Chapter Text
He was about to have coffee with the most despised man of his life, and no easy way to navigate the city. Alright. This one must be it. He was just standing there for a moment. New body, new way of maneuvering the city. Both physically and digitally. Street signs were hard to spot, and to him every coffee place looked, smelled and sounded the same—including their names. According to the "beast-folk-inclusive" sign, he found the right one. Kurtis thought about his father, and that despicable man was barely present in his mind. Only a couple of flashing pictures. What exactly did the old man look like again? He would soon find out. Even though he would have preferred not to. It would be cruel not to show your own father what you have chosen to become, and by now it was overdue for about a week. He caught himself wishing to just press a skip button and go on with the next part of the day—unfortunately, life wasn't a video on demand. What would father think of it? That guy never had much left for online-dating. One thing was certain—his dad would not approve of him dating a stranger—let alone a stranger, who didn't even specify any personal information. No gender, no age, no photo. But a beast-folk. Intriguing enough for him. A couple messages, and that was it.
He shook his head—it was time to face the inevitable. He entered the cafe. It smelled like every other coffee place. No need to search for long. He barely remembered the look of his father—however, once he spotted him in the corner, his mind filled in the blanks. He loved sitting away from the windows: passing strangers were creeping him out. Just like mirrors. Can't blame him. He was reading a newspaper. Just standing here, watching him would be so much easier. At this point, anything was more captivating than the thought of approaching—at least in this form. It wasn't easy at all to familiarize with a new type of feet—paws are quite different, but they were just as hesitant. It's just a man waiting for his son. No reason to freak out. One step after the other.
He found the courage to step up, "Hey dad." The old man looked up at him, adjusted his glasses and put the paper down. He coughed. And then silence. Thanks for the great conversation, dad. Time to sit down and have a proper conversation. His father's eye was twitching.
"So... when did... that... happen?" his father asked.
"About a week ago." he replied. Already off to a great start.
"A week ago. And this morning you thought you should tell your dad?" the old man said.
"Well... yes. I thought it was about time." he replied. Of course, two sentences in, and dad's already throwing accusations. Wonderful.
"How did you get approved for that?" father asked. "Oh, it was Mark, wasn't it?"
"Yea. He got me a contact and there... we kinda just went for it." Kurtis replied. There was no possibility to let a comforting lie roll over his tongue.
"Look... Kurtis."
"... Yes?"
"I am honestly disappointed that you did not even ask about my opinion. Or your mother's."
"Mom was fine with it."
"So, you did speak with her, but not with me?"
"I... You... I thought you wouldn't understand."
"Look at you. I don't even know who you are anymore. You look completely different."
"Yes... that was kind of... the point."
His father scoffed. "You look nothing like the boy your mother and I gave birth to. What am I supposed to make of this?"
"Nothing, dad. It was my choice."
"Look, son, I have no idea how to handle this situation yet. The son I loved and I saw growing up is gone. Forever." his father finished. What a liar. Such a dirty liar.
"But I am still here, dad."
"You are a cat now. Or a panther. I have no idea what you beast-folks call yourself now. I am trying to understand, but it's hard, Kurtis."
"It's okay dad. I am still your son. I just... wanted to be something else." Kurtis replied. His chest was clenching. Every muscle tensing up, as if he was staring down a lion. His father met his eyes.
"You say it's okay? I would love it to be this simple, but it isn't. I will need time to... think about what you did. I will try to come to terms with this... but don't expect me to be over it any time soon." his old man said. And that man was lying again. The memories were returning. A school bell ringing—waiting for a man who never came. Playing with his shadow in the garden. Reading stories to himself, to have at least one voice to cling to.
"Thank you for trying dad." he said. It was time to get up and leave this place behind. Hopefully forever. He stood, walked, nearly threw over the table by accident. On his way to the train station this panther walked through puddles of rain and memories alike. A playground. A son. And the absence of a father.