the pointed together did not escape laz in the slightest. granted you would have had to have been blind and sophia probably saw him that way for choosing his career over her mother. even though that had never been his intention and he’d allowed her to slip through his fingers. he sincerely thought he didn’t deserve her because of his inaction. but that meant that he wasn’t the only person who suffered and while he recognized that, he didn’t quite know how to ask for their forgiveness. or if he truly was worthy of it.
they deserved better and he knew that. he wanted to give them that and instead of focusing on his family, he focused on his job, and while his job did good things for other people, it did nothing but tear him to pieces. ice cream and skipping rocks was not what he on the agenda when sophia suggested they do something together and between the two of them he smiled gently. his heart ached that he gave this up and he gently takes sophia’s hand and said, ❛ well, i’m thinking we should all go bowling. ❜ dessert for dinner was also on the table but that felt like a run that by annie first kind of thing. ❛ but you’re going to have to promise to go easy on me. i can tell just by looking at you that you’ve got an expert bowling arm. ❜
glancing up at annie, the smile widening just a bit, more hopeful now, he asked, ❛ what do you say ? want to see if i can finally beat you in a game ? ❜
deserve. it connected antigone & sebastian even when the separation was over and done, a join that could not be severed ( much like love, though that was probably something that shouldn’t be said out loud, and neither could bring themselves to do so anyway ) was that they felt undeserving. they felt insufficient, for their daughter, and for each other both; and it was all that annie could do to try and remedy one, as she thought it impossible — if his incessant working reflected anything, and that made sense to her — to remedy the other. and that meant, yes, that she slipped away and tried to protect sophia as best she could from the pain of not-present parents.
at least on one count, she’d managed. and on the second count, she’d mitigated. balanced.
and that was why annie, though she could’ve succeeded in the career of her daydreams — not directing, but being the broadway star herself, the soprano shining ( because most lead roles were written for them: hence ‘everybody hates sopranos’ ) — gave that thought up. because the one she loved had a career with the fbi, there were to be no auditions or stumbling-blocks or questions, and it was demanding of his time; the thought of their daughter being raised by help ( however affordable ) settled discomfort and dare she say disgust within her, so there was no question that she’d have to let go of one dream or the other. and so, she’s never been on broadway. when she looks at sophia now, all fierceness and brawn and bared teeth, she can’t find it in herself to regret it one bit, especially when the reason for divorce vindicated that decision.
“i can already tell you — you can’t,” annie managed to pull together a smile. but really, she was looking at him — the beard, the shadows under his eyes, the suit, even now; he wore them well, but the sebastian lazzaro she fell in love with would’ve hated every minute — and wondering what had become of them. she watched sophia, too, how the girl’s fingers curled tight around her father’s as though she could keep him there forever if she just didn’t let go. “but yes, alright. let’s try.”
of course, she couldn’t blame laz for the changes; you only had to look at her, more carefully made-up than ever to hide sleepless nights and tear-tracks, just so people might not ask ‘are you alright?’ to understand why not. not that annie had ever been capable of blaming that face for much at all — the only thing she blamed him for was prioritising his work over his child. and the hope in his smile just proved how happy they could’ve been. should she have fought harder? could she have fought harder?
that so-gentle smile; oh, how she still loved him. oh, how she wished they could return to the days when she threw herself into his arms and he picked her up, spun her around, and kissed her until she lost her breath, giggling until her ribs ached with mirth. but for the past almost-year, they’d been more likely to ache with sobs. and even the happier times had a way of becoming tainted once she realised that the ache felt the same, either way.
sophia reached with her other hand for annie’s, and joined them once again.
“go on,” she prompted, softly, eyes drifting between laz and their grinning child, “you’ve both got that look. you want to ask me something you’re not sure i’ll agree to, but you’ve decided to ask anyway, so you might as well.”
( perhaps by now she should’ve asked after him. asked if he was alright, as she so concernedly asked after others. just about everyone else in pinehaven, in fact. but everything came with a generous helping of work with her ex-husband, and she had a policy of not talking to him about his work, because she’d resented it for a long time and wanted to make that obvious. that there was a problem with his priorities. and in light of the divorce maybe she ought to have given up that policy, for as long as he kept to the custody agreement & sophia was happy, what did it have to do with her? yes, she ought to. but in a small, pained and petty way, she couldn’t do it. )