#//hopefully you will have me back after to much time away and waffling to get started again. I had decent reasons but still

[passionartx]

Hi!! Firstly, I LOVE your Tangled AU, so glad to see Tails getting more focus in AU’s. I wondering: Do you have any general Tails related headcannons?

Hiya! 💛✨ Thank you so, so much! And ooo this is such a fun question. Tbh, I have too many, I could write an essay! This account isn’t as popular as my au blog since I’m pretty inactive on it so probably only like 3 people will see this… but I hope those hypothetical 3 people enjoy my inevitable waffle and chaos! <3

Will also use this opportunity to hype up some friends and people who’s work I admire!!!

A few of my favourite Tails Headcannons! :

- I love the idea that him and Sonic were 4 and 11 when they first met.

- Sonic will always be Tails’ big brother first and foremost… however, as Aosth Tails put it: “You’re my mom, you’re my dad and you’re my picket fence!”. Sonic having accidentally become the closest thing Tails has to a parental figure has a hold on my heart and I love how writers like @chaoxfix and my homie @myyla-x portray this in their fics!

- After having first met (and honestly even a few years in) if Sonic ever had to leave Tails alone for a while for whatever reason, maybe to protect him from a particular battle, Tails would deal with hardcore abandonment issues. Poor lil guy would fear Sonic wouldn’t come back, that he didn’t want him around anymore (which is made 10 times worse if you headcannon he was abandoned by his parents). Lil guy wouldn’t know what to do with himself <\3

- Tails reminds Shadow of Maria. Probably my favourite Tails headcannon! Though I guess it’s more of a Shadow headcannon… am I using this as an excuse to talk about it? More likely then you’d think. But ahh, those blue eyes, yellowish fur, sweet gentle childlike wonder, love of life and learning + Ian flynn has confirmed given her upbringing Maria was prob a bit of a science kid. Ah <3 Plus that brings the idea of Sonic and Tails’ dynamic reminding him of his with Maria’s and that makes me want to cry. I actually have a WIP fic about this headcannon but it’s been a wip for like a year… hopefully one day I’ll finish it cause I’m literally obsessed with the idea and want to see it through.

^ Also extra nostalgic about this headcannon cause my friendship with @sh-0-w-1-sh literally started cause they were looking for art ideas and I was like TAILS REMINDING SHADOW OF MARIA!!! And here we are almost a year later!

- For better or for worse he’s picked up a lot of his big bros traits. I’m talking puns, poses, that lil nose rub and foot tapping, occasional cockiness, being self sacrificial, the list goes on. Once he realises this or anyone else especially Sonic points it out, he’d probably be super embarrassed and deny it <3

Speaking of picking up habits…

- While he would definitely be scared by certain situations like this ( << the Starline issue 35 and 36 situation being a good example with other people being at risk and him not really understanding the situation or his role in it ) I think Tails would be pretty desensitised to being kidnapped or hostage situations at this point. He’d probably just find it an inconvenience more then anything or be entertained by the hypothetical villains incompetence. Me and @myyla-x had a conversation about this idea once and… it’s been like 6 months and we’re still talking about it. One day that’ll make sense. We got a lil carried away. Just a lil. Anyway someone get this kid therapy. <3

- An already pretty popular one but I felt the need to mention it cause I relate, but he gets so sucked into projects and his inventions that hours and hours can go by and he just zones out and forgot to eat… well, anything but mints at least.

- Tails is a theatre kid. :D Is this self projection? … maybe. If nobody else gets me @guiltypandas gets me <3 :,)

- I think Tails would be in denial if Sonic died. As smart and logical as that little guy is, given how Sonic has beat the unbeatable, has come back before and seems invisible… yeah. <\3 I think he’d always hold onto the hope that it would only be a matter of time until Sonic comes back… even if this time that wouldn’t be the case… my friend @whitecatindisguise actually wrote an amazing fic about this when we talked about the idea called He’s (Not) Coming Back (which if you haven’t already you should totally check out cause it’s amazing! And a heart breaking! The best kinda fic :,) )

- I think Tails has a heart of gold…but I also think depending on certain circumstances if he hadn’t have met Sonic he could have gone down a much darker path (which I guess ended up being somewhat proven with Nine in Sonic Prime!). Me and @casperangel have screamed about this too many times then I can count and it haunts me.

- Tails is a sweetie, a cutey patooty, like an adorable little house cat… but similarly (and yet again as proven thanks to Prime!) Tails definitely has a feral side. Especially if he hasn’t gotten enough sleep or gets his mints confiscated. @dunkinbublin and @studioboner ‘s accounts are absolute goldmines when it comes to Tails multitasking being an adorable lil guy and a feral lil menace!

- Tails and Tangle have sibling energy! I mean, Tails is basically everyone’s adopted little brother, Knuckles and Amy especially, but I think him and Tangles dynamic isn’t talked about enough and I’m super glad we’ve had some sweet moments with them in the comics! @pocketscribbs is feeding the Tails and Tangle nation fr <3

This was super fun! Thank you so much again for asking and I hope you have an amazing day! And if someone actually read all of this… you’re a trooper :,) <3

[cometcon]

I uh... I did it again. XD My brain has been going brrrr over this fucking GORGEOUS artwork by @zunkome2 on Xitter (click the view on Twitter button to see their art) and it inspired me to write fanfic of it. I love this art so fucking much!!!! I hope I can keep practicing and be as good as them one day. :D

So yeah, I could not stop thinking about this and I love that Blitz is canonically such a horse-girl, and I can totally see Striker realising and using that to his advantage in trying to draw Blitz in and hopefully get him on his side.

Anyway, my brain decided it was time to take like 5 hours of my day on and off making me try to write this to the best of my current ability. Enjoy. XD

---------------------------

Blitz was in Heaven.

An ironic descriptor, considering their actual location, but picking a better one would have been impossible right then; especially with a hellhorse nuzzling his chest ever so gently in search of another rawhide strip. Her mouth may have appeared vicious - and technically yes, that Lovecraftian maw was capable of crushing flesh and bone to mush in a single bite - but the non-business parts were also far softer to the touch than anyone less familiar with the creatures might expect.

"Sorry. I'm all out," he murmured regretfully, giving the beautiful beast a scratch on her forehead as she shoved her muzzle into his other hand. He had to take a small step backward however when she suddenly whipped her head up and to the side with a greeting whinny. Strange. What was that abou-

"Lot of others would've lost a limb for that." The unexpected voice made Blitz tense, tail shooting straight out behind him in surprise before curling tightly, an embarrassed flush rising to his cheeks. He peered around the hellhorse's neck, praying his mortification wouldn't be obvious to the cowboy now leaning against his mount's side. How the fuck had he arrived without him noticing? Striker plucked the wheat stalk from between his teeth and smirked. "She likes you."

Blitz coughed awkwardly and began backing away, mind and mouth both rapidly trying and failing to come up with a believable excuse for his actions. "I was just- uh… I was looking for… We had them at the circus, see, and I thought maybe- Strips are really good for their teeth, you kn- I mean of course you'd know that! I just-" Striker's eyebrows had been climbing steadily higher beneath the brim of his hat the longer Blitz waffled on, and in desperation he found himself resorting to a ridiculous escape route he hadn't used since he was nine years old. "Ah, I think I hear Luna calling me! Coming Loonie!" 

He skittered across the corral and clambered over the fence, cheeks burning hot as he cursed himself silently. Why had he turned into such a blathering idiot in front of the one person he'd actually hoped to impress this weekend? Blitz knew a ruthless killer when he met them and Striker was clearly I.M.P material. After a pathetic show like that though, there was no way he would want to-

The ground under his boots had begun to vibrate while he fumed, faintly at first, then increasing to a thundering roll. He instinctively darted to the side and kept walking, expecting whoever it was to just barrel past him at the reckless speed they seemed to be going. But his path was abruptly cut off by a fiery grey mass, Striker expertly bringing his mount from full canter to a standstill in a cloud of dust. He swung her around to stand side-on so he could look down at the choking imp, that shit-eating grin Blitz was quickly becoming familiar with exposing a gleaming gold fang to the sunlight.

"Pretty sure your hound went bean-pickin' with the rest an hour ago," Striker commented, leaning forward to rest an arm on the pommel, free hand tapping his thigh absentmindedly, "Since you got so much free time to burn, how 'bout you come help me check the fences? Got a few posts loose on the South end thanks to that pesky varg pack last night." The hellhorse shuffled under him, pawing at the dirt and snapping her jaws a little at the mention of vargs. "Bombproof wouldn't mind catching a few either, I bet. Maybe you'll get to see her on the hunt."

"Oh, uh…" Perhaps he hadn't completely blown his chances after all? Striker certainly wasn't behaving like he thought Blitz a dithering moron, literally chasing him down to offer another opportunity to spend more time together and bond with Bombproof. What an incredible name for a hellhorse… No, focus! He could salvage this. He just had to pull himself together and show what a great prospect his group would be compared to farm work in the boonies. Preferably without turning into a rambling mess this time. He forced a nonchalant shrug. "Sure, why not?"

Striker slipped his boot free of the stirrup, hand extending in clear invitation. Blitz's brain stuttered, immediately dropping every part of his own peptalk as it dawned on him what the other had actually meant.

"What, you plannin' on walkin' there? It's miles of Wrath terrain. C'mon Blitz, I don't bite," Striker drawled, head tilting as his eyes took on a knowing glint, "Unless you ask nicely."

Well that decided it. Blitz was reaching for the proffered hand before he could second-guess himself, so caught up in his whirling thoughts Striker had to correct which foot the distracted imp tried mounting with. Blitz didn't have long to stew in his humiliation at least, preoccupied by the ease of how he was hauled into the saddle, hands directed to grip the pommel while the taller demon reached around him to grasp the reins. Striker nudged his leg out of the way, retaking the stirrup and leaving Blitz to squeeze Bombproof's sides tightly with his thighs as she responded to her rider. A moment later they were galloping down the driveway, wind whipping past their faces and her powerful form surging below them.

Blitz was wrong. His time in the corral had been a beautiful experience, but still only comparable to Earth at best. 

Now he was in Heaven. 

And he never wanted to fall.

[citrinekay]

Hey! I’ve been meaning to reach out and say hi for a while! Finally, I got a re-blog from you, tysm!! I’ve seen quite a few of your JCW posts (and also your stuff on various fandoms on AO3) and I know you’re quite the JCW fan – me too! Actually, I wanted to message to let you know that I think what you’re doing with the Andy/Revolver fanfic you’re writing is amazing. I read the first chapter a few days ago and am interested to see what you do with the story. The way you are dealing with some very sensitive topics is so well written, and I love the thought you have put into Andy’s character to give him this dark backstory. I’m looking forward to reading the rest when it’s completed, I never do well with chapter by chapter!! Also, well done for being the first to post for the Revolver fandom, I remember a short time back having to do that for the Pachinko fandom and I was nervous as hell. You are a very talented writer for sure, so I know the Revolver one will be a good read. Hopefully you’ll be inspired with Gangnam B-Side too once we see more. Anyway, sorry for waffling on, but if you ever wanna enthuse about JCW feel free to message ❤️ ~ take care 

Hi!! I've also seen your name popping up on AO3 too whenever I go to publish something JCW-related, like oh there's that one other person who loves him as much as I do😊lol I watched Worst of Evil last October and just fell completely in love him/ haven't been able to get back out of the obsession spiral since then thanks to pretty much every work he's done being worth watching. I don't expect the fixation to end any time soon haha

I'm genuinely so happy to receive feedback on my Revolver fic! Before I started posting, I made peace with the fact that it wasn't going to get much engagement since I had to create the fandom tag myself, but of course I do want some people to read and enjoy it. I was also fairly nervous about approaching those sensitive topics, so it's a relief to know that the way I'm presenting it doesn't feel offensive or tactless. It's always my intention to show the dark sides of human nature and relationships in a compelling but empathetic way. I couldn't stop thinking about the crumbs they gave us about Andy and Grace's relationship after I finished watching the movie, especially that final scene on the mountain when he begs her not to leave him and Madam Jung's comment to Suyeong that there's "rumors that he's her lover." She doesn't even allow people to know he's really her mom, which in and of itself could be pretty damaging to someone's development, but it seemed to me that the toxicity between them goes further than just this secret. They were clearly manipulating each other in that moment when she starts to walk away and then he cries and begs her not to leave. I thought that it seemed as if they had been through this type of push-and-pull before, a vicious cycle from which there is no escaping, and I really wanted to examine what had led up to that point.

It also really struck me that even though Andy is a privileged, wealthy person, he is drinking alone when Suyeong first meets him. Nobody rushes to his rescue when she's beating him and nobody really cares that he got hurt afterward (not even Grace, she's just mildly annoyed!) While it's true that his behavior invites getting his ass kicked, I think that anyone acting with such conscious disregard of their own life and everyone else's might have serious trauma that has never been addressed. Anyway, I totally understand waiting to read the fic until it's complete and I hope you enjoy the rest once it's done. I'll be updating weekly, so it shouldn't be too much longer.

Also, absolutely yes about Gangnam B-Side. I watched the first 2 episodes on Wednesday evening and my brain is already tickling with many thoughts about Gilho. As always, JCW is delivering a performance full of depth and nuance 🖤 I'll wait until the show has finished airing and I have all the character details to start writing but atm I can almost guarantee there will be some fics coming from me!

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Feeding Alligators 47 - Soul Jar

Decisions, decisions…and none of them good.

Trigger warning: suicidal ideation.

On AO3.

You don’t look at nobody as y’all set up camp that afternoon. Wyll is moving and speaking, but still weak. Shadowheart monitors him between starting a campfire. Karlach hovers around, unable to settle in any one spot too long, either looking at him all anxious, or you with big, sad eyes.

Astarion fucks right off without saying a word to nobody. Hopefully he’s out hunting something.

And Lae’zel…

Gale is brewing what turns out to be the very last batch of blood potion. After everybody got settled in, and the mummy man just fucking emerged from the shadows to loiter at the edge of camp—Gale went over and had a long discussion with him. Must be nice to be able to look into the hollow sinus cavity of the guy you’re speaking to without screaming and flinching away. In the end, Withers does confirm the evil bottle will in fact hold your soul, so he starts prepping for whatever the fuck that entails. He wants you to guzzle down another blood potion right before, but supplies are running low, and Astarion ain’t here, and Lae’zel flat out refuses to help.

“The useless istik will live or die on her own strength,” she says, loud enough y’all catch it. “I will waste my time no more.”

Gale looks to you, but there ain’t shit you can do about it, so you just shrug. She’s right to cut you loose. You fucked that up and ran like a bitch. So much for being some kinda leader.

“I believe between Withers, Shadowheart, and myself,” Gale says, “we can successfully summon your soul to this plane and bind it here. We, ah, don’t have many other options.”

Because you got maybe three more blood potions left and then off your soul goes.

“Okay,” you say.

Gale looks at you. Squints slightly. There’s something to him, the stiff way he’s holding himself, that sets alarm bells clanging.

“What?” you say.

“I…I thought we would have more time to prepare,” he says. “Both to gather supplies, and to, well, to let you ready yourself.”

He’s waffling. You already feel like shit scraped off the heel of somebody’s boot. You don’t mean to snap, but your control and your manners are frayed. “Yeah, and? It there a point here?”

And the man looks at you with such grim pity, you’re sure he’s gonna say it ain’t gonna work.

“I’ve been researching on my own,” he says. “My sources are rather limited, but I did study soulwork and astral travel with, ah, anyway. I have full confidence we can do this, as long as you’re up to it. But you do understand that it requires magic to perform?”

He waits for an answer. Seems important, though you cannot fathom why.

“Uh huh?”

“If what you say is correct about your plane, Ay-yarth doesn’t have much, if any, access to the Weave, strange as that sounds to my ear.”

He stares. You stare back.

And it clicks. Oh how it clicks.

“I can’t just pop the cork on that jar if I get home, can I?” you say.

“There isn’t much theory in that field. It could very well settle into you again, as it’s meant to. It may be an instinctive thing, once you’re back in your own realm.”

But.

“But it might fly off into space again,” you say. “Because, what, it’s all destabilized now?”

He nods.

You’re sitting criss-cross on the ground. The sun shines down warm and the breeze smells of leaves and green, growing things. The sky is blue, with happy clouds puffing along as Shadowheart helps Wyll sit up so he can take a drink of water, while Karlach sits about ten feet away, shredding grass with her talons.

“You’re telling me we gotta do this today,” you say.

“It…seems most prudent, yes.”

“And if we don’t, and I run outta potion, I die or whatever.”

He nods again.

“But if we do do this, and I, by some motherfucking miracle, find a way back home, I still gotta carry my soul around because it still might fly off into space.”

“I’m…not sure it would even be wise to travel across the planes once it’s been transferred.”

The forbidden carry-on. Well.

“I am sorry, Eleanor. Truly. I wish I bore you better news.”

You wave, all distracted. “Ain’t your fault. Y’all been going outta your way to help me this whole time, and I appreciate it. How long does this take to set up?”

He takes a breath, hands folded behind his back. “Not long. We would give you a sleep draught—of which I have a few—so for you, it can happen as soon as you lie down.”

Magical surgery. Neat-o.

You nod. Push yourself up and both your knees creak. You feel heavy and slow. No energy, everything in your body vaguely hurting.

“I’m gonna take a walk,” you say.

Gale’s head dips in a bow. “Of course. Take all the time you need. And whatever you decide, we’ll be here for you.”

He’s a good dude, even if he did eat your very first ring. You put a little effort into your smile as you brush past him to head down towards the river y’all set up next to.

***

You made yourself stop caring about some “afterlife” years ago. If God is a bitch who don’t deserve nothing, then heaven and hell and all that shit can go get fucked right alongside him. You don’t do woo-woo shit anymore.

But you always liked the idea of seeing Grandpa again. Of meeting your dad, maybe. Of seeing your ancestors and finding wherever they went once they left.

Somehow, you don’t think your soul is gonna make it across the space-time continuum between here and Earth to ever see that, if it’s even real.

You can die. Or you can stay here. Forever. Away from your friends, away from Uncle Randy and your aunties (they’re technically cousins, but eh) and all your little third and fourth cousins. You ain’t never gonna catch fireflies or sit on Uncle Randy’s porch, giving him shit for smoking. You ain’t never gonna see your apartment or listen to the rain with Christmas lights twinkling and a mug of cocoa in your hand.

Never catch up on any of your shows or movies. Never listen to a podcast ever again. Never hum along with a favorite song because you ain’t never gonna hear your people’s music again.

Never hear English.

Never learn more Cherokee.

You start sobbing at some point. You’re seated in a hollow among tree roots next to a stream. You can’t stay upright anymore.

You’ll never go to a cafe or a library. No more pizza. No blackberry mochas. Stir fry. Fry bread. Biscuits and chocolate gravy. Fucking ice cream. You will never find a funny meme or have to explain an internet video to your relatives.

Never text Sasha again. Never hear her voice. You’ll forget what she and all the others look like, what they sound like. You’ll forget all the people you love except for their names—

You can die. Or you can lose everything except your fading memories and your own skin. Stuck in a place where you can’t speak the language. Where you don’t understand the clothing. Can’t cook the food. Can’t even read a book or tell a joke because the strangers around you won’t understand why a boat stuck in a canal is so goddamn funny.

The hyperventilating kicks in. You’re far enough from camp you can’t hear the others. You can risk making noise, even if it’s shameful bawling.

Ain’t no one to see or hear you, no one to stop yourself from clawing at your own hair or hitting your head against the dirt. Nobody to point out the wet mess of your face.

Just you and the golden sunshine.

It’d be easy to die. Wouldn’t have none of these worries, no more, and wouldn’t be around to care if Astarion friendship-dumped you and Lae’zel was down with letting you die. No more nasty potions. No more sleeping on hard ground with a rock wedged into your hip. No goblins or brainworms or murder or devils. No more goddamn decisions. No more horrible fucking waiting for the decision to be wrong and for that other shoe to finally, inevitably just fucking drop already.

And if your soul is still on Earth, or closer or whatever woo woo bullshit this all is, maybe if you kick it here and now, it can find its way back.

You don’t want to die. You’re just kinda tired of being alive.

Gale said this was risky. It might not even be up to you in the end, huh?

And that gives you some fucked up comfort. Small, weak, but there. All you have to do is walk back, drink one last, goddamn potion, and lie down. Let what happens happen.

You look over the silver glimmering of the water dancing in the light. Your ancestors went to water to cleanse themselves. Probably not a bad idea. Live or die, at least you can do it clean of spectator guts.

***

The sun skims the treetops by the time you come back. Gale is deep in conversation with Shadowheart. Karlach notices you first. Comes bounding over and opens her arms to kind of hover her hands near your sides.

God, you want to hug her for real.

“How’re you feeling, soldier?” she says. “Up for this wizard shit?”

You’re quite numb, actually. But you throw her a thumbs up and a, “Let’s do this.”

“Fuck yeah, that’s the spirit! Gale told us what he told you. You’re a mean, clever little thing. You got this.”

Shit, she’s kinda worth staying for.

Gale has optimistically laid out a bedroll for you near the fire. Karlach has apparently punched her tent poles around that bedroll and set up a canopy over the whole thing (minus the fire).

“Thank you,” you say.

She does that head-duck shrug thing again.

Gale and Shadowheart meet you at the edge of the magical operating theater.

“Ready?” he says.

No.

“Sure,” you say.

It ain’t really your choice no more.

You lay down. Wiggle around until you’re at least kind of comfortable.

Wyll has propped himself up on his pack so he can give you a smile. He says, “For moral support.”

And then Karlach looms over you again, and she’s got that raggedy teddy bear, Clive.

“I thought,” she says. Shuffles. “Thought this might do you more good than me right now.”

That plucks something in you. Baby soft, thinner than spider silk, but it’s there, and it’s touched. She has to drop it on you so she don’t get too close and burn off your eyebrows. Clive’s a bit charred, a bit tacky from whatever she puts on him to keep him from lighting up, and he smells of sulfur and grease.

You tuck him into the crook of your arm.

“Right,” Gale says. And you been so busy watching all the others you didn’t notice Withers lurking in. You only jump a little, this time. “Eleanor, we’re going to give you a sleeping potion. Should knock you right out. I don’t know what this will be like for you, but we will do all we can. Try not to lose yourself, and hopefully, the potion and our spells will draw you back here, yes?”

You nod.

Shadowheart kneels and holds up a bottle. You feel cold all over, super detached. Death or exile. One of them’s gonna happen.

“Bottom’s up,” you say and slam it down.

For some godforsaken reason, this one tastes like motherfucking cotton candy.

“What the shit,” you sputter. Try to grimace. But a cool hand slips over yours to hold it and you…

Previous - Index - Next Chapter

[mephestopheles]

Okay, so this meta is a kind of catchall but it didn't solidify for me until episode four. Spoilers ahead.

So while I don't think Capitalism is the actual bad guy of this season, I do believe, autonomy and choice is at the forefront, not just the importance of Story, which is definitely present, I think Brennan is kind of interrogating not only the role of Story narratively speaking but also how things like fate and destiny are you used as shorthand for 'plot'. The fairies of the neverafter have decided that something is very wrong if the characters and 'people' of the neverafter don't follow their required paths.

Now look at each of the characters and how they're interacting with Story.

Gerard wants to get back to his story. He's the one most likely to follow the wishes of the fairies and do what they want because he just wants to get back to what he believes he's owed. Yes, it is terrible that he was turned into a frog as a little boy and then expected to understand how to rule a kingdom when he's full grown and the curse is lifted. Yes he's going to have a very black and white view on what the expectations of his life 'should be'. So, of all the people who are going to follow the rules of the fairies, he's the one that will have the hardest time going against his own nature and whatever pull Story has on him. He's comes across as a spoiled prince and a coward because he's an adult.

But his entire worldview was set when he was very young and then he spent who knows how many years living in a pond waiting for a princess to break the spell.

Rosamund is another character that is still very much tied to her Story. Again, another young character cursed and locked away from any kind of growth and developed the expectation that a prince would come to save her. She still very much believes that a prince will find her and save her even if she's becoming disillusioned by events of the narrative so far. Her talk with Cinderella is hopefully going to have lasting effects for her but narratively, the "main story" has strong vines.

Pinocchio, poor Pinocchio. I think it's an easy guess that stepmother is one of the fae. Not a witch, but kind of like an archfey. I wonder if she's also the evil fae who cursed Rosamund. Her having many roles in the stories holds to how Brennan seems to be plotting this. I absolutely didn't know that in one version of Pinocchio, he kills the cricket. Yes Pinocchio wants to be a real boy again, but I think he's much less inclined to follow the narrative if he can get away with things he might start pushing back. See the broken off nice as an example. Also his relationship with Pib is interesting. Despite the terrible story where he met Pib with a fox. Pinocchio has trickster qualities that might help Pib more than stepmother, although she does have Pinocchio's father under her thumb.

So I had an image stuck in my head of the entire crew and I think I got them all. I think I'm conveying this correctly, like this is where we start Neverafter off and these are the current positions after EP 4.

Tim is a fence sitter, I get stronger "do it for others" vibes from him than Gerard, but not as strong as Ylfa. Ylfa is not pulled as much by the story as she is by needing family, especially her grandmother. If she has to be in a story for that to be possible then she might go for it, but she's the first to put herself on the line to help others so she has a bit more of a selfless vibe to her.

Pib is very self driven, the vibe of a shit head cat, what pot can I stir to make this fun for me? That's our scrappy little kitty right now. The meta stuff might fade a bit but he's still so much out for himself he'll torpedo a story if something is cooler on the other end.

Pinocchio is on the line, waffling all over the place at the whim of his fae patron.

Overall it's going to be interesting how this resolves. I don't think they'll end up all over into the meta selfless side. In fact I can see Ylfa learning to take care of herself, and Pib is at the end of the day a trickster and he may learn something but not quite enough to apply it somewhere else.

The really cool thing about all of it is that several of these stories begin when they were exceptionally young. Rosamund was a baby when she was cursed and she had to grow up with the knowledge of the curse her entire life. Gerard was a young boy when he was cursed, same as Pinocchio. Ylfa is twelve and is a werewolf. Pib is a cat that defies placing any official age and once again trickster. Tim is kind of outside the narrative by being mother Goose, a storyteller in his own right.

[darkcavewriting]

Day 3 Pt 1

Orientation was the last thing I wanted to do today. I, for some reason beyond the grasp of my mind woke up before 6:00 a.m. This was not even common during high school, and here I am wide awake and ungodly hungry. I groped around the bookcase for the coffee filters and the can of coffee so that life would actually seem possible after my first cup.

Between the coffee in the pot and the frozen waffles in the toaster I knew the morning would be survivable, somehow. Coffee was pretty much my only vice, then again at 18 it was about the only legal option I had, besides cigarettes, and they had no appeal to me, so coffee it was, by the pot full. I screwed around online, checking my email and generally wasting time before the 9:00 a.m. orientation. I figured that a shower would probably be in my best interest so I took one, threw on some shorts and a Winterhawks shirt and made my way out to Reese Court, the basketball arena where it was to take place. Orientation as I was expecting was boring. Basic college stuff which was covered in high school, and just common knowledge. Three hours of my life I knew I would never get back. When I got back to my room I saw my cell phone, I thought I took it with me, apparently I didn't, I checked for missed calls or text messages, hopefully from Grace, but there was a missed call and voice mail from my grandparents instead so I listened.

The message was slightly urgent and told me to call them immediately. This was very uncharacteristic for them, so call immediately I did, the news that they told me had me slink to the floor instantly.

“Your parents died in a car crash, they drove off a cliff outside Chelan today, we don’t have any more information other than that right now,” is what my grandmother told me.

I didn't have any idea how to react, other than I starting to cry. Even though I didn’t always see eye to eye with them, and moved to Cheney to be away from them for the first time in my life. I did not want them dead, but they were now and there was nothing I could do about it. I was in a state of shock, obviously and really had no idea how to react, nothing can prepare you for something so sudden and unexpected like that. I told my grandparents that I couldn't talk now and that I would call them back later to find out anything else I needed to know or if they had any more details on anything. It wasn’t like them to drive off a cliff or anything, my parents were both exceptionally cautious drivers and the Vanagon wasn’t exactly difficult to control, or possible to drive at a high rate of speed either.

I leaned against my bed sobbing, I had never had to deal with any deaths in the family. Now totally out of the blue this happened and it just blindsided me. I was in a complete state of shock. There was really no other way to describe it. I had to have sat there for at least two hours just sobbing and shaking. They had their faults, of course, more than some, less than others but they were my parents, and I did love them, and now there were gone and there was nothing at all I could do about it. The relationship with them wasn’t exactly strained, and the largely let me be my own person growing up. I just wanted a proper taste of freedom away from family, which is the biggest reason I picked going to school here in Cheney. They had always been supportive of me, academically, and athletically, but at times they weren’t the most supportive in other ways. When I showed signs of my horrible self confidence when I was younger, in elementary and middle school, they did little to help with things, or see about taking me to a therapist.

My phone started to vibrate on my desk, I grasped for it and looked at who was calling, it was Grace. I managed to somehow say hello, even though I could barley talk. She could instantly tell that something was wrong, and said she would be down to my room in a minute.

Under a minute later I could hear the knocking at my door. I struggled to get up and open it. She walked in and I could tell by the look on her face that she was genuinely worried. I spelled it all out for her, how I heard from my grandmother and then proceeded to go into a state of shock. The look on her face was in almost as much shock as the one on my own. There was no way I could communicate verbally right now, so I had to write everything out for her on paper.

“I am so sorry Kenrick, I feel terrible for you,” Grace said. “I can't even imagine how bad it must be after only being here for a day and all of a sudden have your parents are gone, you must feel terrible.” “Believe me, I do,” I wrote. “There is no way I could have ever thought about or expected anything like this to happen to them at all.” “Is there anything at all I can do for you?” she asked. “Short of bringing them back to life, I have no idea, I am really not in a good place mentally right now,” I wrote out. “Is there anything at all I can do for you at all, to make things any easier?” Grace asked. “Seriously I will do anything I can to help you out and make you feel better, you don't need to be feeling like this so soon after moving here.” “I really don't know, my emotions are a complete mess, I don't know what to think about anything right now,” I finally was able to speak out to her. “Do you want to come with me, get out of your dorm room for a little bit and go for a walk or something?” she asked. “Why not, it might get my mind off of things briefly at least,” I managed to choke out. We headed out of the dorm towards the stadium, where there were trails leading up the the water tower she said. Anything was better right now than being stuck in the dorm room with my mind taking control of everything. It was nice to be outside with the ability to let my mind wander more than it was doing when I was in my dorm room. Grace said that she knew quite a few trails in the area, and even up in Spokane and that she would be more than willing to take me hiking with her if I was ever interested in going. I told her I would be, and that I would like to take a shot at climbing Mt. Spokane at some point. “Mt. Spokane?” She said, “That is a piece of cake, no problem.” I was excited to see her optimism, I had always wanted to go hiking when living in Portland but my parents were not outdoorsy in the least, so it was something I never got the chance to take advantage of. Now that I was in the Spokane area I figured I might as well try to take as much of an advantage of the outdoors as I could. Now that I actually had the chance to spend some real time outdoors in the real outdoors, not the city I knew good and well I should take advantage of it, and getting to do so with Grace would be a nice little added bonus as well. We finally made our way up the the water tower and kicked off our shoes and sat in the grass, Grace scooted around so she was facing me. She held out her hands and held mine in them and asked me what I was feeling. “I feel loss, hurt, empty inside, that is the best I can describe it I guess,” I said. “What would you like to try that might make things better?” She asked. “I know you only found out a couple of hours ago, and are still shocked, but is there anything at all I can do for you?” “I really do not know for sure, make sure I don't go crazy, or do anything stupid, or start getting terribly depressed?” I asked. “Well that can't be to terribly hard, especially since classes don't start till next week,” she said. “If you wanted I could stay in your room at night, so you aren’t alone if you want, especially since you have the extra bed.”

“Anything to help you feel more at ease and comfortable, I know how it is to lose a family member, waking up screaming in the middle of the night is a terrible feeling,” said Grace. “I lost a grandmother a couple years ago who I was very close to, and it wasn’t easy at all, it still isn’t some days.”

“You would really do that for me, even though you have only known me for a few days?” I asked. “More than anything right now, you need a friend to make sure you don't do anything drastic, and that you take care of yourself,” Grace said. “And seeing as how you don't know anyone else here I am very willing to be that friend.” “I do have an aunt and uncle in Spokane, but I don't even know if they know about the crash yet,” I said. “I know that if I had to I could go stay with them if needed, but that might not be the best idea.” “Well if you decide to, you can, but at least stay here for tonight, I know you will have to go back to Portland for the funeral I would presume sometime soon,” said Grace. “Very true, I would imagine that it would be held in the next couple weeks at the latest,” I said. “Thank you so much Grace, everything you have offered to do means more than you could possibly know.” “Anytime sweetheart, this is university, you need to make the most of it, everything will all work out in the end, and I will do anything I can to help you out,” said Grace.

[taegularities]

hiiii, i’m new here so just a warning this is gonna be a long one 🙃 okay so i just wanted to say I FUCKING LOVE YOU RID!!!! I actually cannot stress it enough i have fallen in love with your writing, your art is so beautiful, and you know what makes it all a 100xs more enjoyable? your kind nature, YOU’RE SO KIND <33 i kinda scrolled through your account a bit after reading a few chapts of cmi and you’re the sweetest lil honey the way you take so much time to respond idk it’s so endearing to me mayn i’m in love w u 🙈.. i have fallen into a trap named rid and i fear you’ll never be rid of me (okah ahhh this is embarrassing, unfortunately my jokes don’t reach level kim seokjin butttt oh wells i tried :)

Anyways now that i’ve given you a lot of my attention (😅) let’s give some to cmi eh?! I’m currently on chapt 3? but first off CMI JK!!!!!! i’m sorry but he’s mine forever i adoreeee him. He’s a silly lil man but he knows when to be serious and he cares for her so much 🥺 right from the beginning girl chap 1 i’m telling you he’s her lovr boy from day 1 no one can change my mind.

And mccccc i acc love herrr, she has the vibes where she’s like ‘ugh i hate you🙄’ whilst her insides are totally squealing overwhelmed with butterflies, pls she’s so me in that sense. My lifestyle isn’t in anyway like hers but somehow someway i manage to relate to her she’s such a comfort to me i can’t explain it :( her inner monologue it’s like she just gets me, the over-thinker in us 🤧 so thanks for bringing her character to life :))

Also, i’d say i’m v good at reading characters, predicting stuff here and there but for the life of me Rid, i cannot read jk. he’s impossible. One minute i think oh he knows he’s in love the next i’m like ??? are his thoughts just as jumbled as hers? He’s just so ?:?/?/?/? Either way they break my heart and manage to piece it all back together in one.

and YOUR SMUT???? oh your smut is oh so delicious! like the ‘jk knitting his brows together and aggressively hmm-ing’ kind of delicious. YES. YES. YES. however.. i’m hoping for dom mc to come out. she was teased the teeniest tiniest bit in chap 3? and now i’m just a tad curious.

Also them talking about percy jackson and me currently reading percy jackson 🤭

AND all the star talk has me WEAK. i LOVE STARS, i love the sky, they’re such romantics, he’s such a romantic, a dreamer, he’s perfect god i’m such a sap

also really random but we have the same mbti Rid :) and then i got curious about who’s your bias bcs i have this thing where i believe you bias who reflects your personality most and we literally have the same biases and bias wrecker 😭taegikook will be the death of me 🙄😩

(okay so bcs i’m anon i stil want you to remember who it is everytime i post feedback so it’s Riaaaa. maybe i’ll add an emoji? 🐈‍⬛? yeah i’ll go with the 🐈‍⬛)

thank you for writing i’m excited to read the rest of the chapters i’ll be back with an update hehe and hopefully a better review and less waffling. love yaaa 🫂

- Ria🐈‍⬛

WELCOME THERE, RIA! please, i love your energy already, it's nice that you weren't too shy to reach out <3 and with a seokjin joke right away? cmon, that's so sweet 😭 i'm so happy you have been enjoying my blog, me AND my stories, like, what more do i want 🥺

YES YES, cmi!jk has my entire heart. i don't think i've ever felt so close to a character i wrote, so he just means a whole lot to me (and hopefully, to cmi readers as well) – he's silly, and he'll get sillier. reading him won't get easier either, and as you'll see, oc is gonna have a hard time doing so, too hahaha buuuut he's adorable and i love him :( same with our overthinking baby, oc :(((

AH YOU LIKE THE SMUT? lmfao i've been having a hard time with it, so it's good go know i'm not entirely failing and you're enjoying it :'D sub jk, yes? we'll see 😌

ahh yes, the star talk. you said you're new here so you're not used to it yet, but i love my stars and the sky (a little too much), so you'll find talk about it every now and then, in most of my fics 😭 honestly, i even tried to lessen that bit in cmi and replace it with flower stuff... there's a lot worse out there in my masterlist :')

your name and the 🐈‍⬛ emoji are so cute, babe !! drop by anytime 🥺 and i'll be waiting patiently hehehe i'm so happy they're comforting to you, and super excited to hear what you think of the rest 👁 enjoy it and welcome again, lovely 💕

[flyingincandescent]

Dungeon500: take two.

Today me and Brae finally stepped out of the house for a while to go dungeon crashing. It was a place that I've been to before. Brae hadn't visited dungeon 500 before, but she got the hang of it pretty quickly.

Honestly, it wasn't that bad of a run, considering how some others had gone before. I think there was just 2 or 3 puzzles, and we were able to solve them peacefully for the most part. Like sure, there was a talking shark that tried to tackle me at first, but I was able to get out of the way of that.

Eventually though, we entered this minecraft-ass looking room with a catapult in it. Everyone was kinda waffling on who would sit in the launcher, so I decided to step up first. I feel like I need to prove my courage lately. I'm not sure why. I think it might have to do with a nightmare I had a few nights ago.

Anyways, I was launched straight into a white cube which sent me to a white void or some shit. It felt like it was beyond everything, yet still connected to everything. Who knows really. The main point is, we met this figure with a die for a head and a dice dress with tentacles everywhere. Her name was the dice maiden, and holy shit she was a piece of work. Not only did she say that she came to exist by charles's hate for her (still not sure how that even works), but that she was also jealous that her shitty slasher boss likes me more than her??? I don't even want to be liked by him anymore! I can still admit he looks attractive, but good looks and bad habits a boyfriend does not make.

So then, we fought. She pulls out the fucking dungeon core, and Samus wound up trying to pistol whip it like, 290 times before passing out from exertion. I managed to grab her and get her out of the way while Charles was charging a hateful fuck-you laser. Those vibes were absolutely rancid, and its no wonder that charles lost one of their stock lives afterwards. Thank fucking goodness that dungeon500 has that feature.

But anyways, they managed to absolutely evaporate the dungeon core, and killed the dice maiden, only leaving her dice dress behind. Charles wound up claiming the dress, and I gotta say, it looks really stylish on him. I bet they could get away with all sorts of shit with that dress on, for some reason.

After that, we exited back to the lobby with that liquid "dimension master" person, who gave us a pretty kickass stash of loot. I pocketed some assorted treasures to give to Goldie, Charles grabbed the single collector's friendcoin to give to Aeons (who absolutely fucking HATED their time in dungeon500 due to weird bullshit that kept happening to them), and Samus got the golden frog, which I can't help but think might be important later down the line. I think Katie also grabbed something, though I forget what is was. I know she put the chest in the lab lobby just in case anyone still wanted to claim something from it. Have I mentioned its a fucking minecraft treasure chest?

Unfortunately, Brae is still terrified of frogs. Its one thing just witnessing her being afraid, but feeling her fear across the network really underscores just how deep cutting that fear really is. Out of concern, I scheduled a therapy appointment for the two of us, since she accepted on the condition that I'd go too. Honestly, I need therapy for so many reasons that I'm not even sure what to bring up on the first session. Do I bring up the bullshit with Dylan? Do I bring up my history back in the session as a teenage assassin? My experiences with trying to find my identity and where I belong? What about all those times that I've had to witness a dead version of myself every time a doomed timeline ever happened? There's just so much baggage I've been holding onto for so long, I'm not sure which bag to unpack first.

Hopefully I find enough answers by wednesday.

[rebelwrites]

Winner Takes It All || Seven Fraudulent Activities

Charles Leclerc x Valentina Hendrix (OC)

Winner Takes It All Masterlist

Summary: It’s Christmas Eve and things are starting to heat up and not in the good way.

Warnings: mentions of being arrested, GTA and assault.

A/N: I am so sorry I have made you wait so long for this part 🥺 hopefully the ending makes it up to you ❤️

As always reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated ❤️ if you want tagging in future parts let me know ❤️

No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get back to sleep, every time I closed my eyes it was like a movie playing on repeat in my head.

The night Charles walked out on me.

It had been a while since I had been prisoner to this memory but being back around him caused it to resurface.

Kicking the duvet off I swung my feet around letting them land on the floor, my toes wiggling in the fluffy blanket that laid on the hardwood floor of one of the guest rooms. Running my hand over my face, I let out a shaky breath. This was one of my favourite times of year and he was spoiling it.

The smell of bacon and coffee drifted through the crack in the door causing my stomach to growl, Pascale’s Christmas Eve breakfast was one of the best meals I ever had tasted, she made everything; pancakes, waffles, fresh pastries, you named it she probably had it on the table. The sound of Charles’ laughter echoed through the house, causing my chest to tighten and tears to burn my eyes.

Fuck why was this so hard?

“Hendrix, tu ferais mieux de ramener ton cul ici avant que je ne mange toutes les crêpes. Hendrix, you better get your ass in here before I eat all the pancakes.” Arthur shouted up the stairs.

“Je jure devant Dieu que si tu manges toutes les crêpes, je te décapiterai bébé Leclerc. I swear to God that if you eat all the pancakes, I will decapitate you baby Leclerc.” I shouted back, quickly wiping my eyes before grabbing my Alpha Tauri hoodie forgetting it now had my number embroidered on the back, before running down the stairs

Taking a deep breath before I walked into the kitchen, I plastered a fake smile on my face as I made my way to the coffee machine, silently thanking that someone refilled the pot.

I stayed silent as I poured the drink, I was trying hard to bite my tongue as Becky was moaning about something that wasn’t on the table. Rolling my eyes before wrapping my hands around the mug.

“Maman, have you got any-“ I asked, scanning the table just to make sure I hadn’t seen them hiding away.

“Top cupboard above the fridge sweetie.” She smiled back at me, responding before I could even finish my sentence. “Bought them yesterday especially for you and hid them from the vultures.”

My heart swelled at the fact she remembered how much I loved them even after all the years that had passed.

“This isn’t fair, you buy her stupid caramel waffles yet there’s no grapefruit or dragon fruit for breakfast.” Becky screeched, causing me to wince.

I could see Charles pinching the bridge of his nose at his girlfriend's outburst.

“Firstly I’ve told you about your tone when you speak to me.” Pascale growled, gripping her knife and fork with so much force I was worried she was going to bend them. “And secondly, Valentina is and will always be my daughter so shut your mouth before I kick you out.”

I had to pull my first to my mouth to try and hide the chuckle that had escaped, I had a snarky comment sitting on the tip of my tongue and even though I was ready for a fight I decided to keep my mouth shut for once. Pascale threw a wink my way which I returned by blowing her a kiss before jumping on the counter top letting my ass land with a thud.

“You need a hand there Nugget?” Pierre hollered from across the table.

All eyes were on me as I pushed myself to my feet, once I was steady I leant up into my tiptoes letting my finger pull the cupboard door open. This was something I had perfected over the years.

“I’m good.” I smirked, reaching up into the cupboard blinding snaking my palm against the wood until I found what I was looking for.

“Little bear,” Lorenzo asked, causing me to glance over my shoulder. “Why are you wearing an Alpha Tauri hoodie with your race number?”

“Fuck,” I mumbled, hoping my lie was good enough “because it was a gift and you know manifesting and all that shit.” I hummed, jumping off the counter landing on my feet.

I noticed that Pierre, Pascale and my parents had to hide their proud smiles from everyone else. I was thankful that they were all keeping this a secret for now.

Lorenzo cocked his brow at me, like he knew I wasn’t being honest with him. Rolling my eyes at the oldest Leclerc I took my place at the table instantly loading my plate with pancakes, bacon and maple syrup, my mouth instantly watering.

“Like she’d ever be able to get into F1.” Becky scoffed, not even trying to keep her voice down. “I know you boys want females to get into the sport but she aint it.”

Once again I felt my blood boil, my grasp on my knife tightened, who did this bitch think she is? There was no way I was holding back now, not now she had come for my career.

“Come back to me when you have fucking won the W-series world driver championship, twice.” I spat, slamming my cutlery down on the table causing Arthur to jump slightly at the contact. “Oh that’s right you are nothing but a grid girl, using your body to get through life and to steal people's boyfriends.” I didn’t care anymore. I wasn't going to sit here in a place I classed as another home, a place I had so many memories only to be torn to pieces by some slag.

Kicking my chair back I stood to my feet, grabbing my stroopwafels and coffee. I needed to get out of the room before I showed this bitch who Valentina Hendrix actually was.

“Bambino, what about breakfast?” Dad asked, causing me to glance over my shoulder as I reached the back door.

“Ho perso l'appetito. I have lost my appetite.”

It didn’t take long before I was joined outside by Lorenzo. He silently pulled me into a bear hug and I could feel my resolve starting to crumble.

“Lor, I don’t know what to do.” I whispered, scared if I spoke any louder then I would break down. “It’s been four fucking years, yet right now if feels like everything happened yesterday.”

“Petit ours, tu n'as pas vu Charles depuis que tout est arrivé. C'est tout à fait normal de se sentir comme ça. Little bear, you haven't seen Charles since everything happened. It's perfectly normal to feel this way.” He hummed, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “I know it’s easier said than done but you gotta ignore them and focus on the time you have with us instead.”

“She is practically rubbing it in my face.” I sighed, pulling away from the hug, reaching for my mug of coffee.

“I know, we can all see what she is doing, well apart from Charles but he can be stupid at times.” Lorenzo said with a slight chuckle in his voice. “I know exactly what you need.” He smiled, shoving his hand into his hoodie pocket, slowly pulling out a set of car keys.

My eyes went wide the moment I saw them, I knew exactly what car they belonged to just from the keyring that was hanging between his fingers.

“You still have my ST?” I asked, slightly shocked that this car was still here.

“Of course.” He smirked.

“I thought Charles would have sent it to be scrapped by now.” I mumbled, taking the keys from him. I hadn’t seen this car in four years. It was the car I used in Monaco but when everything happened Pascale let me keep it locked up in her garage.

“Maman fell in love with the car, so we may have acted fraudulently, got her added into the insurance along with changing the bank details for the payments so she could drive it.” He laughed, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “She refused to let anyone else drive it, kept up with maintenance and even kept your modifications saying that it was her way of still feeling close to you.”

Tears burned my eyes, and in this moment my heart was full. A lot had happened in the last four years but one thing that hadn’t changed was the love that Arthur, Lorenzo and Pascale still had for me. No matter what life threw at me I would always be family.

“How the hell did you manage that?” I questioned, raising my brow at him. “None of you sound anything like me.”

“Somehow Arthur can do a brilliant impression of you, it’s actually scary come to think of it.” Lorenzo laughed softly before pausing for a second. “Now I think we could all do with a morning at the track.” He smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Somewhere that you can release some of this anger legally, the last thing we need is you getting arrested again.”

Summer 2012

I should have thought this through, but once again I flew by the seat of my pants, throw in a little peer pressure and you could get me to do anything. Which was the reason why I was currently sitting in a police cell, surrounded by nothing but metal and coldness. I knew the friends I had weren’t the best but as a fifteen year old I didn’t care. Just like in the moment I didn’t care that we were committing GTA and assault whilst intoxicated.

Once again Charles was right, the people I was hanging around with suddenly would land me in shit.

Running my hands over my face I realise how badly I had fucked up. My knuckles were starting to sting from the cuts across the skin, dropping my hands I ran my eyes over the state of them. They were already starting to bruise from what I could see from the dried blood that covered my skin. My parents were going to kill me and from my moment of stupidity I was going to have a criminal record for the rest of my life so I might as well kiss my dreams goodbye because who in their right mind would want a driver that has a record.

“Princess,” a familiar voice echoed around the room. “What’s going on?”

The moment I saw Jules standing on the other side of the metal bars I broke down sobbing, hiding my head in my hands as embarrassment and regret took over.

“Uncle J, I am so fucking sorry.” I said between sobs, refusing to look up at him. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he started to speak again but this time it was too low for me to hear. The next thing I knew the cell door had been opened and Jules was crouched in front of me, resting his hands on my knees.

“Everything is going to be okay, little one.” he whispered, wrapping his arms around me as I sobbed into his hoodie.

“I’m going to have a criminal record” I sobbed, clutching onto the material.

“Not if I have anything to do with it.” he whispered, pressing a kiss against the top of my head. “Now let's get you out of here and get a large black coffee into you, we can’t have you going home in this state.”

Present Day

The moment I was back behind the wheel of my old car nothing could wipe the grin off my face, it was clear that Pascale was a little speed demon at heart considering the fact that the ST was a lot quicker than the last time I drove it four years ago.

“Buckle up.” I giggled, smirking at Pascale before dropping my hand to the handbrake once I had pulled into the track car park. Once I had done a quick check that there was nothing around I yanked the handbrake up, causing the car to spin before quickly and smoothly started doing donuts on the dirt causing dust to smother the car.

After I had a bit of fun in the ST I parked the car before quickly clambering out the red little beast. Leaning against the front wing of the car everyone was cheering and whistling apart from Becky who was scowling.

“Some things never change.” Dad grinned, pulling me into his side, pressing a kiss against the top of my head. “Should have known you would be trouble the moment Jules taught you how to drive.”

“Such a child.” Becky scoffed, folding her arms across her chest.

Pulling away from Dad I slowly walked over to her, squaring up with the dumb bitch. Anger was soaring through my veins as I stretched my fingers out by my side before balling them into a tight fist. Everyone had taken a few steps backwards now, including Charles. They knew what was going to happen and all knew better than to try and intervene.

“I have had enough of you.” I growled, narrowing my eyes at Becky. “Even before you stole my boyfriend you always pissed me off, thinking you were god's gift to the drivers on the track. But news flash darling you are nothing but a dirty little slag.”

“I can end your career you stupid bitch.” she laughed loudly, which just irritated me more. “You may have two championships but we both know I am the real winner here. I am the one hanging from Charles’ arm not you so I would suggest you would back the fuck off.”

I couldn’t hold back any longer, I had wanted this moment for a while now so I was going to enjoy this. Becky didn’t know what came for her as my fist collided with her face with so much force I could hear her nose crack, the sound alone caused a huge grin to form on my face.

“Valentina,” Charles exclaimed, causing me to roll my eyes. “What the fuck?” he muttered as he rushed over to his girlfriend’s side.

“I should have done that fucking years ago.” I smirked.

“Tu as changé. You have changed.” he said, raising his voice.

“Pas grâce à toi, connard. No thanks to you, asshole.” I spat, glaring at the person that my heart called out for all of the time. “Tu sais quoi, j'emmerde cette merde. You know what, fuck this shit”

@chibsytelford @dragon-of-winterfell @ohthemisssery @a-distantdreamer @sgkophie @stillbreathin @angywritesstuff @miamedyu @enchantedbytomandhenry @scribbuluswrites @dangerouspursepeachbear @micks-afterglow @livo67 @buendiabebeta @pleasedontfollowinlost @ferrarifwendvale @hungryhungarian @theplobnrgone @charlesleclercje @sunf1owerrq @queenslife @panicforspec @inesramoss30 @justme2042 @liv67 @sessgjarg @derpinathebrave @idkiwantchocolatee @littleobsessionsandlifeslessons @alynoa @clcspeonies @pleasantducktimetravel @organasith @inchidentwithmax @raaaaabzzz @teamspideyman

[shouldershimmycity]

I just got broken up with (3.5 year long relationship, was totally unexpected) and I’m pretty much heartbroken right now. It’s Not Easy has been the only thing that has made me feel better. (Granted it also made me cry but that’s neither here nor there.) So I just wanted to come on here and thank you for your amazing writing and for making my heart hurt just a little less <3

I am so sorry to hear that 🥺 I know there's nothing I can do for I am but a simple fanfic writer, but I'm glad to hear that It's Not Easy had made you feel better. It will have a really happy ending don't worry.

In the meantime, here are some silly little things I have thought of while writing It's Not Easy to hopefully help cheer you up:

Mav and Knucks without a doubt got Cinnabon at the airport before their flight to North Island. They split it.

When Hangman finally meets Knuckles after meeting Rooster for the first time, they get along surprisingly well, and she's the reason Rooster is so chill with him (until that one scene™ in TGM).

Rooster and Knucks absolutely got a dog and it was a golden retriever that they named Waffles.

Neither Rooster or Knuckles drinks anymore after the events in Pensacola.

When the events of TGM take place, Knuckles and Maverick are devastated when Ice passes away; and that's the only time she does.

Mav and Rooster are 100% tempted to hide from Knuckles when they get back to the carrier in the Tomcat because NO CYCLONE YOU DONT UNDERSTAND SHE WILL KILL US AND I’M TOO YOUNG TO BE MURDERED.

I hope this made you smile even just a little.

[theinvisiblecapricorn]

Surprise, surprise.

Author's note: This is my first ever written one shot. The inspiration popped into my head during my shower. Please let me know what you think. Enjoy

Fluffy one shot.

Part 1.

// Introduction //

A little info about Y/N and Vinnie.

So, you guys met during the first Covid lockdown.

You weren’t really seeing anyone of your friends during this time because you didn’t feel like taking any risks. So the only way for you to interact with anyone, was via social media. Before lockdown you also kind of give up on the idea of finding a lover because the last time you gave it a shot it didn’t work out.

You remember one of your best friends told you ‘’ Once you start focusing on yourself, it’ll come to you. ‘’ Well, what better way to focus on yourself other than during quarantine?

That’s when Vinnie came into the picture.

After many failed attempts of having a normal conversation with serval people, the last thing Vinnie expected was to meet someone like you. A lot of the time people tried to take advantage of the fact that he was famous. They would post his personal info on social media and share their conversations for clout. Just like you, Vinnie was kind of over the idea of meeting someone who would like him for his personality instead of his name.

You guys instantly clicked. It felt like talking to someone you’ve known your entire life. There wasn’t a thing you couldn’t share with another. But because the two of you lived in different time zones you couldn’t talk as much as you’d like, but you made it manageable. There was only one problem; traveling was not an option due to Covid, so the two of you had never seen each other in real life.

Until now…

// End of introduction //

Alex (Warren) set up his camera to make a video.

He clicked on record and looked into the camera.

‘’ So as you guys know, Vinnie and Y/N met online in the beginning of Covid, but they’ve never officially seen each other in real life. Now that traveling is allowed again and Vinnie hasn’t been feeling himself lately, I thought it was a good idea to surprise him. I bought y/n a plan ticket so she can come over and hopefully cheer Vinnie up. And I will document the entire journey. ‘’

// Vinnie’s POV //

It’s noon. I lay on my bed, scrolling on my phone through TikTok. I haven’t heard from Y/N all day. Normally she would call me before going to bed herself, but she never did. I tried texting her but no reply.

Y/NNNN????

Yo bro, you there???

I miss your voiceeee

Please don’t be asleep already 

Pick up!!!!!! Or else I’m coming for you.

God, I wish I could just fly to wherever she was at and kiss her entire face. Because, yes, I am indeed in love with her, and she feels the same way about me. I just never thought I could recognize so much of myself in someone else. She’s the most kind, beautiful and loving person I know, and I can’t wait to hold her in my arms one day and never let go.

I’m starting to daydream about a life with y/n without the long distance, because it truly sucks. Then I hear a knock on the door and before I know it Alex comes rushing in with his camera in his hand.

( Vinnie & Alex )

‘’ Vinnie, say hello to everyone! ‘’

‘’ Hello everyone. Alex what do you want? ‘’

‘’ Why are you assuming I want something from you? ‘’

‘’ Because you only enter my room if you either have one of your crazy ideas to share or if you want me to get involved in something I probably shouldn’t get involved into. ‘’

‘’ Pfft, not true. My ideas aren’t crazy, they’re brilliant in their own way. ‘’

Alex grins at me. Suspiciously.

‘’ Anyways that’s not the point Vincent, I actually came in to see if you would join me to get some groceries because the only thing left are rise waffles and I’m starving. ‘’

Alex is blinking his eyes with the same grin he has had on from the moment he came into my room.

He’s not going to leave until I agree on coming. So before I know it, we’re on our way to the grocery store.

// Y/N’s POV //

I received a text from Alex a few weeks ago. He told me about his idea to surprise Vinnie. I couldn’t be more excited. Ever since Vinnie and I started talking I have pushed many of my personal boundaries. In a positive way. Vinnie has helped me regain trust in others and has showed me that love is real. I have lost my faith in love due to my previous experiences. That’s why the connection that I have with Vinnie is so important to me.

I have arrived at the airport as I turn on my phone. My phone starts to receive all the missed text messages and calls from Vinnie. I smile as I read through them.

‘’ Oh Vin, if only you knew ‘’ I think to myself.

I hear someone yelling my name behind me. As I turn around, I see Nailea running towards me.

Nailea is a close friend of Vinnie so of course she was the first to know about Vinnie’s contact with me. She’s been super kind to me, and I consider her as the sister I never had.

Nailea hugs me once she has approached me.

( Y/N & Nailea )

‘’ OH MY GOD. Girl, I am so happy that you’re finally hereeeee!!! ’’

I laugh as I see people around looking at us.

‘’ I am also very happy to be here. To finally meet everyone. For real. ‘’

‘’ Yea, now tell me, does my nose look bigger on the screen than in real life? ‘’

‘’ Hahaha, no Nai. You look fantastic on the screen and even better in real life. ‘’

Nailea and I take my stuff and walk out of the airport.

Once settled in the car, I receive a text from Alex:

We’re almost at the store. He hasn’t got a clue. See you there.

This is all a part of Alex his big plan. First, I will act like a regular costumer shopping at the same store as Vinnie and Alex. Then once they get back, Alex will distract Vinnie just a little longer, so he won’t notice me walking past the car right away. Brilliant.

// Vinnie’s POV //

Alex and I walk into the store.

‘’ Alright, what do we need? ‘’

‘’ Anything but rise waffles. ‘’

I shake my head, laughing, as I walk to the lemonade aisle.

Alex is taking out his camera and starts filming me from a far.

I start singing Paparazzi by Lady Gaga as I act like I'm hiding from him.

‘’ Oh, you should also take a few cans of coke. ‘’ Alex suggests.

As I walk towards the aisle with cans of lemonade, I notice a girl standing in front of it. Her hair instantly reminds me of Y/N. The exact same length, color and texture. Call me a simp, but I just pay a lot of attention to the girl I love. I slowly approach the girl before Alex attacks be by throwing a teddy bear on my head.

‘’ Hey, watch it! ‘’ I fix my hair.

‘’ Sorry man, I just know how much you like teddy bears. ‘’ Alex’s laughing out loud as he zooms in to my face.

I laugh, as I start to think back to the day Alex thought it would be funny to buy a giant teddy bear and have Patrick in it to scare me.

Just then, I notice the girl was gone. I didn’t see her anywhere else again.

After collecting all the stuff, we needed, we went home.

Once we arrived home, Alex stopped me before I opened my car door.

‘’ Let’s just sit here for a bit and talk about some stuff. ‘’ I stare at Alex with a confused look on my face.

‘’ Yea, because the viewers want to know, how are things going between you and Y/N? ‘’

I scratch the back of my neck and start feeling the heat take over my cheeks.

‘’ I mean, it’s hard sometimes. She’s one of the most important people in my life, yet I haven’t even met her in person. But I just know that once I do, that everything will naturally fall into it’s place. ‘’

Alex pouts as he listens to all the sweet things I have to say.

‘’ You really like her, don’t you? ‘’

‘’ I mean, yea I do. I really do. ‘’

‘’ Alright, so imagine her standing in front of you right now, what would you do? ‘’

I look at my hands as I start to imagine a situation like that.

‘’ Uh… If she was standing in front of me right now.. I would.. ‘’ My eyes scan a figure walking past the car and I couldn’t believe my eyes.

// Y/N’s POV //

Shit, I almost got caught. The plan was to go into the store, just to admire Vinnie from a far. I didn’t plan to stand in the exact aisle, where he needed to get something from. Luckily, Alex had a plan to distract Vinnie while I fled to the exit. Phew, that was close.

Alex texted me, saying they were on their way home. That’s when it hit me, I am going to be able to see, touch and kiss Vinnie for the first time ever. Nailea noticed my anxiety kicking in and she told me everything would be just fine.

It didn’t take long before Alex’s car pulled up on the driveway. Alex and Vinnie stayed in the car for a bit. My phone started buzzing as I read the notification: ‘’ Now!’’ That was my cue.

As nervous as one can be, I walked past the car with the person who’s the other half of my heart in it. I didn’t dare to look in his direction.

// Vinnie’s POV //

I couldn’t believe my eyes. This isn’t real right? Was I dreaming? I mean, I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night because I was worried sick due to Y/N not responding to me anymore.

I rub my eyes as I watch in the direction of the person again and there’s no way it couldn’t be her.

Then she turns her face into my direction and my heart starts pounding. There she is, the love of my life, the only person who can make my day just by popping up in my notifications, Y/N.

As I try to open my door, I hear Alex locking it.

‘’ Let me out! ‘’ I look at Alex as I try to unlock the door, but unable because he keeps his hand infront of the lock.

‘’ You haven’t answered my question yet. ‘’ Alex smirks at me, but I do not find it funny at all.

‘’ Please, let me out and I’ll show you what I would do if she were to stand in front of me ‘’

And with, I heard the door unlock. I jumped out of the car and ran as fast as I could to the person who I longed for the most.

Click here for part two;

[eliemo]

Call Me When You're Sober

Summary: Remus tells Janus he loves him for the first time. Or at least...Janus thought he had.

TWs: alcohol usage in the beginning and talk about being drunk throughout, misunderstandings, hangovers

Notes: Human au, loosely based on a drawing from @underdog-arts their art is amazing go support their patreon.

Established romantic Demus/Dukeceit and background (very background) Prinxiety

“I’m not going to kiss you.”

Janus frowned, something that could probably be considered a pout with how out of it he was. He chased Remus’s mouth as the other man pulled away, one hand still carded through Janus’s hair.

His frown was definitely closer to a pout judging from the way Remus laughed out loud, eyes softening in a way anybody else rarely got to see, and Janus felt his cheeks flush even further. They’d been tinged with pink since his second drink (Remus hadn’t stopped pointing out the color in his face all night, adorably smitten by it) but at this point there was no way to blame his blush entirely on the alcohol.

“I’m not gonna kiss you, Jan,” Remus repeated, grinning insufferably when Janus slurred an illegible plea. “Not right now.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re drunk,” Remus said, moving his hands from Janus’s hair to keep him steady on the bar stool. “You won’t even remember any of this in the morning.”

“I will,” Janus protested, tongue slow and heavy in his mouth. “I always do.”

“Alright then, party animal.” Remus smirked, standing from the bar stool to drape one of Janus’s arms over his shoulder, helping him stagger to his feet. “Let’s get you home. Pat bought us an Uber.”

“But--”

“You can have a kiss when you’re sober,” Remus said, waving at a blurred shape Janus thought might be Patton. “Ok?”

Janus couldn't even make out his own reply, stumbling and leaning heavily against Remus’s side. He felt weightless, floating through the air, and it took him a moment to realize it was because Remus had picked him up and carried him out of the bar.

It felt like forever since he’d let himself get this drunk at a party before, and even longer since Remus had been the one sober enough to take care of things.

It was...nice. Really nice. Even if what rational thought he had left knew for a fact he would feel like shit tomorrow.

He was vaguely aware of Remus gently putting him in the backseat of a car and carefully following in after him, their hands loosely intertwined.

The driver said something before pulling away from the curb and driving off but Janus couldn’t make anything out, overcome by giddy exhaustion, and focused entirely on Remus.

He snorted when he caught Janus staring, and Janus knew he’d never get Remus to admit to blushing at the attention.

Janus leaned into the touch when Remus carefully framed his face, running his thumbs along his cheekbones, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

Nobody else got to see Remus like this, thoughtful and loving and gentle. It was rare, but Janus always felt honored in some way. Even if he was so drunk he could barely comprehend it.

Remus suddenly leaned closer to press a gentle kiss to Janus’s forehead, slow and careful, one hand still cupping his jaw. He pulled back, just barely lit up by the passing streetlights, gaze soft as he looked Janus over.

“I love you,” he said for the first time, and Janus’s heart soared. “And I know you won’t remember this tomorrow.”

His face was beginning to ache with how much he was grinning, replaying the words over and over again in his head despite the fog weighing him down. Janus fell into Remus’s chest and shut his eyes to the sound of the car’s engine, trusting Remus to get them home safe.

---

Janus unfortunately did remember the night before, blurred and distant as it was, and that last conversation with Remus was the only thing keeping Janus from swearing off alcohol for the rest of his life.

His head was pounding, the light filtering in from the window felt like someone was poking knives in his skull, and every time he tried to sit up every single bone in his body violently protested, stomach lurching dangerously.

But he couldn’t even be annoyed at any of that right now.

Remus had said he loved him for the first time last night, holding his face like the most precious thing in the world, and that was the only thing on Janus’s mind.

He’d known Remus loved him. Or at least, he’d assumed. Remus tended to show love every way except verbal. It had taken some getting used to, insecurities Janus refused to voice always making him doubt that Remus actually felt the same, despite them dating for months and being friends for longer.

But Remus had said it last night. Remus had kissed Janus’s forehead and looked at him with soft fondness and told him he loved him.

He loved Janus.

And he had assumed Janus would be too drunk to remember, which meant he got to mercilessly tease Remus for the rest of the day about it.

Janus forced himself out of bed, noting with a small smile the water bottle that had been left on the bedside table. He could hear some commotion from the other room, probably Remus looking for food in the kitchen.

He sipped at the water, untangled himself from the sheets and slowly stumbled to his dresser to get a change of clothes. As uncomfortable as sleeping in jeans was, he appreciated Remus not changing him into pajamas while he was passed out.

When he felt human enough to leave his bedroom, wrapped up in sweats and a flannel, Janus slipped out of his bedroom and padded down the hall where Remus was sprawled out on Janus’s couch with a half eaten poptart on the coffee table.

“You could have slept in the bed, you know.”

Remus grinned up at him, disheveled and probably a bit sore. “Yeah well, you smelled gross.”

Janus knew Remus would never admit he just hadn’t been sure he was allowed, if Janus would be comfortable with someone sleeping next to him without clear permission.

Remus had a brass sense of humor, he was forward and grossly affectionate in public, but he was always so careful with Janus. There were so many unspoken questions, silent searches for approval, and private check-ins.

“You’re cute,” Janus said, grinning when Remus stuck his tongue out. “Do I get my kiss now?”

Something unreadable flashed in Remus’s eyes, and Janus assumed it was the realization Janus hadn’t been drunk enough to completely forget the night before.

It was gone in an instant, and Remus pushed himself up off the couch to shuffle across the small room, gather Janus in his arms, pull him close and kiss him just like he’d wanted the night before.

Remus pulled away with a wink that made Janus scowl playfully, and made his way to the connected kitchen. “I can’t figure out how to work your coffee maker.”

“If you break anything else in my kitchen I’m killing you.” Remus had managed to break his old toaster when they’d first started dating, and Janus never planned on letting him live it down. “I’ll make you some.”

Remus jumped up on the counter, watching Janus refill the pitcher in the sink and grab the coffee grinds from the counter, eventually distracted by scrolling through his phone while the pot brewed.

“Hey,” Janus called when it was done, smirking when Remus hummed nonchalantly. “Did you tell me you loved me last night?”

Remus jumped and nearly dropped his phone, fumbling for a second before managing to put it down on the counter, hands ridiculously unsteady.

Janus expected the momentary surprise, but he didn’t expect Remus to bark out a panicked laugh and shake his head.

“What? No.” He scoffed, swinging his legs over the side of the counter. “I didn’t say that. Jeez how much did you drink, Jan?”

Oh.

He’d been ready for a bit of embarrassed denial, some teasing and flirting that had become normal between them. Last night had made Janus stupidly happy- happier than he remembered being in months- but Remus had jumped straight to denying it, like it was the most ridiculous thing in the entire world.

He suddenly felt cold, and a little bit like someone had shoved him to the floor. He quickly averted his gaze so Remus wouldn’t see how much that had hurt.

“Right,” he said, sliding Remus his mug of coffee. “Yeah, duh. Sorry. I was...super out of it.”

“It’s cool.”

Janus didn’t know what he was supposed to say now. There was a lump growing in his throat, something a little more crushing than simple disappointment weighing down on his chest.

“I’m...gonna make some food,” he said after a few seconds of unnatural silence. “We still have those frozen waffles, you want any?”

“Sure.”

Remus was being abnormally curt and dismissive, and Janus could practically see him searching for an excuse to escape the tense atmosphere that had never existed between them before.

“I, uh, have a change of clothes in my bag,” Remus said, waving a hand at the hallway. “I’m gonna go get dressed.”

Janus nodded, not trusting himself to speak as he went to rummage through the freezer to hopefully distract himself with making breakfast once Remus disappeared.

This wasn’t a big deal. He could blame his suddenly blurry vision on the hangover.

He’d...really thought he remembered last night. He could still feel Remus’s hands in his hair and that stupidly sweet smile on his lips when he refused to kiss him when he was drunk.

He remembered the pink blush on his nose when he’d said those three words, quiet like they were in their own little world that night. The scene had been replaying over and over in his head until he fell asleep, and had picked right back up when Janus had woken up.

It had felt so real. He’d thought...he’d thought it was real. He thought he’d finally be able to say it freely without worrying about moving too fast for Remus.

It was possible it could have all been a dream, but...

But Remus had answered so quickly. He’d been so adamant about how he hadn’t told Janus he loved him. Like he would never even consider doing such a thing.

Which...which was fine. Janus wasn’t going to hold Remus’s feelings against him, and he certainly wasn’t going to make a big deal about it.

He’d just been mistaken assuming he and Remus wanted the same kind of relationship. Janus loved Remus and Remus...didn’t. Janus wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted, but he’d made his feelings on the matter pretty clear today.

Janus had just been too blind to realize it after months of spending nearly every waking moment together.

That was fine. It was a stupid misunderstanding. Janus wasn’t going to cry like a heartbroken idiot just because Remus didn’t love him back.

He hissed out a curse under his breath when almost immediately there were tears slipping down his cheeks, and Janus pressed a hand firmly to his mouth to muffle the sobs that tried to escape.

He was so stupid. It wasn’t like this was the first time this had happened, Janus figured he would have been able to see the signs by now. People just didn’t want him like that.

He’d just...really thought Remus was different.

He didn’t think he would ever laugh off the idea of loving Janus.

Janus wrapped his free arm around himself, swaying slightly in the middle of the kitchen as he stared blankly at the toaster, trying and failing to get himself to suck it up and stop crying.

He was being ridiculous- shaking with the force of trying to hold back his sobbing, blinded by endless tears gathering in his eyes and flowing down his cheeks- and he needed to get a hold of himself before-

“Woah, what the fuck?”

Janus jumped, refusing to look at Remus standing in the hallway as he quickly tried to wipe his tears away with the palms of his hands. “Do you want syrup?”

He heard Remus move closer and kept his head down, staring resolutely at the kitchen tiles until he could see socked feet step into the room.

He still didn’t touch Janus, still so focused on his comfort (was any of it even for Janus’s comfort? Maybe Remus just hadn’t wanted to touch him this whole time) but he moved as close as he dared and lowered his voice.

“Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying,” Janus said automatically, choking on another hiccuping sob. “I just...have a headache. Stupid hangover.”

“Oh.” Remus hesitated, and Janus could feel him staring. “Did you take an ibuprofen? I can get you a couple from the bathroom. And like...gatorade. You still have some, right?”

Janus nodded and took a shaky breath, hating the way the tears still wouldn’t stop falling. “Yeah. In the fridge.”

“Good,” Remus said, and Janus still couldn’t bring himself to look him in the eyes. “I don’t want you hurting.”

“I’m fine. Just drank too much.”

“You were pretty drunk.”

“I don’t remember last night at all,” Janus said, more bitter than was probably necessary. “Clearly.”

It was enough to give Remus pause, plunging the kitchen into heavy silence. Janus crossed his arms and risked a glance up when he awkwardly cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Anyways, gatorade—”

“I can get it.”

“No, I got it,” Remus said, and Janus watched warily as he pulled out a chair from the table. “Sit down.”

Janus hunched his shoulders, tears still sliding down his jaw just as fast as before, but he did as Remus said and shakily made his way over to the table, lowering himself carefully until he could curl up in his chair.

Remus returned almost immediately with a bottle of blue gatorade from the fridge and two painkillers from the bathroom medicine cabinet. He handed them over silently, standing awkwardly by the table while Janus took them.

Janus did his best, carefully swallowing the pills and sipping the gatorade with shaky hands. But he couldn’t get himself to stop crying, or even slow his tears, wracked with seemingly never ending sobs no matter how hard he tried to get a hold of himself. Remus standing there just made it so much worse.

He saw Remus crouch down to Janus’s level, breaths only coming out more frantic when Remus frowned and moved to hold Janus’s face in his hands.

“C’mon,” Remus said softly, brushing Janus’s cheeks with his thumbs. “What’re you crying for?”

Janus couldn’t answer. Remus sounded so gentle and adoring and it only made him cry harder, choking on a pathetic whimper as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Hey, hey, you’re ok.” Remus kept wiping Janus’s tears, his touch light and grounding. “It’s just me, Jan. You can tell me.”

Janus shook his head, weakly clutching at Remus’s sleeves. “N-no, I’m just...I’m being an idiot. Go get your waffles.”

Remus didn’t move, and Janus could practically feel him staring. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m being stupid,” Janus insisted, because he was. He knew he was. “I sw-swear I just...you don’t want to deal with this right now.”

“I’ll be fine, Jan. Tell me what happened.”

Remus kept brushing his tears away, warm and gentle, and Janus couldn’t catch his breath. Maybe there was a way he could fix this, get Remus to change his mind, or at least understand how he’d misread everything so horribly.

Janus finally managed to take a shaky breath, loosening his hold on Remus’s arms. “Did...did I do something wrong?”

“Wh- no?” Remus frowned, straightening a little to try and look Janus in the eyes. “You didn’t do anything.”

“You just,” Janus hesitated, wondering if it would be easier if he just gave up and dropped it. “You answered really fast when I asked about last night.”

Realization dawned on Remus’s face, and Janus’s heart dropped when he suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Oh.”

“I get it,” Janus said quickly, because now Remus was the one refusing to meet his gaze. “I do, it’s fine. I just...didn’t know if I had done something, or—”

He cut himself off when Remus suddenly pulled back, taking his comforting warmth with him, leaving Janus feeling frigid and empty.

He curled in on himself, wondering if at this point it would be a better idea just to kick Remus out of his apartment so they could start over and pretend none of this ever happened.

“It’s not...you- you didn’t...” Remus was stumbling over his own words, shuffling uncomfortably where he stood, and each attempt to explain only crushed Janus further. “It isn’t—”

“Yeah, no I get it,” Janus snapped, any venom overshadowed by the misery in his tone. He was hurt and tired and he just wanted to go back to bed. “It’s fine, Remus.”

“No, I’m—”

“I said I get it! It’s ok, I...I shouldn’t even have asked.”

“I lied.” Remus wasn’t looking at him, his back turned to Janus as he pulled and fiddled with his chain necklace. “Sorry.”

“Oh.” Janus...suddenly wasn’t sure what to say. “That you...loved me? Or that you didn’t say it.”

“That I didn’t say it,” Remus confessed, and Janus’s tears started to slow. “I, uh...I did. I said it.”

Janus didn’t move, terrified that he might somehow break the illusion and Remus would turn around laughing again, waving off any silly ideas of love or commitment.

“Did you mean it?” he asked carefully, hating how shaky his voice was. “If you were drunk we can just drop it.”

“I wasn’t drunk,” Remus said. He sighed, running a hand over his face, still turned away. “Yeah, I...I meant it.”

“Oh.” Janus expected to feel relieved, but now Remus was shaking too, and he still wouldn’t turn around, and Janus just felt scared and numb. “Why did you—”

“Because I wasn’t ready,” Remus blurted. “I don’t...I don’t know if I’m ready, and I don’t know if you...I didn’t think you would remember. It’s...it’s a huge jump, Jan. And usually I’m all for being impulsive, you know that, but you just...this is different. You deserve better than that.”

Janus wiped once more at his eyes, but something had loosened a bit in his chest at Remus’s words, the other man still tense and refusing to look up from the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, rubbing his sleeve over his face until his eyes burned. “I shouldn’t have pushed, I just thought...something else.”

“What?” Remus finally turned to face him, but his confusion only lasted a moment before his eyes widened. “Oh, fuck I didn’t even...I didn’t think about your feelings. Shit, I’m- I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

“No, Remus it’s fine—”

“I wasn’t thinking,” Remus pressed, running a shaky hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

“I jumped to conclusions,” Janus said, trying to sound casual despite how his face was stained with tears and it felt like he’d just been punched in the chest. “It’s ok.”

Remus nodded, though he still seemed a little frantic. “We can just...ignore this. If you want to.”

Janus wasn’t sure how he felt about that solution, but he wasn’t going to push Remus out of his comfort zone any more than he already had today. “Is that what you want to do?”

“I don’t want to make you...uncomfortable,” Remus said slowly, and he smirked at the irony of his own words. “Not with this, anyway. Feelings are fucking gross and dumb and I know you don’t want any part of that, and I’m really sorry.”

“What?” Janus sat up a little straighter, wondering how he’d managed to find someone just as stupid as he was. “No, Remus—”

“I understand!” Remus kept going, barrelling over whatever Janus had been about to say. “Like, obviously I understand. I’m awful but I’m not gonna—”

“God, you’re such a dumbass.” Janus scrubbed a hand over his face, smiling into his palm. “I was upset because I thought you didn’t love me.”

Remus froze, staring with wide eyes like Janus had just said spoken in a foreign language. “Oh.”

“You answered so fast when I asked you,” Janus explained. “I thought I did something to fuck this up. Or that I’d just...misunderstood your intentions.”

“You didn’t,” Remus said. “I was- you know. Just scared.”

Janus nodded, forcing himself to take a deep breath and look Remus in the eyes. “I know. I...I know. I love you.”

Remus’s head snapped up. “You do?”

Janus actually laughed outright at the shock on Remus’s face, like a child that had just been told he was getting his first puppy. “Yeah. Fuck, yeah of course I do, Remus.”

“For real?” Remus asked, even as a huge grin began to take over his face. “Like no joke? You’re not fucking with me?”

“Well, I did think it was obvious,” Janus said, and he couldn’t help but match Remus’s smile. “I love you, you idiot.”

“Me? Shit, Jan, you need higher standards, dude.”

“Don’t call me dude.” Janus took another sip of his gatorade to hide his obvious smile. “I literally just confessed to you.”

“You confessed to having horrible taste.”

“I love you,” Janus said again, because Remus was blushing and he was absolutely using this to his advantage. “Obviously. I’m sitting here crying at ten in the morning because I thought you didn’t.”

Remus had the decency to look embarrassed, another thing almost no one besides Janus got to see. “You could have been crying because you were hungover.”

“No. I was heartbroken, dumbass.”

Remus made a face like he’d tasted something sour. “That’s gross.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Janus scoffed, capping and pushing away his drink. “You said you loved me first.”

“Gross, don’t bring it up,” Remus said, and Janus smirked as he pushed himself to his feet. “I sound like a sap.”

Janus laughed, moving to wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s (Boyfriend? They’d have to talk about that one later) waist and rest his head in the crook of Remus’s neck. “You told me you loved me. While I was drunk.”

“You cannot tell anyone.”

Janus scoffed, having no intention of honoring that wish. “Why not?”

“Because,” Remus said. “It makes me sound gross and gay.”

“You’ve always been gross and gay.” Janus pulled back, just enough to grin at him. “Besides, you’ve been teasing Roman about Virgil for months.”

“He deserves it,” Remus declared. “He needs to get over himself.”

“At least he doesn’t confess to people while they’re drunk and then lie about it the next day.”

Remus’s blush deepened and Janus finally relented. He leaned forward to press a kiss to the corner of Remus’s lips- which quickly turned into something deeper when Remus moved to capture the rest of his mouth and pull him closer.

He only pulled away when he realized he'd started crying again, the relief that Remus loved him, that he hadn’t been wrong, that he wasn’t losing what they had, hitting all at once.

Janus shuddered and struggled to catch his breath, his breathing coming out in quick gasps again, and he clung onto Remus’s shirt like a lifeline.

“Oh, shit.” Remus’s eyes went wide in panic, and Janus found himself laughing around the tears. “Sorry, I didn’t—”

“You’re ok,” Janus assured him, leaning forward again to rest his head on Remus’s shoulder. Remus didn’t hesitate before wrapping his arms around him. “I just...really thought I was losing you.”

“You’re not. I’m still here.”

“I know,” Janus said. He was overwhelmed and exhausted and he’d never been awake this long with a hangover. “The ibuprofen didn’t help either.”

Remus had one hand carding through his hair, the other cupping his jaw as he pressed a kiss to Janus’s forehead. Just like he had last night when he’d told Janus he loved him.

When he’d told Janus he loved him and meant it.

“We should get you back to bed,” Remus said, every bit as adoring as he’d been when Janus was too drunk to stand. “How about I bring you your waffles and we can put on a movie?”

“You’re going to get crumbs in my bed again.”

“No I’m not.” Janus didn’t even get a chance to protest further before Remus had his arms around his waist, hoisting him into the air and over his shoulder. “And you’re too hungover to stop me.”

Janus couldn’t argue with that, relaxing into Remus’s hold as he carried him down the hall and back into the dimly lit bedroom, the darkness already soothing his pounding head.

Remus set him down on the bed, kissed him again for good measure, and returned a moment later with the waffles Janus had left in the toaster. He put the plate on the nightstand beside the half empty water bottle, and settled in beside Janus.

He didn’t even pay attention to Remus’s laptop opening, or the waffle that was offered to him. Janus just wrapped his arms around Remus and rested his head on his chest.

“You’ll stay with me?” Janus asked, already drifting off to the smell of waffles and the clicking of Remus’s keyboard.

“I never planned on leaving,” Remus said, muffled from where he’d pressed his nose into Janus’s hair. “And I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

Janus muttered something even he couldn’t make out, letting his eyes slip shut, breaths steadying in sync to Remus’s own.

It wasn’t until a few minutes later, when he must have thought Janus was already asleep, that Remus began running his fingers through Janus’s hair again, leaning forward to press one last kiss to his temple.

“I love you too,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I love you, Janus.”

Janus smiled, content with letting Remus believe he’d fallen asleep before he could hear the words. Just this once.

People who asked to be tagged for this one:

@self-taught-mess @hannahdra-ws

[warmblanketwhump]

sicktember day 1: fever

A and B go camping. someone’s under the weather. you can probably guess what happens next. prompt #1 for @sicktember!

It’s twilight when A and B reach their campsite after a long day of hiking, and A shudders at the chill in the air. They’d loved camping for the past couple days, but the cool fall weather was seeping into them today, and they couldn’t get close to a fire soon enough.

“Is it usually this cold this time of year?” A shudders and chafes their arms as they start to prepare dinner, while B gathers wood for the fire. B frowns.

“I was thinking it was warmer today.” They shrug, dropping a handful of twigs into the fire. Must just be them, A thought.

An hour later, A’s as close as they can get to the flame without setting themselves on fire, clutching their jacket to their trembling frame. It was a never-ending cycle, trying to warm their front, back, hands, feet, and then their front again. On, and on, and on - they just couldn’t get warm enough.

“A, stop fidgeting. You’re turning like a a Christmas turkey on a spit. Makes me dizzy.” B leans back in their camp chair and pops a toasted marshmallow in their mouth.

A glares at them. “I’m shivering. How are you not cold?”

B shrugs, mouth full. “Because it’s not cold?”

A sighs dejectedly. They could explain it all away. They’re chilled from not wearing their extra layer soon enough. The achy muscles were a result of the extra mile on the hike. The tickle in their throat comes from multiple evenings by the fire’s smoke. It all had an answer. But it didn’t mean they weren’t miserable.

Eventually they give up and stay facing forward, leaning into the flame and hugging themselves tightly. B eyes them warily as they toast a second marshmallow, but doesn’t say anything.

Finally, A can’t take another minute outside. They bid B goodnight and shuffle off to what would hopefully be the blissful warmth of their sleeping bag. They climb in, curling up and tucking the bag around them - when a sudden hot flash floods their body.

Okay then.

Hours later, B is asleep next to them, and A feels absolutely awful. Their blood pitches between fire and ice - one minute they’re blisteringly hot, and the next they’re wracked with chills and teeth-rattling shivers, their aching body aggravated by the cold, hard ground. On top of the constant waffling of their body temperature, their clothes are soaked through with sweat, and their throat is burning so badly that they can barely swallow without whimpering.

They have a dry change of clothes, but the mere idea of exposing their damp, feverish skin to the night air makes them shudder. They have half a mind to wake B up, but - no. They can’t wake them up. This is their problem. Besides, B didn't seem to notice them not feeling well, so they weren't about to draw any attention to themselves if they didn't have to.

Fire. Fire’s dry. Fire’s warm.

A creeps out of their tent, trying futilely to stay quiet as they rustle around for the matches. They grab the box, but their hands are shaking so badly that they can’t even get a spark, and they trip over something and spill the matches, and it’s dark and cold and why didn’t they bring their flashlight -

“A?” A hears the whine of the tent unzipping, and B crawls out, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. “It’s 2 in the morning. What are you doing?”

A tries to form words, but they just hold out the empty matchbox with trembling hands. “I….I can’t…I just wanted...the fire…”

B takes one look at them and sighs, marching up to feel A’s forehead and relieving them of the empty match box. “Well, this…makes sense. I heard teeth chattering for the last hour - I thought I was dreaming it. You poor thing - you must’ve been miserable.”

In the darkness, A’s face falls. So much for keeping this a secret. “I’m sorry for waking you up,” they force through their rasping throat.

“Hey, none of that. You don’t have to be sorry. "B gives A a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. "I noticed you were off this evening and should've said something." They place their hand back on A's forehead and sigh. "You're not doing this fever thing halfway, that's for sure." A just leans forward into B and moans - they just want to sleep.

B's hand trails down to their soaked shirt. "We've got to get you into something dry - even I'd be freezing in this." A squeaks in protest, but B puts a hand up. “You need to stay warm to help your body fight this. Trust me. You'll feel better once you change."

A’s too dazed to mount much of a protest, even though their preference would be their requested fire being lit. But B’s already in the tent, and emerges with an armful of dry clothes from both of their bags - one of A’s thermals, along with a thick flannel from B’s backpack, plus a towel and both of their sleeping bags. “Okay, we’ll make this quick.”

B hastily slides the soaked clothes from A’s frame. With swift fingers, they rub the sweat from A’s skin with a small towel, fumbling for only a moment before sliding the thermal, then the flannel layer over top, followed by their unzipped sleeping bag around their shoulders like a cape.

Still, the brief exposure triggers another round of shivers in A, so B wraps them up in a hug, rubbing wide circles up and down their back as convulsive shakes grip A’s body. A whimpers as their body protests the loss of hard-fought fever heat.

“Shhhh, you’re okay. You’ll feel warmer in a second. Just breathe through it. I’ve got you.” A buries their face in B’s neck, gripping their waist and pressing into them like they’re the last solid, warm thing in the world.

It’s not just the cold that scares them - it’s terrifying, losing control of their limbs like this, in the middle of nowhere, far from home. Even after the chills pass, A still clings to B in the dark. Somehow, on top of feeling like trash, a low panic is rising in their stomach. It’s like every sound of the forest is magnified - every crack a potential threat, the hum of crickets resembling a buzzing chainsaw, the rustling leaves someone who’s about to grab them. In this moment, B is their lifeline from every terror they could dream up.

After a few moments, B pats A lightly on the shoulder. “As much as I love this, you need to sleep and that’s not gonna work like this.”

“Fire now?” A asks plaintively, as B pulls back.

B smiles tiredly. “I’ll see what I can do.” Their next actions are blurred smears of dark and light and color in their eyes as B gets a fire going then works on getting the two sleeping bags zipped together into one giant pouch. When they’re finished, they scoot back over to A, whose head is nodding with sleep, and open up the doubled sleeping bag. A crawls into it without a word of protest, and B scoots in behind them.

“C’mere.” B pulls A close, and A snuggles into their side, burying their face into their soft sweater and inhaling the woodsy pine scent.

“Now if you get hot, throw me off. If you’re cold, scoot closer and I’ll keep you warm. You’ll be okay, alright? Nothing’s gonna happen to you tonight.”

A’s already more comfortable than they have been in hours, and they nod, slipping into a sleep accompanied by the symphony of the crackling fire.

[undinegeist]

if we care what’s good for us (2)

(1)

- xx - y/n - xx -

They let us out sometime around dawn; too early.

I wish my sunglasses weren’t broken…there’s way too much sun.

He slips his over my eyes, throws his hair over so it blocks the light, scary strange that he knows.

“Thanks.”

He smirks. “It’s only fair, since I broke yours. Breakfast?”

“It’s too early, I just want a real bed.”

“Where do you live?”

“Boarding house off Sunset…”

“Boarding house?”

“Yeah…I’m staying for the summer. Hopefully longer…I like it here.”

“Where are you from?”

“New York. Born here, grew up over there. It’s too cold. What about you?”

“Born in San Jose, grew up in Idaho. Living off Sunset too.”

“We should have breakfast then, since we’re going the same way.”

“Cool.”

- xx - y/n - xx -

We end up at a diner, all vinyl cracked red booths and fairy lights…I’ve walked past it a million times, but never went inside.

He gets pancakes, drowns them in whipped cream…I get waffles and honey. We flip plates, finish off each other’s.

“How did last night happen anyway?”

“I might have cursed them out…but only because they whistled at me.”

“I’d have whistled at you, too.”

He flushes; it’s uncanny but interesting, though it makes me nervous. “That’s different…they’re not my type.”

“And I am?”

“You’ve got the right stuff, if nothing else.”

“Hmmm. Up or down?”

“Both.”

- xx - y/n - xx -

“Sixx!”

The shout startles both of us; it’s a skinny kid with bedhead, followed by a blonde bedhead zombie, the current style.

“Dude, we thought you got canned last night. Hey.” He says this to me, with a nod.

“Yeah, they hauled me off…would have done worse if backpacks didn’t make for good weapons.” He smirks, glances my way.

“Your eye looks gnarly, dude. Whatcha you gonna do for the gig tonight?”

“Pile on the makeup?” He shrugs, then turns back. “You wanna come?”

“What time?”

“Elevenish…but come earlier, catch us backstage if you want.”

“I’m in.”

“Can’t wait.”

I roll my eyes, but only because I don’t know to do anything else.

- xx - tommy - xx -

Nikki’s a mess, and not just the ribs; he’s been looking at the clock from the moment we got here…hope he gets his head in the game, even if she doesn’t show.

There’s a knock on the door, and finally, finally, it’s her…thank fuck.

“Hey…sorry I’m late. Turns out they called the monsters after all.”

“Fuck…they’re not hauling you away, are they?”

“Nah…I said I’d disappear for good if they tried, so they backed off.”

“You’re fucking brilliant.”

“Just cursed. You guys ready for tonight?”

“As ready as we’ll ever be.” Mick looks her up and down in that way of his; checking her out, but not the fun way. “How did you and Nikki meet anyway?”

“She hit the cops beating me up with her backpack.”

“Should have hit harder.”

“There’s always next time.”

They exchange this weird sort of smirk, then glance away; if Nikki hasn’t had her already, he will.

- xx - tommy - xx -

“How long til they go for it, you think?”

“Not as soon as you think, drummer.”

They’re across the room by Nikki’s mirror; she’s doing something to his eye, trying to cover up the cops’ damage…it’s looking kind of rad.

“Why not?”

“He likes her…stop using your dick and look at them.”

“Sixx looks the same way he always does?”

“Look closer.” He rolls his eyes again, always, but I still try to see what he’s seeing…

He’s backed up against the chair, all the way in; she’s between his legs, smoothing his hair away from his face, touching his eye, careful even from here, lining it lightly over and over, trying not to hurt him.

“They’re actually talking.”

“Took you long enough.”

“But why?” Sixx never talks to girls longer than necessary, which is thirty seconds or less.

“They’ve actually got something to talk about.”

That something seems to be books; still, Nikki’s watching her, dazed the way he usually gets when he’s high, and she seems unaware, though the way she touches him says more than that…careful familiarity, the way my parents touch each other.

I sigh. “Why is Sixx so fucking lucky?”

Mick shrugs. “Don’t know if that’s lucky.”

“What do you mean?” How could it not be, to have an immediate connection like that?

“He won’t focus on the band if he’s got a girl.”

“Dude, the band isn’t everything.”

“Maybe not to you.”

- xx - tommy - xx -

“Wow…looks rad.”

“Now it’s your turn to do me.”

He flushes, tell-tale, but she doesn’t even blink, just pulls him off the chair, into a hug somehow, though it seems more accident than intentional, despite the fact that they hold it for a couple of seconds before she slips around him to sit on the couch…he does it too, holding her hair and face with one hand, the pencil with the other.

He lines one side, then draws a red star on her right cheek, circles it…a pentagram.

She looks over his shoulder into the mirror, smirks. “You did even better than me.”

Nikki shrugs, but I can tell he’s happy. “Just thought it’d complement your look and piss people off.”

“Thanks.” Her tone’s teasing, but there’s a hint of more underneath…they’ve been at it all fucking night, doubt they’ll be stopping anytime.

Lucky fucking bastard.

- xx - y/n - xx -

I’m hanging backstage when they go on; figured it’d be better, less crowded and messy, plus, the view is rad…Nikki’s still all fucked, and though nothing could or should ever stop them, I still daydream about hunting down those cops and fucking the fuck out of them…not in a good way, obviously.

I’m so distracted by that daydream, I miss the entire thing; or the start of it, anyway, until there’s Tommy the bedhead flying off the stage at some weird guy with greasy biker hair, Vince the zombie being rather unzombie with yet another biker dude, and for fuck’s sake, Nikki beating some other loser with his bass…making me wish I had my backpack.

It ends quickly after that, though; the biker bouncers - is this a breeding experiment or is there some biker hippie mom commune somewhere? - shake off the loser bikers, kick them out, haul the boys back to the stage, and apparently, the fight’s fired one guy up enough to fire the rest of them…and they’re back on, just like that.

- xx - nikki - xx -

I can still taste blood when I come off the stage, feel the start of a headache…Y/N holds a pill out to me, one to Vince…he thanks her as he slips away, but I stay, hesitate…not sure I want to be high the first night we played together.

“What is it?”

“Just aspirin.”

“Oh.” I swallow it dry, but she has water…I drink it, watch her do it after me without a second thought, thinking that could be the closest I’ll ever get to her lips…if we care what’s good for us.

[djpurple3]

heartbreak and healing - a sanders sides fic

ship: royality characters: Roman (main), Patton, Virgil, Remus, Janus, Logan, c!Thomas content: magical style semi-terminal illness (sort of like hanahaki), mild body horror, food, light swearing, angst with happy ending, hurt/comfort, tensions, kissing, mild suicidal ideations (more lack of selfcare / apathy), discussions of death, close encounter with death. wordcount 17,520 words .........lot longer than intended LMAO

A/N: do people write royality anymore? no clue. i had this idea and it took me two weeks to write this when i orignally thought it was gonna be like 5k words and would take me one sitting. i never learn.

Anyhoo, head the warnings, this can get heavy, but it has a sickeningly sweet ending. I finished this at 1:30am so hopefully it’s coherent all the way through. semi-edited. cant think of anyone to tag so i wont lmao

--- --- --- --- ---   --- --- --- --- ---   --- --- --- --- ---   --- --- --- --- ---   --- --- --- --- ---   --- --- --- --- ---  

Roman’s shaking a little. He is shaking but he folds his arms over his chest and raises his chin anyway, glaring down his shirtless reflection and pressing his arms against himself tight, like it would bind him back together.

But no. The cracks are still there. …Cracks. Cracks. Like a porcelain doll. Etching out like a spiderweb, like a broken mirror, from his heart. Roman tears his eyes away from the deep red fissures and stares himself in the eye.

There’s an answer to the number of questions in here, pinging around his skull like popcorn. There’s an answer he doesn’t like but has to face is true.

He… Well, it’s hard to put into words, really. But…

His arms fall to his sides, and he traces the tallest crack with a fingertip, feeling how it hurts a little to press down, tracing it even though it only travels about an inch and a half up his chest, snaking off towards his right collarbone by the time it hits his sternum. It’s red, but barely so. When Roman first noticed them, he almost thought they were black.

When Roman had first noticed them, they’d been hairline fractures. He had panicked, and after spending an hour fretting and prodding and poking in front of the mirror, had gone to bed with the hope that he could sleep it off.

But things were starting to add up, now. Because they had only formed after… after the wedding. They had only formed after Roman had gone down in the hallway from a shock of grief so palpable it soared straight over emotion and landed firmly in pain had lanced through his chest.

Roman presses the pads of his fingers over his heart and feels how it hurts, trying to fight down his grimace. Curse him. Curse his imaginary form and how his creative status took euphemism and metaphor takes things so literally. His heart has broken, it seems, and it is now tearing him apart.

Roman lets his hand fall, debating covering it with foundation or something, before there’s a knock at his door.

“Roman,” comes Virgil’s voice. “There’s waffles up for grabs, if you want.”

“I’ll be right down,” Roman calls back, turning away from the mirror and fumbling for his undershirt.

“Want me to wait, or…?”

“No, no. Go get a headstart.”

Virgil’s footsteps shuffle away from the door hesitantly. Roman pulls on his shirt and grimaces again at how he can feel the slight way the cracks make his skin tug in weird ways as his muscles move.

--- --- --- --- ---  

Roman comes downstairs when he is fully and immaculately dressed. It takes a while to lace his boots, it always does, but he likes them too much to leave style by the wayside. But by the time he comes downstairs, everyone is there. And nowadays, he means everyone.

Virgil is sitting at the dinner table with two plates in front of him. One is empty, and the other has three waffles on it, while the communal help-yourself plate is empty too. It seems Virgil grabbed some for him before they disappeared, which is nice of him. Logan sits at the opposite end of the table, alone, frowning down at his phone as he cleans up the last of his own waffles which must have been appropriately drowned in crofters. Remus is sitting on the couch – upside down, feet hanging over the back of the couch and kind-of in Virgil’s face (and clearly on purpose), but he’s watching… some cartoon or other. Roman can’t be bothered to check.

And Patton and Janus are in the kitchen. They’re in the kitchen, cleaning up batter and bowls and laughing to each other. Patton’s face is lit up with laughter, probably from a joke Roman didn’t hear, and Janus’ eyes are glittering with mirth, and both look far more light-hearted than Roman’s seen in a long time.

The cracks throb and ache a little at that, but it’s not enough to throw Roman off his paces. Not yet, at least.

The laughter immediately quiets as he walks in, though. Patton’s eyes lock with his for only a second before his grin drops into a polite smile that grates to see, and a silence falls across the room.

Roman realises he’s just kind of standing there, and winces. He doesn’t say anything. He just drops his head and hurries over to the seat Virgil’s pulling out for him to take. No grand entrance, no declarations, no songs, no quips. Roman has learnt over the years to read the room, and he can well tell that it is not a room welcome to such antics anymore.

Or at least; as his eyes flick up at the sound of quiet humming, and sees Patton shoot a smile at Janus, who’s started humming… god, is that Phantom? under his breath; such antics aren’t welcome from him anymore.

Roman clears his plate without really realising it, and he eats them dry. No sauces or toppings or anything. He’s a little more on autopilot than he’d like to admit, and Virgil seems to be taking notice.

“You alright?”

“Just dandy,” Roman shoots back, smiling a little at his own subtle gay joke, before setting his cutlery down on the plate in front of him.

“You seem out of it.”

“Accidentally stayed up late,” Roman says automatically, punctuating it with a shrug. “Got a new project, it’s kind of stressing me out.”

Janus’ eyes flick to him, almost imperceptibly. It’s not a lie, Roman chants in his head. Or perhaps more accurately, it’s enough of the truth for now.

“…Need help?”

“No.” Roman reaches over and slides Virgil’s used plate towards himself and stacks it under his own. “But I’ll let you know if I do down the line.”

That is a lie. They all know him well enough to know it, too. Virgil sees it for what it actually is, though – an end to the conversation – and he shrugs and goes back to his phone too.

Roman gets up and makes his way around the table. He pauses at Logan’s elbow, waiting until the other side acknowledges him, before quietly holding out one hand, balancing the plates in the other.

Logan blinks for a moment, before handing over his own plate. He doesn’t thank Roman as the prince takes it. That’s okay. Roman’s not hunting for it. He just adds it to the stack and walks on eggshells all the way into the kitchen, where the fun conversation quiets down with every step closer he takes.

He hates this. He hates that it went this far. He hates that he’s done this to the people he loves. And he hates how it’s all his fault.

That thought is not a new one, really, but it brings around a new effect. His heart aches, sharp and hot, a new pain that stabs right through him and makes him stumble. Stumble straight into the wall. And he drops the plates.

Smash.

He didn’t mean to.

He didn’t mean to.

Roman needs to move, to clean this up, to fix it, but all that is going through him in this moment in time, enough to blind out the pain, is that he didn’t mean to.

There are curses shouted around the room, mostly from people scared by the sudden noise, but Roman is just staring down at the most recent pile of mistakes, the newest thing he’s destroyed by laying his hands on, and-

Is someone calling his name?

He only snaps to when someone all but elbows him out of the way. He stumbles backwards even more, hand latching to his sash (totally not over his heart) as the elbower manages to hit him right where it hurts.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and realises it’s Logan who’s elbowed him aside, looking sour. “I was… I…”

“Would you at least mind moving from standing in it?” Logan orders him sharply, and Roman does his best to leap backwards like he’s been stung.

“It was an accident,” Roman is still talking. “I didn’t mean to, I was only trying to help.”

“And clearly, it has gone the same way your help usually goes,” Logan says, sharp and to the point as he crouches down to start picking the larger pieces out of the mess to put into a rubbish bag Patton’s holding open for him. “Surely one would learn to keep their nose out of it by now.”

Roman’s eyes widen. He fights to try and defend himself but no words come. The room finds a way to be even more silent, until Logan finally looks at him, with a bitter glare.

“Why don’t you keep out of the way,” he snaps, “while we fix your mistakes again?”

Roman’s grip over his heart tightens because oh, that hurt. That hurt so bad, it hurt bad enough that it’s stabbing, and he can’t breathe and he’s pretty sure he can feel the cracks widening without having to see it.

He takes one step back. Then another. Patton is staring at Logan, mouth open, and those are the only two in Roman’s tunnel vision at the moment.

Roman does not stay to hear what Patton will say. He couldn’t take it, not from him.

He doesn’t even bother to go for the stairs. He sinks out on the spot, hoping he doesn’t look too much like a wounded animal as he goes.

--- --- --- --- ---  

“You can’t say that,” Patton finally manages to break the shocked silence of the kitchen. “You… that was cruel, Logan.”

“It was true,” Logan grouses, turning back to the pile.

“Get up,” Virgil says gruffly, and suddenly he’s standing behind Logan, face stormy. “I’ll finish this.”

“No, it’s fine-”

“It’s clearly not. Get up, and either go apologise or have a fucking nap. I don’t care, just don’t pull that stunt again.”

Logan stands before Virgil makes him (because he has that look about him) and tries to swallow his anger.

“I’m sorry,” he says formally, swallowing hard and adjusting his tie. “I… I have not slept very well this past week and my patience seems to be growing thin.”

Virgil shoots him a hard look. Patton swallows. Janus has moved to stand beside Patton in the kitchen doorway, leaning on the doorframe with a similarly hard look on his face. Remus is watching from over the edge of the couch with something far too interested for Logan’s liking.

“Go sleep,” Patton nods to the stairs. “We’ll… let’s deal with this tonight. You’ve clearly woken up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“My bed is pressed up against two walls, I can only get out of one side of it, there is no wrong side-”

“It’s an expression,” Janus cuts in before Logan can continue, and Logan is left to shake his head and all but storm away as everyone else watches, and slowly, the mess gets cleared up.

As Virgil stands, stepping back so Janus can vacuum, Patton catches his arm and pulls him aside.

“Can you… check on Roman?” Patton asks him, and Virgil studies his face. Patton was always pretty good at hiding his emotions, more than they ever really realised, but the way his eyes are shining with something grieving finally sways him. It’s clear he doesn’t know if he should do check on Roman himself – and doesn’t even know if he wants to, but despite everything, he’s still worried about the prince.

“Okay,” Virgil agrees, choosing not to have a go at him. “I might give him a little time, though. I don’t think he wants to see anyone right now.”

--- --- --- --- ---  

Roman makes it to his room, and his back thumps against the door as he gasps for air. By the gods, that hurt. It hurts so bad. He fumbles to get his layers off and staggers over to the dresser again to realise with hitching breaths that it wasn’t just him feeling things.

The cracks are bigger. And they’ve solidified into a wine red. The more horizontal cracks have begun to reach around his ribs and he might yet wake up to find them on his back tomorrow.

He makes it to his bed and sits, falls backward and pants at the ceiling. This is the worst it’s felt yet, and Roman thinks he can see the pattern now.

It has to be heartbreak. The thing that makes this worse is the grief over hearing and knowing and processing his myriad of mistakes. And it’s probably only going to go downhill from here.

He presses his hand lightly over his heart again and thinks about Logan’s words. It hurts, everything throbs as he reflects, but he makes himself reflect because Logan is right. And Logan’s been very patient with him in the past. They were just plates, sure, but it was clearly the last straw.

I’ll eat separately from now on, maybe, he thinks to himself. So I don’t have to risk upsetting Logan like that again.

It will probably be better for them all all-round. He’s not as stupid as they all think. He can take a cue, and he can play his role accordingly.

The… the transformation, the whatever it is, has left him exhausted. Roman manages to crawl into bed, he flicks his wrist to magic off his boots because he doesn’t have it in him to do it for real, and he pulls the covers up over his shoulders right up to his chin and rolls over, all but passing out.

--- --- --- --- ---  

Virgil knocks lightly on his door an hour later, calling his name. He sticks his head in the room and his expression softens when he sees Roman sleeping. He flicks the light out and carefully closes the door.

--- --- --- --- ---  

Roman wakes up in less pain than he fell asleep in, which is nice. A quick glance at his clock tells him it’s the same day – though barely, as it’s now about quarter to midnight, and the thing that actually woke him is not chest pains but hunger pains.

Roman sits up, the blankets sliding off his bare chest, and he blinks twice as he could swear his new afflictions are… glowing? It dies away pretty quick, if it is. It’s a trick of the light if it isn’t. The light is low, so that’s possible, even though Roman doesn’t remember turning them off himself. But still. He changes into his pyjamas, pausing in front of the mirror to make sure everything’s covered, before shuffling to his door.

The house is pretty quiet when he emerges into the corridor. He leaves his door ajar and wanders down the hall and down the stairs. The TV is on and Patton is asleep in front of it. It looks like he was supposed to be waiting up for someone, but took an impromptu nap. Roman grasps the banister as he quickly has to wonder if he’s waiting for him.

What does he want? To console him? To tell him Logan was wrong? Or, what is more likely, that Logan was right?

Sure, he’ll probably tell him that Logan was too harsh, but…

Roman shake his head and manages to sneak past. He has too many feelings about Patton to sort out, and waking him now would not help.

He steals his way into the kitchen and stands there for a moment with hands on his hips, trying to figure out what to do. He combs the fridge and finds leftovers from what they must have eaten tonight, and he can recognise Logan’s cooking when he sees it.

Maybe Logan’s remorseful. Maybe Roman’s on his first strike. Roman takes it and a fork and sits at the table, and eats as quietly as he can. Patton stirs but does not wake.

“Oh.”

Roman flinches, almost drops his fork, but saves himself last-minute even as the snappy movements make his chest ache.

He looks up and sees Janus at the top of the stairs, face unreadable, and Roman flushes before he can try and scrape together a poker face.

“You…” Janus trails off, his voice also low so as not to disturb Patton, “…made quite the spectacle, earlier.”

Roman swallows hard, sets his fork down, and chooses his words carefully.

“It won’t happen again.”

Janus descends the last of the stairs and closes the distance until the only thing separating them is the table.

“Why’d you drop the plates?”

“Dizzy spell,” Roman lies. It’s compulsive, and again, close enough to the truth that it will do, “I’ve been getting them a lot lately. I’ll be more careful.”

He doesn’t really want to tell Janus what’s up. He doesn’t want to tell the guy who… doesn’t… like him? Roman has to assume he doesn’t. Despite what he really wants, Janus’ actions have been clear, he mustn’t like Roman. But Janus is now studying him with something in his eyes that almost looks soft. It might even be pity.

“You do that,” he agrees. “And if you find the time to tell the truth some time, we’re here for that too.”

Roman’s hands tighten on the table, and he can only look away.

“I need to understand what’s happening first,” he whispers, his voice hoarse, and can’t meet Janus’ eyes. After all this time, after everything, the most agonizing thing about this is the honesty, but if it gets Janus off his back, then it gets him off his back. “I… I don’t want to hurt everyone any more.”

He stands, and he can’t look at Janus. It hurts too much, he can’t breathe past the lump in his throat, and the subtle feeling of something prickling even further across his skin. He almost rubs over his heart, but manages to keep his hands still. He can’t give the game away so soon.

Janus folds his arms, and studies Roman. “You have people who want to help you,” he points out, and raises an eyebrow as Roman shakes his head.

“Goodnight, Janus,” he says, and skirts both the table and him and makes for the stairs.

“Aren’t you going to finish your food?”

“I’m not hungry,” he lies one last time for the night. “Goodnight.”

Janus watches him go, before slowly turning to clear Roman’s mess up behind him.

--- --- --- --- ---  

Roman stays up til 4am, sleeps a little more, wakes up at 10am and bides his time until he can strike the least busy sweet-spot between breakfast and lunch to approach the kitchen. He feels ragged and hopes he doesn’t look it, but it’s so much effort to get into his normal outfit that he nearly doesn’t.

He must be deteriorating faster than he expected.

Roman magicks his clothes so they slide onto his limbs by themselves and makes his way downstairs. The only people there are Virgil and Logan, sitting on the couch and discussing the thing they’re watching. It looks to be a deep space documentary.

Roman tries to sneak down the stairs as quietly as he can but they hear him pretty quick. Virgil shoots him a sympathetic look that says talk later, and Logan’s is… fragile, to say the least.

Roman offers them a stiff nod and hurries into the kitchen to make a sandwich or something.

He stands there and eats, vaguely out of sight, and debates sinking out from here. He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t even realise the others have already closed the distance, and Logan only gets his attention by clearing his throat.

Logan’s in the doorway now, only a couple metres away from where Roman has been leaning against the fridge. He jumps, clutching at his heart over his shirt as the lurch hurts, before putting on a smile as he gathers himself.

“Hello,” he says.

“Hello,” Logan shoots back, and he’s toeing the ground like an anxious teenager. “Roman, about yesterday-”

“I’m not mad,” Roman launches out, not meaning to, but the words have left his mouth before he can think.

Logan looks up, and grimaces a little. “I… You have every right to be. I was in a foul mood, and you did not deserve to be the recipient of that.”

Roman shrugs, and takes another bite of his sandwich. He hates how closely the two of them are watching him. It makes his skin crawl, and his skin’s taking enough abuse as is.

“I get it,” he says eventually. “Hell, it’d be hypocritical if I said I didn’t forgive you.”

Logan looks at him funny. Roman finishes his sandwich, swallows, and tucks his hands behind his back as he stands up straight.

“Thank you for your apology,” he says formally. “But it’s not warranted.”

They’re looking at him funny. He doesn’t understand why. Logan was right, of course, yesterday. He’s just trying to actually begin to take accountability for his mistakes.

“And I’ll make sure something like that doesn’t happen again,” Roman smiles; all teeth and nothing happy.

“I…” Logan looks baffled, like Roman’s thrown him for a loop.

Why isn’t it working? It’s supposed to be working. He’s supposed to be working to fix this all.

It’s beginning to dawn on Roman that… maybe he can’t.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he hopes Logan knows he means it. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I would like to get back to work.”

Virgil tries to catch his arm on his way past. Roman manages to slip his way out of it and shoot him a friendly smile as he disappears up the stairs.

He makes it back to his room before the floodgates open.

--- --- --- --- ---  

Roman is woken by knocks on the door. It is now late afternoon, almost four o’clock, and he’s accidentally fallen asleep at his desk. He doesn’t understand why he’s sleeping so much. This ailment must be taking it out of him.

The knocks come again, and Roman gets to his feet and goes to answer the door.

It’s Patton.

Patton!

He hasn’t spoken to Patton one-on-one in a very long time. Since before the wedding, maybe even before the trial. For someone so near and dear to his heart, Patton has been drifting away from Roman for a very long time, and Roman’s a little afraid of what might happen now with him so close.

He has never really gotten over Patton.

Patton’s eyes search his face, before he smiles gently, in that way that’s not been directed at Roman in months. “Hey, Roman,” he says softly. “Can I come in?”

Roman’s hand shoots up to lean on the doorframe.

“I just want to talk,” Patton says. “Not even about anything in particular, if you don’t want. I guess I realised we… haven’t caught up in a while.”

For a reason, I’m sure.

Roman’s chest aches. He shouldn’t, but he’s always been weak for Patton. He steps back, steps aside, and lets Patton in.

Patton closes the door behind him as Roman pads across the room to sit on his bed. He gestures for Patton to take the chair, but Patton hesitates, crosses the room, and lingers over him.

“Can I sit next to you?”

Roman looks down, before looking back up at Patton and smiling. “If you want.”

It hurts. Not literally, not this time, not yet. It hurts because he is so close to the person he loves so deeply and has hurt so much. Patton deserves better. Patton deserves someone who won’t hurt him. Someone like-

Roman grasps at his chest before he can even think about hiding it, gasping sharp and high as the cracks run deeper. Patton kneels in front of him, taking the hand gripping his own knee and calling his name, asking if he’s alright.

Roman grits his teeth and tries to pull through it, riding out the wave and trying his best not to concern Patton too much. Patton cares so much, too much, too much for his own good.

Eventually, he can straighten up, breathe deep, and meet Patton in the eye.

The wide look of concern there almost breaks him again.

“Oh, hon, are you okay?”

Hon.

“I’m fine,” Roman lies, quick as you please, and smiles despite himself. “I… I think I’ve just been… sick, recently.”

“Can I help?” Patton’s eyes are liquidy and earnest. Roman is overcome with an instinct, and instinct he’s had a few times but only ever acted on once – one Christmas years ago when the two of them were younger and bumbling and unafraid of their feelings and trying each other on for size.

But no, he can’t do that now. Especially when Janus is such a better choice for Patton now than Roman could ever be.

“No,” Roman says, his words wandering out from his lips before he can think them through, and his honesty cuts them both right to the quick. “I don’t think you can.”

Goddammit. Roman can’t tell the truth when he wants to, and can’t lie when he needs to. Patton’s face falls, and he slowly shifts from kneeling in front of Roman to sitting beside him. Roman feels  how the bed dips under Patton’s weight.

“It looks like it hurts,” he says softly.

Understatement of the century.

“I guess I’m just having some heart problems,” Roman half-laughs. “I’m figuring it out.”

He does have some running theories. Patton doesn’t look convinced.

“Look, Logan said he apologised to you,” he starts, and Roman nods along. “But both him and Virgil are worried because you, well, they said you… took it weird.”

Roman shrugs. “I mean…” he quickly trails off before he says what he actually thinks, but he’s clearly said too much as it is.

Patton takes a sharp breath in, one that Roman feels lance through his own chest, before a gentle hand cups his jaw and turns his head back to meet Patton’s eyes.

“You don’t think you deserve it, do you?” Patton asks, plain and simple, voice cracking.

Roman’s lip wobbles. It’d be so easy to lie, but he’s so sick of it by now. And part of him wants to just let it spill to him, let it all spill, but he can’t afford that, not now, not after everything, because maybe Patton doesn’t even remember that one night when they decided to see what the fuss about mistletoe even was.

He can’t put words together. Any words, truth or lie. His eyes probably say enough, though, enough to make Patton’s own expression crumble.

“Oh, honey,” he murmurs, and pulls Roman into a gentle hug. “Honey, no.”

Roman’s hands have shot into the air, hovering over Patton’s sides but not touching because it’s been so long since he’s been hugged that it almost feels like he’s forgotten what the protocol is. And he doesn’t know whether he’s allowed to touch Patton or not.

But Patton’s breathing hitches, and Roman feels his lips move against his own throat.

“Please,” Patton begs him. “Please hug me back.”

…How could Roman deny him that?

He does. He wraps his arms around Patton as tightly as he dares and enjoys the hug for what it’s worth. He might not get one of these again, especially not from Patton, especially when Patton finally realises that he really isn’t going to be worth all the work that it’s going to take to piece this broken prince of his back together again.

Roman’s got a couple running theories about his condition now.

The first, of course, is that it’s heartbreak. Something metaphorical that has inflicted itself so very thoroughly across and into his skin like a brand, like a punishment. Thomas is broken up over many things right now, Roman is too, and maybe like his ego, which bruises, Thomas’ subconscious is giving it form.

On the other hand, perhaps it’s rot. Maybe he’s rotting away from the inside, because finally his core, the very heart of his function, has finally given out from the weight of the shit Roman keeps doing and doing, against the nature of what he should be for his family. For Thomas.

Maybe this was always set to happen, from the moment Janus put on Patton’s smile.

Dammit, he has always been so weak for Patton’s smile.

Roman’s hands tighten on Patton’s shirt as new, fresh pain lances through him. This time, he might be crying.

Patton’s arms tighten around him, and even though it doubles the agony, Roman doesn’t tell  him to stop. He’s been hungry for this. He’s been missing Patton so badly.

“What helps?” Patton’s lips are still ghosting his throat. “What helps make the pain go away?”

“…Sleep,” Roman shrugs. As best as he can tell, it’s sleep.

“Do… do you want to have a sleepover? Like old times? Build a pillow fort? I can do most the building.”

“…Not today,” Roman whispers, but he’s so touched, he’s so touched Patton’s offered, that Patton’s remembered.

Though honestly, what is he on about? He’s Patton. He never forgets.

Patton ends up trying to help him get ready for bed. Roman is greedy, he’s so greedy, he feels like he’s just lapping up the attention like a kicked puppy, but he can’t help himself. It’s only when Patton quietly asks if he needs help getting changed or not that he’s jolted back to the moment.

“Oh, no,” he smiles far too broadly and flicks his wrist, and his clothes change into his pyjamas seamlessly. It takes energy, it takes more and more energy to do quick changes and stuff like that now, but right now he hasn’t got a choice.

“Okay,” Patton says, but his eyes are shining with something a little hurt, like he’s upset that Roman’s not letting him in.

Oh, no. Roman can’t. He can’t ever do that again. Because the last time he let Patton bear the full force of his emotions, it almost destroyed them both. No, he’s keeping Patton safe this way.

Patton insists on tucking him in, though, helps him lay back and arranges pillows and blankets for him. Fussing. He’s worried. Roman smiles up at him in a lame attempt to try and assuage his fears.

Patton smiles down at him too, before leaning down and pressing a quick little kiss into his hair.

“I’ll check on you tomorrow,” he tells Roman as he straightens up, before crossing the room and pausing in the doorway. “G’night, Roman.”

“…G’night.”

Patton flicks off the light and closes the door.

Roman pulls the covers over his head and tries to use them to muffle his tears as his chest stabs with hurt again.

--- --- --- --- ---  

Roman’s reached a point where it might not be getting worse anymore. Maybe it’s just plateaued, and it can get worse. Or maybe this is it, this is just his state now. The cracks are wide now, maybe a half-inch on average, and over his heart, it is ruptured like a centrepoint. Roman was right about a glow. Now the cracks are bigger, he can see that the red in there isn’t just wine-dark but a shifting nebula of molten reds and hints of gold. Sometimes he swears it pulses in time with his heartbeat.

He's just glad it doesn’t show through his clothes.

Roman really doesn’t have the energy he used to, either, nowadays. He has migrated to wearing simpler clothing. A week or two in, he’d swapped back to his old outfit because it was easier to get on and off. A month or two later, now he’s just wearing… clothes.

Comfort over style, nowadays. He can’t even bend over to lace up his boots anymore. He even wears slippers sometimes instead of real shoes.

The others have noticed, of course. They aren’t stupid. He has just had to quietly say it’s health complications and handwave as many comments and questions as possible.

Thomas summoned him once in this state. He was visibly shaken, and Roman could only laugh ever so quietly.

“I… were you serious about the world outgrowing princes?” Thomas asks him seriously, eyes shining. God, he can really see where Patton shines through.

“Oh, this?” Roman looks down at his baggy clothing and sighs. “This isn’t me abandoning that, as such. I just…” He shrugs limply. “I’m not well.”

“Not… well? That can happen?”

“I guess so,” Roman shrugs again, and folds his arms across his chest. “It’s… I don’t think this sort of thing’s quite happened before, but we’re figuring it out.”

“Are the others helping you?”

“Yes.” Oh, that’s bold. Lying straight to his centre’s face. Still, the others would help if he asked, have offered, even, but Roman doesn’t even know how to fix it, let alone what they can do about it.

“It’s, uh,” Thomas shifts on his feet. “Not a ‘bruised ego’ thing again, is it? I could understand if it is.”

Roman rubs his arms and tries not to clutch his shirt over his heart. “Not really,” he says softly. “But it might be of a… similar vein.”

“Is there anything I can do, then?” Thomas is so earnest, he steps towards Roman, and Roman’s so afraid as to what might happen if he gets any closer.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I just…”

He presses his hands against his eyes and debates, debates talking, debates telling someone his feelings for once.

“It hurts so much,” he’s speaking before he can make up his mind as to whether he should. “It… it’s so draining. And I think it’s…”

He clamps his lips shut and turns away, already mad that he’s said so much. But Thomas closes in, takes his hand and gets Roman to look at him again.

“Please,” he says, so softly. “Roman, talk to me.”

“It always gets worse when I am reminded of my mistakes,” Roman blurts, eyes suddenly stinging with tears that desperately want to escape. “It hurts so much to accept them, even though that’s what’s needed from me.”

“What’s needed?” Thomas echoes, worried.

“If I can’t accept and improve, then… then everything I do, for you and for them, is pointless. How can you be expected to overcome new trials and adversities when I can’t learn from our past?”

“You sound like you’re in it alone,” Thomas points out, clasping Roman’s hand firmly. “And I can tell you without a doubt that I’ve had a very similar talk with Patton. And… there are people who understand this, Roman, and people who want to help you. And I’m one of those people.”

You shouldn’t.

“I can do it on my own.”

“But you said it hurts. …Maybe you need a hand?”

Roman pulls his hand away from Thomas, despite how much it pains him. “You don’t understand how broken this all is,” he says, painfully honest. “You don’t understand how broken I am. I can try to improve but I… I don’t think I can change.”

“You already have,” Thomas replies, eyes sad. “And I promise you a lot of it is for the better. I’m sorry your introspection is so painful. It usually is very easy to turn into self-loathing, too.”

Roman flushes, and shakes his head, not because Thomas is wrong, but because he’s too right.

“I…” he swallows hard. “I have to go.”

“Don’t be a stranger, Roman,” Thomas tells him as he pulls away again. “I want to help you if I can.”

“I know,” Roman mumbles.

“I love you,” Thomas then follows it up, perfectly earnest and honest. “I value you so much, there’s no one else who can do what you do, Roman.”

Roman doesn’t reply. He can hardly hear over all the thoughts swirling in his head that say otherwise as he sinks out.

--- --- --- --- ---  

It hurts. It hurts so bad. Roman makes the mistake of rising up in the hallway outside his room instead of in his room, and he wraps his arms around his chest as he stumbles towards his door, trying not to whimper.

There’s someone on the stairs. As he shoulders open his bedroom door, he hears someone call his name.

Roman staggers in through the door as it swings open under his bodyweight and the follow-through sends him sprawled out on the floor, head spinning under a crush of white noise as his body rebels against him. He swears he can taste blood.

“Roman?”

Someone’s in his doorway, and curses as he curls in on himself, outwardly crying from pure pain alone for the first time. Roman has a pretty high pain tolerance, when all is said and done. But he’s so tired, he’s so worn down, and this blow is new and fresh and hurts more than anything else so far, and he’s raw and hurting from the belief that he can’t trust anyone with this.

He’s alone. He’s alone, and he might be dying.

Hands. Hands on his side, on his shoulder, carefully easing him upright. Roman curls into the person with a gasp as he rides out the wave, somehow finding the wherewithal to flush with embarrassment in the middle of that even as another pair of arms wrap around him.

The smell is what’s telling. It’s a bad smell. It’s Remus.

Roman lets his brother hold him, not understanding why, and then Remus is moving, and suddenly Roman’s been picked up.

“Shit,” he finally hears Remus say. “Should you be this light?”

“I’m not well,” Roman says faintly.

“Yeah, duh.”

Remus is moving. The world is a bit of a blur still but Roman realises as he’s lowered onto familiar softness that Remus has put him down on his bed. Roman closes his eyes and tries to gather himself as Remus drags his deskchair over and parks up at his bedside.

“Are you dying?” Remus asks him, voice oddly serious, and Roman’s eyes snap open and they finally make eye contact.

Remus looks… shaken. Maybe his intrusive thoughts are running wild after finding his brother sobbing on the floor. Understandable.

Roman wets his lips and hesitates. “…Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I don’t know!” Roman eases himself into a sitting position and Remus is quick to adjust pillows for him so he has support. “I… I don’t know.”

Remus is staring at him, in that unnervingly close way that always gives the impression he’s trying to analyse his bone structure or something.

“What’s that?” he finally says, leaning over and touching something on Roman’s collarbone.

Roman knows without looking, judging by the familiar way it hurts when Remus’ finger presses.

“Ah,” he says. “I didn’t realise it had spread that much.”

“Spread?”

Remus tugs the neck of Roman’s shirt down a little, and makes a choked noise at the realisation that this mark keeps going down.

“I…” Roman bats his hand away. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m worried,” Remus snaps back. “I’m worrying about it. Roman, you’re clearly in pain.”

“You love it when I’m in pain.”

“No, I love it when I’m causing you pain. And you know that what I do isn’t permanent. That’s half the point.”

Roman has teared up a little at that. It’s a semi-fucked up Remus way of admitting he cares about his brother.

“Show me,” Remus says, and he’s grabbed the bottom hem of Roman’s shirt.

“No,” Roman tries to bat his hands away again.

“Show me!”

“Stop trying to care!” Roman finally succeeds in hitting his hands away, and Remus looks wounded. “You… what’s with you? You haven’t cared about me, and given my current developments, you shouldn’t either.”

“What, I should love you because you’re dying?”

“No! You shouldn’t love me because I’m a horrible person! And I’m only getting worse!” Roman glares at his brother through tears that started falling without his permission. “What’s so hard to understand about this?”

Remus looks stumped. He slumps back in his seat, hands in his lap, looking like Roman just kicked him in the stomach.

“…I’m a horrible person, too,” he finally whispers. “Because I have been the biggest dick to my brother all the while he’s suffering.”

“I… Suffering’s just part of being me,” Roman says limply with a shrug that hurts and tugs in a number of weird and bad-feeling ways. “You… you haven’t.”

“Careful, there,” Remus tries to joke. “All that edge and you’ll summon our emo.”

His eyes are usually bright, and his heart isn’t in the joke. Roman sighs, he feels really tired all of a sudden. A thought rears its head – something he hasn’t considered but is inspired by what Thomas said to him. It usually is very easy to turn into self-loathing, too.

Is this self-inflicted? Is he that much of a bleeding heart?

“You…” Remus reaches out and hesitates before his touches his brother’s arm, like he’s not sure where to put his hands to make sure he doesn’t hurt Roman. “Please, can I help? Can I see?”

“I don’t know what you can do to help,” Roman says softly. “But…”

He shakes his head and sighs. “Fine.”

Remus has to help him take off his shirt, and as more and more is revealed, until the shirt hits the floor and Roman braces himself on the bed, not meeting Remus’ eyes.

“Holy shit,” Remus says.

Roman sits up, swings himself upright and gets to his feet, despite Remus trying to keep him down. He staggers over to his dresser and pauses in front of the mirror, before taking it all it.

It’s… worse. His breath stops in his throat as he just tries to comprehend what has happened to his body. It’s almost like the time he broke his mirror, but… it’s him. His torso is an intricate weaving of rich red cracks, and he twists despite the ache to check his back and sees it covers that too. He runs a hand over the base of his throat, noting that the cracks are even beginning to reach that high. Onto his shoulders, too. No more tank tops, then. He shies down the top of his pyjama pants just over one hip to see if it stretches down, and… yeah, it’s beginning to spread down to his thighs as well.

“Fuck,” he says.

“Fuck,” Remus echoes. His brother gets up and comes over, crowds his space and carefully, carefully, puts a hand on his back. Roman’s too tired to flinch.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yeah.” This far in, there’s no point in lying.

“This is… Roman, this is fucked. You… we need to tell everyone.”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“Dramatic?!” Remus grabs him by the shoulders and turns him so Roman has to face him and look his brother in the eye. “I’m sorry, dramatic? Roman, look at you! The only one being dramatic here is you trying to wallow!”

“I’m not wallowing,” Roman swallows hard. “I’ve… I’ve earned this. This is my burden to bear.”

“Earned…” Remus lets him go and staggers backwards, ending up in the chair again. He’s rubbing his forehead, bewildered and pained. “What have they done to you?”

“I did this to myself,” Roman shrugs, baring his arms. “I… This is my punishment.”

“For what? Being you?”

“I suppose it must be.”

Remus pauses as Roman says that, and looks up again, eyes glinting with unshed tears.

“I mean,” Roman laughs, tilting his head back and reaching up to massage at his temple. “What else have I done?”

The sound of crying hits Roman first, and then Remus does second, squarely and in the jaw. Roman staggers with a cry – though it’s nothing compared to the agony he’s been living in for the past month. Next, as he’s trying to gain his balance again, Remus latches on in a huge hug as he proceeds to sob into Roman’s shoulder.

His arms are tight around Roman’s torso. It hurts and comforts in equal amounts. Roman does not tell him to stop.

Roman hugs him back, letting Remus grieve.

Then, “why’d you punch me?”

“Because you’re a fucking idiot, and I love you,” Remus mumbles back. His moustache prickles against Roman’s bare skin. “A-and I didn’t mean to, it just happened, I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” Roman accepts that as it is, and lets Remus hang on for dear life.

--- --- --- --- ---  

It takes a long time to convince Remus to leave. He doesn’t want to, of course, and the look in his eye tells Roman he’s afraid that he will come back tomorrow and find his brother in pieces on the floor.

Roman’s afraid that Remus is going to kick down everyone’s doors and spill the beans on what a weak person he is. And weak is the word for it, because when Roman wakes the next day, he can barely sit up.

He’s still not wearing a shirt. Must’ve passed out without one. He forces himself to summon one onto himself, rather than go through the agony of trying to get one over his head manually. The room swims as the energy drains.

This is bad.

Roman can’t sit up. He can barely keep his eyes open. It feels like it’s been forever and like it’s hit him all at once at the same time.

He wishes it would end. He’s beginning to not care how that end comes about.

--- --- --- --- ---  

Remus is in the kitchen, which is odd, because he’s banned from the kitchen, and he usually respects that because it’s more trouble than it’s worth for him otherwise. But Patton comes downstairs that morning to the cacophony of clattering dishes and the smell of something burning, and no, no, no, no, no! And he has to pause at the foot of the stairs and watch Remus panic, trying to gather his bearings as he hears the sound of scraping against the bottom of a frying pan.

He steps on the squeaky stair as he dismounts the staircase, and Remus’ head snaps up. Patton takes a hasty step back when he realises that Remus is in tears.

“Help me,” Remus begs, and Patton is lost for words. “Please. I’ve… I-I…”

Remus is clearly on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Patton hurries over before anything more can go wrong, and the first thing he does is turn off the stovetop and help him scrape it all clean.

“I…” Remus is scraping his failed attempt of pancake batter into the bin upon Patton’s direction. “I know I’m not supposed to be in here, but I wanted to make Roman breakfast.”

“That’s very nice of you,” Patton says politely.

“I can’t cook,” Remus mumbles.

“It’s okay,” Patton smiles. “I’ll help you. It’s a nice surprise for Roman.”

“I’m trying to help him,” Remus looks like he has to talk or he’ll explode. “He… he’s not well!”

“I know,” Patton hums, turning away with a clean bowl to start making a new batch.

“No, you don’t understand,” Remus grabs Patton by the shoulder, eyes wild as he turns Patton around. “He… h-he! Fuck, he didn’t want me to say. He’s such an idiot. He might be dying and he doesn’t want me to say.”

Might be dying. Might be dying?

“What?”

Remus’ face crumples. His hands are shaking. Patton pulls him into a hug and lets Remus cling to him, staring into space as the duke starts to cry in earnest.

When Remus has cried himself out a bit more, only then does Patton dare to ask. He wets his lips and quietly raises the question.

“W-what do you mean by …dying?”

Remus goes tense in his arms.

“I…” Remus pulls back and runs his hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to describe it, it looks like he’s falling apart, and I mean that literally.”

Patton frowns, unable to imagine it, but the look on Remus’ face – pure distress – is enough to get him to not question him on that front any further.

“I…” Remus’ eyes are roaming the room, like he just can’t stop talking. “Yesterday, he was so weak. I don’t know what he’ll be like today. I don’t know if he can climb stairs anymore. I want to help him but I don’t know how.”

“Does…” Patton searches for a person, any person, the right person to name here. He’s also trying not to feel insulted that Roman never actually told him. “Does Thomas know?”

“Whatever it is only got worse after he came back from talking with Thomas,” Remus shrugs wildly. “I don’t think so. I think I’m the only one who’s seen it. I…”

He claps his hand over his mouth and shakes his head.

Patton turns away and wordlessly keeps making pancakes.

--- --- --- --- ---  

Virgil comes downstairs next, surprisingly, and Patton hands him the bowl with the rest of the batter and leaves him in charge, following Remus up the stairs with a platter of breakfast to take to Roman’s room.

Remus helped, not with the cooking, but with laying all the plates and cups and such out for him. Patton follows the duke up the stairs with bated breath, letting Remus knock on Roman’s door and enter first.

“We made you breakfast,” he hears Remus say as he rushes to his brother’s bedside, leaving Patton to elbow the door open a little wider.

“Who’s we?”  he hears Roman ask, before choking on his own breath as Patton enters. He’s quietly quite sad that that’s the reaction he gives Roman, but he bundles that up and carries the tray over to Roman’s bed.

And fuck, Remus is right. Roman looks like he’s withering away there on the bedsheets. Pale as anything and there’s no life in those eyes of his.

There’s something weird on his skin, like a thin black line, creeping up over his collarbones. He can see it over the top of Roman’s shirt.

Patton sets the tray down gently on Roman’s lap after Remus helps to get him into a sitting position, propped up and comforted by pillows.

Patton sets the tray down in front of him, and before he can’t help himself.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Both Creativities look at him wide-eyed. Patton looks up and tries to smile but he’s tearing up too much to get his point across.

“I… I care about you too much to lose you, Roman.”

Roman looks terrified. And then he turns to Remus and snaps, “what did you say?”

“I-!” Remus looks like he’s been slapped. “You really expect me to keep a secret?”

“Fuck,” Roman grumbles, and makes no move to touch his food.

“Roman,” Patton has cupped Roman’s jaw before he can think – he has a lot of emotions bundled away he’s been working through over the months, but despite himself one of the oldest and most consistent has been loving Roman despite everything that has happened; despite what Roman must think of him – and he’s turned Roman’s head to meet his eyes. “I… I need you to be honest with me. I need you to tell me if I can help you. And I don’t mean fix you. You are deserving of help, whether or not you believe you are broken.”

Roman’s eyes are wide, and his breath is hitching.

“I’ve seen how you hurt,” Patton continues, unable to take his hand away but sitting on the bed, trying to be close to him. “Please… Roman.”

“I can’t,” Roman’s lower lip is wobbling. “I… Patton, you haven’t seen me. It’s too much work.”

“Not to me.” Patton speaks without thinking. “Not if it’s you.”

Roman bursts into tears.

Patton quickly passes off the tray of food before scooting in even closer, letting Roman fall against him and curl in. His body shakes, and Roman’s hot to the touch, almost feverish. Patton carefully wraps his arms around Roman, trying to be ever so gentle.

Remus is hovering, and Patton shoots him a pained look, and the duke slowly backs away and sits down at Roman’s desk.

“I just…” Roman shakes his head. “I don’t want to keep hurting you. I don’t.”

“I don’t understand.”

“All that pressure, over the years, it was me, Patton. I should have given you space, I should have left you be, I should have-”

“I would have been worse off for being alone,” Patton cuts him off, his grip tightening without meaning to as he even dares to imagine it. “You know me, Ro. I couldn’t stand it.”

Roman’s shaking his head.

“How much have you been lying to yourself?” Patton’s continuing, he’s still talking even though this might ruin them more. “How much to you have to deny yourself before you allow us to help you? Roman, I can’t take seeing this. I can’t take seeing you hurt.”

Roman pulls back – or he tries to, but he’s so weak he can’t force his own way out of Patton’s arms. Patton gets the hint, though, and lets him go willingly. Roman doesn’t shove him away. He instead carefully takes Patton’s hand in his own, and puts it over his heart.

Patton desperately tries not to put too much weight on it, just in case.

“Huh,” Roman says, quietly to himself. “That… doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.”

Patton’s hand flexes a little as he processes that statement. Then he looks up, his brown eyes wide and watery.

“Let me see,” he says.

“Patton, it’s-”

“Let me see.”

There are footsteps out in the hall. It seems their arguing has drawn a crowd. Virgil appears in the doorway, eyes wide, eyeshadow dark, taking in the scene.

“What’s wrong?” he demands, voice urgent.

“Nothing,” Roman says, lying through his teeth.

“Everything,” Patton says at the same time. “But Roman’s gonna tell us how we can help, right?”

“I-!” Roman’s gone even paler.

Remus clears his throat pointedly, making his brother look over.

“If you don’t spill the beans, I will,” he says, casually and conversationally, but very clearly a threat.

Roman starts crying, but it’s dead silent. His eyes flick around the room at the gathered crowd, and his breath hitches as Logan and Janus appear over Virgil’s shoulders.

“It’s a whole party, huh?” he wheezes, trying to laugh even though tears are running down his face hot and fast. “I… Well, I suppose you all deserve to know, in case this goes where I assume this is going.”

Patton’s hand over his heart tightens just a little at that, but otherwise, Patton manages not to react.

Roman put his hand over Patton’s and squeezes lightly.

“Help me sit up,” he says, “and help me take off my shirt.”

Patton does as he is bidden, Remus jumping up to help as the others enter the room properly, and tries to ignore how much the prince’s voice is shaking.

Roman wheezes a little as Patton helps negotiate him out of his sleepshirt, and Patton’s hands start shaking as more and more damage is revealed.

By the time Roman’s shirt hits the floor again, Patton can barely bring himself to lay hands on his friend. How could he? The agony that Roman has been in is spelled out plain and simple through his skin.

“Oh shit,” someone says. “Shit, Roman!”

Roman’s shoulders are shaking. “Do you understand?” he breaks his silence. He reaches out as much as he can, and Patton gives him his hand in an instant.  “Do you understand why I didn’t say anything?”

“How did it get this bad?” Patton squeezes his hand and tries not to cry himself – though the wetness on his face tells him he’s failed.

There’s someone beside him, now. Everyone’s crowded around. Ah, it’s Logan, and he kneels down beside the bed and takes Roman’s other hand, which had been resting on his stomach, and carefully starts examining the cracks.

“Does it hurt?”

Roman wets his lips, and seems to be debating telling the truth. He ends up locking eyes with Patton, and he swallows.

“Yes,” he says. “Very much so. Especially when they widen. But it hasn’t done that dramatically for a while.”

Remus clears his throat.

“Well, I talked to Thomas yesterday, and that was the worst one, but I don’t think there’s going to be much left in me, to be frank.”

“Do you know the cause of this?” Logan’s voice is fragile. “And can we fix it?”

“I think…” Roman trails off, shakes his head, and smiles. “I don’t think I can be fixed.”

Logan’s grip on his hand tightens. Virgil comes and sits on the end of the bed, and Janus stands over him.

“The cause,” Janus prompts, obviously not missing how Roman didn’t answer the question. “Do you know it?”

“I…” Roman looks like he wants to disappear. “I have… ideas, but nothing certain.”

“Thomas’ creativity does tend to take metaphors quite literally,” Logan glances at Janus, at Virgil, at Patton, and at Remus as Remus comes over to really close the ring. “I… like bruised ego, for instance. But it’s not that, is it?”

Roman shakes his head, slowly, painfully.

“Heartbreak, I think,” is all he says.

Heartbreak.

Patton has to look away.

“Heartbreak,” Virgil echoes.

“It’s just a theory,” Roman shrugs, despite how it must hurt. “Other idea is my own body’s shutting down against me because I’ve betrayed my purpose by hurting Thomas and getting in the way of his dreams and this is my punishment for it.”

Roman then blinks, like he didn’t mean to say all that out loud.

Everyone’s staring at him.

He wets his lips, and tries to go on damage control.

“I, uh, of course, it could be-”

Virgil’s hand on his knee cuts him off.

“Do you actually believe that?”

Roman blinks at him, almost bewildered. It is answer enough for the room.

He feels the energy shift. The room feels all but frigid. Roman yawns, wide and half-teary, and wonders briefly over whether going to sleep now will mean he wakes up tomorrow at all.

There’s a hand on his face, the coldness of the hand jolting his eyes open, and he realises it’s Logan, guiding him to make eye contact.

“The day you dropped the plates,” he says, low and urgent, “was that this?”

“It wasn’t the start of this,” Roman shrugs again. “But… it was when the cracks started to widen, yes.”

“Did I cause it?”

“You? No. It…”

“Tell the truth, Roman. I can take it if it means we can save you.”

“But why?” Roman shakes his head. “You can fill my role.”

“We can’t,” Logan says earnestly, and glances around the room in a panic. “We can’t.”

“We can’t,” Patton agrees, pressing Roman’s hand to his lips frantically, trying to find some way to prove his care, to be even closer.

“We can’t,” Virgil enforces. “Thomas would never do anything, ever, because he’d have no motivation.”

“He’d never sing again,” Janus follows up, his voice surprisingly urgent. “He’d never sing, he’d never act, he’d never write or even organise the fridge in order of colour again. He’d never sling around another nickname, he’d… Roman, surely you must realise to some degree how integral you are?”

“He’s got another creativity,” Roman sighs.

“And you think I could be anything like you?” Remus demands. “I’m insulted. I don’t want to be like you, I want to have you. Because then I don’t have to fill a void knowing for the rest of our sorry lives that if I’d acted faster, I’d still have a brother.”

Roman’s shaking his head.

“Do you really think you get to shirk your duties like this?” Janus says, and it seems to be the wrong thing because Roman twists away and rips his hand out of Patton’s grip to cover his mouth, and they all have to watch in horror as the cracks somehow manage to widen.

Roman goes limp on the bed, and pants.

“I just think,” he gasps for air, “that you all will be better off without the dead weight.”

It’s a poor choice of words, and Logan and Virgil seem to be in tears now.

“Get Thomas,” Patton says, voice calm and even.

“No,” Roman’s eyes shoot open.

“Get Thomas!” Patton turns to Janus, who looks pale, but nods once and sinks out.

“I can’t let him see me like this!” Roman has sat up somehow, clawing at Patton until Patton gives him his hands to clutch. “I-I can’t let him know I’ve failed!”

Janus rises back up into the room with a woozy Thomas clinging to his arm. Thomas looks around with a worried expression and a question on his lips until he sees Roman.

“Oh my god,” Thomas stumbles over and Logan gets out of the way so Thomas can take his place. “Roman! You said you were ill.”

“I am,” Roman half-smiles.

“Don’t pull this on me now,” Thomas puts a very careful hand on Roman’s chest and winces in sympathy as Roman hisses, almost like he can feel it too. “Oh, oh, that makes so much more sense now.”

Roman’s lip is wobbling. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“I… I had my suspicions, especially after our talk. But… oh, Roman. It’s gonna be alright, I promise.”

“Very kind of you to send me off into that goodnight so quietly.”

“Where’s your rage, then, Roman? You aren’t supposed to go quietly! You’re…” Thomas has started crying too, hell, everyone in the room has by now. “I was supposed to fight for you, bud. I’m so sorry. I failed you.”

“I should have been flexible for you,” Roman whispers, taking Thomas’s hand and fiddling with it, looking at it and not his centre’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not in your nature,” Thomas whispers back. “You’re one-natured, and I’m not. I should have seen how you both were hurting. It was just…”

“You don’t have to say it,” Roman rests his head against Thomas’ arm. “I was glad you helped Patton first. I would have insisted on it if you didn’t.”

Patton claps his hands over his mouth and tries not to be horrified. Thomas had been very patient and they had worked through their feelings about the wedding together. Janus had been very helpful, too, actually. But if he’d known Roman was dying of a broken heart…

Was it destined? If it hadn’t been Roman, would it have been him?

“I have to learn,” Roman says, so tired, so tired. “Or I have to go.”

“You have learnt,” Thomas reminds him, so carefully, so gently. “Clearly, or you wouldn’t accept this lying down.”

“I haven’t got a choice otherwise at the moment, Thomas.”

“You know what I mean, you asshole.”

Roman laughs, even though it takes it all out of him. He falls still, and closes his eyes against Thomas with a sigh.

“I’m tired,” he says. His voice is so small.

“I know,” Thomas half-laughs himself. He reaches around Roman and pulls him in closer, letting Roman cuddle into his side as he sits on the bed next to him. “You can rest, bud. You’ve done so good.”

“I didn’t mean it,” Janus blurted. “I-I didn’t mean it.”

Roman’s eyes wander open, and he regards Janus with a curious look. “It’s okay if you did,” he replies, and Janus’ face crumples even more.

“It’s not,” Janus shoots back.

“You don’t have to feel bad about telling the truth just because I look like this.”

“Is that how much you’ve been lying to yourself?” Janus steps closer, now moving past Patton. “That you’ve convinced yourself every cruel thing we’ve said about you is true? People get angry, sometimes, Roman, and people say things they don’t actually mean. I would think you know this better than us all.”

Roman’s head falls back against Thomas, who shoots Janus a look that asks be careful.

“I do.”

Janus takes off his hat and rakes a hand through his hair, letting his hat disappear with a flick of his wrist as he picks his words carefully.

“Then you should know that I… I was just frustrated, and trying to get under your skin. I didn’t realise how successful I had been. I didn’t mean to isolate you. I-I… I didn’t…”

Janus presses his hands to his face and steps back. Roman watches him carefully, but closes his eyes and smiles. “Thank you,” he says.

Janus steps back and kicks himself about that that seems to be enough to make Roman content. He’s not crying. He’s not. He’s really not.

Someone leads him away.

Roman noses a little into Thomas’ side.

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“So am I,” Thomas replies. “I don’t want to hear you apologising, Roman. I don’t think a single moment of this has been your fault.”

Roman makes a sound that tells them all he doesn’t believe that, but lets it slide. Thomas yawns as Roman’s eyes slump. It is late, Patton supposes, even as he dares to take Roman’s hand again.

Roman opens one eye a crack and smiles at him.

“I want to talk to you,” Patton tells him quietly, hyperaware of everyone in the room hearing his words. “I wanna talk to you alone. There’s something I think we need to talk about.”

Roman looks… accepting, even if he doesn’t look thrilled. Thomas shoots him a look of his own but doesn’t say anything.

Roman doesn’t respond to his name after another half-minute. He’s fallen asleep. Thomas settles in beside him and is unwilling to move – even at the warning that spending a whole night in his mindscape probably isn’t going to be good for him.

Thomas is unwilling leave, even suggests moving Roman, but is eventually convinced to go sleep. In the end, everyone splits off to sleep. Patton promises he’s going to return to his own room after checking on Roman one last time, but in reality he makes a comfortable bundle of blankets on the floor and burrows in.

Somehow, he finds enough of a moment of peace to slip into sleep himself.

--- --- --- --- ---  

Roman wakes up during the night. He brute-forces his way into a sitting position and notices with surprise that Patton is asleep in on a makeshift pile of bedding on the floor beside him.

His door opens a crack, and he sees the glint of light reflecting off someone’s eye. That someone takes a sharp breath in at realising that Roman’s up, and Roman sighs.

“Come in,” he calls quietly. “And don’t wake Patton.”

The door opens, and Virgil slips in the gap, socked feet silent against the carpet. He pads across the room, making a beeline for the bed, and steps over Patton carefully.

He sits down and stares Roman in the eye. Roman notices he’s been crying.

At first, Virgil doesn’t say anything. He just grabs Roman as carefully as he can manage (although Virgil’s affection has always been a little rougher than most, but that’s okay), and tugs him into a hug, burying his face in Roman’s neck.

Roman slings his arms around Virgil’s hips and sighs, patting the small of Virgil’s back lightly.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell anyone.”

Roman shakes his head.

“Like, I get it,” Virgil counters himself quickly. “And god, I probably wouldn’t have, in your shoes, but also fuck, that’s so stupid, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to add any more stress,” Roman shrugs. “You’ve seen what every single group meal has looked like for the past month, V. It just… seemed like more trouble than it was worth.”

“Worth your life? I don’t think there’s enough trouble in the world to be worth dunking that.”

“Right.”

Virgil grits his teeth at that passive response. Clearly he wants to (lovingly) raise his voice, but they promised not to wake Patton. Instead, he pulls back and looks Roman in the eye.

“Ro, are we friends?”

Roman blinks at the question, and panic floods through him. “…I thought so? If it’s still in the air, then yes, I consider you a dear friend, b-but-!”

“Wait, shit, okay, I didn’t mean it like that. I consider you…” Virgil lowers his voice even more, glancing towards Patton in an attempt to make sure he was still asleep. “I consider you one of, if not my best friend, especially at the moment. What with… everything that’s happened.”

“I’m amazed you even want to talk to me, after everything that’s happened.”

“I think you’re too hard on yourself,” Virgil shakes his head. “Roman, if there’s one thing you have made very damn clear over these weeks is that you are aware that change is needed, and I have seen you change. I don’t know if I like how much of you I’ve seen go down the drain, because you think you can’t be yourself.”

“Being myself got us into this mess, Virge,” Roman says tiredly. “After fives years, something’s gotta crack.”

“Don’t say crack,” Virgil snaps, not out of anger but just out of stress. “I swear to god, Roman, don’t say crack.”

Roman laughs, tiny and pained, but a laugh none the less.

“You aren’t the sole problem here,” Virgil repeats himself, wondering when it’s going to sink in. “You have to realise that on some level. Because god, Roman? I’ve been there. And sure I wasn’t being physically torn apart over it but I get that you want the suffering to end, but there’s more than one way to get there.”

Roman raises a hand between them and waits for Virgil to take it, trying to ignore how much he’s shaking. Virgil does, takes it in an instant, and he is steady, if not a little clammy.

“But the problem is…” Roman starts, hesitant, but one glance at Virgil gives him the courage to finish his thought, “what if I can’t be fixed? What if I am doomed? I… I don’t want to get my own hopes up again. I can’t do that to myself twice.”

Virgil rubs his thumb across Roman’s knuckles a couple times as he chooses his words. “You keep talking,” he says, low and gravelly, “about being fixed. Roman, …e-even if this is… it, you don’t deserve to go out suffering and alone. You deserve help and love and care purely because you are real and living and here, and part of our family, not just because you are in pain. I refuse to think we can’t help you. I refuse to think that we lose you like this, but… if we do, you’re not going out by yourself. I can promise you that.”

Roman was already on the brink of tears – he has been for days – and that is enough for him to start gently weeping. He leans forward, and Virgil gets the hint and wraps his arms around the prince. The grip is firm and it hurts a little but Roman’s glad, he’s glad because it makes him feel solid and real, it makes him feel like he isn’t going to break, it…

It makes him feel loved.

God, he’s so tired. But for once, he feels warm. It doesn’t hurt as bad. He slumps against Virgil a little and lets his head fall into the crook of Virgil’s neck.

“Tired?”

“Mm,” he hums, eyes closing. “M’sorry. It just... hits pretty fast.”

“It’s okay,” Virgil says, and he swears he hears Virgil’s voice crack, swears he feels something wet drop onto his hair, but he’s too tired to accuse him of anything. “Can I stay?”

“Yeah,” Roman mumbles, head spinning a little as Virgil helps him lay back down. Normally, he’d be cursing himself out for being so weak. But he’s just a little taken with how warm he’s feeling right now.

For once, he’s not afraid of falling asleep.

--- --- --- --- ---  

Virgil sleeps propped up against the side of Roman’s bed, and he sleeps fitfully. So that way, he’s awake when Patton rouses himself. Patton doesn’t look that well-rested either, but he lifts his head and fixes his bleary eyes on Virgil, and blinks slowly, before smiling.

“Morning,” he says, voice kind of gravelly from sleep.

“Morning,” Virgil mumbles back. “Sorry, I just had to make sure he was… okay.”

“Mm,” Patton agrees, sitting up and stretching. Then, after a moment, he scoots out of the blankets, grabs the top-most once, and scoots over to Virgil, sitting side by side so he can sling the blanket around both of them. “Me too.”

Virgil is tense for a moment, but it doesn’t take long for him to relax, and a word or two of consent has him resting his head on Patton’s shoulder, melting into the other. Patton hums again. He seems exhausted.

He has vague memories of seeing Virgil and Roman talking in the dead of night. But Patton quietly realised that was a private conversation, and drifted back to sleep while he was still in its clutches. He’s curious, of course. He wants to know what they talked about, but he has to know it’s not his business.

Virgil sighs, and Patton rests his head against Virgil’s as anxiety starts quietly crying. Everyone’s been crying a lot lately. But god, it’s so much to process.

“He’s gonna be okay,” Patton says, in a voice so firm that it surprises both of them.

“I hope so,” Virgil murmurs back. “He… he’s not convinced. Or, he might be a little more convinced now.”

“That’s good,” Patton says, ignoring the ache in his own chest. It’s nothing physical, not like Roman. He just wants him to be healthy, to be alright, wants him to live. It hurts, seeing him so assured of his downfall. But after spending so long alone in this state? Patton can’t blame him.

It hurts, but he can’t blame him.

“Did you sleep much?” he asks, feeling Virgil shift his weight to be more comfortable.

“Nah,” Virgil sighs. “I… couldn’t make it through the night.”

“Sleep now, if you want,” Patton offers. “I’ll make sure you both are alright.”

It doesn’t take long for Virgil to drift off. Patton settles down to wait, and drifts off himself at some point too.

--- --- --- --- ---  

Roman is roused his from his oddly peaceful slumber by the door being opened with a sing-song “breakfast’s ready!”

The voice is silky and gentle, and Roman sits up and realises through his bleary blinks that it’s Janus. Huh. He’s never heard Janus talk to him like that before.

It’s cute.

Janus pauses in the doorway, before laughing a little, and leaning back out into the corridor. “I’ve found them.”

“Hm?” Logan sticks his head around the door as Janus crosses the room, and snorts himself as they see Patton and Virgil curled up against each other under a blanket propped up against Roman’s bed. Roman looks over and laughs, a surprisingly light sound seeing how exhausted he was yesterday, and he shifts in bed so he’s a bit more comfortable.

“Good morning,” he says, smiling.

“Good morning,” Janus replies, putting down the tray on his lap. “You seem… well.”

Roman blinks, before looking up at Janus with realisation. He can’t find the words in that moment, but Janus is right. He feels… okay.

“Porridge,” Janus presses the spoon into his hand. “Honey and spices, and with cream. Logan says that’s how you like it.”

“Logan’s right,” Roman says in a small voice, and he shoots Logan a smile, who totally doesn’t preen under the reaction. “Thank you.”

He begins to eat (finally has the stomach to eat something) as Janus crouches down in front of his guardian angels and gently shakes them both awake.

Virgil wakes first, bleary and armed with a death glare, but he does mellow out as he comes a little more to his senses. Patton takes a bit to shake awake, always a heavy sleeper, but eventually he does sit up and stretch tall, yawning.

“What time is it?”

“About 10,” Janus says, standing. “We’re having porridge.”

Patton gets to his feet and offers Virgil a hand up, and then and only then turns and looks at Roman. The delight on his face to see Roman sitting upright makes Roman grin.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi!” Patton says back, and perches on the edge of the bed with the sunniest look Roman’s seen in a long time. “Hi! You look well.”

“That’s what Janus said,” Roman winks, and takes a moment to have another spoon or two, at least while it’s still hot. “I feel better.”

Virgil wanders over to stand beside the bed, hands in his pockets, and shares a smile of his own. “Pain?”

“Yeah, still,” Roman shrugs. “I don’t know if that’s going away. But anyway. Go have your breakfast. It’s good. Quality control can confirm.”

Janus laughs at that and ushers the others from the room. One last glance over his shoulder shoots Roman a look that is too complicated for Roman to translate into words. But it seems to read in a way that suggests that he’ll be back to check on him.

Roman eats, he scrapes his bowl clean. He sets it aside, and goes to sit back, but for the first time in a long time, he has the energy to feel restless. He glances around the room, twiddles his thumbs for another half-minute, before murmuring a quick ‘fuck it’ to himself and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

The room doesn’t really swim. His legs don’t give out. His chest hurts, an ache that has been rotting right through him for so long it’s almost an old friend at this point, but it doesn’t send him to the floor.

He makes it to his vanity, puts the tray down there instead of his bed, and sits. It takes him time, but he gets his shirt off, and thinks about swapping out these ones for button downs, much less effort, and he leaves it in his lap as he evaluates. Because he’s having ideas, and he’s prepared to be disappointed, but…

He tears up a little as he realises he’s right. The… the cracks, they’re smaller. They’re smaller! His fingers find a patch of clear skin to explore and he can only smile. Virgil was right! It’s fixable!

There could be hope for him yet!

There’s a knock on his door, and Roman flinches and snaps around in his chair – doubling over a little as that hurts, but smiles as he realises it’s Janus in the doorway.

He’s… not as scared of Janus, at least not at the moment. Janus is at least trying to be gentle with him, so he’ll take it while he can get it.

Janus enters, clearly surprised.

“Don’t mind me,” Roman says, turning back to the mirror. “I just had to check something.”

“They’re smaller,” Janus comments, and Roman watches his reflection come up right behind him, and Janus’ hand rests on his back. “A Christmas miracle.”

“More like a Nightmare Before Christmas miracle,” Roman quips, and he rubs over the epicentre over his heart thoughtlessly.

“Virgil?”

“We talked, last night,” Roman couldn’t bring himself to meet Janus’ eyes. “And I guess it helped.”

“So emotional repair brings physical repair,” Janus murmurs to himself, mostly. “That’s good to know.”

Roman shifts in his seat and tries to smile. Janus can see his discomfort, and takes back his hand.

“I’m… apologies, Roman. I guess I’m leaping straight over our troubled waters into wanting to help you.”

“If that’s what you want to do, then I don’t mind building our bridge again.”

Janus looks at him in the mirror, and Roman makes himself look back, and makes himself smile. Janus hums, something Roman wonders whether he’s picked up from Patton or not, and shakes his head gently.

“I would like to repair the one we have, if possible,” Janus’ hand trails along the back of the chair as he moves around to Roman’s side, and kneels down on one knee. Roman tilts in his chair to they are face-to-face. “I know there is a lot of legwork to be put in on my side, but-”

“On both sides,” Roman corrects him, and he reaches out and takes Janus’ hand before he can stop himself. “Did I ever apologise for my behaviour?”

“Your apologies are written all over your skin,” Janus replies seriously, eyes wandering over Roman’s chest. “And your physical change of behaviour has been enough to prove to me you regret it. But if you feel you need to say it, I’m listening.”

“I’m sorry,” Roman declares. “I’m sorry for laughing at your name and villainising you. I’m sorry for trying to shoot you down without giving you a chance.”

Janus looks sad at that, but lets Roman finish and squeezes his hand gently in support.

“My turn,” he says seriously. “Roman, I’m sorry I used you.”

Roman stares at him, stunned by his bluntness.

“I… well, because I did. The first time, I used you to try and get into Thomas’ good books. Virgil called me out, of course, and I half-expected it. But I played into your…” he shoots Roman a look that makes him flush, “interests, and… yes, I’m not necessarily proud of that.”

Interests. Does he mean the stage or does he mean Patton? God, is he that transparent?!

“And… the trial. I thought I could get you on my side. I thought… I think I wanted to make a point, and you ended up being my poster child. And you became a martyr instead. I should have known that in your heart of hearts, you are selfless to the point of destruction, and you would have bowed to Patton and what you all considered ‘right’ anyway.”

Roman recoils a little at that, and Janus winces because he’s clearly unhappy with how he’s worded that.

“I’m not some… dog reliant on what Patton says or thinks,” Roman shoots back.

“No,” Janus agrees. “But… you’d have to be blind to ignore how much you do for him.”

Roman looks down, and hopes he isn’t flushing as hard as he looks like.

“Is it that obvious?”

“I don’t know if he knows, but… at least to me? Clearly.”

Roman shakes his head and goes to take his hand back, but Janus hangs on for another moment. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m not here to interrogate you over your taste in men. I hope you work it out. But I’m here to… I drove you into the ground, didn’t I?”

“I did that myself.”

“You spiralled, but I gave you the push.”

Roman doesn’t counter that, because Janus isn’t wrong. He just had no idea that Janus was so aware.

“So,” Janus looks down, takes a steadying breath, and looks up again. “What I’m trying to say, is… I’m sorry, Roman. I really am.”

“You have everything you want,” Roman says before he can think. “And you got yourself there. I… I feel like I can’t be mad at that.”

“You can, and you should. But I don’t have everything I want,” Janus says, mysterious as ever as he gets to his feet, but not letting Roman’s hand go just yet, cradling it in his own.

“And what’s that?”

“A friendship with you,” Janus smiles, a real smile that Roman’s never seen directed his way before. “If you’d be willing.”

Roman looks down for a moment, considering, before he looks back up with a stony expression. He holds it for a second, just to unnerve Janus, before it breaks into something far sunnier.

“Finally,” Roman smiles back, “someone to sing show tunes with who won’t complain for 20 minutes first.”

Janus laughs, he laughs, he actually tips his head back and laughs good and heartily, before turning this oddly bright look back onto the prince. “It’d be an honour,” he says. He squeezes Roman’s hand one more time, before letting it go. “Now, do you feel like you can come downstairs today, or…?”

Roman turns back to the mirror and studies his own face for a moment.

“No,” he says politely. “I might stay in here today. Or even have a shower. God knows I haven’t done that in a few days.”

Janus laughs a little at that. “I wasn’t going to say anything,” he banters, “but that could be nice.”

Roman rolls his eyes at the ribbing and lightly punches Janus’ arm before he can step out of the way. “I get it, I get it,” he gripes good-naturedly. “Now, leave me to my beauty routine.”

Janus does as requested, though the way he lingers in the doorway tells Roman he doesn’t want to leave Roman on his own. He doubts any of them do. They might be taking it in turns, yet. But he waves him off, gathers some clothes, and heads off to the bathroom.

He does, notably, not lock the door, though. …Just in case it comes crashing down. And by it, he means him.

--- --- --- --- ---  

One sleep later and he’s feeling better again. Emotional healing equals physical healing. Roman has been running on fumes and spite for so long that the hardest thing about this whole thing has been actually learning he can recover, and that he probably should.

Logan has taken to checking on him so regularly that Roman doesn’t need a clock anymore to tell when an hour has passed. It’s nice, it’s sweet. Obviously Logan feels awful and is trying to make it up to him, and Roman doesn’t want to use Logan like that, but to have such gentle attention from Logic is something so novel and something he doesn’t want to give him. He hopes he doesn’t have to.

Janus has taken him up on that comment on singing duets, and it’s helping to give Roman his lung capacity back. It also turns out that somehow, somehow, Remus knows how to play piano! Or, perhaps with how Creativity works, similar to Roman speaking Spanish, Remus can play piano purely because he thinks he can, or because he wants to.

But they’ve found space in Roman’s room for a baby grand piano (second-hand and white, of course), and Roman still has to sit, he can’t handle being on his feet for long stretches of time yet, but… it’s fun. He’s never hung out with Janus or Remus like this, and it’s nice to find someone to be musical with. Patton isn’t as nerdy on musical theatre as he is, but will still try and connect over music. Virgil and Logan don’t sing, and they don’t necessarily gel on his music tastes either.

This has been new. It’s been amazing. Even if his body is still fragile, emotionally? Roman’s feeling better than he has in a long time. Maybe ever.

Virgil makes him leave his room. Which is ironic, Roman thinks, seeing as if Virgil had a choice, he’d probably never leave his own room ever. But Virgil gets him up and walking, gets him downstairs, helps him down and on the rare occasion that it’s a particularly bad day, carries him back upstairs so he doesn’t exhaust himself sinking out. Roman had no idea Virgil was so strong! And perhaps it’s a ‘if-i-can-see-him-he’s-not-dead’ sort of thing, but honestly, it’s nice to be noticed. And to be noticed for reasons that aren’t being told to pull his head in.

Patton’s been engaging with him as much as possible. They’ve rewatched Steven Universe together at Patton’s request. They’ve binged Disney movies and musicals, even ones Patton probably doesn’t like, he gets Roman to sit up at the breakfast counter as he cooks, he reads books with him and joins Roman at the table for group drawing sessions. He is there, he is there, he is so there all the time that it makes Roman’s heart sing, because finally he has Patton close to him again.

He's so scared it’ll come crashing down again, but he’s tried to promise himself he’s going to enjoy it while it lasts.

Does Patton know? Does Patton know that that childish infatuation he once admitted to so many years ago still lives strong, nestled right beside Roman’s broken heart? Roman has no clue, and he doesn’t think he should risk it. He’s happy to love Patton at a distance. He’s happy to watch Patton chat away about his day and the discussion he had with Logan this morning over the stir fry he’s trying out, or taste-testing the soup Patton’s making.

He catches himself one day with his chin propped up in his hand, staring dreamily at Patton as Patton kneads dough, totally not watching his arms, only disrupted when Janus slips past Patton to grab a glass of water and shoots Roman an amused look.

Patton looks over to see what Janus finds so funny, and Roman is caught with that lovestruck look on his face. He tries to drop it, to hide it as anything more neutral, but it’s covered in blush before he can get his chickens in a line.

Patton blushes too, for some god-forsaken reason, caught staring with some cogs whirring behind his eyes, until Janus seems to elbow him accidentally, and he is spurred back into action with a squeak.

Roman and Patton can barely look at each other for the next ten minutes. Eventually, Patton finishes his kneading, and puts it away in a covered bowl to rise and such, before turning and slamming his hands on the counter in front of Roman.

“I need to talk to you!” he exclaims, still red in the face. “I have been meaning to and accidentally putting it off!”

“I-is it important?”

“Yes!” Patton’s face drops. “No! Maybe? It’s important to me!”

Roman can’t help but smile, and the heat finally starts to disappear from his face. “Okay,” he says. “Tell me.”

“I, uh, it’s… ugh! Gimme a sec!”

Patton turns away and washes his hands, fumbling in his rush, before leaving the kitchen and skirting around the bench until he’s beside Roman, turning the prince towards him on his rotating barstool.

“I…”

Patton suddenly glances around, self-conscious, and sees that there’s no one else downstairs.

“Okay,” he whispers, before turning back to Roman, who’s got such a question on his face that it’s so earnestly cute.

“Okay,” Patton says again. “Roman, I got something I need to say. About you. To you. Um.”

Roman tries not to look as scared as he suddenly feels, but it clearly doesn’t work, because Patton sees his panic and immediately goes on damage control. “Oh! Oh, no, hon, it’s nothing bad, nothing bad at all. I, uh, it’s just a little hard for me to put my words together! Haha, give me a mo, okay?”

Roman nods, his breath still catching over hon. When did it shift from kiddo to hon? He feels like he noticed the first time it happened, but it’s become so much more regular an occurrence nowadays. It still feels as electric as it did the first time.

Roman studies Patton’s face as Patton half-turns away, watching the way his hair falls and Patton reaches up without a thought to push it back out of his eyes, the way his glasses frame his face, the way he’s chewing his lip anxiously, the way there is still heat rising to his face, the way his eyes are glittering with something Roman can’t name.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers to himself, and he’s cupped Patton’s cheek in his hand and turns Patton’s head towards him so he can study him better without really thinking about it, seeing how Patton’s eyes go wide and that flush darkens, and his own breath hitches because yes, he thinks he’s read this situation correctly. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

“You have,” Patton breathes back, voice equally as soft as his own hand comes up to rest on Roman’s wrist. “I-I… Roman…”

“Yes, Pat?”

“I love you.”

Roman blinks. Once, twice, before the words land and he gasps, like the air’s been knocked out of him.

“I love you,” Patton repeats, like now the words are out, he can’t get over how they feel in his mouth. “I love you and I think I’ve been in love with you for a very long time.”

“Ye gods above,” Roman murmurs, watching Patton study him right back with wide and totally-not-anxious eyes, “that’s fortunate. Because I think I’ve been in love with you ever since-”

“That Christmas?”

“…Yeah.”

“God, me too.”

Roman laughs, and goes to drop his hand, but his breath seizes up as Patton’s hand slips up his wrist and presses Roman’s hand to his face, so he can’t move. Not that Roman wants to.

“This whole time?”

“Yes,” Roman shrugs. “I… I didn’t act because I didn’t know how you felt. And then I knew… or, uh, I suppose I thought, that you could do so much better than me.”

“That’s very ironic,” Patton says quietly, almost meekly, “because I felt the same way. I just thought… you and Virgil, seemed to get along so well, even when I couldn’t be enough for you.”

“Oh my god,” Roman snorts despite himself. “I couldn’t dream of kissing Virgil. But that’s very funny, because here I was telling myself I was nothing for you compared to Janus.”

“Janus?!” Patton echoes, shocked, before he laughs too. “Oh, that’s… Roman, hon, I appreciate Janus very much, but I think he’s a good friend and nothing more. I don’t think I’ve ever felt about anyone else the way I’ve felt about you. Even when things happened, even when things changed, I always found that deep in here,” and his spare hand touches himself lightly over the heart, “there was a part of me that loved you.”

Roman’s smiling. He’s also crying. He’s not sure when either of those things started happening but he’s so full of emotions he might just burst.

“I love you too!” he exclaims. “I… I have tried not to, for our sakes, but I could never get over you.”

Patton smiles back, his own eyes very watery.

“It’s fortunate, then,” he notes, stepping in a little closer, “that you’ll never have to.”

“Oh,” Roman breathes, his heartbeat speeding up as Patton inches closer, until he’s standing between Roman’s knees, and now it’s Patton reaching to tilt Roman’s head up, eyes flicking to each other’s lips and back. “Thank god.”

“Kiss me?”

Patton’s voice is tiny, but his words are like a roar in Roman’s ears.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Roman meets him halfway. It’s soft, sweet, it’s tender and it’s hesitant. It’s a peace offering, a bridge, it’s an acceptance of a long and sordid past. It’s Roman melting against Patton as Patton wraps his arms around his prince, being there, grounding him.

It’s so much and it’s not enough. Roman is drowning and Roman is floating. He’s electric and he’s earth. He doesn’t know but he’s so full of everything all at once that when Patton pulls away he’s far more breathless than he should be, and far closer to tears, too.

“Okay?”

“So okay.” Roman leans in to brush noses with Patton. “Again?”

Patton laughs, and indulges him.

They break away to the sound of clapping and cheering, and also of scolding, and they both snap around to realise there’s a crowd on the stairs, and Janus and Remus have given them a standing ovation, Virgil’s frantically trying to shut them up, and Logan’s pinching the bridge of his nose with a good-natured sigh. Then, he looks up, grins at his oldest friends, and says “took you long enough.”

“Oh god,” Roman says.

“You knew?!” Patton exclaims.

“Neither of you are that subtle,” Janus drawls, sharing a knowing look with Logan. “I’m just glad you got there on your own, finally.”

“On our own,” Roman folds his arms and raises an eyebrow at Janus. “Sure thing.”

“Well, you know me,” Janus smirks. “I do so love to give a little push now and then.”

Roman’s about to break off into a full indignant argument, when Patton just laughs and spins Roman’s seat back around his back is to the stairs, and he kisses him again.

“Guys!” Virgil exclaims, but it’s clearly light-hearted.

Roman makes the most obvious moon-eyes of his life at Patton as they break away again. “I could get used to this, you know,” he grins.

“Good,” Patton winks back. “You’re very kissable.”

Roman proves his point as the others start trying to heckle them from the stairwell.

--- --- --- --- ---  

About half an hour later, Roman crashes good and hard. He’s fine walking around, hell, he’s over the moon! And then the next moment, he’s lowering himself into a seat as the room phases in and out, a wave of exhaustion settling so thoroughly into his bones that it nearly knocks him breathless.

This doesn’t go unnoticed. Patton’s by his side in a heartbeat, and… judging by how cold those hands are, it’s Logan, too.

“Are you okay?”

“I…” Roman cuts himself off with an enormous yawn, and unconsciously rubs over his heart. “I think so. ‘M just tired all of a sudden.”

“Pain?”

“No.” Roman blinks slowly. “I feel really warm.”

Logan’s hand presses against his forehead. “No fever,” Logan notes, sounding worried.

“Like… cosy sort of warm,” Roman tries to continue, leaning into Patton’s side. “Feel good. Just… tired.”

“This happens most times, doesn’t it?” Janus’ voice comes. “Both on damage and healing. He falls asleep and something happens.”

“…Do you think it’ll be good things?”

“I do,” Roman mumbles. “I’ll riot if it isn’t. It doesn’t hurt.”

And actually, yeah. Maybe it’s just the suddenly delirious state he’s in, but… he’s not in pain right now. He feels warm down to the tips of his fingers, and oh so heavy. It crashes through him again, enough to make his ears ring, and he slumps even more. Hands catch him before he topples out of the chair.

“Help me get him upstairs,” someone says. It sounds like Patton.

“I gotcha,” says Virgil, Roman thinks, and is then quickly followed by the familiar sensation of arms slipping underneath him, and then being effortlessly lifted and carried upstairs. Roman’s head lolls against Virgil’s hoodie.

“You good?” Virgil asks him.

“Mm,” Roman hums. “Think so.”

“Alright.”

It doesn’t take long. He’s being ferried into bed and tucked in, and he can open his eyes enough to see that sky blue he’s so fond of, and manages to snag Patton’s hand before he can step too far away.

“Oh,” Patton turns back. “Do you… want me to stay?”

“Mm-hm.” Roman gives him a tug, trying to pull him in closer. He… he feels warm and heavy and exhausted and cuddly and he just wants Patton. Maybe he’ll regret this when he can think straight. But Patton kicks off his shoes, folds away his glasses, and snaps himself into some pyjamas and shrugs.

“Alright, hon,” he says. “Scoot over.”

No qualms, no questions, no weirdness, no distaste. Patton just slots in like he’s always belonged there, and it’s never been easier to fall asleep pillowed up on his chest.

--- --- --- --- ---  

Patton is the one woken by Roman this time. The prince sits up, and is already tugging off his shirt as Patton is still propping himself up on one elbow, fumbling for his glasses.

He turns back in time to see Roman grinning down at himself, as his cracks have closed by a good half-inch all around. He even manages to twist, and Patton can see that actually, some of the ones on his back have actually sealed, and they only really reach around to his ribs and intercostals now.

“Roman,” Patton murmurs, glowing with pride to see him so healthy, more so than he’s been in a long time, and Roman turns to him and all but throws himself at Patton, knocking Patton back down onto the pillow as he leans over him, eyes glittering.

“Good morning, my illustrious partner,” he coos, and Patton can’t keep all the fondness down in his chest.

“Good morning, my sweetest prince,” he says right back. “Hope this isn’t too forward.”

“Nah,” Roman kisses him, once, twice, three little pecks. “It was so nice to sleep beside someone.”

“On someone,” Patton jokingly corrects as he negotiates Roman off him and sits up. “I felt like a pillow.”

“And what a marvellous pillow you are,” Roman jokes back. “The best pillow I ever had. The most handsome one, too.”

“You charmer,” Patton rolls his eyes, and tries to ignore the fact that Roman still has his shirt off. Roman kisses him again, bouncing on the bed a little, like he’s so excited to actually be able to do it he can’t stop.

Patton can’t blame him. He feels the same.

It’s a slow morning, for the two of them, slow and lazy and delightful. They end up downstairs by 11 for a late brunch, Roman wearing a button-up white shirt that he leaves half-done-up, almost like he’s showing off his recovery. The pattern is weird, but he can’t deny the results. And he hasn’t felt this good in so long. Both emotionally and physically.

Thomas summons them an hour later. He’s standing in his lounge, as per usual, and is talking to Logan when Patton and Roman arrive, this time standing closer than normal.

“I was trying to… I guess, like, sink down to you guys,” Thomas is raking a hand through his hair, “like I did with Janus, but I must not be able to do it by my… Roman!”

All eyes are on him, and for the first time in a long time, Roman doesn’t mind. It feels comfortable, even, like it used to.

“Hi, Thomas,” he says simply, smiling.

“You!” Thomas clasps his hands and grins. “You look so much better! I’m… oh my god, I’m so happy for you.”

“We’ve been… figuring stuff out,” Roman’s smile turns shy. “A-and let’s say some important conversations have been had.”

“Roman’s beginning to believe he’s worth the effort now!” Virgil calls from his seat on the stairs. “It’s great.”

“Hell yeah!” Thomas turns back to him, pumped.

“Also he’s now realising how much we all love him,” Patton adds, which makes Roman blush because he doesn’t know if Patton’s meaning them or not but he’s also not wrong.

“Good,” Thomas folds his arms.

“And we’re hoping that he’s fully realising how integral he is to our healthy functioning not only as parts of a whole, but as a family,” Logan finishes, arms folded in a mirror of Thomas’ pose – though it probably was not intentional.

Roman looks down, feeling very choked up all of a sudden.

“That’s good,” Thomas agrees, in a voice so soft that it makes Roman’s head snap up in a heartbeat. Thomas meets his eyes, the same liquidy expression rippling across his face. “Roman, that’s great.”

Roman pauses, before tugging open his shirt a little more. “And I’m getting better,” he says, softly but genuinely. “I really am.”

Thomas takes one hesitant step forward, then another, before he closes the distance and pulls Roman into the biggest hug he can. Roman goes willingly, laughing delightedly at it all, at the love, at the lack of pain, at the moment in time.

“I’m gonna be okay,” he mumbles into Thomas’ shoulder, just loud enough for his centre to hear. “I promise.”

“You better be,” Thomas whispers back. “Or… Or I’ll…”

“Leave the threats to me,” Roman leans back with a laugh. Thomas laughs too, and gives him one last quick hug – like he just can’t believe he gets to have the honour of holding Roman in his arms – before letting him go.

“I… I mostly wanted to check in on you guys,” he confesses, retreating to his normal spot. “And mostly Roman. No other issues? Nothing I should know?”

“Nope,” Roman shakes his head. “All present and correct.”

“Fantastic,” Thomas clasps his hands again. “Roman… god, Roman, I’m so proud of you. I hope you know that.”

Roman’s lip wobbles. “I… I think so,” he says in a tiny voice.

“That’s enough for me,” Thomas smiles. “But let me know when you need a reminder because that I can do.”

Roman feels tired all of a sudden again. He smiles, and yawns, and takes Patton’s hand for support. Patton squeezes his hand gently, and they ignore how Thomas raises an eyebrow at that.

“I think I need to go sit down,” Roman says quietly, which gets everyone’s attention in an instant. “Thank you, Thomas. Have a good rest of your day, and don’t forget to get groceries.”

“Oh! Oh shit, thanks,” Thomas pulls out his phone and starts setting reminders, calculating budget. “Catch y’all soon, okay?”

They all sink out together, Roman leaning on Patton more and more. They end up laying him out on the couch. He’s asleep within the minute.

 --- --- --- --- --- 

Time goes on and on. Heartbreak is nothing linear, of course, and neither is recovery. Roman’s cracks might never seal fully, but by the time a month or so has passed, they are thin and dark, looking more like hairline fractures than proper, actual cracks.

He’s back to his princely self. He can wear his clothes, he can do what he used to. He’s happier and healthier and he’s so in love with Patton it’s not even funny.

He’s finally found himself again, it seems. Finally rediscovered how to live and love being alive. And oh how he missed being him.

--- --- --- --- ---   --- --- --- --- ---   --- --- --- --- ---   --- --- --- --- ---   --- --- --- --- ---