curiosity. "I...I thought mommies and daddies were supposed to be nice to their kids..."

Xavierre sighed sadly. "...that's the thing. They're supposed to. You see...his mother wanted a son who'd get all into sports...and be a typical loudmouthed jerk at school. But you know your dad. That's not who he is."

"...then...what did she do?"

"She...she hurt him. Eventually, after he finally worked up the courage to tell his dad about it...his father divorced his mother and...well, things got better. Mostly."

Emory looked so confused. "...mostly?"

He nodded. "You know why we have Bastet and Cleo?"

"Because they're nice kitties and we wanted pets?"

Xern shook his head. "They're trained to help him when we're not here, or to tell us if something's wrong with him. See Bastet over in the corner? She was going to yowl her throat out if that went on any longer. She really cares about him."

Emory waved to the old hairless she-cat, who simply batted her glowing blue eyes. Her gaze was fixated on the door to the bathroom, ears perked and twisted to listen to her master and the conversation to her left. From her perch on the cat tree, she was practically ruler of the roost.

"...so...Dad's not okay? When will he get better...?"

"He...he's gotten better over time. When we first met, he...her was so scared, Back then, when we slept together, I swore that he had a nightmare every other time. It only happens occasionally now...but he's still not completely better. He may never get fully healed. But he's mostly okay. Your dad's doing so much better than he was...say, in our sophomore year of high school."

The little boy scooted towards the hallway, and likewise the edge of the bed, like he was afraid he'd catch whatever it was Piano had.

Xavierre laughed softly. "Emory...this isn't something you can catch..." he whispered. Adopting a slightly more serious tone, he continued, "This is what his doctors call post-traumatic stress disorder. PTSD, for short. So...if I'm not home, and Dad's taking a nap and you hear him crying or something...you make sure Bastet or Cleo will get to him. I..I don't want you getting hurt because you tried to help and only made it worse. If they're there, let them be. They know what they're doing."

The little boy nodded, his green eyes glimmering in the filtered moonlight. He was quiet, trying to wrap his head around it all. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, slightly shaken.

"Y-you...you don't think he...?"

Xavierre lifted an eyebrow. "...he'd what?"

"...h-he'd..."

Realizing what he meant, the Frenchman pulled his son close to him. "...no. We'd never hurt you... We love you for who you are. You're everything to us..."

After a nice small moment of silence, Piano stepped out of the bathroom, looking like he felt much better. A small smile rested on his lips, hardly visible in the midnight air. Laying down his glasses, he clambered in bed beside them all, snuggling with his family.