Slumping down on the couch, Phobos rested his head against the back and rubbed his hands across his face. Open your mouth and mess things up; don't open your mouth and still things got messed up. He'd stayed away like he'd been told, he'd tried to take care of Deimos as best as he could, tried to stay out of trouble, tried to stay out of his parents' way.
What else was left? Vanishing completely? He wasn't willing to go that far and it wouldn't fix anything, either.
Something broke. That fugly lamp probably.
The light twin got up and marched towards Ares' room. He pushed the door open, kept walking until he'd reached his dad and wrapped his arms around him from behind. "Thank you," he muttered, fingers curling into the front of Ares' shirt. "For coming down here, dad. It means a lot..."