A slice of Life

Sly

It was the most peculiar thing, wasn't it? The way everything changed whilst remaining the same.

Time merged into a compressed folder; the past, the present, and everything that existed in-between, formed a portfolio, and as Sylvester Morgan twirled beneath the high lights of the grand foyer, the seams which bound him to reason and logic unraveled one layer at a time.

In his mind, he could see it so clearly. The first time he'd stepped through those huge, swinging double doors. Time washed away the true, sickening effect of the nerves, the way he'd felt sick to his stomach, but a ghosted fragment remained.

He twirled again. Faster and faster, his feet gliding across the sparkling mosaic of tiles, his arms waving around like the whooshing wings of an airplane. He recalled his birthday party. He remembered the anxiety that bubbled in his gut. The way his nerves had eased beneath Lucien's silent reassurance. The way his heart had filled with joy at the sight of Ronan in his princess dress— he remembered how down Ronan had been in the build-up, and it was the first time in months he'd seemed himself.

Which had Sly's twirling dying down to a clumsy patter. Ronan. His best friend. Or one of them. Man, that felt weird. A year and a half ago, Ronan had been his only friend in the world. Now he had too many to choose from, and they all held a place in his heart. Lucien tied with Ronan for the title of bestie. Asa and Oz tied for a close second place.

It had only been through certain things coming to light, and the closeness of his newly formed friendships, that they'd all realized how unhappy Ronan had been. The thought stirred another memory. A happier one.

Same day, his birthday, but a different time. The cake. Adam, Ronan's former Daddy, because abusive pieces of dog-poopie didn't get glittery boy's like Ro, had upset him, so Sly had tried to cheer him up by stealing the cake. It'd been a success.

Then there was the time he and Lucien played marbles across the foyer. It was a grand design, opting for a steep incline of majestic stairs, and doorways that seemed more like a maze until one learned to navigate them. They'd taken to opposite ends of the room and had tried to flick a marble all the way across, trying to make trick shots.

Oz.

Oz had come up to visit with his Daddy as a treat for graduating instead of dropping out like he wanted to. Jackson had set up the chocolate fountain in the kitchen and they'd taken turns babbling to one another and dunking fruit and soft candies in there. Lucien had been invited, because their trio was never quite complete without him, but he'd had an upset tummy and couldn't make it. They'd video-called him to make up for it and he'd still ended up involved.

Then there was—

"Sylvester, my little dove." The voice echoed, dancing along the golden hues of the walls, creating a symphony with no traceable origin. "Didn't I put you to bed an hour ago?"

Sly stilled. Fell onto his bum when his legs tangled around one another. It hurt, but not as much as it could have done.

"Did you?" He looked left. Three doorways. All empty. He looked right. Two doorways. One was open, but vacant, the other was closed. He looked up, and sure enough, his Daddy was leaning against the banister above, his arms folded against it.

"I did." But a smile followed, soft and gentle. "Do I need to start putting you to bed in the crib again? I can't have my sweet baby boy wandering around in the middle of the night."

Sly glanced down at his feet. They were bare. So were his legs, for that matter. He was wearing one of his Daddy's shirts, a long sleeved raglan. It was thin and baggy on him, brushing past the ends of his fingertips and covering the diaper he wore.