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Luz is used to Philip’s bad days.
They have a system in place already for when his schizophrenia begins to boil over the edge of the pot and burn his skin; Luz will cancel the appointments she can—like telling her mamá that she can’t volunteer at the animal clinic that day after all—and bring Philip with her wherever she can’t cancel, if he can handle it. This means Philip has sat in more than a few classes at the University of Wild Magic. Usually, people stare at the ex-emperor with wide, bulging eyes, shocked to see their would-be murderer dressed frumpily in the front seat next to their savior, but people rarely give them a hard time. Philip is making his amends and doing his community service, after all, and Luz wouldn’t let him cause any trouble anyhow.
It probably helps that Philip looks half-dead most of the time, still burdened by his curse as he is. And that they had lied after the final chapter of the Day of Unity ended and told everyone on the Isles that Philip doesn’t remember any of his time as Belos.
It’s probably mostly that last one, now that Luz thinks about it.
Regardless, Philip sits beside her at UWM as she takes notes during Raine’s lecture, looking restless. He keeps looking over his shoulder, unable to meet eyes with anyone, running his tongue over his teeth behind thin, closed lips as he takes deep breaths, in and out, in and out, in and—
“Pumpkin, are you okay?” Luz whispers. She continues to jot down notes, even as she listens hard for his answer. The exam next week is going to be killer. Bardic theory makes heart surgery look easy, in Luz’ opinion.
Philip swallows. “Yes,” he lies. “Just checking our surroundings.”
“You’re terrified,” she says simply.
Huffing, Philip glares. “I’m insane.”
Luz stops writing for a second to pin her eyes on him cooly. Then she raises an eyebrow.
Philip looks away. “Point taken.”
Though she knows he probably can’t stay here any longer, lest he have a full-blown episode, her ADHD is preening like a cat to take notes for once, and she can’t really afford to get up right now. Even if she could, she isn’t sure old Aunty Attention-Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder would let her. Those silly executives and their functioning. As frustrating as it is, the class is almost up, and Philip has survived the last four centuries, if only barely—he can handle a college class without exploding into goo or stabbing someone to death. Probably. She hopes.
Luckily, Raine finishes their lecture early, sounding a bit winded. “S-Sorry,” they stutter, smiling at their own embarrassment. “I’m quite passionate about the topic of Scooter’s Theory of Sound, if you couldn’t tell.” They laugh, remind the class of the assigned reading, and let everyone go early for the day.
Everyone stands and leaves, their footsteps covering Philip’s voice as he asks her, “What’s your next class?”
Philip has Luz’ schedule memorized even better than she does. She knows him well enough now to hear what he’s really saying: Dear Lord, Luz Noceda, if you make me sit through another class, I am going to start harvesting organs! Okay, so he probably won’t do that, and is mostly just silently begging her with his eyes to take him home, not unlike a puppy in a cardboard box on the sidewalk in the rain, but he can get very dramatic. Like a puppy in a cardboard box on the sidewalk in the rain. It’s one of the many things he and Luz have in common.
“I’m going to take you home now while we have time,” she tells him. He perks up, his face pleased like a smug cat, until she continues, “I’ll have to leave you there while I finish my classes, but I’ll leave Stringbean with you and—”
Philip scoffs. “I can’t be alone like this!”
“You’ve done it before,” Luz reminds him.
“I had grimwalkers then—” He glances around suddenly, realizing his mistake. No one is around, not even Raine, so their secret remains safe. He sighs, dropping his voice to a murmur. “I was never truly alone. I always had a grimwalker to serve me when I couldn’t keep the fire at bay.”
The ‘fire’ is Philip’s ye olde way of rationalizing his schizophrenia. He also calls it ‘the shadows’ and ‘my undesirable affliction’. Luz finds it all too stinkin’ cute, even if she also feels bad for him. Her bouts of depression feel less like fire and more like her brain is soaking in poison, slowly eaten away at and made soggy and weak… It’s horrible. Seeing ghosts and being made to believe she’s God’s chosen savior would probably make it worse.
But then, Luz was a god’s chosen savior, wasn’t she? And she’d used that power to destroy her now-boyfriend, then-enemy, who had turned into a kaiju for some reason.
Her life is so dang weird.
“No more grimwalkers,” she tells him firmly. “It is not okay to bring someone into the world just to be your son-brother-butler!” Then she smiles. “Buuuut we can get you a palisman! That’s basically the same thing, except moral!”
Philip pouts. “I would probably just eat it.” He sounds petulant, but she knows the deep well of guilt and horror behind his words, even if he’s refusing to let himself feel it now. He may not understand yet that his abuse of necromancy was cruel, but he does love Stringbean very much, which has opened his pale blue eyes at least a little to the truth.
Patiently, Luz ushers him out of the classroom. “Addiction is a constant battle and I am so proud of you for working so hard. We need to get you some kind of service animal, though, and I think a palisman is a good choice.”
Though he walks briskly, there’s a lack of energy in Philip’s stance, even as tense as he is from hypervigilance. Usually, he’d add to the conversation, either by agreeing or disagreeing, always a wordsome and well-spoken man, but today he is struggling, so he says, “Fuck you.”
Luz laughs. “If I get home after class and you haven’t built a doomsday machine, I’ll let you do just that.”
Philip huffs. “I’d rather build another doomsday machine,” he lies. “At least it didn’t treat me with such disrespect!”
“Philip, it killed people.”
Living so close to campus is Luz’ favorite thing in the world on an average day, let alone today. In almost no time at all, only a few minutes of walking at best, they’re at their apartment, opening the door and stepping inside.
Philip relaxes as soon as he’s inside. He even takes off his jacket, hanging his brother’s old coat carefully by the door, leaving him in his thin black turtleneck that he looks way too good in. With his hair up in a messy bun, he almost looks like a tired, sexy, lesbian art film director who smokes more than she eats. The too-short Rose Butler sweatpants stolen from her closet ruin this allusion, however. Whether the mismatched fuzzy socks in Crocs adds or subtracts is unknown.
“Shoes off,” Luz reminds him sweetly.
Philip grunts. “You don’t need to mother me.” There’s something like guilt in his tone, and shame.
“Not mothering you! Girlfriending you. Totally different thing.”
After a moment, Philip scoffs, chuckling. “Alright,” he grumbles, sounding a little more like the proud, thoughtful man she’s come to know. “Are you still leaving Stringbean here? Won’t it be difficult in your classes without her?”
“Nope. Just lectures today.” She watches Philip kick his Crocs off almost daintily. He lines them up by the door with his toes right next to hers. While hers are purple and covered in charms, his are a simple blue and mostly bare. There is a small yellow heart in the left shoe, however, which he had carved out a calligraphy ‘L’ into. “Plus a potions exam, I mean.”
Philip’s head whips her way in distress. “How long will it keep you?”
“Don’t worry! It’s a simple brew, if I remember right, only like thirty minutes. The longest part is usually prepping ingredients and heating the cauldron and—” Philip doesn’t look particularly interested. “Anyways, Barcus is my partner for the exam, so I’ll be done quick as a flash! Barcus is a wizz at potions.”
After a beat, Philip sighs. “Alright.”
Luz’ heart sinks a little. “I’d stay if I could,” she tells him gently. “And I’ll be back really soon. Remember to keep an eye on your triggers and focus on distractions! Stringbean will help.” She finally takes the sleeping wooden statuette out of her pocket with a ginger hand, kissing her snakeshifter awake. Stringbean comes to life again, wiggling her ears and purring that weird, hissy rumble of hers as she glances in interest between her two humans. “Take care of Pip while I’m gone, okay, little angel? He’s having a bad day.”
Philip blushes, but he doesn’t argue with the palisman about his totally pristine mental state, which is a good sign.
“Okay,” Stringbean hisses in her witch’s head. “Happy fun with Pip. Yay! Can eating?”
Feeling her heart swell up with so much love, Luz laughs. “Sure, Stringbean.” She turns to Philip with a grin. “Think you can feed her a frozen mouse? If not, we should still have some tuna she can gnaw on…”
Stringbean floats out of her hands and towards Philip, who smiles at her in unhidden affection. “She wouldn’t prefer a bowl of cream?” he asks, scratching under her chin with one long, graceful finger. “Or half of my fucking chicken sandwich, you God-forsaken menace?”
The funny rumble of Stringbean’s laughter shakes through Luz’ mind and heart and wherever else it is that she hears her palisman speak. “I’m sure Stringbean will behave this time. Won’t she, baby?”
“Chicken sandwich!” Stringbean says to her excitedly. Then, more mournfully, “Only two pickles.”
Luz tries to hold in a laugh, but fails spectacularly. “Yeaaaah, they like to skimp out on those pickles, don’t they?”
Philip nods sagely. Then he sighs, dropping his hand and allowing Stringbean to slide around his shoulders like the world’s smallest, scaliest feather boa. “You should get going,” he says regretfully, chin up proudly. “You don’t want to be late.”
She really doesn’t. As much as she loves UWM, majoring in literally everything might have been overkill. Even just one missed class could toss it all into the air like leftover confetti. Still… “I love you. Call me if you need anything.”
“And I you, lambkin.” Philip has to bend over like a vampire to kiss her, but he’s never complained once. The kiss doesn’t last long, but it seems to soothe his soul a little, because he’s smiling warmly when he’s standing again. “Stay safe.”
“You too, pumpkin. And you, my little angel!”
Hiss!
Luz hurries out the door with a wave. She has to really book it to make it to Eda’s class on time, but a little exercise is good for the heart. At the very least, it can stop hers from breaking for a little while. Hopefully Philip can find a distraction that’s just as good.
-
Philip does not find a distraction that’s just as good.
Eda’s class goes by fine, even if the old bat is way more strict as a professor than she ever was as Luz’ personal mentor (and what ever happened to good old fashioned nepotism?!), but her Illusions course is not so lucky. Halfway through the class, Luz’ phone vibrates in her pocket—and the caller ID is the weird string of symbols that Philip’s homemade artificial magic ‘portable talker’ always gives.
Though she feels a little guilty, Luz quickly runs out and takes the call.
“Auyama—?”
“Oh, thank the Lord,” Philip gasps. “Love Him, revere Him, and forever sing His praises. You’re alright? Unharmed?”
Luz waffles for words. “Uhm. Yes. I’m—You’re an atheist.”
“Oh, right. I forgot.” Philip is audibly trying to catch his breath. She can hear Stringbean trying to soothe him, too, telling him that it’s okay, everyone is alright, you can have half my mouse, but Philip doesn’t know what the poor snakeshifter is hissing about. “I’m sorry for disrupting your class time. I-I just…” He swallows, voice ragged like he’s just witnessed something horrible. “I was so sure something had happened to you. I don’t know why, I was just so convinced—”
“It’s alright.” Luz’ heart more than melts. It’s only a puddle now, she’s sure, splashing around in his shape between her lungs. “I’m safe, I promise. Stringbean would be freaking out if I was hurt, remember? Keep an eye on Stringbean and her mannerisms will tell you what’s wrong.”
“R-Right. Of course. I knew this. I know it.”
“That’s right,” she murmurs gently. “Just breathe, okay, beautiful? I’ll be home in a few hours.” She chews her lip as she thinks. “Have you tried white noise? Or is that what triggered it?”
Silence.
“Philip?”
“...I may have been sitting quietly in the dark thinking about worst-case scenarios.”
“Philip!”
“I’ll put on the crystal ball,” he grouses, sounding almost angry at the idea of watching something as mundane as witch television. “Maybe I’ll catch an episode of So Vile Are the Charmed that I haven’t seen yet.”
At that, Luz smiles. “You and your telenovelas. I hope it helps, mi rey.”
She can practically hear Philip blushing through the phone. “Have fun in class.”
“I’ll try,” she laughs. “See you soon, Philip. And you too, my sweet noodle!”
“Bye, bye!” Stringbean hisses happily. “Mouse now?”
“Yes, baby, Philip will get you your mouse now.”
“Don’t let her lie to you. I already fed her one.” Philip hesitates. “And some cream.”
“Stringbean!”
Stringbean hisses her laughter, the sound full of love and comfort.
-
The next three hours pass slowly. Luz doesn’t receive any more phone calls, which she hopes is a good thing. She worries that fact in her mind, though, through every written word and every measured ingredient, thumbing at it until the edges fray and all she can think is, Oh my Titan, Philip is dead.
She’s starting to understand a bit more what schizophrenia might be like.
Time passes, though, without Stringbean bursting into the classroom or Luz getting a phone call from paramedics to tell her Philip is cold and gone, until finally, the exam is over: the potion is brewed and bottled, shining a gorgeous violet so vivid that Luz almost can’t believe she’s really looking at it with her own eyes. It will definitely net her and Barcus a good grade, that’s for sure. She should stay behind and clean up, at least to thank her friend for all his help if nothing else, but Barcus waves her away, barking at her to go do whatever she’s so nervous about.
“Thanks, Barcus,” she says in relief. “You’re the best, you know that?”
“Obviously,” he barks.
She pets him behind his ear for a moment, because they’re close like that, before grabbing her bag and running off through campus.
There’s a small collection of shops near their apartment. She stops when she remembers them suddenly, her feet coming to an abrupt halt as she blinks unseeingly, her mind caught on the frozen section of the dessert place she and Philip have been frequenting since they moved in.
…Would he like some eyescream? She said she’d be right home, buuuuuuut when she has a bad day, a treat always makes it a little better. The same is especially true for Philip.
Digging through her pockets to count her snails, Luz hurries across the street and into the store.
They don’t have her favorite, but they do have sludge chunks, which she’s not mad about. And, thankfully, they have more than enough of the wrathberry and ghoulberry swirl flavor that Philip adores. Luz gets two, because Philip is an avid lover of food and an even more avid lover of feeding Stringbean things she’s probably better off not eating. Then, because she buys things when she’s anxious, Luz picks up a case of a soda she only kind of likes and some chips that Philip might snack on if he gets truly desperate. A perfect way to spend her money, truly.
Still, it will excite Philip when she gets home. She hopes. After leaving him alone while his brain is trying to torture him, she feels she owes him that much. Some eyescream and some chips aren’t all that expensive to the savior of the Boiling Isles, anyways, especially not if she makes puppy eyes at Hunter until he gets worried about her well-being and just starts handing her wads of snails.
He must be selling magic weed or something, Luz thinks with an amused smirk as she moves to unlock the door. Palisman carving can’t possibly pay that well.
Before she can turn the key all the way, the doorknob begins to wiggle—and the door opens to reveal Philip, smiling like the sunrise at her arrival. “Luz,” he breathes, as passionate as the women in his soap operas. Then he glances down at her bag of store-bought goods. “Oh. Dinner?”
Luz laughs awkwardly. “Dessert!” She raises the bag in a limp hand as if to show him the inner contents, despite it being closed. “Some eyescream, for your bad day.”
“Oh! Well, good, because I’m making dinner.” He grins, a goofy smile that Luz never gets tired of seeing. “Hungry?”
“I did skip lunch,” she admits.
“I understand. I’ll give you a big portion.”
She enters the apartment, following him to the kitchen where she begins to put away the snacks she bought. “Are you feeling better?” Her voice has a hopeful edge, but not expectant. It’s okay to not be okay, and all that, after all. Even if she still struggles to believe it about herself, she’d never judge Philip for hurting. Anymore.
“Not at all,” Philip says cheerfully. He continues stirring whatever supper he’s concocted for them on the stove. “But the distractions have certainly made the fire a bit less pressing. My show wasn’t on, so I did a bit of tinkering, then some art. I played with Stringbean, the silly girl, as well. She got very sleepy, however, so now I’m here, cooking experimentally.”
Luz hums to show she’s listening. With the snacks put away, she presses her front against his back, even if the height difference means his butt is right against her tummy, and wraps her arms around his middle to kiss his spine through his turtleneck. “What can I do?”
Philip laughs. “Is there anything good that you have not already done for me?”
Luz’ heart beats a little funny in her chest. “I could do more,” she says weakly.
“You could try this soup,” he sings. He turns his upper body with a small amount pooled on the wooden spoon he’s using.
Though Philip’s cooking skills are far from perfect, she feels much better about tasting it than she did a few years ago. “Mm.” Smack, smack. “Mmm! It’s got a little heat. I like that.”
“Me too,” Philip gushes. “It’s very warming, isn’t it? Perfect for my affliction. The fire tells me everything remains the same, unchanging, but just a little spice on my tongue reminds me how untrue that is. Isn’t that funny?”
Warm and happy and impossibly glad to be home, Luz nuzzles her nose against his back and breathes in the petrichor scent of him. “So funny, mi rey. And so yummy.”
She listens to him go on about his cooking with a smile on her face, doing whatever she can to balm the pain he’s been saddled with. Tomorrow, most likely, the roles will be reversed, with her crushed under the weight of her stress and guilt and overwhelming sadness, but for today, she enjoys being his rock. They eat soup and they eat eyescream and then, feeling a little too full and lazy for that sex she’d jokingly promised, they kiss in the bed they share with Stringbean curled on her pillow above them.
It’s perfect. And it’s home. Luz hopes she’ll never get used to this.