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f00pyf00p · 4 years ago

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The Book and The Door

Rating: General Relationships: Romantic Analogical Warnings: Death, Car Crash, Afterlife Word count: 3085 Summary: Virgil stood. Or at least, he thought he did. It was hard to tell. Normally, when one was standing, you could feel the ground beneath your feet. Here there was nothing. No sensation pulling him down, no firmness as he cautiously took a step forward. Other Notes: Analogical Week Day 6: Past/Future @analogicalweek

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Virgil stood. Or at least, he thought he did. It was hard to tell. Normally, when one was standing, you could feel the ground beneath your feet. Here there was nothing. No sensation pulling him down, no firmness as he cautiously took a step forward.

There was nothing around him.

No color.

No white.

No black.

Just… nothing. For as far as he could see.

He and the place simply existed. They simply were.

He shifted on his feet. Or at least, he thought he did. It was hard to tell when there was no ground, was no floor, no anything at all.

Except-

There was something.

A rectangle. Just far enough away to be seen.

It took him a full minute and 31 seconds to decide but Virgil finally made his way towards that rectangle until he was close enough to realize there was a much more apt description of the object in front of him.

It wasn’t just a rectangle.

It was a door.

A wooden one.

Leading… nowhere.

He blinked at it.

“You could go through.”

Virgil jumped half a mile into the air and turned. Nobody. He turned again. Still nobody.

“Who are you?” he asked. “Where am I?”

“You’re in the in-between.” The voice was warm, calming. Virgil quite liked it. “I am your guide.”

Virgil didn’t want to ask what the in-between was and look like an idiot. He opted for silence, a silence which he quietly used to survey the door to nowhere.

There was something about it. Something he didn’t like. Something that made Virgil feel like it should remain closed.

“You should go through the door,” the voice said in that same calming tone from earlier. “It’ll help you.”

“I’m good thanks,” Virgil muttered.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded.

A book fell three inches from his right foot.

Virgil blinked.

It was big, black, and thick. Slowly, Virgil leaned down and let his hands curl around the spine of it. He lifted the book up into the air and watched in astonishment as the black cover changed.

Letters formed across the top of it. Letters he recognized. The first letters he had ever learned to put together.

Virgil Hummel.

He swallowed and looked up, as if expecting the voice to speak down to him. When it did not, Virgil slowly cracked the book open to the very first page.

To a picture of him as a newborn. The doctors were holding him out to his mother, his mother who looked exhausted but happy, who was smiling at the sight of her baby-

Virgil snapped the book shut. “What is this?”

The voice didn’t respond.

“What is this?!”

A beat. Then-

“It’s you.”

Silence. Virgil bit his bottom lip and slowly reopened it.

There were all kinds of pictures. Pictures of him the first time he rode a bicycle, the first time he read poetry, the first time he wrote poetry-

He winced.

The first time he went on a date.

His hands traced the outline of his middle school self, standing with a girl named Billie who had asked him out. It was back when he didn’t know he was gay, didn’t understand why he couldn’t replicate her feelings- and when she had gone to kiss him?

Virgil quickly flipped the page.

It took him longer than he had expected but eventually, Virgil found himself staring at a familiar set of brown eyes and warm copper skin. He smiled almost subconsciously at the picture of Logan. It was in their college math class; Virgil and Logan had ended up sitting next to each other at the beginning of the year, purely by accident. At the moment they were facing each other, Virgil looking a little flustered, Logan simple and polite.

“Shit, shit, shit, shittttt.” Virgil’s hand worked through his bag but he couldn’t find it, couldn’t find anything, and it was only the first lesson but he was going to fail and he never should’ve gone to uni.

“Do you require assistance?”

“I- What?”

Logan- not that Virgil had known his name yet at the time- coughed. “My apologies. My brother says I talk in an awkward fashion. Do you need help?”

“I um… I forgot a calculator.”

“Ah. Well, I believe I can help you there. Both my mother and my father got me one for Christmas.” Logan reached into his bag and removed a small black one. “Would this work?”

“I- yes. Thank you. That’s very kind of you. Are you sure-”

“Please, go ahead. It’ll be getting little use otherwise.”

Virgil bit his lip. “Thank you. What’s your name?”

“Logan Berry. I’m a freshman. What’s your name?”

“Virgil Hummel.”

He smiled sadly at the picture. Burning pricked at the ends of his eyes but he ignored it and traced Logan’s face with a single hand.

They were so young.

“He must be important to you,” the voice said.

“He is.” Virgil was barely louder than a whisper. “He’s… everything.”

The voice didn’t respond and Virgil flipped the pages, past unforgiving and unending tests, past the not-accepted coming in on every single goddamn job until-

He paused briefly on a picture of him and Logan in a library. They were engaged in some conversation- something about their teacher, Virgil remembered. Neither of them had liked him very much and complaining had helped take the edge off.

“What happened there?” the voice asked.

“We had midyears coming up.” Virgil was smiling, even as his voice broke. “Our entire class was panicking. All of the averages on our previous quizzes had been below 60%. Logan and I always had managed to pull off As though and the class asked us to tutor them together.” Virgil’s smile widened. “I was terrified, but Logan agreed so how could I say no? We had just finished our first session here and Logan… Logan hung back. To check and see if I was okay.” Virgil sniffed. “Because he knew… he could tell I was nervous and he was just so… so perfect.”

“I think that went very well. You’re very patient.” Logan said.

“I bet I screwed them all up.”

“Nonsense. It was the first time I’ve ever seen Jacob leave math class with a smile on his face. He’s normally on the brink of a panic attack.” Logan looked up and Virgil and he wasn’t smiling, but there was something about him that just seemed so joyful. “You’re very good at this.”

“Th-Thank you. You’re very good as well.”

“Thank you.” Logan leaned over work somebody had left. Emma, if Virgil remembered correctly. “It's a shame it's necessary.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if Mr. Harris had any idea how to do his job, such a large study group wouldn’t be needed.”

Virgil choked. “He is awful, isn’t he?”

“I swear, I’ve learned more about his cats than I have any math. The only way I’m scraping by this class is by teaching myself using the textbook.”

“Same here.”

“Hmm.” Logan brushed the leftover papers into a pile. “I’ll see you later, Virgil.”

“Bye Logan.

Virgil let the pads of his fingers brush over the image. “I felt so much lighter after that. He really was a wizard at figuring out when I needed help.”

The voice was silent.

Virgil flipped through the pages, through the midyears, through the endless studying, and hesitated briefly on the pure accomplishment he felt at the class average being above an 85%.

He flipped again to the school-wide party after that, and to the adorable wallflower, he had found leaning against the wall, reading a book instead of engaging in the activities.

“Logan?”

He looked up, eyes lighting up immediately. “Virgil! I admit I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I didn’t really expect you either. What are you doing?”

“Currently, I’m reading The Obsidian Tower By Melissa Caruso. It’s a wonderfully diverse fantasy.”

“Cool.” Virgil licked his lips. “So why are you here? Wouldn’t reading be more comfortable in your dorm room?”

“Oh, my roommate Roman dragged me here. He is of the opinion that this kind of social interaction is necessary to survival.” Logan sniffed. “I am not, but I find that the argument ‘I’ll leave you alone for a week’ is a very persuasive one.”

“Do you… not like your roommate?”

“His company is good in shifts. Too much of him makes me want to tear my hair out.” Logan looked him up and down. “Why are you here?”

“Patton has the same opinion as Roman and I’m too much of a pushover to say no.”

A coy smile appeared on Logan’s face. “Then we shall suffer together.”

Virgil hadn’t been able to come up with a response. He had been too busy trying to catch his breath from the pure shock of seeing Logan with a smile.

“Why is this scene important?”

“It was… He was so beautiful. Right after he smiled, he had the audacity to brush his hair back and I just…” Virgil felt like his chest would explode. “I knew I was screwed. A kind-hearted hot guy? How could I not develop a crush on him?”

He didn’t wait for the voice this time. Virgil flipped through the book at ready past the outings with Logan, Patton, Roman, and Remus, past the tests, and the fun, until he landed at a picture with him pacing the hallway in front of Logan and Roman’s dorm room.

“What happened?”

“I confessed,” Virgil whispered.

“Did you plan to?”

“Yes.”

“What if Roman had been there?”

“I knew- I knew he was out with Patton. Roman and I had made a pact that if I could get Patton to the coffee shop we liked alone, he would make sure Logan was in the dorm room by himself, and then we would both confess at the same time.”

He had been nervous. His hands were clammy, breath came unsteadily and every time Virgil thought of something to say, he came up with a rebuttal to that, how it was dumb, not worth it, pathetic.

And then the dorm room opened.

“Virgil?”

He took a breath. Turned. Met Logan in the eye. And then realized that the last one had been a huge mistake because now he was thinking about how hot Logan was and oh god, Virgil was going to die.

“Are you alright? Are you… is it your anxiety? Would you like me to offer you a distraction?”

Why, why, WHY did Logan have to be so goddamn nice?!

“I need…”

Logan waited. Because he was good, and he was nice, and Virgil just needed to rip the bandaid off.

“Willyougoonadatewithme?”

Logan blinked. “I got the ‘will’ and ‘me’ part. Would you care to repeat the rest of that sentence?”

Virgil took a breath.

“Will you go on a date with me?”

There was a silence in which Virgil wanted nothing more than to simply die but then Logan was smiling, and it was a real smile, a huge smile and it melted Virgil’s heart into a puddle.

“Certainly.”

“Really?”

“I’ve harbored romantic feelings for you for some time now.”

“I- what- how can you just say that!?”

“I couldn’t. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“You- I- I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 6.”

“Satisfactory.”

“We went to see a movie. Patton picked it out.” Virgil could feel tears threatening to fall, but he paid them no mind. “We both hated it with such venom that we spent the entirety of dinner talking about how horrible it was. And later that week, Logan ordered a piñata for me shaped like the main character’s head.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

“It was. It was… just amazing.”

Virgil flipped the pages. Past the first time they kissed, past the dates, past the teasing looks turned to actual sex, and finally-

He took a long breath out as he looked at this picture.

“I’ve been thinking.”

Virgil turned to look up at him, smile on his face. “You do little else.”

It was night. Not evening night, but pure black night. Logan had found them a spot on a hill where the smaug didn’t cloud the stars in the sky and the world could just be theirs for a while.

“I mean- oh shut up.” Logan was smiling now too. “I was thinking about a specific topic.”

“That must've been very strange for you. Are you-”

“Virgil Hummel, I swear to Newton you will let me finish this sentence.”

Virgil had laughed and when he saw the blush that appeared on Logan's face as he did so, he laughed all the longer.

“I was thinking,” Logan punctuated and he slapped a hand over Virgil’s mouth when it opened, “about how much I love you.”

“What the fuck, L. You can’t go from me making fun of you to you saying something like that!”

“I didn’t ask you to make fun of me.”

“Irrelevant!”

It was Logan’s turn to laugh and the sound flipped Virgil’s stomach upside down. Virgil leaned forward, wrapping himself in Logan’s warmth.

“Do you want to get an apartment together?”

Virgil blinked.

“It would be near college, obviously. And near our jobs and internships. But we’re graduating Sophomores and I think it makes sense to try and learn how to live on our own.” He paused. “And I want to do it with you.”

Virgil had to swallow three times before he managed to say. “Will Roman and Patton be disappointed we’re not with them?”

“Patton might be. Roman knows though.”

“Why?”

“I needed help gathering the courage to ask, and we both know he’s great with secrets.”

“Patton is good too.”

Logan glanced at him.

“Okay, Patton is terrible. He tries though.”

“Sometimes I doubt that.”

“Logan!”

His boyfriend grinned. The grin faded slightly. “So? Do you want to live with me?”

“Of course!” Virgil reached up to turn Logan’s face to him, one hand on either cheek. “I’d love to live with you.”

Logan smiled and Virgil leaned in, pressing their lips firmly together until even the moon had faded to the background.

“How long did you live together?”

“For the rest of our lives.” Virgil paused. “Wait.”

“Yes?”

“I- That’s not right.”

“What isn’t?”

“I- I’m still living with him. I’m not dead.”

“Aren’t you?”

Virgil winced. His eyes fell shut and suddenly he couldn’t see the nothingness, couldn’t feel the nothingness. There was wind in his face, a helmet on his head, rubber gripped in his hands. He was on a bike. Logan rode beside him, Logan, who was trying to convince Virgil they should buy a pet snake-

And then there were blinding white lights. A scream. And…

And nothing.

The nothing.

“I’m… dead?”

“Yes.”

“No. No, I can’t be dead. I can’t be. I had- I had just gotten the job I wanted, we were buying a bigger apartment near it together I-” He froze. “I never got to marry him.”

Hands trembling, Virgil flipped frantically through the pages, frantically until he reached the picture of that hill, the hill that was there’s the hill where the world fell away and it was just them.

“Logan.”

“Yes, Virgil?”

“Tonight…. Tonight has been lovely. Thank you for planning it.”

“Of course. You deserve it.”

“But why are we here? I mean, I’m quite happy we are, but you said we had to leave the restaurant at that moment because Patton needed us and-”

“Forgive me. It may have been a lie.”

“Why?”

Logan gripped Virgil’s shoulders, spun him around, and angled his head up towards the sky. Before Virgil could ask him any more questions he watched in amazement as burning light flew across the dark blue sky and faded in a shining of white light.

And then another joined it.

And another.

Until the sky was full of beautiful burning rocks and Virgil could barely even breathe at the sight of them.

“A meteor shower?” He gasped. The hands had fallen off of his shoulder and he whirled around to look at Logan. “You brought me to a meteor shower?”

But when he turned, he didn’t see the Logan he expected, the one enthralled with the rocks in the sky, eyes all alight like they got whenever he was happy.

He found a shaking Logan. A nervous Logan. A Logan down on one knee.

Virgil flew up to his mouth.

Logan coughed. “Virgil Ovid Hummel. Will you do me the honor of becoming my husband?”

“Yes!” Virgil pulled the beautiful ring out of his velvet black box and slipped it onto his finger. “Logan I…. I love you so much.”

Logan stood up and Virgil barely gave him time to straighten before he was rushing in and nailing their lips together, arms hugging around his neck to pull him as close as possible.

“We were going to be married next month.” Tears rolled down Virgil’s face and the book thudded to the floor. It spun and by some force- perhaps the voice’s- it landed open on the last page.

The last page, which featured two side-by-side bikers and a very drunk truck driver driving over 60 miles an hour on a 30 mph road past a stop sign.

“We were going to be married.” Virgil put his face in his hands and sobbed. His knees buckled to the floor. “I never got to marry him. I never got to marry him.”

“Not in this life,” the voice said gently. “But you always have the next.”

Virgil looked up and his red-rimmed eyes landed on the wooden door. “I’ll see him again?”

“Open it,” the voice replied, “and find out.”

Slowly Virgil wiped off his face. He got to his feet and shuffled up to the wooden door. The wooden door to nowhere.

Virgil opened it. Nothing.

He glanced back toward the book.

“You have to step through,” the voice chided. “Have some faith, Virgil.”

So Virgil took a breath. Closed his eyes. And he stepped through.

When he opened his eyes the door was gone and he wasn’t in nothing anymore. He was standing on a hill. On a very familiar hill. On their hill.

“Virgil?”

Virgil nearly broke at the voice alone. He turned and a sob choked out of him the sight of those brown eyes, that warm skin, and the neat black hair.

Logan smiled back at him, tears in his own eyes and he reached forward and-

Virgil had never felt more at home than when Logan’s arms came up around him.

#analogical #analogicalweek #virgil-x-logan #virgil sanders #logan sanders #past #future #death tw

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f00pyf00p · 4 years ago

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Skateboard Go Zoom

Rating: General Relationships: Romantic Analogical Warnings: Foster System, Mentions of TERFs Word count: 4029 Summary: The poor victim Ms. Williams had preyed on began to stutter an answer. Virgil tried to pay attention, he really did, but the sun had decided to come out from behind a cloud at that exact moment and the light hit Logan in the face and suddenly Virgil was much more interested in watching Logan blink against it.His eyelashes always seemed golden tipped in the light. Other Notes: Analogical Week Day 5: Vocab card/Skateboard @analogicalweek

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Their town's skatepark was small. People trickled in and out of it, but there were never more than four people looking to use it at a time (unless of course, a group of high schoolers came together), and anyone stopping to watch only ever hung around for about a minute before continuing on their way.

The park consisted of a smaller-sized bowl, a short flat rail Virgil only ever used to practice hippie jumps, and a couple of quarter pipe ramps facing one another. There were several graffiti designs, a couple that Virgil had done himself, but generally, the park was well maintained.

Virgil absolutely loved it.

It was a rare afternoon to find the park devoid of Virgil. When he couldn’t be in the bowl, Virgil was manualing from quarter to quarter or practicing whatever newest trick he was working on off to the side. At the moment, that was an early grab finger flip. It was a move where he was supposed to squat down, grab the nose of his board with his hand, then lift up, while jumping, and flip the board so he landed flat on it and continued rolling.

At the moment, Virgil kept pulling up on the nose before he hopped and ending up not doing much of anything- besides tripping over the damn thing. He had gotten it a few times though; it was a work in process.

But of course, Virgil could only go to the park in the afternoons. Right now it was morning. Which meant he was in the worst possible place on earth, in the worst possible class, with the worst possible person sitting next to him.

“8 is to the power of 4x+2,” Ms. Williams said loudly. “And it's equal to 64. So, what do we do to solve for x?”

The worst person Virgil could possibly be sitting next to’s hand shot into the air.

Ms. Williams sighed. “Anyone besides Logan?”

The class was silent. Logan’s hand slowly stuttered back to his side and he looked down at his paper.

Virgil peeked over at it and found all the practice problems Ms. Williams had said they would be doing together already finished, answers neatly circled and not an eraser mark on the damn thing.

Which was impressive because Ms. Williams had only handed them out about five minutes ago.

“Sally? Do you know where to start?”

The poor victim Ms. Williams had preyed on began to stutter an answer. Virgil tried to pay attention, he really did, but the sun had decided to come out from behind a cloud at that exact moment and the light hit Logan in the face and suddenly Virgil was much more interested in watching Logan blink against it.

His eyelashes always seemed golden tipped in the light.

Okay, freak. Virgil scolded himself. You’re in math class, not theater.

He had just managed to pull his attention back to the whiteboard in front of them when Logan had the fucking audacity to brush his hair back with his hand and then all Virgil’s useless brain could think about what it would feel like?

Was it soft? It certainly looked soft. He could imagine running his fingers through the black roots before wrapping his arms around Logan’s neck and-

Stop it.

Virgil’s brain decided not to listen to his request and began to wonder on repeat if Logan’s lips would be squishy and delicate, or more commanding.

He glanced over at Logan and found the boy watching him. They met eyes and almost instantaneously, both Logan and Virgil looked away. At this point, Virgil was sure he looked like a tomato, and it was very small comfort to know that Logan’s face had darkened as well.

It took a moment for Virgil to gather himself, but he forced his attention back to the board and concentrated on each one of the practice questions Ms. Williams had assigned them. They ended up finishing a little early, so Ms. Williams passed out their homework as well.

Virgil, apparently, had not learned his lessons from the earlier eye contact and spent the entirety of math glancing over at Logan. Logan (of course) had already finished his homework and was leafing through what appeared to be a psychology book with notes all over the margins and Virgil watched as he reached over and highlighted a certain section.

God, he was adorable.

Logan glanced over at him again and again, both boys looked away instantly. Cursing himself, Virgil made a quiet vow that he wouldn’t look at Logan for the rest of the period- a vow that he broke not even a full minute later.

Math was a very stressful period.

Somehow, Virgil managed to finish all homework problems just as the bell rang and he shoved the papers into his bag before practically running out of the room.

He didn’t notice the wide pair of brown eyes that followed him out the door.

The skatepark was a little busier than normal- meaning that every piece of equipment was currently in use- but that simply gave Virgil the time to practice the early grab finger flip, a trick that continued to elude him like the annoying thing it was.

Rolling rolling… now jump and snatch! Flip and land it!

Virgil grinned as he put his foot down and came to a stop. That was the fourth time in a row he had gotten the trick down, and while it wasn’t nearly close to perfection, he was very happy with it.

He was about to do a 180 hippie jump over the rail when out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted a young African-American boy crouched over a book. His right hand held a pencil that he was diligently using to underline an area in the gigantic book he held and he followed that by a little scribble of notes off to the side

Virgil would’ve recognized that face anywhere.

Logan?

No no no no no no no noooo…

What is he doing here?

I want to talk to him.

No. Talking is bad. We don’t do that here.

Just go up and say “Hi. It’s Virgil from math class.”

ABSOLUTELY NOT.

Okay, what about an excuse? “Hi, it’s Virgil from math class. Sorry to bother you, but I’m struggling with question 3 on the homework-”

NO. That’s weird. And creepy.

Okay, what if we just wave to him. Waving is normal.

No, it's not.

Well, it's also weird if you don’t acknowledge him.

Shut uppppp.

Virgil swallowed. He shook his head wildly before facing the rail again and riding right for it.

As soon as the rail got close enough, Virgil jumped up and off of his board, and spun his body 180 degrees so rather than facing the beautiful boy on the bench, he looked over at the bowl. His landing was perfect, as expected of him.

He wondered if Logan was watching.

Virgil did another kickflip and then almost stopped to bash his head against the wall.

Riding was for him. For the adrenaline when soaring through the bowl, for the wind in his face, for the achievement when he finally mastered a new trick. Not for showing off to hot boys.

He wondered if Logan would be impressed by a flamingo.

Pull yourself together, Casey.

For the next couple of hours, Virgil did his best to forget about the boy taking notes in his book and concentrated on enjoying himself. He managed to get a number of different turns in the bowl, where he could enjoy doing a couple of bonelesses- a trick where he grabs the board, flips it up in front of him, and jumps off of his front foot, then turns the board and aims his front foot so it lands on the board. He got a couple of cheers each time he did one of those.

Later that night, when most people had cleared out, Logan and Virgil remained. Logan still hadn’t looked up from that stupid book, but Virgil had once watched Logan forget to go to lunch because he was engulfed in reading, so that wasn’t very surprising.

Virgil was back to working on his early grab finger flip when Logan’s black glasses slid down his nose. In one movement, Logan shoved his glasses back up, made a note in his book, and stuck the end of his pencil into his mouth.

Virgil tripped over the tail of his board and sent it riding solo, straight into Logan’s foot.

Logan glanced down at it

This was it. This was the end. Virgil was going to die, right here, and Logan would forever remember him as the terrible skateboarder who sent boards flying into people’s feet like a complete newb.

For some obnoxious reason, however, Virgil kept breathing and his heart kept beating- admittedly at a mile a minute. His hands became clammy as Logan looked over at him, back down at the board, and said;

“Do I… do I kick it back to you? I don’t want to break it.”

Holy shit, they were talking.

It took a few seconds for Virgil to realize Logan needed an answer and that they had in fact, been standing in silence for the past 30 seconds.

“Oh! Yeah! Sure!” Virgil debated slapping himself in the face. “It’s durable, trust me. I’ve wiped out on it loads of times.”

At this point, Virgil was pretty sure his face was brighter than the sun and he was more than ready to find a ditch to curl up and die in.

Logan put his foot on the tail of the nose of the board and before Virgil would warn him that it was too far to the left, Logan pushed and the board took off.

It rode straight for Virgil for about three seconds before promptly turning and heading off on its own adventure to the right.

Logan's entire face went a warm brown and he instantly leaped to his feet and went to grab the board. Virgil didn’t really notice and the two of them made it there at the same time, barely a couple of feet apart.

Virgil kicked his board up so the tail landed in his hand.

“I um- Sorry,” Logan said. “I mean to push it towards you.”

Virgil waved a hand to say “no problem” mostly because his tongue had stopped working in his mouth and he was pretty sure if he said it aloud it would be a garble of complete gibberish. He tried to come up with something to say- something to get this beautiful, beautiful boy to keep talking to him- but nothing was coming to mind and he was going to miss the one opportunity he had and then he would die alone and sad-

“You’re skateboard tricks are cool.” Logan scratched the back of his neck and Virgil’s heart stuttered to a halt. “I saw a couple of them while I was working. You’re very impressive.”

It was all Virgil could do not to squeal.

“Thank you.” Somehow, he found it within himself to keep his voice steady.

He still needed to say something else.

What else could he say?

Ummmm…

“I could teach you if you want.”

What?! NO!

It’s fine, it’s fine. He’ll just say no thanks and then I can go spend the rest of my life cringing at this moment.

“If you really wouldn’t mind, I do think I would enjoy acquiring a new skill.” Logan looked up and met Virgil’s eyes. “It sounds… fun.”

What?

Virgil blinked.

Logan. The most beautiful person on the planet. Wanted to hang out. With him?

Him?!

The sun might as well have just set in the east. Virgil closed and opened his mouth several times before he finally figured out that using his vocal cords was helpful in human communication and said;

“Y-yeah. Sure.” Virgil licked his lips. “I can go over the really basic stuff now if you want.”

“Satisfactory.”

“Right. Okay. Then um…” Virgil dropped his board onto the floor in front of them and took a couple of steps back. “So there are two basic stances. There’s regular, where you have your left foot in the front, and then right back, and goofy, which is opposite. You’re- Are you right-handed?”

Logan nodded.

“Okay. Then I’d go regular. That’s usually most comfortable for right-handed people.”

Logan nodded again and before Virgil could give any more instructions stepped onto the board. Almost instantly, the board titled forward and Logan went stumbling off it, right into Virgil.

Virgil caught his shoulders with both hands. “Right. So don’t do that.”

A half-smile appeared on Logan’s face and Virgil’s heart did a somersault. He managed to keep his breathing steady and let go of Logan in turn by reaching for the board and pulling it back over to them.

“So instead of… whatever you just did, you’re going to put your left foot near the nose- or um, the front of the board- a little after the bolt. And then your right foot should be shoulder-width apart at a slight angle. On the tail.”

Logan stepped up again, this time more cautiously. He glanced over at Virgil, who smiled encouragingly, and then slowly placed his feet precisely where Virgil had told him.

A more real, fond smile appeared on Virgil’s face. This guy and following directions…

“Right. Now bend your knees a little for better balance just use your right foot to shove you forward.”

Logan did both at once. The board rolled- a lot slower than Virgil could remember ever going and he stopped after a few feet, but when Logan looked back his entire face had lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning.

Virgil couldn’t help but smile back.

Skateboard lessons became a daily thing. Every day, after school Virgil and Logan would go to the skatepark (separately) and Virgil would spend the first two hours dicking around and doing tricks while Logan would read some random stupidly heavy nonfiction book. Once people had cleared out, Virgil and Logan would begin their “lesson” which started off as simple instructions but quickly devolved into actually talking.

The first time the talking happened, Virgil had been questioning Logan about being home on time.

“It’s getting dark.” Virgil glanced at the sun falling behind them and then back at Logan, who was trying (and failing) to do an ollie (a very fundamental skateboard jump). “Do you need to worry about going home?”

Logan jumped up and the skateboard hit the floor with an ugly crash. “I like being out of the house.”

“You need to make sure you’re comfortable popping the board up,” Virgil advised. He paused. “Your parents won’t mind?”

Logan shrugged. “My parents died when I was a baby and I currently reside in a house with eight other foster kids. They’ll barely notice.” He placed both feet on the board and leaned down, so the nose of the board was up in the air and his back foot firmly planted the tail on the ground. “I’ve got the popping down. I can’t do the jumping part.”

Virgil hadn’t been quite sure what to say. In the end, they had just carried on with the lesson.

The next time it happened, Logan had mentioned how the term “ssri” kept showing up in his newest psychology book and he wasn’t quite sure what it meant.

“I mean, I’m aware it's a type of medication,” Logan informed him as he tried (and failed) to perform the ollie again. “But it seems to be a category and I don’t know for what.”

“Oh its selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors,” Virgil said calmly. “I take Celexa, so I’ve had that term thrown in my face a lot.”

Logan blinked at him. “Celexa is prescribed for depression.”

Virgil met his eyes, licked his lips, and then sheepishly looked down at the floor. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“I um…” Logan shoved his glasses up his nose. “I think you’re very strong. I don’t know what it's like, but simply reading about it suggests that you’re incredibly strong. And if…” his voice trailed off. “If you ever want to talk to anyone, I’m open.”

Virgil had never appreciated anyone more than he appreciated Logan at that moment.

Skateboarding after that became more limited. Not because either one was no longer interested- but because conversation would take up quite quickly and figuring out how to ollie suddenly wasn’t the priority.

“You read all of Twilight!?” Virgil gaped at him from his spot beside Logan on the bench. “How!? You’re Mr. Read Long Boring Nonfiction books!”

“I read fiction too!” Logan was half-smiling again. “But, I didn’t read Twilight to enjoy the story so much as to critique it. It’s the same reason I read the 50 Shades of Grey series and watched The Kissing Booth.”

Virgil stared at him open-mouthed.

“I have a notebook- well, a series of notebooks really- dedicated to ripping apart literature. I’ll react to each chapter or each arc of the movie and put downtimes and chapter so I can go back to it, and then write what went wrong plotwise, characterwise, setting-wise, etc.” Logan’s smile turned into a full one at the look on Virgil’s face. “It’s really quite enjoyable.”

“Do you have them on good works as well?”

“Certainly! I have an entire notebook simply on where Harry Potter went wrong. Admittedly, I made it after J.K. came as a TERF in a bit of a rage but it is quite detailed.”

“I’ll need to read that,” Virgil said sincerely. “I’m pissed at her as well.”

Logan shoved his glasses up his nose and wiped his hands on his pants. “Yeah?”

“Oh yes. Look- here.” Virgil got up to his feet and offered Logan a hand. When Logan grasped it, butterflies exploded in his stomach and those butterflies flew all the faster when Logan didn’t drop his hand after.

Virgil swallowed and used the connection to pull Logan toward the two quarter ramps facing one another. There on the side in big red and gold bubble letters were the words “Fuck JK Rowling.”

“I wasn’t very imaginative,” Virgil admitted. “I was just kind of… mad and I figured this would make me feel better.”

“Did it?”

“A little.” He paused. “Not really.”

Logan’s shoulders had turned in on itself. It was the very first time Virgil had seen Logan without perfect posture and it didn’t sit right with him.

“Did ripping it apart in your notebook help you?”

“No.” Logan looked at the floor. “Why were you mad at JK?”

“Because she doesn’t support Trans people?”

“Do you?” Logan's voice was small and suddenly Virgil understood exactly why he had been acting off.

“Yes. Virgil looked at his friend until Logan met his eyes. “Yes. I do.”

Logan bit his bottom lip. “So if I told you that I was trans…”

“I’d thank you for trusting me and promise not to tell anyone without your permission. And then nothing would change.”

The responding smile was brighter than anything Logan had ever given him in the past.

There were lighter conversations as well. Somehow, Logan dragged it out of Virgil that he liked spiders and stuffed animals, and the next week, Logan had sheepishly given him a stuffed spider “in payment for the lessons.” Virgil had told him it was unnecessary, but Logan said if he liked it it was his and that was that.

“I mean, Marvel movies are better, obviously-”

“Obviously,” Logan agreed.

“But DC comics are pretty good.”

“As long as you don’t count Superman, I’ll agree with you.”

Virgil gave his friend an amused look. “What’s wrong with Superman?”

“He’s-” Logan grimaced. “Everything about him is just so… flames. On the side of my face. See-Seething fire.”

“You’re going to have to elaborate.”

“He has no flaws. He can fly faster than a bullet, he has superhuman strength, x-ray vision, lasers come out of his eyes, he can heal very quickly, he has superhuman breath, superhuman stamina, he’s invulnerable and he has superhuman vision! And these are merely the ones I can recall off the top of my head!” Logan's hands flapped around him and each word was aggressively punctuated.

A coy smile appeared on Virgil’s face. He loved watching Logan get passionate about something. It was fairly easy to set him off and once you did, it was a bit like watching an interesting nature documentary.

“If he had moral struggles he might be somewhat compelling, but he doesn’t even have that. It’s all truth, justice, and the American way.” His tone had adopted a somewhat mocking edge to it, especially as he said “the American way.” “He’s a horrible character.”

“What about Kryptonite?”

Virgil admittedly had only said that to see Logan’s head explode and explode it did.

“Kryptonite is the most bullshit thing in the entirety of literature and I’m including sparkling vampires.”

Virgil burst out laughing. For a moment, Logan simply blinked at him, face going a very warm brown before a large smile broke out over his face and he joined in.

“I did it!”

Virgil had been taking a drink from the sprite they had grabbed earlier and it took a moment for him to realize exactly what Logan was talking about. He smiled.

“An ollie?”

“Yes!” Logan’s excitement was contagious enough that Virgil felt his heart rate pick up- although that might’ve been because of the adorable grin on the boy's face. “Hold on.”

He went to do it again and ended up tripping over himself. The grin faded into a pout. “I had gotten this,” Logan muttered. “Hold on.”

He placed his back foot in the middle of the tail and his front foot in the middle of the deck, slightly closer to the top bolts. In the same movement, Logan snapped the tail on the ground so the board was going up at an incline and jumped. Virgil watched with no small amount of pride as Logan rolled his foot up to the nose of the board, forcing it back to the ground, and landed perfectly so each foot covered the bolts.

“There!” That adorable smile re-lit up his face and it grew all the more when Logan saw Virgil nodding. “I got it!”

“Well done!” Virgil beamed back at him. “Having taught you, I take 50% of the credit.”

Logan nodded (which had not been the reaction Virgil had expected) and jumped off of the board. Before Virgil could really react, black arms looped around Virgil’s head, and Logan crushed Virgil into the tightest hug Virgil had ever experienced.

Virgil froze. Slowly, he reached his arms around and reciprocated it, even if all he could think about was how close Logan was at the moment, how he could feel his breath on his neck, the bones of his back, and the plastic of his binder.

He wondered if he wasn’t hugging Logan close enough. Or maybe too close. Or maybe-

It’s a hug. Calm down.

But what if he was hugging wrong?

Then Logan pulled back, and it was far too soon and all Virgil wanted to do was pull him back into his arms, and god he looked adorable smiling at him, still elated from being able to get that trick down and-

“Can I kiss you?”

Virgil hadn’t even realized the words had come out of his mouth until Logan’s smile fell slightly.

Fuck, fuck fuck-

The smile came back full force.

“Yes,” Logan said simply.

Virgil leaned forward and their lips met and it was like fireworks had burst between them. Every part of Virgil’s body tingled and he wasn’t thinking about whether he was doing it wrong but the feel of Logan’s mouth against his and how silky Logan’s hair was to the touch.

They broke apart and Virgil just stared at him, stared at this beautiful, beautiful boy, and was suddenly really glad for the moment months ago when he had failed to land an early grab finger flip and sent the board rolling into the boy on the bench.

#analogical #analogicalweek #virgil-x-logan #virgil sanders #logan sanders #transphobia tw #skateboard

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f00pyf00p · 4 years ago

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Day 4: Alternate Universe

Virgil wasn’t cut out to be a prince. The playing nice with dignitaries, the speeches, the political maneuvering, the entertaining of rich suitors, none of it suited him. His dad was great at the politicking, his pa great with PR, his uncle with the drama and war, and his brother was a natural with people, so he had no idea why he was so bad at this. He was supposed to be meeting some powerful family’s brightest son today, and he still hadn’t cracked open the file on the guy. His mind on the impending disaster of a first meeting, Virgil spent the morning distracted and anxious.

“…and so your Pa and I are getting a divorce, I’m going to try breeding a sheep and a horse, we’re going to war with your uncle, and you’re expected to perform an opera at the next council meeting.”

“Sounds great, Dad.” The crown prince worried the hem of his shirt, clearly not having heard a word the king had just said.

Keep reading

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f00pyf00p · 4 years ago

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Between The Pages

Rating: General Relationships: Romantic Analogical Warnings: Class Differences, Bullying, Long-Distance Relationship Word count: 11098 Summary: The day he was born, with the very first flicker of life, a notebook nearly fell on Logan’s head. It would have smacked him full in the face had their Doctor and neighbor not been waiting for it, one hand balancing the baby and the other situated right above the new human’s nose, waiting. Other Notes: Analogical Week Day 4: AU @analogicalweek

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The day he was born, with the very first flicker of life, a notebook nearly fell on Logan’s head. It would have smacked him full in the face had their Doctor and neighbor not been waiting for it, one hand balancing the baby and the other situated right above the new human’s nose, waiting.

The notebook was spiral, as all notebooks were. It was white and the two cardboard covers held not a single page between them.

“His soulmate isn't born yet, then,” said their neighbor/doctor, Ryan Becker. She placed the lifeless notebook off to the side and shifted the baby so she was holding him with both hands. “Now, I’m just going to go and clean him up a little. Phil, can you help your wife while I’m gone?”

Logan’s father, Phillip Berry, nodded immediately. He grabbed some of the towels they had set up beforehand and the last thing Ryan saw before heading out of the room was the beginnings of a smile on the new mother’s face.

It took a long time for the family to get fully situated, but once they had, Ryan left their home with an exhausted wave and made her way back across the street where her soulmate waited. The kitchen and living room lights were off when she entered; he was probably upstairs with that old computer he had found, attempting to make the damned thing turn on when they both knew that the thing had been dead long before he picked it up.

Whatever. He could play with it all he wanted- right now, all Ryan could think of was a long hot shower.

On her way to the bathroom, she passed the one shelf in her home, where two spiral notebooks sat. They had not been touched in a very long time but Ryan wouldn’t have gotten rid of them even if she could.

Slowly, she reached out and pulled the yellow one off the shelf.

When she had been born, her notebook had also fallen white and empty. It had remained that way until (according to her parents) a year later on August 14th when it had suddenly filled with pages and the cover had turned a stunning bright yellow.

According to Marcus’s parents, his notebook had fallen a deep dark red, pages already filled. After all, she had already existed.

Ryan examined her notebook for a second longer before putting it back and heading towards her bathroom.

The new Casey boy came out of his mother into the doctor’s hand squirming and already screaming like his life depended on it. Doctor James Miller had to struggle to keep the baby situated as he held his hand above its little head, waiting.

A dark blue book full of pages landed right into his palm. Thomas Casey, the father of the boy, smiled at the sight of it.

“Just born and already has his soulmate! Look at that!”

Doctor Miller gave the man one of his practiced smiles and held the notebook out to him. Instantly, the dad began flipping through the pages, and James just managed to not roll his eyes before he turned away to properly clean the new baby.

There was no point in looking at the notebook. Even if there had been something in it, only two people could see what was in it: the baby he was holding and the baby’s soulmate.

Whatever. James was used to parents excitedly looking through their children’s notebooks. At this point, he shouldn’t have been surprised by it.

He came back with the baby nicely bundled in green blankets and gave another practiced smile as he passed the boy off to his mother. She smiled down at him and glanced back over at her husband.

“Have you chosen a name?” James asked kindly.

“Virgil,” Bella replied. She ran a hand over his little face. “Virgil Casey.”

James made a mental note for the birth certificate.

Miles and miles away, next to napping a month and half old baby boy, a dead white notebook with no pages in between began to fill. Plum purple bloomed across the cardboard cover and clean white pages shot into existence until it was full enough to use but not so heavy that a toddler couldn’t carry it. Logan Berry rolled over and one tiny hand landed flat on the now purple cover.

He carried on sleeping.

“HI! It iS me.”

Logan’s slightly shaking hand held his favorite pencil- a blue one covered in book titles. Logan had chosen it out of his love of books and even though couldn’t able to read very many yet, those he could get through he barely ever put down. Once he got good enough, Logan planned to read every book title on the pencil, even the ones his mom said were “really long.”

“HelO!” The reply came in red crayon and was nearly twice as large but much neater than Logan’s writing. Logan beamed at the very sight of it.

“WhaT is you dOing.” The red came again, slightly smaller this time. Logan traced the large “O” with his fingers before re-scooping up his pencil and pressing it to the page.

He paused.

“Re,” he sounded out, writing the letters as he did so. “Sss-” He scribbled an s after it. “Ess. Resess.” He smiled at himself for sounding out the words properly and waited for his notebook friend’s response.

“YOu hav resess in the morning?”

Logan blinked. “It iS not mor-” Logan paused and double-checked how his notebook partner had spelled it. “-ning. It iS going to be lanch tim.”

“NO. It is morning.”

Logan really wasn’t quite what to do. His partner was obviously wrong; at the moment, Logan sat outside in the grass outside next to a plastic play structure his schoolmates were screaming across. The sun beat down on them at a chilly 60°F, which he was currently combating with a sweatshirt and long pants. They had already gone over math (which Logan had enjoyed) and geography (which he had enjoyed less). After lunch, they would be able to do his favorite part of the day (reading!), they would do some writing, and then it would be time to go home.

“Mrs. Williams!” Logan pushed from the grass and took off for a run towards his kindergarten teacher. The notebook swung from his arms as he did so and Mrs. Williams turned to him with a sort of half-smile on her face.

“Yes, Logan?”

“Mrs. Williams, my notebook buddy is saying it's morning a lot, but it's not morning. Why is he saying that?”

Mrs. Williams licked her lips and glanced around the playground. “Follow me, sweetie, okay?”

Logan nodded eagerly. He opened his book to write, “1 min” and then trotted after Mrs. Williams. She had grabbed two random slightly deflated balls, one large rubber and supposedly bouncy, and the other a small green tennis ball.

“Okay, Logan. You like space, right?”

Logan nodded eagerly.

“The earth is round, okay.” At Logan’s nod, she held up the larger ball. “Can you pretend this is the earth for me?”

Logan stared at it for a second and then nodded again.

“Okay, that big ball is the earth. And this ball-” she held up the green one- “is the sun. When it's nighttime and you go to sleep, where is the sun?”

“It’s gone,” Logan informed her. “We don’t see it.”

“That's right! Good job! And when it's daytime where is the sun?”

Logan pointed at the sky. “There.”

Mrs. Williams nodded. “Can you hold the sun for me?” She passed him the green ball and positioned his hand up so it was next to the side of the earth. “Now I’m going to put my finger here.” She placed it on a random spot of the ball. “And you’re going to tell me if my finger is daytime or nighttime.”

Slowly, Mrs. Williams began to spin the ball. She stopped with her finger on the opposite side of the sun. “Day or night Logan?”

“I…”

“Can I see the sun?”

“No!” Logan grinned. “It’s nighttime!”

“Well done! You little genius! Now, if I keep spinning the earth…” Mrs. Williams spun it around so her finger faced the sun. “Daytime or nighttime?”

“Day!”

“Yes!” But what if I move my finger?” Mrs. Williams left the ball still and picked her finger up so it was on the back of the ball, away from the sun. “Am I nighttime or daytime?”

“Nighttime.”

“Good job, Logan. Now, what if…” Mrs. Williams shifted so that her thumb pressed into the area toward the sun and her other hand faced away. “What now?”

“Ummm… that one-” Logan reached out to touch her thumb- “is in the daytime and the other is in the nighttime.”

“Right. Now let’s give my fingers names. Let’s say my thumb’s name is Logan.”

“That’s my name.”

“You’re right it is. Let’s say my other finger’s name is notebook buddy.”

A lightbulb went off in Logan’s head. “He’s in a different sun area!”

Mrs. Williams looked very pleased. “That’s right Logan. So it's lunchtime for you, but morning for him.”

Logan grinned before taking off at a run back for his grassy spot to explain everything to his soulmate.

“I want to SAY my nam.”

Virgil glanced down at his blue notebook and shook his head at his soulmate. After a click glance to make sure his teacher wasn’t looking (he was supposed to be doing his math practice) he wrote back: “It WOnt wORK.”

“But I want it to.”

“It WOn’t.”

“I’m gonna try.”

Despite his adamant belief that it would fail, Virgil still bent over his paper excitedly. Maybe…

“--------”

Nope.

“See. Nams dON’T wORk.”

“Virgil!” Virgil jumped and shoved his notebook away. “How’s your math going, kiddo?”

Mr. Ravin stood in front of him. He glanced over at the open notebook and the blank math sheet and pursed his lips.

“You need to learn math right now, okay Virgil? You can write your soulmate during playtime.”

Virgil crossed his arms over his chest. “But I want to now! He’ll go away during playtime!”

“Why not?”

“He’s in a different sun area!”

Mr. Ravin blinked. He glanced over at the notebook, back at Virgil, and at the notebook again, trying to figure out exactly what Virgil was telling him.

Suddenly, his expression brightened.

“He’s in a different time zone?”

Virgil didn’t really know what a time zone was but he nodded anyway.

“Okay. I’ll give you five minutes with your soulmate.” Mr. Ravin held up his hand and Virgil mirrored the motion. “But then you have to do the math, okay?”

“Okay!”

Virgil grasped his note with two little hands and pulled it back to him. He re-grabbed the pencil he had been using and looked over what his soulmate had written while Mr. Ravin held his attention.

“I am --- yeers. I like bookS. I live in -------.”

“It is not showing,” Virgil wrote. “i like books two.”

His soulmate went quiet.

It was annoying, Virgil thought to himself. Sometimes, it got difficult to talk about his soulmate when he wasn’t able to give his soulmate a name. And his soulmate was his best friend! He needed to be able to talk to his best friend.

“We could do fak nams,” Virgil wrote. “That waay, we hav nams but not reel nams.”

“Like sooperheros!” The exclamation mark brought a smile onto Virgil’s face and he nearly clapped his hands excitedly but he didn’t want to bring attention to himself. “What is yor nam?”

Virgil paused before putting his pencil to the paper. His fake name had to be perfect. It was going to be what his best friend called him forever and forever meant a really really long time. It needed to be about him and it needed to make sense.

“Purple,” Virgil wrote. “I like purple. My nam is Purple.”

“OK.” His partners' smaller and nearly illegible handwriting appeared beneath his own. “My nam is Logic. A sooperhero I like in my book is Logic so I’m going to be Logic to.”

“Okay Lo-” Virgil doubled-check how it was spelled. “-gic. Want tO play tic-tac-tOE?”

Virgil had only just managed to write the sentences when Mr. Ravin walked back over and leaned over him. “Alright, Virgil,” he said kindly. “Time for math now.”

“Five more minutes?” Virgil glanced down at the paper, where his Logic had drawn a tic-tac-toe board and placed a circle in the middle of it. He held his notebook out for Mr. Ravin to see. “Look, we just want to finish the game!”

Mr. Ravin gently pushed the notebook back onto Virgil’s kindergartner-sized desk. “I can’t see what’s on the pages, kiddo,” he said gently. “Only you and your soulmate can.”

“Logic,” Virgil interrupted.

Mr. Ravin blinked. “What do you mean?”

“His name is Logic.”

“We’re learning about frogs in my school.” Virgil’s legs swung back and forth underneath him, moving the swing he sat on ever so slightly, as he read what Logic had just sent to him in handwriting that practically grew messier every day. “We’ve been put into a lot of groups and now we have to find facts about a kind of frog.”

“Cool.” Virgil paused before writing; “What’s your frog?”

“I got a really boring one. I already knew everything about it so I didn’t have to do any research at all.”

Virgil rolled his eyes and a smile splayed on his 8-year-old face. Only Logic would be upset by a lack of work in his class. And he added cheerfully to himself, only Logic would have already known enough about a frog to not have to do any homework.

“What was it?”

“It’s a glass frog. They’re green.”

“Aren’t all frogs green?” Stupid question.

“No, a lot of frogs are all different colors. Poison dart frogs, for example, are really colorful.”

The smile grew. Logic was the only person Virgil knew to not care how dumb or how often somebody asked a question. He was always there, always with an answer, always ready to help.

“What frog did you want to do?”

Logic handwriting was a lot faster than normal: still legible but it was loopier and the letters connected more.

“The Macaya Breast-spot Frog! They’re endangered, and orange and they’re so much cooler than the stupid glass frog.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know about them! Obviously!”

Virgil flipped off the swing, bored of the repeated motion, and sat criss-cross underneath it, letting his notebook fall onto his lap. His pencil hit it the moment he was situated.

“At my school,” he wrote in large gray letters, “we’re going over frogs too, but they’re giving everyone a tadpole to look after.”

“That’s so cool! What kind of frog!?”

Ummm…

“Black frog?”

“That’s not a kind of frog.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it is” Logic crossed out what he had written in one smooth motion. “No it is You know it's not a real frog.”

Virgil grinned. “Yeah.”

“You are the worst best friend I have.”

Virgil blinked. “But I’m your only best friend.” He didn’t add the “right?” that hastened his breath and made his hands tremble ever so slightly.

“Obviously.”

The trembling vanished, replaced with the smile for before. “You’re being meannnnnnn.”

“The extra “nnns” are dumb.”

“You’re dumb.”

“I am not!”

“Your mum.”

“You” Logic crossed out his word again. “You You’re the one being mean. Meanie.”

Virgil drew a smiley face underneath his sentence. His own grin grew when in response, Logic crossed it out and drew a sad face next to it.

He was about to say something- about what, Virgil wasn’t quite sure- when a loud female voice broke through the little spell he had with Logic.

“Recess is over,” he wrote glumly. “I’ll write you later.”

“Oh.” Even in writing, the word sounded sad. “I forgot you were still in school.”

“Yeah.”

“Bye Purple.”

“Bye L.”

Logan was supposed to be asleep. His parents had put him to bed at 8:00, and his alarm clock currently read 11:12, but it wasn’t his fault this book was so interesting! Stopping now would be a sin against… Logan paused. Were there any book gods? He’d have to look it up…

The yawn that came out of him practically shook his whole body and at the end of it, Logan sternly told himself that he had about 100 more pages to go, and he had to hold out that long. Last time, he had fallen asleep on the book.

That had been annoying.

A bang in the kitchen had Logan’s head flying up. Probably just his mom looking for water, or his dad getting a late-night snack. He went to turn back to his book when his eyes snagged on the open notebook on his bedroom floor.

And more importantly, at the letters appearing across it.

Suddenly very much awake, Logan carefully bookmarked his page, pushed from his covers, and scooped the book up to get a look at whatever Purple was sending him.

“My parents are making me go to sleep at 7:30 but I’m not tireddddd. I want to do something! So I decided to draw you a picture because you’re asleep so I can let you see in the morning when it’s good and not bad.”

What followed were several drawings, all of which had been scribbled out with such ferocity it was a wonder Logan’s page hadn’t been ripped as well. Either way, there was nothing left of what remained under the scribble.

There was a loss that came with that.

“They were all terrible, you wouldn’t have liked them,” Purple had written. “I’ve decided I’m not leaving a drawing for you. Goodnight.”

Then, underneath that.

“I can’t fall asleep.”

And under that-

“We’re never going to find each other.”

Logan’s breath hitched.

“We can’t tell each other anything! Look! My name is --------. I am ---- years old. I live in --------. I am he/him. Well, the last one worked but you know what I mean! We could pass each other and we’d never know it! I’ll never see you. I’ll never play games with you. I want to play Percy Jackson with you.”

A strong yearning entered Logan’s heart and he traced the letters on the page.

“I could be Percy. You can be like, a male version of Annabeth. And then we fight monsters!”

Logan’s fingers twitched.

“But no! Because you live super far away and I’ll never get to see you ever. I can’t even draw my face for you!”

What followed was a black square, different from the scribbles from earlier. It was too precise, too dark to have been done by Purple.

“How will I ever-” Logan had finally caught up to where Purple was now- “find you?”

He paused for a moment. There had to be a way, some kind of signal, or something they could wear-

Wait.

“What if-” In the middle of his writing a sentence, a much shorter one appeared underneath it.

“You’re here!?”

Logan paused in his sentence to write a tiny “yes” before jumping back up to finish his old one.

“What if you drew a sign for us to put on our clothes? That way we can see each other wearing it and know it's us?”

“What?”

“Just draw a pin for us to wear.”

There was a pause, probably as Purple thought it over, then, in big neat letters, “Why are you so much smarter than me?”

“You’re really smart,” Logan protested.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Yes and.”

“You can’t “and” me.”

That sparked a quiet shining in Logan’s eyes. “Yes, and I think you should draw the symbols.”

“You’re not clever.” There was a short pause. “I can’t draw them while you watch. It makes me nervous.”

Logan understood that. He didn’t like people reading over his shoulder. It was probably the same thing.

“Okay.” He wrote. ��I’ll go back to my book.”

“What time is it there?”

The minute changed as Logan looked. “11:31.”

“GO.” The word filled a third of what was left on the page. “TO. SLEEP.”

“It’s only like 100 pages.”

“SLEEP!”

“Fine!” Logan frowned at the page. “You need to sleep too then.”

“It’s only 8:31 here.”

His frown deepened.

“Good night, Logic.”

A heavy heavy sigh came out of Logan. He glanced towards his bookmarked book and silently promised that it would be finished before lunch tomorrow.

“Good night, Purple.” His pencil hovered over the page. “I’ll see our symbols in the morning.”

The notebook cover shut and Logan slid back into his bed. He had only closed his eyes for 30 seconds before the eight-year-old was fully asleep.

The next morning, Logan awoke and dashed to his notebook. He opened it, heart fluttering in his throat, and smiled at the symbols Purple had chosen for them.

A purple stormcloud and a little white brain with black glasses. The stormcloud was marked “PURPLE” in shiny and the brain was marked “LOGIC.”

Logan immediately went to find a piece of paper, a window, and a safety pin so he could copy Purple’s work line for line and display it on his chest.

Logan had been wearing a piece of paper pinned to his shirt for four years. The paper had switched out; the first one he had dutifully copied back when he was only in 3rd grade had taken less than a month to fall apart. However, the design of it remained the same. Every time a new piece of paper tore, got wet, streaked, whatever, Logan flipped back to the page Purple had first drawn his symbol, pressed it up against a window, and copied it line for line again.

Despite the symbol, they still hadn’t found each other.

“My mom’s being a bitch.” Purple’s handwriting was still larger than Logan’s own, but smooth and precise. He was the kind of person you would have write everything down during group projects so it looked pretty when you presented. “I’m trying to go to see a movie with Puppy but noooooo, I have a C in fucking math so she grounded me.”

Logan smiled at the letters, even as his heart ached. Purple had written to him about Puppy countless times before; he had been described as a bubbly older brother figure, thus, why he had been given that nickname. Someone who loved gardening and still slept with a nightlight. The two of them were close, though Purple promised Logan was still his best friend.

Logan wished more than anything to be able to go see movies with Purple. Touching him, even seeing him would be a blessing.

He didn’t know it was possible to miss someone you had never truly met as much as he missed Purple.

“I could help you with math,” he wrote back. His handwriting was legible- and that was about the best thing he could say about it. “I study it in my free time so I’m sure I know something about what you’re going over.”

“You’re such a nerd,” came the fond reply. There was a beat of silence, which Logan used to check the clock sitting upon his desk.

3:32 pm. That meant it was around 12:32 where Purple was. They still had plenty of time before he would be back in class.

“I could use your help with math though.” Purple’s letters came fluidly after his last sentence. “Not right now. This is school break time.” Logan smiled wryly at that. “Are you busy at 4:00? Oh um, 7:00 for you.”

Technically no. His school had gotten a donation of recorders and he was supposed to be practicing it every night and Logan had already put it off four nights in a row.

But he could do that later.

“I’m free,” Logan replied. “We can do it then.”

“Great. I don’t understand these word problems we’re supposed to be doing and Puppy is really excited about this Rom-Com.” There was a pause. “I am not, but I’m not going to disappoint Puppy by not being allowed to go.”

“I don’t think I quite get Rom-Coms,” Logan wrote. He paused to shake his hand and then instantly put the pencil back to paper. “They’re incredibly unrealistic, remarkably cringy, and oftentimes the main pairing doesn’t even make sense together.”

“Lol.”

Logan wondered for a brief moment what exactly Purple’s laugh sounded like. At the moment, he imagined it was deep, with a sort of snarky edge to it, but he had imagined it all sorts of different ways throughout the years. None of them had ever sounded quite right.

“I don’t like them much either. Straight propaganda.”

He couldn’t help but snort at that. Both he and Purple had learned they were gay a little while back when he had brought up how often the pair of them discuss hot male celebrities.

“I’m sure that’s normal,” Purple had written. “Right?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

And then later.

“I asked my Dad. It’s not normal.”

“Oh.” Logan hadn’t been sure how to respond to that. His blood had just been thrumming with the very idea of trusting anyone about something like that. “So… does that mean we’re gay?”

“Do you like girls? Like, in that way”

“No.”

“Then yea, probably.”

Logan still hadn’t told anyone about his and Purple’s discovery. He couldn’t imagine anyone taking it well in his town. It still shocked him sometimes that in Purple’s neighborhood, you could be out without facing rather disastrous consequences.

“I’m sure Rom-Coms aren’t trying to turn you straight.”

“That’s what they want you to think. Don’t fall for it Logic. Their smiles are nothing but lies.”

Logan snorted quietly, a sound he only ever made when talking- well, writing technically- with his soulmate. “If they’re going to try and brainwash me like that, they might consider actually making a good movie.”

“Damn, L. Out here bringing the heat.”

His eyebrows knit together. “I don’t think you can feel warmth through the notebook.”

“No… Logic, it’s not literal. It’s a saying.”

“Oh.” Heat burned in his cheeks. “Of course.” He licked his lips. “And, let’s just say, hypothetically, if someone still didn’t understand what you were trying to say-”

Purple’s answer appeared beneath him before he had fully finished. “You’re doing a good job insulting boring Rom-Coms.”

“Yes. Of course. Naturally.” Logan brushed a hand through his hair. “They aren’t interesting.”

Purple made a little checkmark next to his statement.

“Oh!” Purple’s writing came hastily under Logan’s last sentence. “I almost forgot to tell you! I read that book you like.”

“Really? Did you like it?”

“Why on earth didn’t you tell me how sad it was!?”

“Because you said you would kill me if I spoiled anything?”

“Not an excuse!”

Logan smiled at the declaration. Between Shades of Grey had been such a good historical fiction book that he had just had to share it with someone- and since all his at-home friends didn’t like historical fiction as much as he did, Purple had been an obvious choice.

“I didn’t know Stalin had camps!”

“Yeah.” Logan’s stomach twisted at the thought. “It’s horrible.”

“I wish humanity didn’t suck so much. Sometimes, I think a nuclear war would be good just to get rid of everyone here.”

Logan shook his head. “I wouldn’t want it to get rid of you.”

Purple didn’t reply for a good minute. When he finally did answer, the letters made Logan’s heart flutter rather pathetically.

“I suppose I wouldn’t want you to get hurt either.” __

Virgil couldn’t hide the smile off his face, the skipping in his heart, nor the glow coming off of him in unnatural and rare waves. All of his joy came from the Christmas present his parents had just given him; a necklace, a bracelet, a pin, and a ring, all bearing the exact same mark- namely a purple stormcloud that he had first drawn back in 3rd grade.

It was 9 am in California, which meant it would be noon wherever Logic was living, but Logic had told him that family obligations would keep him from being around his notebook for longer than a few minutes at a time today.

Right now though, that served in Virgil’s favor. He hated it when people watched him draw- even when it was someone he trusted as much as Logic.

“Hey, Logic.” Virgil started a new page, leaving about a third empty under the last one. For a moment, he wondered whether that was the right thing to do- but it's not like they would ever run out of pages. The notebook just kept growing, despite not increasing in weight. “I got big news!”

He glanced over at the last thing Logic had written- Make sure you sleep well too, Purple- and his reply- Yeah yeah yeah. Good night, Logic!”

He wondered how long it would be until he could say good night to his soulmate in person.

“I know you told me that you wouldn’t be able to get to the notebook today.” Virgil paused and bit his lip. “I hope I’m not bothering you by writing now but-” He crossed the word out in one elegant line, followed by repeated scribbling until not even the essence of the letter was visible. “Sorry if I am.”

Logic probably wouldn’t be upset. Probably.

Virgil pushed down the wave of panic that told him Logic would see that he had written and never open the notebook again. Maybe he shouldn’t-

No. Things would be fine. He was being stupid.

“My parents got me jewelry with my stormcloud on it!” Virgil's initial happiness came rushing back, though slightly dulled. “I’ve got a bracelet, a pin, a necklace, a ring- here, I’ll show you.”

Virgil brought his pencil to the page. He studied the bracelet given to him- the smooth shining silver metal and the small but noticeable purple cloud that hung from it, followed by a jagged white lightning bolt.

Beside it, he drew the necklace, the small rings that made up a delicate metal chain, and the large pendant that hung from the bottom, identical to the one on his bracelet.

Then the pin, and finally the ring, which for some reason took him a lot longer than the other ones. At the end of it all, Virgil smiled at his designs and went for the lines underneath them.

“Now it’ll be even easier to find me. We won’t have to worry about paper ripping and losing it for a day or whatever else.”

He wanted to write the words “We’ll find each other” but found no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t quite make his pencil hit the page. It was a wish and a promise Virgil repeated to himself, one he wanted more than anything in the world, one he would do almost anything for, but one he couldn’t quite convince himself was true.

They both lived in America. That much was true. But according to time zones, Logic lived on the other side of the whole country. Even if Virgil traveled over there, he wouldn’t know which state, let alone which city-

Breath came too fast. He placed the notebook off to the side and suddenly the gifts that had been a solidifier of their symbols and ability to find each other were nothing more than a taunt.

Logic was out of his reach. Forever.

Virgil snatched the notebook up- to do what he wasn’t sure- and found a tiny barely readable letter had appeared under his note. He blinked at it.

Wasn’t Logic supposed to be busy today?

“Those look great!” Logic’s words eased some of the darkness numbing Virgil’s mind. He reached out with a single shaking hand and traced the letters. “You’re an amazing artist, Purple.”

Virgil swallowed.

“Thanks.”

They had to flip the page to keep communicating.

“Those will make it much easier to find you,” Logic wrote. Each letter cleared more of his panic and Virgil managed a tiny smile. “I can’t do the same though.”

Virgil blinked and all of that cleared panic came back full force.

Before he could properly hold his pencil, Logic had continued.

“I would like to, but I don’t think we have enough money to spare on one of those. I’ll keep wearing the paper, of course.” Logic’s letters paused but before Virgil had managed to clear his head long enough to even manage a sentence, it continued. “Yours look beautiful.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid-

“I didn’t mean for you to think you had to get any.” It was the messiest Virgil’s handwriting had been in a very long time. “I’ll spot you with the paper, I just thought-” What had he been thinking? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t really remember anything but the fact that he had somehow managed to make Logic upset-

“Purple.” Logic’s letters were crisper than normal: firm. “I think the idea of wearing jewelry is amazing. If it makes one of us easier to spot then we’re closer to being together. I can’t afford them, but that’s okay. Okay?”

Virgil took a breath.

“Okay.”

Logic was right. Like normal. Logic would have an easier time looking for a guy wearing a bunch of stormclouds rather than one white one drawn on his chest.

And he…

“I promise to be on the lookout for a piece of paper,” Virgil wrote. “You don’t need all the jewelry.”

It was to make things easier. But it wasn’t truly necessary.

Right?

Right.

“I’ve got to go. Our neighbor ------- is-” The writing paused. “I forgot other people’s names don’t work. Anyway, I have to go.”

“Okay.” Virgil took a long breath. “I’ll write to you soon.”

“Bye Purple. Oh, and don’t worry about writing to me when I say I won’t be able to come. I enjoy reading everything you say after.”

Virgil's heart missed a beat and that warm smile from before returned.

Logan had spent the entirety of Valentine’s day avoiding people handing out presents, chocolates, teddy bears, and whatever other atrocity they wanted to give their beloved. Not because he thought the holiday was stupid- although, he did actively think that- but because of the slight churning in his gut whenever he spotted a happy couple.

Along with that question. That stupid, horrible question that he had been asking himself for almost a year now.

His hand tightened around his notebook.

Would it hurt more to confess and be rejected, or confess and still be unable to see him?

Until he figured that out, Logan really didn’t think there was any point in confessing.

He turned down the hallway his class was in, ducked a ball of paper thrown at his head, and strode into the room. After double-checking that his desk and chair hadn’t been messed with, Logan took his seat, pulled out a binder held together with scotch tape and a lot of luck, and placed it on the creaky cracked desk in front of him.

Right. He had five minutes.

Logan did what he always did with extra time; he cracked open his purple notebook and glanced over the pages they had written in last.

His lips curved upwards.

Purple had added a few drawings since they last talked. Random sketches of tree leaves, a new ring he had been excited to buy, Noam and Dara from the heartbreaking series Feverwake Logan had made him read, and Gerald Way, one of Purple’s favorite artists.

Logan made little compliments underneath each of them- “Great job shading the leaf, it looks so real, the ring is gorgeous, etc- and was about to add something about scheduling a time to talk during the afternoon/night, when the book was snatched out of his hands.

Logan grimaced. He didn’t have to look up to know it was Jason that stood in front of him, a cocky grin on his face and Logan’s purple notebook open in his palms.

“Give it back.”

Jason’s stupid grin widened. Logan just rolled his eyes.

“We both know I could have it in a second. Just hand it over.”

“What were you writing?” Jason’s voice was sing-songy, taunting. He flipped through the pages- pages he could see nothing but lines on- before snapping the notebook closed and holding it above his head.

With a loud sigh, Logan snapped his fingers twice. It was a bit odd, the way he did so. Most people used their index finger or middle. He used his pinky.

By the time his fingers had hit his palm a second time, the notebook had completely dislodged itself from Jason’s hand and landed squarely into Logan’s outstretched left one.

Without saying anything to the idiot in front of him, Logan turned back to his notebook, opened it up to the right page, and scribbled down a time they could meet. It was during his shift at the grocery store, but late enough that not many people would be in so he could easily write with Purple.

“I need to talk to you,” Jason interrupted.

“No, I’m not doing your homework for you.”

“But-”

“No.”

“Okay, what about-”

“I’m not writing an essay for you either.”

There was a short silence, which Logan used to turn back to his notebook and add that Purple should feel no obligation to hang out especially if he…

Logan swallowed.

… had other Valentine’s Day plans.

“If you do it, I could hook you up with my friend Erica. She’s good-looking. Breasts are a bit small, but-”

It took all of his efforts not to groan aloud.

“Go away, Jason. And don’t talk about your friends like that.”

“Ah, she’s a girl. She doesn’t mind.”

“Have you asked her?”

Logan glanced up to see Jason rolling his eyes. He glanced towards the door.

Where the hell was Mr. Myers?

“Look man, I’m just struggling with this one essay. I just need you to-”

“I told you no, Jason.”

Jason’s face twisted into a scowl. “Stop being such a damn teacher’s pet. It’s one damn essay.”

“No.”

Logan wondered if it were too early for Purple to be up. It was 9:11 here, meaning it would only be 6:11 there…

Yeah. It was much too early. Purple woke up at 7:20 to get to school at 7:30. He had at least an hour before he would see this.

“But-”

“Jason.” Mr. Myers' voice boomed through the classroom and Logan snapped his soulmate’s notebook shut and pushed himself up straight. “Take your seat.”

Purple got back to him at lunchtime. Logan sat out in the deteriorating and slightly musty hallway, bread, and cheese sandwich sitting on a cardboard platter beside him and his notebook resting on his knees. It just so happened that his lunchtime (12:10-12:30) was at the beginning of Purple’s study hall (9:00-9:40), so it had become normal for the pair of them to talk until Logan had to head back to class.

They basically confirmed they would have that conversation later, which made Logan feel better for more reasons than one, before Purple asked Logan about his day, giving Logan a very easy outlet to bitch about the whole fiasco with Jason.

“Again!?” Purple handwriting was larger and darker than normal. “I’m going to kill him!”

“It’s really no trouble.” Honestly, Logan didn’t mind it occurring, especially since it gave him moments like this when Purple would get all angry on his behalf. There weren’t many people who did that. “Gollum-” the name they had given Jason so they could talk about him without stupid lines appearing- “won’t push it any farther.”

“The last time you said that about someone, they shoved you into a wall, broke your glasses, and stole your homework for themselves.”

Almost subconsciously, a hand came up to touch the black scotch-taped frames. The glass hadn’t been cracked in any way that impaired him, but he had been forced to pull an all-nighter to rewrite that essay differently so he wouldn’t get an F for cheating.

It had been remarkably stressful, especially since his head hadn’t stopped pounding for weeks after.

“Yeah. Gollum won’t do that though.”

“He better not. I’ll fucking kill him.”

Despite the threat of violence, Logan couldn’t help but smile. “You don’t even know his real name.”

“Doesn’t matter. I will track this prick down. Nobody hurts you.”

Logan pretended his heart had skipped a beat because of the piece of sandwich he had eaten and not due to the crisp and clear words that appeared across his page. He swallowed once, to clear his throat. And then again, to calm the butterflies in his heart. Plus a third time for luck, before putting his pencil to the page.

“I feel you’re being slightly dramatic. Gollum hasn’t even done anything yet.”

Purple drew two quick little bubble people underneath his sentence one of which was actively punching another. Underneath one, he drew a storm cloud, one that Logan had completely memorized. Under the other, he wrote the word “loser.”

Logan snorted and took another bite of his cheese sandwich. He glanced at his phone.

“I’ve got a minute.”

“Oh.” There was a pause. “Well, I’ll see you at 4:30.” Another pause. “I have something I want to tell you. Puppy says that I should do it today.”

Logan blinked. “Okay. If you don’t mind me asking, why today?”

A third pause.

“It fits with the theme, I guess.”

The theme.

Logan could barely hold his pencil he was trembling so hard. “Okay. Yeah, I’m happy to hear what you have to tell me.”

Please…

“Cool,” Purple wrote. “I’ll write with you then.”

Virgil was going to throw up.

Patton had told him “It’s Valentine’s Day! It’s romantic to confess your feelings today!” but Patton had also told him that chicken was a vegetable so Virgil honestly didn’t know why he was taking his advice.

He glanced down at his phone.

4:25.

Which meant he would have five minutes until he would be telling Logic how he felt.

And that was fine.

Fine.

Absolutely fine.

The worst thing that could happen would be Logic laughing, shutting the notebook, ripping off his brain piece of paper, and never talking to him again.

But that wouldn’t happen.

Right?

Urgggggg.

4:27.

How had two minutes passed without him even noticing!?

Virgil got to his feet, holding his notebook closed in his left hand while his right clung to the black pen he had found in the school hallway. He paced up and down his bedroom floor.

4:28.

What was he going to say?

Virgil wasn’t sure. He had flirted and kissed before, but they had all meant nothing, all been distractions from the real yearning for a boy he couldn’t meet.

And they had all been in. Fucking. Person. Virgil was good at the in-person shit. He knew how to place friendly touches, how to grab someone by the hand.

He did not know words.

He glanced back down at his phone.

4:32.

Shit!

Virgil hastily ripped his notebook open, flipped to the last page they had written on, and found Logic’s adorably messy writing already sprawled across it.

Great. Just great. Now they were starting this off late and terribly and Virgil really was going to throw up.

“Hi.” Logic had written in that green pen he always used when he was at his job. “It’s a little busier tonight than normal, so I might randomly disappear a couple of times, but it’s still light enough to talk.”

Virgil had barely finished reading them before he scribbled out in probably the messiest he had ever written since middle school; “That’s cool. Sorry, I’m late. I was-” nervous. Virgil scribbled out the I was. “I was I lost track of time.”

“It’s not an issue.” Logic’s response came instantly. “How was your day?”

Terrible. Virgil had barely been able to eat with the thought of being rejected plaguing him and focusing on school after his study block had been a complete no-go. Even drawing hadn’t come easy and drawing was his go-to way of centering himself.

“I wasn’t able to concentrate very well,” Virgil wrote. “And I think Mrs. Sullivan hates me now. She asked me a question and I didn’t know the answer so we just sat in silence for like a minute before she picked someone else.”

“What was the question?”

“How to find the area of a cylinder.”

“Do you-” A thick green line struck through the words. “Do you That sounds awful.”

Virgil’s lips curved up. “Were you going to ask me if I wanted the answer?”

“Yeah.” Even through paper, the response sounded sheepish. “However, I assumed that wasn’t the point of the story.”

Virgil leaped up onto his desk and placed his notebook on his lap. “Don’t worry, nerd. We went over it far too many times in class. I have that sequence of pain down flat.”

“Well. Good, I think.” There was a pause. “You had art class today right? Is your painting going well?”

Virgil’s painting was of a dark faceless nobody staring up at the storming sky around him. His teacher told him it was some of the best work they had ever seen, and Virgil had to admit, he was very proud of the dark yet somehow calming aura the painting gave off.

“I’ve about finished it.” Virgil flipped from the desk and landed on the balls of his feet. “If there was a way to send it to you, I would but… you know. Phone numbers don’t work.”

Logic took a full six minutes to get back to him. Somebody must’ve come up to his register.

By the time Logic’s scrawl did appear, Virgil was back to pacing along the length of his carpet. He had done it enough recently that a path mirrored the bottoms of his feet and the muscles of his thighs ached ever so slightly.

“I’ll see it when I meet you.” Logic sounded far more sure in that fact that Virgil was even on a good day. There was a pause. “Did-” Another pause. “-you say you have something to tell me?”

Virgil swallowed.

“Yeah.”

He swallowed again.

Had he been in person, he would’ve started by reaching out and covered Logic’s hand with his own. That, or flowers. Something simple and blue.

But Virgil had none of these assets on his side, so he had to work through the dumb brain of his and figure out exactly how he was going to say “I’m in love with you.”

“We’ve been friends for a very long time.”

“Yes.”

Logic’s quick response normally made him feel better. Right now, he wanted his nerd to shove a sock in it.

“And you’re very important to me.”

This time, Logic didn’t respond and somehow that was worse than the “yes” from earlier.

“But I don’t want to be friends anymore.”

The moment he had written it, Virgil nearly stabbed himself with the pen. Why on earth had he phrased it like that?

And it certainly didn’t help that Logic was still. Fucking. Silent.

God, he really was going to throw up.

“I mean, I do want to be friends.” Virgil sat down on the floor right in the middle of pacing. “But I don’t want to be friends.”

He stood back up and paced in a different direction than the latest path he had created in his rug.

This wasn’t working. He just had to say it.

“I’m in love with you.”

Still no reply.

Virgil swallowed around the golf ball in his throat and stared down at the words he had written. Twice, he almost reached up to cross them off, and both times he just managed to put his pen down.

Why wasn’t he responding?

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Virgil muttered to himself. “I’m sure…”

He flung the stupid notebook across the room. It hit his bedroom wall with an echoing crinkle before thumping to the floor.

He took a breath.

Another one.

Then walked open and re-picked up the notebook.

Where a green response was filling the area underneath.

“I admit, I’ve been harboring romantic feelings for you myself.” Virgil stopped breathing. “I don’t know if I could have convinced myself to confess so, thank you for doing so.”

The world, which had seemed so dark and angry before, was suddenly so vibrant and so full of color that it was impossible not to smile in. That golf ball in his throat faded and replaced itself with a light that forced Virgil to spin in a circle, arms flapping excitedly by his sides.

He froze halfway through his dance.

He should probably give Logic an answer.

“Really?” The word came out hurried. Still neat compared to Logics but nothing when it came to his usual writing. For some reason though, the messiness of it just didn’t seem to bother him.

“I would never tell you a falsehood, Purple.”

Urgggg, he was so smooth. And charming. And smart. And just… He was just perfect.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Virgil smiled down at the paper.

“Happy Valentine’s Day indeed.”

Logan graduated on June 2nd. His parents had managed to get a black graduation gown and when he walked up onto the run-down stage to get his diploma, the only thing he could think about was how much he wished Purple was here to share this moment with him.

His father had cried, but his father had always been a crier. The surprise had been when his mother had started crying; Logan had always pictured her as more stoic and firm than emotional.

But perhaps that’s what change did. It made messes out of us all.

Logan had accepted whatever his parents wanted from him throughout the day without complaint and managed to get a couple of hours to himself while they thought he was off hanging with friends. Now, at 1:23 am, Logan stared blankly down at his notebook.

He was exhausted. Admittedly, he had woken up aware he would be ending this day at the end of his rope, but there was always such a difference between knowing and feeling.

Purple’s neat script appeared on a blank page of his notebook like a hand reaching out to lift him from his drowning state.

“I know you’re asleep, but I just wanted to congratulate you. Already out of school. I still have five more days in this hellhole.”

It was so Purple check-in, insult school, and give Logan an out with a casual joke that actual tears bit behind Logan’s eyes. He blinked rapidly before placing the end of his pencil to paper and writing:

“You’ll be free of High School soon. Then we’ll be off to college.”

“Don’t remind me.”

A laugh choked its way out of Logan. “Are you still nervous?”

“I can’t imagine being anywhere but here. And there are so many things that could go wrong. Fucking taxes.” The writing paused. “Still, at least I’ll have you, right?”

“Always.”

“Anyway, shouldn’t you be sleeping? It’s-” a second paused, probably as Purple calculated whatever time it was there. “1:31?! Dude, go to sleep! You must be exhausted!”

“I am.” Logan reached up to run his hands over the blue pen Purple’s appeared to be writing in. “Today was very taxing.”

“You knew it would be. I don’t envy all that social interaction.”

“You’ll have to experience it in 8 days.”

“Bitch.”

That brought a bit of sparkle back to Logan’s eyes, but he still wasn’t smiling.

“How’d it go?”

How’d it go?

Logan had managed to stay polite the whole time. The plastered content look on his face had only ever dropped to pull a smile when his parents hugged him or pictures were necessary. He had shaken every hand that came his way, accepted every “congratulations” and every “well done.” He’d even managed to keep from grimacing at words like “if that the genius?”

“Everyone couldn’t seem to resist the urge to compliment me on getting in ------ on a free ride.” Shit. He had forgotten the stupid thing wouldn’t let them name colleges. “The college I got into.”

“I figured.” Purple’s words came quickly after. “It is very impressive.”

Purple’s compliment did what no other compliment had done all day; it brought a true smile onto Logan’s face and even managed to pull a bit of a blush.

“It must’ve been exhausting,” Purple wrote. “I probably would’ve had a breakdown.”

Honestly, yeah. You probably would’ve.

“I got a few hours to myself but it wasn’t enough to properly-” he pursed his lips and tried to figure out how to phrase everything- “-recuperate.”

“Then you should be sleeping.”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

Logan could practically hear the humor dripping from each word Purple wrote. “Fucking sap.”

“Yeah,” he wrote tiredly. “I guess so.” He stared silently down at the notebook. “I wish you were here.”

Purple didn’t respond and Logan shoved the book away. He was just so… tired. Of only having these strings connecting him to someone he loved. To his best friend. To his boyfriend.

“I wish I was there too.” Purple words were smaller than normal, and slower written. “We’ll be moving for colleges. Me with my art school, you with your big brain scholarship.”

Logan cracked a smile.

“Maybe we’ll find each other then.”

His hand reached up to trace each letter, starting from then and working its way up to “we’ll.” It came to a stuttering stop before it could reach the word “Maybe.”

“I certainly hope so.”

Top Art Schools. In America. Logan’s mind whirled as he stared at the library computer screen and the stupid blinking line asking him what he wanted to write.

The time zones hadn’t changed. Logan had moved from Florida to M.I.T. in Massachusetts, so he hadn’t shifted over. And Purple had moved from… well, whatever state he lived in to… perhaps the same state, perhaps a different one. He had remained in Pacific Time either way.

Which meant his Art School had to be in California, Nevada, Oregon, Washington, or the very tip of Idaho.

His fingers flew across the keyboard.

There were 454 art schools in California. Oregon didn’t give him a number for how many art schools, but there were over 100 colleges in all. 26 colleges in Nevada, 6 in Washington (although, more than 300 independent), and 15 in Idaho.

Which meant he had around 601 colleges to go through.

It was a lot. It was more than just a lot, but it gave him a place to start, it was doable, and Logan figured he could easily knock at least half of those out given Purple’s descriptions of them. Probably more, if things went well.

He scribbled all of this down in his notebook, along with his general plans on how to find him, before snapping it shut and making his way out of the library and towards his dorm room.

He checked his notebook on the way over.

“This seems like a lot of work,” Purple had written. “Do you really think we can do it?”

Logan paused in the middle of the walkway and pulled his pencil out from behind his ear.

“Yeah, we can do it,” he wrote firmly. “I’ve got resources and time. I’ll even build a program to sort through it all.”

“Lol. You fucking nerd.”

Logan smiled at the words.

“I’ll do it too. I won’t be as good as you because I’m not big brain-” Logan drew a large “X” over “I’m not big brain” while Purple wrote- “but I’ll be looking for you too.”

“That would be ideal.”

He left the notebook open, in case Purple decided to keep talking, but continued on his way up to his dorm room. Logan didn’t linger, though he did give his first in-person friend, Janus Drake, a wave before grabbing an energy drink and a bag of grapes and promptly turning right out the door.

Logan didn’t have enough money yet for a computer that would actually manage to support his work, though he was saving up for it. The library, however, was a familiar area and he was honestly much more comfortable there than he was in any of these ridiculously rich hangouts.

He situated himself at a very nice desk, opened his list of names, and looked through it. Everything had been organized by state and then by rank. Logan was planning on working through the top 10 of each state (or all six in Washington's case) and then continuing from there.

It couldn’t be that hard.

At 3 am, Logan got a text from Janus telling him that if he didn’t drag his ass back to the room and go to sleep, Janus would rip every single one of his books into pieces.

It was just as well. Logan had managed to search through the freshman class of all six Washington, ten Oregon, and had decided he might as well go through all of Idaho as well. He had been about to start Cali when the text had come through and frankly, Logan had done a lot for the day.

He scribbled all of his down in the notebook, told Janus he would be right up and shut down the computer.

Soon, he promised himself. Soon he would find Purple.

Soon turned out to be the very next day.

After his Genetics course, Logan made his way right back over to the library, sat back down on the computer, and opened the top art school in California: The University of California. Its Master of Fine Arts degree at UCLA was ranked No. 1 by U.S. News & World Report. Logan could easily see Purple making his way into that.

Slowly he flipped through the freshman class, looking for the symbol he and Purple promised they would always be wearing. The one still safety-pinned onto his chest and the one decorating practically all of the jewelry Logan knew Purple wore.

And…

There.

Logan’s heart leaped into his throat as he regarded the young man he saw on the computer screen.

He was easily the most beautiful person Logan had ever seen.

The man had black hair that ended in a tipped purple fringe. There was a single shaved line going through his right eyebrow that emphasized the glittering near-black eyes that gazed into the photograph. His skin was a warm dark brown. The man was not smiling, but he wasn’t frowning either. He wore a large black sweatshirt, covered in large purple patches. But what Logan’s eyes strayed to, and what had his eyes burning, was the patch sewn into the sweatshirt and the metal symbol hanging from around his neck.

Logan had every single line of that goddamn stormcloud memorized.

He looked down at the name and read it over several times, letting the words sound within his head and fully settle within him.

Virgil Casey.

“Vir-gil.” Logan sounded out. He ignored the glances from other students. “Virgil.”

He had a name. He had a location.

From that point on, it was ridiculously easy to find his phone number and the social media accounts Virgil had created. And see that every single one of them had a single picture on it.

The stormcloud.

An actual tear slid down Logan’s face. He wiped it away furiously and ripped open the notebook.

“You’re beautiful.” He wrote. Another stupid tear slid down his face, only to be sliced away by a quick hand. “You’re absolutely beautiful.”

Virgil got back to him faster than Logan expected. “You found me?”

He responded not on paper, but by a picture of the little brain with glasses Virgil had drawn for him years and years ago, sent over text.

The text noise startled Virgil, but he practically fell over himself in his desperation to reach it. He tried to open it, but the stupid face recognition wasn’t working and then he put in the wrong passcode three fucking times-

Please, please, please, please…

It was a picture of a piece of paper, cut into a neat circle and placed upon a light brown tabletop. A safety pin was open and still stuck through the top of it.

It was him.

It was Logic.

An actual sob ripped out of Virgil and his knees banged into the wooden floor of his dorm room. Roman, his roommate, glanced over at him in alarm but Virgil had eyes only for the screen, for his genius boyfriend who had somehow managed to find him through nothing but the words “Art School” and basic time zones in 2 days.

“Logic?” Virgil’s fingers could barely find the letters to type what he needed, barely even hold the phone up. Breath still in his lungs as those fucking dots appeared, letting him know Logic was typing, letting him know…

“My name is Logan Berry.”

Tears slid down Virgil’s face, ruining the makeup he had put on that day, but Virgil didn’t care, didn’t care about anything other than-

“Where are you?”

“MIT. I’m in MA.”

MIT.

Of course. Of course, his genius was able to get into a school like MIT. Virgil should’ve known to look at the school that had beaten fucking Harvard in the ranking, at least according to Newsweek.com.

“I can’t believe you found me.” Virgil swallowed noisily against the egg-sized ball in his throat. “I can’t believe I know your name. I didn’t think I would ever meet you.”

“I admit, I was beginning to lose hope as well.”

Another sob wrecked Virgil at the words. He wiped his eyes, ignoring the staring from Roman, and texted:

“Picture?”

“I’m a mess.”

“I don’t care.”

It took a second for the next image to download.

Logan was in a library because of course, he was. He appeared to have found a corner without many people, which Virgil was certain was a skill he had cultivated over the years.

Virgil couldn’t drink him in fast enough.

He was white, with ocean blue eyes that Virgil could’ve spent hours looking into, memorizing every single shine to it. They were red-rimmed at the moment, surrounded by glasses, and there were enough streaks down his pink face to let Virgil know that Logan was crying as well- though apparently not nearly as hard as Virgil.

That didn’t surprise him.

His hair was brown, short, and neat and fit the aesthetic of the blue tie he wore and black dress-shirt.

He was…

He was perfect.

Absolutely perfect.

Virgil pulled the phone to his chest and hugged the picture as if somehow that could transfer the warmth over and tell Logan, tell the boy he had been friends with since practically the moment he was born, that he was there. That he…

“I love you,” Virgil texted. “I love you so much.”

Logan’s response came immediately. “I love you too, Virgil.”

The mere thought of his name on Logan’s lips had Virgil crying all over again.

The airport was packed but Virgil did not mind shoving a few people out of his way as he headed towards the exit he and Logan had decided to meet at. One hand fell behind him, pulling the suitcase along as he headed over the other trembled at his side, mirroring the way he kept playing with his sweatshirt strings and pulling his hood up, only to shove it back down again.

The exit was in view. A few people stood around it: parents probably looking for their child to fly home, a random girl, and….

Virgil’s breath caught in his throat.

He was shorter than Virgil had expected. For some reason, Virgil had always pictured Logan towering over him, but Logan looked to be only about an inch taller than Virgil. He shifted from foot to foot, and now and then a hand would come up to shove his black-rimmed glasses up his nose.

“Logan?”

Logan turned to him. His mouth opened, closed, and then opened again. Virgil stepped forward unsure what to do with his body; arms hung like noodles at his sides and his legs remained stiff upon the floor.

“Virgil?”

Virgil swallowed. “Yeah.”

Logan took a step forward and suddenly, they were both moving. Virgil wasn’t quite sure exactly when he had dropped his suitcase, or how his body had known what he wanted but suddenly he was wrapping his arms around Logan’s back, and Logan’s arms were tight against his.

Virgil placed his head into the crick of Logan’s neck and let out a loud sob. He pulled Logan closer, trying to get every single part of them to touch, and knowing it would never be enough, never enough to satisfy those long long years of distance.

They swayed back and forth, neither one wanting to let go. When they did finally step back, Logan’s hand slid up to cup Virgil’s face- and Virgil’s own remained around Logan’s waist, holding him as close as he would without losing the ability to study him.

Virgil had thought he was hot from pictures.

It was absolutely nothing compared to the real thing.

Freckles patterned across his nose, light enough to not be noticeable through the lens. His eyes were even bluer than Virgil thought possible and there was a smile on his face that nearly brought Virgil to the floor.

Logan’s thumbs brushed away Virgil’s tears with one hand, but new ones simply surged to replace them. His own tears were sliding down his face, though much quieter and much less than Virgil’s.

“You’re even more beautiful in person.”

“That’s what I was going to say,” Virgil sobbed. “Asshole.” Logan’s smile was soft, delicate, and so utterly him that Virgil couldn’t help but reach up and trace over his lips with his right hand and enjoy the kiss Logan peppered to it.

“May I kiss you?” Logan asked.

Virgil answered by surging forward and pressing their lips together. Heat spread across his whole body, especially as Logan made a quiet noise and opened his mouth, arms settling into Virgil’s hair. His lips tingled and the feeling only spread as Virgil pressed as close as he could to his best friend, to his boyfriend, to his soulmate.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were smiling.

#analogical #analogicalweek #au #soulmate au #virgil-x-logan #bullying tw #misogyny

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f00pyf00p · 4 years ago

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Beyond The Darkness Lies Light

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: Logan, Virgil, Janus Rating: Mature Relationships: Romantic Analogical Warnings: Violence, Implied Rape, Abusive Relationships, Flashbacks, Nightmares, PTSD, Unsympathetic Deceit, Crying, Angst and Hurt/Comfort Word count: 2270 Summary: Logan awoke in a puddle of his own sweat. It was dark- dark enough that he couldn’t tell if that shadow on the wall was Janus or just- He flicked the light switch next to him. The room was empty. Other Notes: Analogical Week Day 3: Nightmares/Dreams @analogicalweek

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Logan had already been tense when Janus turned to him. His boyfriend’s eyes were narrowed, breathing harsh, and when he reached for Logan’s wrist, Logan couldn’t help but to flinch away.

That didn’t stop Janus’ hand from closing around it and slamming it up against his bedroom wall.

“Where were you?”

His voice was practically a growl and as he said it he boxed Logan into the corner, so there was nowhere to run, nowhere to go but to him. Logan looked at the floor but Janus’s other hand grabbed the sides of his face and forced him to meet his eyes.

“I asked you a question, you complete dunce. Where. Were. You.”

“I- I was-”

“You- you were,” Janus mocked. His hand tightened around Logan’s wrist and the other one dropped his head to fully slam him in the stomach.

Logan doubled over, the only thing keeping him up that firm, impossible grip.

“I was at my mom’s.” Logan’s voice was practically a whisper and edged with pain. “I promise, I wasn’t-”

“Do you remember the rules?”

“Our dog had just died, she said she needed-”

Another punch, this one to the face. “Do you remember the rules, Bonehead?”

Logan whimpered. “Yeah. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”

Janus’s hand hauled him back to his feet. Logan kept his gaze on the wood beams of the floor, falling silent as Janus’s hand grazed the bruise he had just planted on him.

“You.” A slap to the face. “Don’t.” Another in the same spot. “Go.” A knee to his groin. Logan nearly slipped down the wall, but Janus kept him standing. “Anywhere.” He backhanded him on the other cheek. “Without me.”

Logan was quick to nod.

“Get on the bed.”

“Please-”

“Get on the bed, Logan.”

The hand fell off his wrist, exposing layers of dark purple handprints. Janus didn’t need to tell him again as Logan took a step forward, towards their shared bed, towards-

Logan awoke in a puddle of his own sweat. It was dark- dark enough that he couldn’t tell if that shadow on the wall was Janus or just-

He flicked the light switch next to him.

The room was empty.

Obviously, you complete idiot.

He winced at the voice- the voice that was definitely not his- and dropped back onto the sheets. Breath came unsteadily, fiercely, and tears pricked at the edges of Logan’s eyes. Before he could get a proper grip on himself, a loud sob poured out of him which was enough to trigger the avalanche that came after.

Gods, he was pathetic. It was a dream. It was just a dream. He had escaped Janus years ago. He was safe, he had moved, and there was no way for Janus to ever get to him again.

He was fine.

Fine.

Another sob ripped out of him. Logan rolled to the other half of his bed, leaving a trail of sweat as he did so, and curled into a ball under the covers.

He was fine.

He was home.

He was safe.

But no matter how many times Logan repeated it, he couldn’t quite make himself believe it.

Logan’s hand swept out towards his bedside table- maybe for his glasses, to turn on another light, he couldn’t quite be sure, but either way, what his hand fell on was his fully charged cell phone.

He knew what he wanted before he had fully comprehended it. His thumb pressed against the home button, fingers rapidly working to find the phone app, until he finally opened to the recent calls section and clicked the very first name on the list.

He pressed it up to his ear.

It rang once.

Twice.

He probably wasn’t even awake, Logan told himself. It was- he glanced at the alarm clock- 2:21 in the morning. There was no need for Virgil to be awake, and frankly, it would actually be troubling if he did pick up the phone.

At least, that’s what Logan was telling himself.

“What’s up?” The voice was slightly crackly, rough and Logan found that the very sound of it forced another sob out of his throat.

That definitely put the voice on alert. “L? L, you okay? What’s wrong?”

“I-I’m fine.” Logan choked on his own words. “Hi, Vir-Virgil.”

“Hello yourself. What’s going on?”

“I…” Another sob tore through him. “I’m not actually sure why-why I called.”

“That’s okay.” There was a ruffling on the other side of the phone, followed by a loud zipper. “Do you want to talk?”

Did he? Not really. Re-visiting the dream right now felt like rubbing salt into an old wound, one that had yet to close. One Logan wasn’t sure he would ever be able to fully close.

So why had he called? What had his body known he needed before his brain could fully catch up with his instincts?

“I-” Logan swallowed. “I want you.”

“Okay.” Thumping noises. Virgil must be walking around. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Logan wiped his eyes with his arm. “It’s stupid.”

“I don’t think you’re capable of that, Logan.” Virgil was interrupted by… was that an engine? “And if you’re upset, I want to listen.”

Logan’s heart lurched forward and a fresh wave of tears completely undid all the work he had done in cleaning himself up. There was a quiet noise from outside his window and Logan instantly curled closer around himself, mewling softly.

“L.” Virgil’s voice was unbearably soft. “L, I’m coming to your apartment. I’ll be there in five minutes. Okay?”

Normally, Logan would protest. He should protest now; it had just been a nightmare and nightmares were nothing, nightmares didn’t matter-

A car roared down by his window and Logan whimpered.

“Yes, please.”

“I’ll stay on the phone with you while I’m getting there.”

“Yes, please.”

“L, do you want to talk about what happened?”

It was almost the same question as earlier, but it was so unbearably soft, so unbearably understanding that Logan found the easy “no” from earlier wasn’t one he could summon. He closed his tears and huddled closer to his phone as if Virgil himself could appear through the screen.

“I experienced a dream. About… him.”

Virgil's silence was deafening and Logan almost apologized, for calling him, for waking him, especially over something as stupid as a nightmare, when finally his boyfriend spoke.

“I’m going to kill him.” Virgil let out a breath. “Not helpful. Sorry. Um. You’re not dumb, Logan. I can’t imagine… What you’re feeling right now is valid. Okay? Everything that’s happening right now is valid.”

“He’s not even here.” Logan's voice cracked on the last word.

“The memory of what he did to you is, L. Especially after something as triggering as a nightmare. Okay? It’s okay.” There was a pause and then Virgil spoke again, much more muffled and clearly not to Logan. “Turn left here please. Thank you.”

Logan sank back into the cushions, staying curled in the tight ball from earlier.

“My car is about to pull on your street, L.” Virgil’s voice was as patient as ever. “I’ll be there soon. I’m going to hang up for right now, okay?”

Logan gave a quiet murmur in response. He wiped his tears away a third time, and this time, they didn’t replenish and undo all his hard work.

There was a knock on his front door and then a creak as it opened. And even though he knew it was Virgil, even though he knew it wasn’t him, Logan's heart stopped and his entire body froze.

“Logan?”

The voice helped. The knock on his bedroom door did as well simply because Janus had never bothered.

“Logan? Can I come in?”

Logan swallowed. “Y-yeah.”

“Can I turn on the light? More than just your bedside lamp I mean.”

Yes, please, thank you thank you thank you-

“Yeah.”

He blinked blearily against the sudden shine from above, choosing to curl away from it rather than towards it. There was a sudden sinking in the bed behind him and Logan refroze immediately.

“Logan, can I touch you?” The voice cracked in the middle of the sentence but came much stronger at the end. A kind of firmness that came to it only when someone was desperately trying not to fall apart.

He didn’t want to upset Virgil.

“I don’t think so,” he whispered. “At the moment, I believe it’ll resend me into a state of panic.”

“Okay. Do you want to talk about your nightmare?”

Logan didn’t. But he had finally managed to stop crying, and his therapist had told him that talking was helpful. So he opened his mouth and launched into it, leaving out only the things that he still couldn’t handle passing his lips. And by the end of it, it was like a weight had been lifted off of his chest, especially as Virgil muttered darkly;

“I’ll cut his fucking hands off.” He twitched, which Logan only was sure occurred because the entire bed moved with him. “Sorry. Still not helpful. You know everything you feel right now is normal, right Logan? Revisiting a memory like that…” Virgil swallowed. “You’re very brave.”

Logan wiped his eyes again and slowly unfurled from his ball and flipped over to meet the watery eyes of his boyfriend. Virgil smiled sadly, and his hands twitched towards him before they were firmly placed in his lap.

Logan cleared his throat. “Above the waist is fine. And not… not my face.”

A very very dark look crossed Virgil’s face but it was banished just as quickly. Logan closed his eyes as a hand gently landed on his shoulder and smoothed light circles into his sweat nightshirt. The motion helped steady him, and Logan matched his breaths to the rhythm, slowly evening everything out.

He moved and the hand froze in place. Logan slowly drew himself up and collapsed onto Virgil’s side, ducking his head onto Virgil’s chest and curling two arms around his middle.

Slowly, uncertainly, Virgil wrapped an arm around Logan. He was very careful to keep his touch to his chest, one arm curling to hold him around his back and the other gently falling beside it.

“Sorry I woke you up,” Logan whispered.

“Oh, shut up.” Virgil’s tone was as light as he could make it with the rumble of empathy behind it. “I always want to be woken up for this, L.”

Logan’s arm tightened around Virgil and he buried his face into Virgil’s chest.

He didn’t know how long they lay there. How long he concentrated on evening out his breathing, how long he worked to stifle the memories that kept threatening to overflow him, but he knew eventually his concentration lay not with Janus- not fully at least- but rather with the slickness covering him.

Slowly, Logan pushed from Virgil’s chest so he was sitting up on his bed. With one arm, he dried off what was left on his face and reached for his glasses on the nightstand.

Virgil watched him with cautious, adoring eyes. Just the look of him helped Logan to breathe.

“I’m…” Logan shoved the glasses up his nose. “I believe the next best step would be for me to take a shower. I’m currently a mess.”

“You’re beautiful,” Virgil said sincerely. Logan fixated him with a look and a bit of a smile appeared on Virgil’s face. “I mean, you look a bit ruffled, but I still find you adorable.”

Logan slowly leaned forward and gently pressed a kiss to Virgil’s lips. Virgil responded carefully, slowly. His hands remained by his sides and he let Logan lead them through it until Logan pulled back.

“Thank you,” Logan murmured.

Virgil swallowed noisily. “Of course. Why don’t you go take a shower, and I’ll see if I can find something in your refrigerator to eat?”

Logan nodded.

His shower was as hot as he could make it without burning his skin, and he got the feeling as he scrubbed, that he wasn’t just trying to remove the fine layer of crusted water and salt spread across his skin.

Once he was out, Logan changed into a long-sleeve shirt and a pair of long pajama pants. He glanced over at the clock and winced.

4:07 in the morning.

Tomorrow- or rather today, Logan supposed- would be quite the thing to work through.

He shuffled into his kitchen and found Virgil setting pancakes out across it. Logan blinked.

“I wasn’t aware I had ingredients for pancakes.”

“I bought you that mix where you just add water about three months ago.” Virgil raised his eyebrows. “It hadn’t been opened yet.”

Logan shrugged.

While the two of them ate, Virgil launched into a story about the animal shelter he worked at, going into unnecessary detail over a dog who had bitten a stick in a bad enough way to get it stuck in between his teeth and the work Virgil had to do to get it out.

Logan had never been more appreciative of Virgil than he was at that moment.

When they finished eating, Virgil dropped off the plates in Logan’s sink. Logan watched him with large glassy eyes and Virgil swallowed thickly, a hand reaching out for him that froze halfway there.

“Can I-”

“You can touch me.” Logan cleared his throat. “Anywhere- Anywhere is fine.”

Hands curled into his hair and Virgil gently hugged Logan’s head to his stomach. Logan wrapped both of his arms around Virgil's waist and let out a long breath.

“I love you,” Logan whispered.

The hands tightened around him. “I love you too.”

#analogical #analogicalweek #virgil-x-logan #virgil sanders #logan sanders #logan angst #sandersides #unsympathetic janus #abusive lociet #rape tw #violence tw #past lociet

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f00pyf00p · 4 years ago

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Art Crossed Lovers

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: Logan, Virgil, Janus, Roman, Patton Rating: Teen and Up Relationships: Romantic Analogical Warnings: Swearing, Robbery, Police, Guns, Gunshots, Injury, Major Character Death Word count: 4553 Summary: The sirens came at precisely 7:24 pm. They were a minute and 12 seconds late; exactly as Logan had predicted. Indeed, when Virgil glanced at him, he found his lover’s normally sharp expression tinted with smugness, especially as the flashing lights drove right past their hiding place. Other Notes: Analogical Week Day 2: Song/Stars @analogicalweek

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Song: Partners in Crime (Set It Off)

The sirens came at precisely 7:24 pm. They were a minute and 12 seconds late; exactly as Logan had predicted. Indeed, when Virgil glanced at him, he found his lover’s normally sharp expression tinted with smugness, especially as the flashing lights drove right past their hiding place.

Virgil still felt tight. So far they had been successful- the evidence of that lay behind him- but all it would take was one misstep. One dropped eyelash, one unexpected flash of a camera.

“We need to go,” he said urgently. He glanced down at the car’s ignition. At the moment, the key lay in it, unturned and silent. “They’ll double back.”

Logan’s face was impassive. “We move too early, we’ll be found.”

“It’s the same thing if we move too late,” Virgil countered.

He could tell Logan was weighing his words, but they didn’t have time to think: they had to move. Now.

“Trust me, L,” Virgil urged.

That seemed to do the trick. Logan’s hand fell to the ignition. His eyes narrowed and Virgil could practically see the gears in his head turning as he figured out how to get on the highway quickest, which roads he needed to take to blend in, and where they could ditch this car in turn for another one.

The key turned and the car roared to life.

It was loud. Loud enough that Virgil almost told Logan to turn the blasted thing off, but Logan’s foot had already hit the gas.

There was no turning back now.

Logan drove calmly. He stopped at the stop signs, slowed as the lights turned yellow, and stayed exactly five miles above the speed limit at all times. There was no sign that the car did anything but belong there. Nobody who looked at this average, law-obeying car would connect it with the million-dollar paintings stowed carefully in the back.

The highway ramp was in view. Something within him unfoiled as they made it onto that bridge and he relaxed further when it was confirmed that the highway had enough cars on it that they wouldn’t be inconspicuous.

Logan merged quite quickly. He pulled into the fast lane, behind a medium gray car that looked almost identical to the one they were in, and sat back.

“Good call,” Logan told Virgil gently.

“I always make good calls.”

Logan glanced off the road for a brief second, solely to raise his eyebrows before bringing his focus back to the cars around him.

“Ass.”

A quirk of Logan’s mouth was the only answer he gave.

Okay, so maybe over the years Virgil’s decisions hadn’t always been perfect. His anxiety was a double-edged sword; sometimes it made exactly the kind of cut Virgil needed to figure out all possible ways out of a dangerous situation. Other times it sliced his hands and Logan and Virgil were left to clean up the blood.

But right now, his fear had pushed them out of their hiding spot. If they had stayed a moment longer the red and blue lights they had so carefully avoided for years might’ve finally shone on them.

Logan drifted into the middle lane, leaving the twin of their car to pull ahead of them. Virgil watched it go silently and reminded himself that everything was going to plan.

They were ready for this.

“Logan!”

But Logan had already spotted it. Sitting in wait, just in view, was a police vehicle. Its lights were off but Virgil could easily imagine the white plump man behind the wheel, holding a speed gun and waiting for a car to make his life slightly more interesting.

Like the rest of the cars around him, Logan hit the breaks. His speed fell- 85, 76, 70- and Virgil gripped the sides of his seat until his hands turned white.

“If we get pulled over-”

“They won’t take us alive,” Logan said. The words, which should not have been comforting in any shape or form, helped Virgil to take a breath and remember the plan.

Because they had planned for this too. Being pulled over, being talked to, what to say and how to say it. And if things went so south the cops figured out just who they were….

Virgil’s hand fell to the gun straddled in his hip.

They wouldn’t separate them. When it came down to it, the only thing that would split up Virgil and Logan was death.

The police car was behind them now. His light remained off and the extremity of Virgil’s extra tension eased away as Logan and the car's speed around them re-picked up.

“Next exit,” Virgil reminded him.

Logan’s lips curved up in his not-a-smile but totally adorable way. “I’m plenty aware, Virgil, I assure you.”

His blinker flicked on and he slowly moved over to the merging lane. Their speed dropped slightly but the roar of the highway was just as deafening and centering as before.

Logan clicked his blinker on again and moved to get off. It was a fairly busy turning point; he wasn’t the only car getting off and they had to come to a stuttering halt before being allowed back on town roads again.

The stillness was awful, but it would’ve been worse to be alone. There was safety in numbers, Virgil reminded himself, even if numbers forced the damn car to stop when all he wanted to do was get to the stupid dropping point.

Logan turned them left, down roads wooded dark roads until they finally landed at a dark empty parking lot, picked solely for its lack of cameras. Plus, not five minutes away was a car dump- a very easy place to dump one car and pick up a brand new one.

7:58.

“We’re early,” Virgil whispered.

“We expected that.”

“I hate being early.”

“You hate being on time and late as well.”

Virgil glared at Logan. A heavy sigh made its way from his boyfriend and Logan let his hand fall on Virgil’s knee and stroke it in calming little circles with his thumb.

“My apologies, Love. I’m tense.” Logan looked over at the car’s digital clock, where the stubborn “58” remained. “I’d also prefer to not be early.”

Virgil’s heart melted a little at the admission. “Forgiven,” he promised, before leaning forward and planting a kiss on Logan’s left cheek.

Logan looked so adoringly at him, Virgil nearly shoved him away.

7:59. The moment the number turned, a tiny white car pulled into the parking lot. It parked right beside them, leaving just enough space for the man they had been contacted by to jump out and walk up to Virgil’s window.

Virgil rolled it down.

“How’d it go?” Janus asked curtly.

“Exactly as planned.” Virgil’s voice had fallen back into its harder “don’t-mess-with-me” tone he always got when dealing with clients. Behind him, Logan's eyes shone like a wildcat in the dark. “Can I assume you weren’t followed?”

Janus snorted. “Please.”

Logan and Virgil glanced at each other. After a brief moment, Virgil nodded and Logan hopped out of the car, leaving the engine roaring, and opened the back door.

There were five different paintings back there. All five had been stolen from the Samburu tribe of Northern Kenya. All five had traveled around the world for a bit, earned themselves a reputation and a large net worth, before finding their way to a famous art gallery.

A famous art gallery that now found itself five paintings short.

“We’ll check in with both you and the Samburu in about a week to ensure these ended up in the right spot.” Logan’s client voice wasn’t as rough or as nasty as Virgil’s; it was pure ice and it nipped whomever he turned it on.

The noise that came from Janus was practically a snarl. “You think I would steal from my own people?”

“I think we will be checking in with you and the Samburu in about a week.” The frost from earlier had turned into a blizzard. Logan turned his back on Janus and silently helped the man move everything from car to car. Once things were situated, he slipped back into the front seat and waited.

Janus dropped a bag through Virgil’s open window and into his lap. Virgil didn’t bother hiding how he opened it and slowly rifled through the bills.

It was all there. At an obscenely low rate considering the amount of effort they had gone through to get those paintings, but plenty for the two of them.

“Make sure you change license plates,” Virgil advised.

Janus had the wisdom to nod as Virgil rolled his window up. The two of them left first, as quietly and quickly as they could without being suspicious.

“Well, Logan,” Virgil said as he stowed their money into his black hoodie, “Shall we go?”

Logan pulled into the car dump, another one of his half-smiles dancing over his face. “Indeed.”

It took them no time at all to find the car they had stashed here, hidden beautifully amongst the rubble and broken vehicles. Virgil replaced the license plates with ones they had gotten earlier while Logan made it his business to completely destroy the ones they had driven the stolen paintings around in.

Then he set the car on fire.

By the time it was done burning out, Virgil had finished with the old one. They hopped into it, this time with Virgil at the wheel, and took off into the night.

It was time to lie low for a bit.

“In other news Art Museum The Centre of the Mind has recently been visited by the Art Crossed Lovers. They stole five paintings: “The Sunrise” worth 34 million, “Lifting Up” worth 65 million, “Gardens of Forever” worth 22 million, “Father of Life” worth 12 million, and finally, “Wretched Dream” worth 47 million. Unlike the previous heist, nobody was harmed in the taking of these paintings however-”

Virgil glanced over at Logan, who was gripping the frying pan a little harder than normal. Slowly, Virgil pushed from their kitchen table, leaving the radio to amuse itself, and slunk around Logan’s back. “Smells good, baby,” he breathed.

“Thank you.” Logan relaxed back into his hold. “The eggs should be done in a few minutes.”

“The Centre of the Mind was considered one of the hardest places to get into, with top-of-the-line cameras, motion detection, passive infrared sensors, as well as RFID tags put into the paintings to track them. However, while no technology seems to have been turned off or broken in any way, there is no evidence of anyone other than the guards being in the building at any point in time.”

Logan had taken on the more smug look of his.

“All RFID tags were found stuck to the wall where the painting had previously been. With no way to track the paintings, officials can’t be sure where they’re headed.”

“You can guess,” Virgil muttered.

Logan’s huff of a laugh was like music to Virgil’s ears, and he rewarded the noise with a gentle kiss to the neck.

“Previous experiences with The Art Crossed Lovers suggest that all five artworks will arrive with the Samburu people of Northern Kenya, where the artwork originated. Officials ask that museums be on their guard-

“Eggs are done.” Logan turned his head sideways to look at Virgil the best he could. “Would you like to let go of me now, Love, so we can eat?”

Virgil responded with a whine and buried his face into Logan’s neck.

“The eggs will get cold.”

“Fuck the stupid eggs.”

“Hmmm.” Logan’s voice was light, slightly teasing. “How about we make a deal?”

Virgil stayed silent.

“We’ll eat breakfast, as nutrients are important, and if I remember correctly-” he jerked his head towards the radio, still spreading what they had done last night. “We burned quite a number recently.”

“Don’t care.”

“In return, you may have cuddles.”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed. “I’m a thief.”

“Accurate.”

“I can just steal cuddles.”

“Virgil-”

“And eggs.”

“...What?”

“Put the food on a plate.”

Looking more amused than anything else, Logan reached up into one of their cupboards and removed a large white plate. He piled the scrambled eggs on it and then, with Virgil still locked around his waist, added to the buttered pieces of toast he had finished a moment before.

Virgil took over. He led Logan over to the couch, sat him down, and then instantly wrapped Logan’s arm around him.

“Cuddles and nutrients.”

Logan kissed the side of his head. “Indeed.”

They normally waited at least four months before even planning to resurface again. This time, however, Logan got a call from a group of indigenous people in Mexico only three months into their rest period claiming that seven paintings were stolen from them and currently residing in the art museum the Gallery of Dreams. They checked up on it and of course, the group was telling the truth.

“We should wait a little longer,” Virgil muttered. “This is too soon. The museums are still on high alert.”

“The museums have been on high alert since our first three,” Logan responded. “The paintings are culturally significant. They need them in a month.”

Virgil pursed his lips. “So much could go wrong.”

Logan’s hand covered his but when Virgil glanced over at him he found that his boyfriend wasn’t looking at him but at his laptop, filled to the brim with different notes about the museum, the people, the paintings, and who would be picking them up.

“The escape route is easy.” Logan clicked onto his tab with a map. “It's practically right next to a popular highway and from there we can head to Marieville-” his finger jabbed a town- “pick up a car, wash down the other one, and head through Bardsbury-” his finger pointed again- “where Remus can pick them up.”

“What about cameras?”

Logan paused. His fingers clicked across the keyboard rapidly. Virgil let his head fall on Logan’s shoulder as he worked, quietly taking in the websites before-

“Okay, not Marieville then. It looks like Hamtree has fewer cameras and if we switch and clean cars out in this dead spot, we’d be fine.”

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“How close is the police station to that dead spot?”

A string of curses came out of Logan’s mouth, and Virgil smiled rather faintly as Logan had to rework their exit again.

A smaller, louder part of him reminded him that planning the escape was usually easiest, and if they were having this much trouble with just that it didn’t bode well.

“Got it. We’re heading to Lumbire.”

Virgil glanced over his route. Cameras were accounted for. They’d drop off a clean car before the heist so they could switch out and head for Bardsbury. Police stations were all over 15 minutes away from all of their spots, except for the Museum. They’d blend in, get out, find a new vehicle, and get out again.

It was simple. Perfect. Something they had done 1000 times.

“Alright,” Virgil surrendered. “What do we go about that.” He jabbed the museum with a single finger before settling back into Logan’s side.

“We gather information,” Logan replied. An arm swung itself around Virgil. “I’m certain we can figure something out.”

They’d been hanging out next to the Museum for the past few weeks. It had been a quick move- neither Logan nor Virgil had much stuff- and since then, it had been nothing but work, work, play, and then some more work.

Especially since it was two days to the heist.

Virgil lounged across the couch, a cup of very bitter coffee in one hand, quietly going over the plan.

He had managed to grab them some police uniforms. Nothing that would fool an actual cop, but realistic-looking enough that when they buzz the security desk and tell him they were coming about a disturbance, nothing would be questioned.

There would be two security guards. It would be pretty easy to trick them out of the security room; people were pretty compliant once they saw the cop uniform, and then further compliant when they saw the gun. Both would be handcuffed and blindfolded.

Virgil took a sip of the coffee to try and calm his nerves.

Logan would enter the security room and hack into their technology. He had estimated it would take him under five minutes to make sure everything would come up blank for the time they were there. If the button to call the police had an easy-to-find wire, it would be cut.

Neither of them believed such a wire would exist.

From then on, it was just a race. Get to the paintings, load them into the car, and then get out of there. If things went really really well, the police wouldn’t even be alerted till morning.

Virgil pursed his lips and glanced over at the male sitting a couple of feet away from him. Logan was frowning- never a good sign- and looking rather blankly down at their notes.

“You good?”

Logan didn’t respond.

“L?”

His boyfriend blinked and turned to him. “Yes, Love?”

Virgil rolled his eyes and maneuvered around, placing his coffee on the table in front of the couch and dropping his head upon Logan’s lap. “You good?” he repeated.

Logan’s hand fell into his hair. “I was thinking about our escape route.”

“Yeah?”

“It might be smarter to avoid the highway since we’ll be moving in the early morning.”

Virgil paused. He went back over their plan silently, trying to piece what Logan said into it.

It wouldn’t be a big change. They’d still be going to the same towns, still have the same stopping points.

“We’d be on the road longer.”

“Indeed.” Logan gnawed on his bottom lip. “That’s why I haven’t brought it up with you yet. I’m not wholly convinced it's necessary, especially since the cops won’t be notified.”

They fell silent again. Virgil mulled it over.

“I’m for side roads.”

Logan’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? You hate last-minute changes.”

Yeah, and the butterflies in Virgil’s stomach were not thanking him for deciding this. He swallowed and curled closer into the warmth of Logan’s lap and gently stroking of his hair.

“I know. But I think this is a good one.”

Logan licked his lips. “Alright then,” he decided. “We’ll go side roads.”

They parked as close to the Museum as they could get without it being straight in the front. Logan turned the key, turning the car off, but left the key in the ignition in case they had to go at a moment's notice. Both of them pulled hats down to cover their hair and Logan pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Ready, Love?”

“Ready, Baby.”

The two of them opened their respective car doors at the same time. Logan straightened the fake police badge on his shoulder and strode right up to a door off to the side and hit the buzzer.

A voice came over the intercom. “Hello?” It came out a little nervous, slightly shaky. “Can I help you?”

Virgil watched with some amusement as Logan took a breath and practically sunk into the person he was supposed to be embodying until it wasn’t his boyfriend the art thief that stood across from him.

It was just a cop.

“Yes, we’re here about a disturbance call,” Logan's voice was curt. “Do you mind if we just come up and poke around? It won’t take long.”

“I’m not supposed to allow-”

“We’ll be quite quick,” Virgil jumped in. He made his tone warmer than Logan’s, softer. He’d learned enough about this person to know they would appreciate it. “I’m sure it's nothing, but protocol, you know.”

Logan’s mouth quirked up.

“Al-Alright then, Yeah, I’ll buzz you in.”

Almost as he said it, there was a loud buzzing noise, and Logan opened the door. The two of them strode into the building and just before the door could close, Virgil stuck an old keycard in between the lock.

There was no need to worry about getting stuck indoors.

They padded their way up to the security guard. Both Logan and Virgil’s hands had come to rest on the small handguns on their waist. They had each only fired from it during a heist once- but during practice earlier, neither had missed a mark.

“Hi.” There was a 20-something-year-old sitting behind glass. They wore large oval glasses and stared out at the two of them with big brown innocent eyes.

They probably shouldn’t have taken a job as a guard.

“Do they… ” Logan looked the guard up and down and then over at Virgil. “Do they look like…?”

Virgil had to keep from smiling. God, his boyfriend was good.

“Are you Patton Lennon?” he asked. He tried to keep the warmth from earlier while adding a bit more roughness and suspicion.

The guard reacted exactly as Virgil wanted them to. They pulled back, away from the glass, away from the system- and away from the button that called the police.

“I- Yes, but why-”

“Come out.” Logan left no room for negotiation. “We have some questions for you, Mx. Lennon.”

It was almost too easy. Patton instantly left the security guard area. As the door opened, Logan caught it on one hand and pulled it the rest of the way open, as if he were holding it for them. Patton didn’t seem to find this strange, though Virgil watched their eyebrows knit together as Logan stepped into the room.

It was too late for them anyway. Virgil pulled the gun off of the guard's waistband and handcuffed him before Logan had even made it to the control panel.

“What are you…” Patton’s eyes widened. “You’re not cops! Are you…”

“Don’t fight and you won’t get hurt.” Any warmth had died in the chasm of terror eating Virgil from the inside out.

Logan's eyes flickered over the system. “This is garbage. You don’t even have RFID tags.”

Patton shrugged helplessly.

“Well, better news for us.” Logan's fingers flew across random buttons. “Alright Love, we have an hour before anything starts showing us in here. Shall we get started?”

Virgil nodded quietly.

Logan strode out of the security room and let the door fall closed. His lips pursed as he looked at it; apparently, there hadn’t been any wire to cut off the police button.

They would just have to be extra careful.

“Where’s the second guard?” Logan’s question was directed towards Patton, who gave the same helpless shrug from earlier. However, something in his eyes flickered and it made Virgil nervous. He looked around them.

“Baby-”

Bang!

The first thing Virgil felt wasn’t the pain but the pushback. The bullet had shot clean through his shoulder, whirling him against the wall behind him. It wasn’t until he had fully sunk to the floor did the pain hit and he remembered to pull out his own gun.

Logan was much more reactive than he was. Before Virgil had even registered the pushback, his boyfriend had whirled around and fired straight through the second security guard's forehead.

Patton screamed. “ROMAN!”

“You move, you die.” Logan’s voice was like nothing Virgil had ever heard before. It wasn’t ice; this was pure fire, pure fury, and the slightest amount of desperation. “Got it?”

Patton just sobbed out that guard's name. Roman, Roman, Roman.

Logan ripped off the police shirt and pressed it against the wound. Virgil whimpered as it hit him and despite his best efforts, tears pooled in his eyes. He closed them tightly, trying to breathe, even as each breath sent shockwaves through his body.

“I’ve got you, Love.” Both of Logan’s hands worked Virgil’s wound, using his blue tie to wrap around the police shirt and hold it there. “This is going to hurt.”

“Baby, I'm a little scared.” He was not at all happy with how pathetic his voice sounded, and how no matter what he tried he couldn’t pull the sobs back in.

“Now don't you quit on me.” Logan’s voice was soft, but not meek. “I’m going to tighten the tie. Okay?”

Virgil nodded. Sweat beaded down his forehead and he let his head drop back.

“3. 2. 1.”

Logan pulled and the tie forced the shirt tight around the bullet hole. Virgil let out a scream and he felt Logan shudder with it. When he opened his eyes, he found tears glistening on his boyfriend’s face- tears that Logan was quick to swipe away.

“I’m alright,” Virgil whispered. “Where’s…” His eyes widened. “Baby, Patton-”

It was far too late. The guard had already smacked that police button, having snuck into the security guard’s room while Logan tended to Virgil. Patton’s eyes went wide as they looked over at the pair of them, and they whimpered as Logan turned to them, face unreadable.

“Come here.”

Patton decided not to argue. The moment they were within distance, Logan’s arm came up, slamming the butt of his gun into Patton’s temple with more ferocity than Virgil had ever seen his boyfriend exhibit. The guard collapsed to the floor, unconscious, and Logan put handcuffs around his ankles before leaning over to Virgil.

“Come on Love. We’re going.”

Virgil wasn’t about to argue. He tried his best not to whimper as Logan lifted him up, but from the pained look on Logan’s face, he had failed miserably. Slowly, they made their way over to the door, the door that would lead to their car, and that would lead them out of here.

They could still make it.

Weee-ooowww Weee-ooowww…

Virgil’s heart fell. He glanced over at Logan, who pressed a firm kiss to his temple.

“They don’t take us alive,” Virgil told him.

A flicker of a smile appeared on Logan’s face. “Do you wish to go down in a blaze of glory, Love, or here?”

“Is that even a question baby?” Virgil faced the door, and the lights he knew lay beyond them. “Let’s make sure we’re remembered.”

It would be difficult for Virgil to fire a gun. His right arm wasn’t able to move, and the left was strung up and around Logan’s shoulder, to help his boyfriend to keep from dropping him. But Logan unclipped Virgil’s gun from around his waist and passed it to Virgil’s left hand, so the tip faced forward.

There wouldn’t be any aim, but Virgil was ready to cause a little chaos.

Logan swung the door open and stepped both of them through the frame. They looked out, over the sea of flashing police cars, and the policemen and women huddled behind them with their guns up in the air.

“This is the sheriff's police department! Come out with your hands up! We have the place surrounded!”

Virgil grinned. He could barely hear the calls of the police officer; it was blocked by the harsh pulse thumping in his ears, pounding in his wound.

“Put your weapons down!”

Logan cocked his gun.

“Put your weapons down!”

Logan and Virgil looked at each other. Eyes locked, Logan leaned forward and slammed their lips together. Just as they met, both Virgil and Logan pulled the triggers on their guns.

The Art Crossed Lovers were still kissing when the answering shots blew their brains out.

#analogical #analogicalweek #virgil sanders #logan sanders #sandersides #day2 #song #partners in crime #deathtw

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f00pyf00p · 4 years ago

Text

Four-Year Anniversary

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: Logan, Virgil, Roman, Mentions of Patton Rating: General Relationships: Romantic Analogical Warnings: None that I’m aware of Word count: 3017 Summary: Roman is determined to make Logan and Virgil will enjoy their anniversary, even if they don't seem to be particularly interested in it themselves. Other Notes: Analogical Week Day 1: Debate/Anniversary @analogicalweek

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Virgil was the first one out of the two to awaken. It was an odd but welcome occurrence, and one he celebrated by shifting over and cuddling into his partner, wrapping one arm over Logan’s waist, and kissing the side of his neck.

There was a soft mumble from the other person. Virgil kissed him again.

“I don’t wake you up when I happen to awaken first,” Logan grumbled. “Besides, I require abnormal amounts of strength today.”

Virgil frowned. “Why?”

“Roman.”

Right.

Today was their anniversary. It was their four-year anniversary (that thought alone had Virgil pulling Logan a little closer) and while to them, that meant… not a lot, to Roman it meant much more than it should, especially considering he wasn’t even in the relationship.

“20 bucks says he’s made the kitchen look like a really fancy restaurant.”

Logan's only response was a quiet groan.

“What things do you think we’ll see the moment we open the bedroom door?” Virgil nudged him. “I’ve got rose petals, a basket of chocolates, and a radio playing the sound of Roman singing love songs.”

“Teddy bears,” Logan yawned. He curled closer into the blankets and Virgil suddenly wished to grab his adorable boyfriend and squish him. He settled to push himself up for a kiss on the cheek. “On Valentine’s Day when Thomas went to CVS Roman kept looking from the giant stuffed bears to us. He probably summoned some.”

“He summoned some yesterday during the “First Time Thomas had Mac n’ Cheese” anniversary. Do you really think he’ll do it again?”

“He used those frilly streamers for a full week for “The First TV” anniversary, “The Steven Universe” anniversary, “The First Time Liking Broccoli” anniversary, and “The First Time Hearing the Evan Hansen Musical” anniversary.”

Virgil’s head flopped onto Logan’s shoulder. “Maybe we will have teddy bears then.”

“I’ll burn whatever stupid bear he gets me.”

“What if it's a unicorn bear?”

Logan’s cheeks tinted a very light pink and he opened both eyes to glare at the man hanging above him. Virgil gave a cheeky grin and Logan rolled his eyes before re-closing them and settling back into the pillows.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Virgil nudged playfully.

“Shut up.”

Virgil flopped back down and pressed his face into the back of Logan’s neck. He had barely been there for a second before he was peppering kisses down the back of it, triggering a loud sigh and then a rolling from Logan’s so they were nearly nose to nose.

“You have a lot of energy today,” Logan remarked.

Virgil reached up and kissed his nose.

“We could say in bed forever,” Virgil told him. “Then we get to avoid Roman.”

“That would hurt Roman’s feelings.” Logan’s expression turned more sheepish. “I’m trying not to do that anymore.”

Virgil’s heart bloomed with love for this man in front of him, who could accept the fact that he had made mistakes and who worked so hard to improve them.

“Still,” Virgil pressed. “We can stall.”

Logan shrugged and Virgil took that as permission to lean forward and fully capture his boyfriend’s lips within his own.

Roman was positive he had forgotten something. Something important. Something they needed.

He ran down his checklist.

A path of red and white roses petals, leading from Logan’s bedroom (which had pretty much become Logan and Virgil’s bedroom at this point) to the kitchen.

Baskets, filled with chocolates, fruits, flowers, and a coffee maker. Two large teddy bears, one white, one grey.

Then in the kitchen…

Waffles, cooked to perfection by Patton. Hot syrup, berries, whipped cream, and then there was the fact that the entire kitchen had been shifted to look like one of those fancy diners.

He had created an entire ballroom, filled it to the brim with random facets of Thomas’s personality, added music and snacks, and then closed it off for later.

His room was open to go outside and eat at the picnic he had set up, on a blanket completely covered in hearts.

What had he missed?

Crap! There were supposed to be chocolates at the picnic! Roman hurriedly snapped his fingers and felt himself relax.

Wait.

Music.

With another snap of his fingers, radios appeared at every single one of the spots he had set up for Logan and Virgil, all filled with the sound of his voice singing a variety of love songs.

Now, everything was perfect, as it should be for Logan and Virgil’s fourth anniversary.

The bedroom door opened. Roman could tell because the sound of him singing “You Matter to Me” from Waitress slowly started up, followed by Roman’s loud singing.

I could find the whole meaning of life in those sad eyes

They've seen things you never quite say, but I hear…

Logan came into the kitchen first. He blinked at the fancy diner and offered Roman what was probably a smile- Roman wasn’t quite sure, but admittedly, it wasn’t like the logical side smiled much anyway. As Logan gingerly took a seat, Virgil appeared behind him. His hands flinched slightly at the sight but he did smile at Roman before moving for the coffee machine.

“No!”

Virgil blinked. Had Roman turned to look at Logan, he would’ve noticed the side putting his head in his hands, but his gaze was fixated solely on Virgil and the mugs he was reaching for.

“I’ll do that!” Roman stepped forward and shoved Virgil towards the table. “It’s your day!”

“I um…” Virgil licked his lips. “I don’t want-”

“We appreciate it, Roman,” Logan interrupted. He fixed Virgil with a look. “Just breakfast, right?”

Roman nodded eagerly.

Virgil pursed his lips before moving back over to the table Logan was already seated at and taking the spot across from him. The two of them leaned forward, probably to tell each other how pleased they were with Roman’s efforts, while Roman reached for the coffee.

He had been setting up things like this for the past four years, every time their anniversary hit, and he had never seemed to get it quite right. Somewhere along the line, one or the other always disappeared and everything fell to shambles pretty quickly.

It didn’t matter. Roman would make today so enjoyable, they would wish everyday was Anniversary Day.

He placed two coffee mugs in front of them. “What would you like to eat?” He asked.

Logan and Virgil looked at each other, then over to the obvious stack of waffles sitting on the counter.

“Toast,” Virgil deadpanned.

Logan hid his smile with a single hand. He nodded vaguely in the waffles direction and Roman skipped over to the platter and then placed it in the middle of the lovebird’s table.

“Thank you, Roman.” Logan met his eyes and gave a quiet nod before reaching to grab a waffle with his fork.

They ate in relative silence, now and then raising an eyebrow or flickering their eyes in a direction to communicate some sort of message Roman didn’t understand. He waited patiently for the two of them to finish eating before snapping his fingers and clearing the table in an instant.

“Right! Now, I have an outdoorsy activity plan for you including Swan Boats-”

“I can’t!” Virgil interrupted.

Roman paused. “Why not?”

“I’m… allergic to water?”

There was a beat of silence. Logan stared open-mouthed at Virgil but Roman nodded knowingly.

“Okay, then we can skip the Swan Boats and go right to the theater.”

Logan winced at that.

“Don’t worry,” Roman said quickly. “It’s gay.”

“Look, Roman, I’m sure your play is very good… who’s in it?”

“Me!”

Virgil closed his eyes and Logan licked his lips.

“Right. I’m sure it’s… adequate. But I’m not very fond of theater-”

“You’ll like this one,” Roman said. “Come on! I promise it’ll be fun!”

Virgil and Logan shared another one of their looks. Their hands laced together and both of them nodded over at Roman, who was all too happy to lead them out of the kitchen and towards his room.

When Roman glanced behind him, he found Virgil raising his eyebrows at Logan, an expression that Logan seemed to be purposely ignoring. Roman wasn’t quite sure what to make of it but he chose to leave his strange nerds to whatever they were up to and concentrate on the performance he was about to give. It would be a bit difficult to give, as for some reason, none of the other sides that preferred acting had liked the idea of acting for Logan and Virgil.

“Logan hates theater,” Courage had said, “and Virgil is scared of being the only audience member clapping. Besides, you know they don’t do anything for anniversaries anyway.”

Roman did know that, which is why he had set up this show for them. In his opinion, it was important to celebrate the big moments. Especially four years of being together.

His performance began with a song about feeling lost and alone. The moment the song began, Logan began shifting in his seat and Virgil muttered something in his ear.

During intermission, Logan went up to Roman and gave him what could’ve either been a smile or a grimace.

“I have work,” he said simply. “Virgil says he’ll watch the rest of your performance and tell me about it, because I don’t want your efforts to go unwatched, but I do really need to go.”

Roman stared at him. “It’s your anniversary! You should be relaxing!”

Logan just shrugged. “I don’t see an anniversary as an achievement.”

Before Roman could even begin to unpack all that, Logan gave him a tiny wave and left Virgil to watch the rest of Roman’s performance alone.

Okay, so the theater and the swan boats were a bust. That was fine. Roman had plenty of other things planned for today.

Except, then Virgil wanted to go work, so only he and Logan went to Patton’s cooking class.

And then Logan saw a book he hadn’t read in the library, so Virgil did the escape room by himself (he did manage to complete it though.)

And then both Logan and Virgil were busy, so the picnic was completely ruined.

By 3 o’clock, Roman had all but given up trying to get Logan and Virgil to do fun things and was sitting by the kitchen table, head firmly planted on the tabletop, and letting out quiet moans as if he were a fish that had just been gutted.

There was a creak from the chair beside him. Roman turned his head to the side and blinked rapidly at Logan. The side’s expression was unreadable, but Roman sat up and glared fully at his stupid friend.

“Why don’t you just enjoy the stuff I make you!?” Roman threw his hands up in the air. “You’ve been together for four years! You should celebrate that!”

Logan sighed quietly. “Would it make you feel better if Virgil and I did one of your… date ideas?”

“No!” Roman crossed his arms over his chest. “It would make me feel better if you wanted to celebrate.”

“So we can’t make you feel better then?”

It took Roman a second to figure out what he was insinuating. That the only reason he would do anything Roman planned was for him and not their relationship. “Why don’t you want to celebrate!?” he practically shouted.

Virgil appeared in the doorway. Roman’s eyes flickered between the two of them but it was Logan who answered his question.

“Virgil doesn’t like the over-attention, and I don’t see an anniversary as an achievement.” His voice was casual as if they were discussing how the sky was blue or that water made things wet. “The true achievements in a relationship are when you compromise, help the other through obstacles, show your interest in their interests. It’s not an arbitrary date.”

Roman stared rather blankly at him.

“The achievement,” Logan continued, “is just being in the relationship. It doesn’t matter to me how long I’m with Virgil, so long as I am.”

“You fucking-” Virgil spoke from the doorway, voice a bit more muffled than usual.

Logan glanced behind him, eyebrows knit together, and barely had time to ask “what?” before Virgil had hauled him out of his chair, waved at Roman, and pulled Logan out of the kitchen.

Roman snapped his fingers, and all of the plans he had made for the day- the party, the trivia game, the Disney movie marathon- vanished into thin air.

Logan walked into his room later that night and was not at all surprised to find Virgil laying across his bed, computer open to Disney+, and Virgil browsing through it in an attempt to find a movie they could watch together. It was a common sight- although normally, Virgil wore his hoodie instead of the skeleton onesie on at the moment. And normally, there wasn’t a unicorn onesie spread out off to the side of him in a very obvious message as to what Logan was to wear.

He scooped the onesie up.

“Dinner?” Virgil glanced over at him. He smiled widely at the sight of conjured Chinese food and then rolled his eyes. “Utter sap.”

Logan was still trying not to melt from the mere look on Virgil’s face and wasn’t able to find his tongue before Virgil had sat up and given him a soft kiss.

“We’re not eating on the bed,” Logan managed when they broke apart.

“Then you better set up the beanbags.” Virgil stuck his tongue out and then instantly went back to browsing. “Are you against musical Disney movies?”

“I suppose not.” Logan grimaced at the thought of the show Roman had put on. “However, I’d prefer it to not be a romance.”

Virgil’s gaze laughed back at him, as if he too was remembering the oddity of watching Roman play all parts of a romance play- although Logan had managed to escape before watching Roman passionately make out with… nobody.

And while he was sorry he had left Virgil alone for that, he was also incredibly happy he missed it.

Logan set the Chinese food down on his desk and headed over towards the hamper set off to the side of his room. It took him less than a minute to strip from his earlier dress clothes, slip into the onesie Virgil clearly wanted him in, and tie a blue tie around the front of it.

“Moana doesn’t have any romance in it,” Virgil said aloud. Before Logan could respond he muttered, “I’m in the mood for a classic though.”

Logan left him to it (Virgil would figure out what he wanted eventually) and made his way over to the ridiculously large bean bag usually set up in the corner of the room. Virgil had insisted they get it practically the moment he moved in, and Logan had to admit, the thing was quite useful.

At the moment though, it was completely covered in graphic novels Virgil read while listening to his loud emo music.

Logan sorted them onto the shelf as quickly as he could, ignoring the little “hmms” and “I hate that movies” coming from his bed. Once the beanbag was completely cleared off, Logan snatched their favorite blanket- a weighted galaxy one and sent it fluttering over the top.

“Have you picked a movie yet, Virge?”

“No.” Virgil sighed. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“I think you’ve given me every possible meaning to that question.”

“Fuck you.”

Logan smiled softly at the familiar nonthreatening words. He tapped the back of Virgil’s legs as he walked back over to grab the Chinese food, as a quiet friendly reminder that everything was ready for him.

“Mulan,” Virgil said aloud. He twisted to meet Logan’s eyes. “Mulan? Not the hideous new one, obviously. The old one.”

“Satisfactory.”

Virgil's answering smile is bright and not for the first time in their relationship- or really not for the first time that day, Logan is reminded exactly why he fell in love with him. He said nothing as Virgil jumped up and settled into the beanbag, holding one arm out for Logan to curl into before dropping the weighting blanket over both of them.

Virgil balanced the computer on his knees and Logan used the tension of the blanket as a sort of table Chinese food. He curled into Virgil’s side, letting out a quiet breath.

“I can’t believe Mr. I-Don't-Care-About-Anniversaries got my favorite takeout for our anniversary,” Virgil teased lightly.

Logan ignored the heat rushing into his cheeks. “You still enjoy them, even if you don’t like grand gestures. I’m not above pushing aside my opinion to make you happy.”

“You are annoyingly sweet, Logan.”

Logan smiled and leaned up to kiss his boyfriend’s cheek. Virgil’s answer was to shove fried rice into his face and click the start of the movie.

“Did you know,” Logan said over the music of the opening credits, “that the true story of Mulan is a lot more feminist than what Disney was going for here?”

“Yeah?” Virgil supplied.

“Yeah. In the real folktale, Mulan’s family knew she was leaving and supported her. Plus, when the army found out she was a woman, they didn’t care and just let her stay because she was that strong of a soldier.”

Logan glanced over at Virgil and found that he was facing him, barely even an inch away. Their breath mingled and Logan's eyes darted down to his boyfriend’s lips.

“I expect you to rip this movie apart with me,” Virgil whispered.

“Obviously.”

He wasn’t sure who leaned forward first, but by the time Shan Yu had come on screen, Virgil’s lips were soft against his.

He did know that Virgil was the first to pull back and shovel another chopstick full of fried rice into his mouth.

“This guy sucks,” Virgil said, jabbing a single finger at Shan Yu. “I hope that when he goes to charge his phone, it only works at a certain angle.”

“He’s the villain- I- wait. Virgil, they don’t have phones-”

Virgil stuck a dumpling into his open mouth.

#analogical #analogicalweek #sandersides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #fluff #anniversary

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