Hobbyhoo was the friendliest to the turned-around Bizzyboys, and that was where Capochin ended up after the near world-ending apocalypse: in a tiny apartment placed conveniently near the local bar. With the boys disbanded, he had a lot of time on his hands, and many nights spent drinking at the Soul Cricket. That was where he must be, he deduced, though his mind was a little hazy–he couldn't even count how many beers he had had, other than "not enough."

He finished the last of the latest glass and and waited for the next one to appear. It took a second to remember he had to order one. "Hey," he croaked.

The woman shook her head. "I'm cutting you off there, bud," she said. "You're a small guy, and I'm worried about all that alcohol. It's like that time when my dog got into the vegetable drawer–"

Capochin decided not to sit through a Patience story and hopped off his seat. The sudden movement made the room spin, and with all his brainpower spent not hurling, he was unable to stop himself from planting face first on the floor.

"Oh, honey!" Patience leaned over the bar. "Are you alright? Do you need help getting home?"

"No," Capochin said on principle. He managed to roll on his side. "Just gimme a sec."

Through a tremendous output of effort, he stood up, gripping the stool for support. He took a few deep breaths, waiting for his stomach to settle before he crawled back to his apartment.

"What's got you drinking like this?" Patience gestured at the empty glasses. Had she left them there to prove a point? "Even if you don't say it, I can tell something's weighing on your heart real heavy."

He tensed at the mention of his heart. "It's not a big deal," he grumbled. "It's just…"

Oh, no. He had said too much. "Just what?" Patience prodded.

"Just nothing," he said. "Only…"

He couldn't shut his mouth in time.

"Only what?"

Capochin heaved a long sigh. "You've heard the story a hundred times," he said. "I cared about someone, and he…" His voice caught. "Whatever. Y'know how it is."

Patience nodded. "Just because it's happened before doesn't make it hurt less," she said. "You should give Thespius a visit."

He bristled. "Why?"

"Because he's the God of Love, of course!" He did not want to look at Patience's face, at the knowing smile he was certain he'd see. "Like you said, it's the same old story, and he's seen it all play out. He can heal your heart–and he won't mind doing it, for sure."

In Capochin's opinion, what had happened to his heart was too much damage to undo–but it was fine. He could manage just fine. He had survived this long, hadn't he?

"Sure," he said, without any intention of following through. "Bye."

He made it home, even though the path he took wasn't straightforward and had a lot of wrong turns. Outside his apartment, he fumbled in his pocket for his keys and unlocked the door, barely cognizant enough to close it behind him. By the time he got to his mattress, he was about ready to pass out.

Still, in the few moments before he lost consciousness, Capochin wondered.

Could Thespius help him? Could the God of Love ease the pain in his chest, without drinking, without having to face the one who caused it?

He fell asleep.

---

He spent the better part of the morning nursing his hangover. Eventually, Capochin managed to drag himself out of bed, get food down, and clean himself up as best he could. Once dressed, he went to the door and–

He paused with his hand on the doorknob. Was he really going to talk to Thespius?

Well, what was the worst that could happen? Thespius would tell him there was nothing anyone could do, and he'd go back to surviving. It wasn't all bad. Capochin steeled himself and opened the door.

The walk wasn't long, which didn't give him a lot of time to change his mind. He wavered at the entrance to Thespius' domain, staring into the light until his eyes watered–but he couldn't turn back. Thespius could probably tell he was there.

Capochin took a moment to wipe his eyes before he walked forward.

For a moment, he was floating in a white light. His feet settled on soft fluff as the god realm came into view around him, the clouds all pink and orange as if lit by sunrise.

And there was Thespius. "Oh, Capo!" the god said, bringing his head close to Capochin's level. "It's swell to see you, bud. I've been worried."

"Worried?" He struggled to maintain eye contact. "Why–why would you be worried?"

"I see what goes on in Hobbyhoo, dog." Thespius pulled back and sighed. "Not in great detail… but you've been spending a lot of late nights at the Soul Cricket, huh?"

His head throbbed, his hangover threatening to return. He gave up on eye contact. "Funny you mention that," Capochin said. "I got some advice there to… come to you for advice. So. Here I am."

"Alright," said Thespius kindly. "What's your issue? I'm here to listen."

Capochin hesitated. Saying it obliquely to Patience had been one thing, but Thespius would see right through any attempt to downplay his problem. He had gone too far.

He groaned and dragged a hand over his face. "Do I have to say it?" he muttered. "You're the god who can see into human hearts. Can't you just tell me what's wrong?"

"Yeah, sure," Thespius said. "But it's polite to ask, and, well, I can't see your heart all too clearly."

He said it casually, but the way the god looked at him sent a prickle of anxiety down Capochin's spine. "That a good thing?"

"No," Thespius said. "Means you're hiding it, usually. Hurts so much you can't bear to face it, huh?"

He didn't come here to get psychoanalyzed, except what else did he expect? "So what can you do?" he snapped. "Did I come here for nothing?"

"Whoa, c'mon." Thespius shook his head. "I just need to take a closer look."

One of his hands approached, disconnected from the god's body. Alarmed, Capochin took a step back and the hand stopped with the index finger pointed at his chest.

"May I?" Thespius asked.

He forced a slow breath in and out. "Yeah, sure," he said. "Go ahead, take a look."

The finger moved forward, gently pressing against his chest.

Gods were warm. There were exceptions to the rule–Bauhauzzo's god form was cold stone–but Thespius' finger felt warm through Capochin's shirt. He swallowed hard and tried not to think about those hands lifting him off the ground, playfully poking his forehead, fingers curling around him ever so carefully–

The hand was yanked away.

Capochin realized he was sweating. He took a breath and wiped his brow. "Saw what you needed?" he asked, looking up.

Thespius' eyes were wide, the hand that had touched him hovering close to his own chest. As the most human of the gods, his expressions weren't difficult to read–and it did nothing to quell Capochin's anxiety to identify the god's emotion as horror.

"Capochin," he said, "what happened to your heart?"

An old survival mechanism kicked in, turning his anxiety into anger before it could progress to fear. Capochin raised his voice. "You were supposed to tell me! You think I'd be here asking for advice if I knew?"

"You didn't know?" Thespius shook his head. "Capo, your heart wasn't hidden, it's not there."

"It's not…"

Anger failed him. It was like his pulse had stopped–for a moment, Capochin thought it had. Like he had run off a cliff in a cartoon, and the moment he looked down, reality would take hold and send him plummeting.

The moment passed. He was still breathing.

"Are you alright?"

He shakily put a hand over his chest. "It's gone?" he said. "This can't be fixed?"

"No, no, I didn't say that…" Thespius smiled again, although it didn't reach his eyes. "Sorry, man, I just freaked out a little. Can you let me look again?"

Great. His heart problem was enough to freak out Thespius. How many hearts had the god fixed in all his years of immortality? What made Capochin's so unique?

"Fine," he said.

The hand returned, this time pressing two fingers over his chest. Capochin closed his eyes and tried to focus on something other than his rapid breathing.

"Okay," said Thespius. "It's not gone, it's just not here. I can't really tell where, but…" He paused. "It feels like it's with someone else."

Capochin didn't have to be a love god to know who.

His shoulders slumped. That was fine. So his problem was unfixable, just like he expected. That was the worst case scenario, and he had prepared for it, so everything was fine.

"You can get it back," Thespius said, "but you need to face him."

Oh, he thought. When thinking of the worst case, he hadn't been creative enough.

"What do you mean t' face him?" he demanded.

"Doesn't have to be literal," Thespius said. "But you have to face your feelings about him, and you have to make a choice. Do you ever want to see him again?"

Something in his chest hurt at the thought. "Do I hafta decide now?"

"No," said Thespius, "but you gotta choose eventually. You can't have it both ways, where you don't see him but keep the option open indefinitely." He paused. "That's not fair to either of you."

Capochin looked away. "Guess not," he said.

"Take some time to think about it. There's not a rush if you don't want one. And hey–" He turned back to see Thespius beaming at him. "I'll be here for whatever help you need, alright?"

"Right," Capochin said. "Cool. That's all I need for now, so, uh… thanks."

"Oh, sure! Come back anytime."

Just as he was about to leave, Thespius spoke again. "And if you do see Hector…"

Capochin froze. He didn't turn around.

"…never mind," Thespius said sheepishly. "Don't worry about it. Take care, Capo."

"You too," Capochin said, and left in a hurry.

---

It took another night of drinking before he worked up the courage to face Hector.

He left in the afternoon and was in BuzzHuzz before sunset. Capochin passed through quickly and kept his head down; BuzzHuzz didn't like him very much.

The van was parked off the path to the spire, tucked away in the bushes and hidden from sight. The hideyhole had the added effect of keeping Capochin obscured as he approached, allowing him to reach the door unnoticed.

He could just leave, Capochin thought. He could go home and pretend he had never been here.

He knocked on the door.

Something thumped inside, followed by a loud clatter. "Just–just a sec!"

Capochin waited. Maybe not having a heart was a good thing. Helped with his nerves to pretend his pulse wasn't racing.

The door opened.

"Capo," Hector said, his eyes wide and his glasses askew. He looked older, Capochin realized; he hadn't seen him clearly at the rift. "I–I didn't think yew would…"

He trailed off, still staring. Capochin opened his mouth, closed it, and found he couldn't speak until he turned away from Hector's face.

"I have a…" He scrunched up his face. "…an eentsy bit of a problem. And I need…" Shoot. "You're the only one who can help." No, that wasn't better.

Well, he had said it. "Of course," Hector responded. "I'll help yew. What's it?"

Oh boy. How should he phrase it? Capochin took a deep breath. "You have something of mine," he said. "I need it back."

"Oh, sure," Hector said. "Do yew want t' come in and look for it?"

"It's not that–" Capochin caught a whiff of the inside of the van and lost his train of thought. "Okay, I'm not going in there, and it's not that simple."

"Not that simple?"

Capochin hissed air through his teeth. "Y' see, it's not-so-much a thing as it is…"

He glanced at Hector's face. The other man's brow was furrowed, exaggerating his wrinkles. Capochin hadn't expected Hector to have aged those thirty-three years he spent as a god. He couldn't speak. He looked away again.

"It's not a big deal," he said, "so don't freak out, alright?" He didn't give Hector a chance to argue. "I talked to Thespius earlier, and–and he said I was, uh, missing something. And, well, you're the only person who could have it, so…"

"But what is it?" Hector pressed.

He squeezed his eyes shut. "It's my heart," Capochin said. "I gave you my heart. And I need it back."

Hector drew a sharp breath. "Yewr heart?" he said. "How is that possible?"

Capochin grit his teeth. "Things get a little funny when there's a god involved," he said. "You should know that."

"I do," Hector said, "but I'm not one anymore! If I took it then, where's it now?"

"How am I supposed to–" He cut himself off with a hiss. "I shouldn't have given it in the first place, so just give it back and I can get this over with."

"I don't–" Hector's voice caught. "How? I didn't even know I had it. Why would yew give it to me?"

As if he had to ask. "You ought to know why."

"I don't! I never asked yew to do that!"

Capochin couldn't speak for a moment. He stared at Hector, met his eyes, and a familiar heat flushed his cheeks.

"You didn't–" He sputtered for a moment. "You never asked me to–no. No." His fists clenched. "You don't get to say that."

"But–"

He cut Hector off. "I tore myself apart for you!" he snarled. Tenderize the meat, take out what's tasteless. "Didn't matter what it was, I would have done anything just to hear your praise! Even if you didn't ask for it directly–"

Hector flinched back. He was so much smaller as a human, almost like he wasn't still towering over him.

But Capochin had one more thing to say. "Why'd you even become a god if you didn't want my devotion?"

He stopped. He didn't feel any better. There were tears in his eyes; Capochin turned away and let them fall.

"I'm sorry," Hector said quietly. "I never wanted to hurt yew."

"Never?" said Capochin. "Really? You didn't seem to care that you were."

"I didn't–"

"You didn't know," he said flatly. "Everything I did for you, and you barely even noticed me."

What else could be said? Capochin wiped his eyes. He wanted to leave it at that, walk away and report to Thespius his failure… but Hector couldn't let him have the last word.

"I want to think I woulda stopped yew," he said. "If I had noticed. And–and I shoulda noticed, Capo, but…" His voice shook. "I don't know if I woulda done anything different. And that's not the kind–kinda leader I ever wanted to be, but it's the kind I was. I'm sorry, Cappy."

Capochin sighed. "I'm sorry, too," he said. "I shouldn't be…"

Hector's voice steadied. "Yew don't gotta apologize to me."

"Sure I do." His hand drifted to his tail, running his fingers over the bandages. If Hector knew the full extent of what he had done…

"I mean it. Not for anything."

How much did he know?

Capochin took a harsh breath through his nose and looked at Hector–really looked at him. He was still wearing the same clothes he had come out of the Rift in, and if Capochin had to guess, he hadn't had access to a shower for the same amount of time. Peering past him, the inside of the van was covered in food wrappers and other trash, plus a pile of unopened envelopes.

"You look like you're doing well," Capochin said.

Hector shrugged. "Could be worse."

"Not by much." Capochin shook his head. "Have you been talking to anyone else?"

"Godpoke brings me mail."

"You read any of it?"

"Yew shouldn't worry about me, Capo."

"I'm just sayin'." Capochin huffed. "If we're going to fix my heart issue, I bet we'll both need to visit Thespius. Might be a little awkward if he asks you about all those letters he sent you."

Hector's eyes widened. "Did he say somethin' to yew?"

"No, but I'm not an idiot." Except for all that time he was following Inspekta. "I'll meet you at Thespius' domain tomorrow morning."

"…okay."

Capochin figured their conversation was over. "I'll be going now," he said. "You better show up."

He turned away. As he pushed through the brush, he thought he heard Hector start to say something, but when he looked back, the van's door was closed again.

---

Why, Capochin thought. Why, why, why did he tell Hector to meet him in the morning? He had tried not to drink too much the night before–he was pretty sure Patience was watering down his beer, anyway–but he still woke up with a hangover. Shouldn't he be used to them by now?

He managed to drag his way to the field. The sun was too bright, and someone was playing music too loud, and Capochin wanted to turn around and go back home. Still, he told Hector to show up, so he had to at least do that.

"Cappy?"

Hector's voice didn't make his head hurt any less. "G'morning," Capochin mumbled, raising a hand as he brushed by him. "Let's get this over with."

In front of Thespius' domain, he paused and looked back. Hector was trailing behind, wringing his hands nervously.

"You coming?"

"Yeah," Hector said. "Just give me a sec."

Capochin shrugged and crossed the boundary.

The shift to the god realm made his head spin. Capochin staggered and managed to hold back for about ten seconds before nausea overwhelmed him.

"Ah," Thespius said, watching Capochin puke into the clouds. "Well, you're not the first to do that here. You good?"

He caught his breath. "I'm fine," he said, waving a hand in the god's general direction; "up," probably. "Ugh, it got in my sinuses…"

A god-sized hand patted his back, making him flinch. "Take it easy," Thespius said. "We can talk whenever you're ready."

"Okay," said Capochin, and threw up again.

When he had finally emptied his stomach, he straightened up and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "I'm good now," he mumbled. "Did…"

He trailed off. Hector had entered Thespius' domain.

The sky had grown darker, gray clouds passing over the sun. Thespius stared at Hector with his mouth partly open. Hector kept his head down.

Thespius spoke first. "Been a minute," he said. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm good," Hector said.

"Did Godpoke get our letters to you?"

"…haven't opened them," he mumbled. "I'm sorry."

"I know," Thespius said. "We miss you."

Hector squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm here for Capochin," he said. "He told me yew could help him if we were both here."

"I did," Capochin said, snapping to attention. "Figured you could do something that way. Right?"

"…right," said Thespius. Did he sound disappointed? "I'll take a look."

He brought his hand down towards them. Hector straightened his back as it approached his chest and stood very, very still.

The clouds around them grew darker. Capochin felt a raindrop hit his head. A tear rolled down Hector's cheek.

"You've been hurting," Thespius said quietly, keeping his finger pressed against Hector's heart.

"This isn't about me," Hector said.

"Maybe not entirely," said Thespius, "but your heart is hurting so bad, I don't know if…"

He trailed off. The rain was light, but steady. Capochin looked around them at the damp gray clouds. He had never seen Thespius' realm actually rain.

When he looked back, Thespius had taken his hand away. "Okay," he said. "I think I got it."

Capochin blinked. "Got what?"

"I know what's going on, now," Thespius said. "Might take a minute to lay it all out. You ready to hear it?"

He glanced at Hector, who wasn't looking at him. "Yeah," he said. "I'm ready."

Thespius clasped his hands together.

"Giving someone your heart isn't a one-and-done deal," he said. "A lot of people will give someone pieces of their heart, and that's fine, because it'll heal and grow back over time." He paused. "What happened here was different."

"Different?" Capochin said. He decidedly did not think about the burgers.

"Capo," Thespius said, "you didn't let your heart heal. You kept giving up more and more of it, too much, too fast, and to someone who wasn't giving anything back. Now there's nothing left to work with. That's not something I can undo with the snap of my fingers, y'know?"

His head throbbed. He didn't look at Hector. "But there is something you can do," he said.

Thespius hesitated. "There is," he said. "It's a power I don't like to use, but… given the situation, I could make an exception."

"What is it?"

The god mimed scissors with one hand. "Severing the bond. Without your feelings for him, your heart would grow back where it's supposed to be."

Capochin's eyes widened. "You can do that?"

"I don't like to," Thespius said. "It's not something that can be done without consequences. Not for either of you. You'd still have your memories of each other, but you, Capochin, wouldn't care about Hector any more, and you–" He spoke to Hector. "–your heart is barely holding itself together. Losing his will hurt."

Hector shook his head. "I don't get a say here," he said.

"You should. It effects both of you."

"No," he said. "It's hurtin' Capo not to have his heart, right? He gets t' choose. Not me."

He looked up. For a moment, he and Capochin made eye contact, before Capochin broke it off and looked back at Thespius.

"It's not the only option, is it?" he said. "Wouldn't be a choice if there weren't."

Thespius' shoulders relaxed, just a little. "There's another way, yeah. If the two of you work through your feelings together–really, really talk to each other–then, eventually, your heart will grow and heal without my meddling."

Capochin nodded. "And it won't hurt either of us?"

The god shook his head. "Oh, it'll hurt," he said. "It'll take a lot longer, too. But you'll get to keep your feelings and let them change or fade naturally, instead of erasing them altogether."

He chewed on the inside of his cheek. "And the other way…"

He looked at Hector again. Hector smiled at him.

Capochin remembered Hector's smiles. They were big, bright, and they always felt genuine. The last time he saw that smile from him was when Hector ascended, thirty-three years ago. He had raised a hand to wave to Capochin and the Bizzyboys, that smile stretching across his face, before he turned away to climb the spire alone.

Inspekta's smiles were different. They were still his smiles, they could still be big and bright and genuine… but sometimes they weren't. Sometimes it was something he put on his face when he didn't really mean it. Sometimes they were cold–or cruel, even.

The smile wasn't Inspekta's, but it wasn't Hector's, either. It was only sad.

"It's okay, Cappy," Hector said, rain falling steadily all around him. "Do what yew need to do. I can handle endin' it here."

Capochin shook his head and turned back to Thespius.

"I…"

His mouth was dry. Almost funny, given how damp he was from the rain. He licked his lips and tried again.

"I'm not ending things," Capochin said. "I don't want to get rid of my feelings. We'll work it out ourselves."

Thespius smiled. "That's probably the better option," he said. "I'll be here if you need to change your mind, alright?"

"Right," Capochin said gruffly. "Well, I'm done here."

He barely acknowledged Hector as he walked past him. Just before he left Thespius' domain, he noticed the rain had stopped.

Outside, the sunlight cruelly reminded him of his hangover. Capochin squinted and took a moment to sit on the grass, rubbing his temples.

"Capo, yew didn't have to do that."

"I did," Capochin said, not looking at Hector. "Wasn't for you, either."

"But–"

He raised a hand to stop him. "You hurt me," he said, "and we don't know if you would've stopped if you noticed. That's bad. That hurts." He took a deep breath. "But that's not everything we are. You trusted me. You gave me purpose. Before I met you, I…"

He glanced at him. Hector was staring at him with watery eyes, and Capochin choked back a sob. He couldn't do it. He couldn't say it.

"Dammit, Hector," he said instead,  "you got me out of the Drain. I'm not throwing that away."

"He said yew wouldn't forget."

"Like that would matter if I don't feel anything about it."

Hector looked away, his tail wrapping around him to coil over his hands. "And–and yew still want to talk to me?"

"That's the other option, isn't it?" Capochin rubbed his eyes. "Be a lot easier if you didn't live so far away. Every time I walk through BuzzHuzz I think someone's going to jump me."

Hector picked at his tail. "I could park nearby."

"You really live in the van, huh?"

"It's not that bad."

"Yeah right," Capochin said. "No bed? No toilet?"

"Where else am I supposed to go?"

Capochin sighed and got to his feet. "I don't have a bed for you," he said, "but I have a couch, a toilet, and a parking spot I'm not using. Go get the van. We'll work it out from there."

Hector shook his head. "I can't ask that of yew."

"You're not asking," Capochin said, "I'm offering. We'll work it out, somehow."

He smiled at him. Hector took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, looking down for a moment.

When he looked back up, he was smiling, too. Might've not been as big and bright as Hector's old smiles, but Capochin could tell it was genuine.

"Thank yew, Capo," he said. "I'll be back tonight."

"Great. I'll show you where to park."

His head throbbed again. He turned away to hide his grimace. Hector didn't comment.

Maybe, Capochin thought, he wouldn't drink so much that night.

The End