Theseus was scared shitless of being home. He’d been running away from home since the second he’d gotten out of school, running around Europe, Asia, South America, and America all with the excuse that he was learning different cuisines. And it had worked, really great, until it had been made clear that it was time to come home, time to just accept that being home was the new way of his life.
So Theseus had come home. Found an open venue for his bistro. Started making a menu. Started hyperventilating, because failure seemed so imminent to him.
But nothing was worse than arriving at the Rosier manor. Sure he was acting cocky with the house elves, giving them bags more than twice their weight. Sure he was dressed well in pin striped pants, a dark green dress shirt, burgundy vest, and shoes the likes of which only a wizard would think was fashionable. Sure he had dropped some baby weight, cut his long hair short, and stopped hunching.
Theseus still felt all of five when he heard his father’s steps. He still felt small, and weak, and like he was going to make the man sigh and turn away.
“Hello,” he responded, smiling hard. “Glad to be home.” A lie, but only a half lie. “Did I miss tea?”