#anyway this is my first fic im posting on tumblr lets goooo

[luis-serra-kennedy]

yeehaw. this is from the spinoff au which i intend to get back to eventually i just have writer's block with chapter 2 and keep skipping ahead and writing stuff that will happen in the sequel fic. Anyways sorry for the rambling i am very drunk, basically important context is that in the second chapter of the posted fic will have leon and luis smoking weed and leon rambling about wanting luis to get him pregnant in a year bc he wants to be a dad, and also luis invites him to go to spain with him once his album is done

So this is set when they're in spain, Leon started feeling sick as soon as they got there and this isba few days in. Also nothing will be italicized bc when i copy/paste from google docs to tumblr it doesn't keep formatting and im too ✨️drunk✨️ to manually add the italics back sorry here we goooo fun emoji to separate my rambling from excerpt

🎸

“Let me guess, you're coming in to tell me there's still leftovers from dinner and ask if I'm feeling better and want to try eating some? I don't. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of eating your shitty cooking! I wanted to like it, I gave it so many chances, all it does is make me throw up! Your cooking sucks. Or maybe just the Spanish food itself since nothing else you make does this!” Leon's voice is loud and every word is laced with venom. He knows that he's going to regret saying all of this because it's going to drive away the best thing that ever happened to him, but he just can't make himself stop, the words just keep tumbling out. “Or maybe you're in here to tell me you want me to go out and do some activity or something with your grandpa. Not interested. Don't want to spend time with someone I can't understand. And I just don't want to do anything else here because every second here has been miserable. I'm over it! I hate you, I hate Spain, I hate you for making me come to this shitty country! Never traveling again. This has been the worst week of my life, fuck Spain, fuck you, fuck your grandpa, why couldn't he just come to America to visit you? Why'd we have to come to this shitty country to visit him, he could have visited us and had a better time. I hate this, hate it here.”

“Well, thank you for the honesty. Clearly I'm a bigger idiot than I thought, here I was thinking you were just being antisocial because you were sick and feeling shitty. It wasn't your fault you got sick, but it's also not my fault. You don't have the right to treat me like this. You don't have the right to scream at me, insult my cooking, my homeland, my culture, my family,” Luis's words aren't loud. There's no white hot anger. Just completely neutral, detached. And for some reason that hurts more. Leon wishes Luis had yelled at him too. “Goodnight. I'm sleeping on the couch. I suggest packing your things before you fall asleep, you hate it here and want to go back to America, wish granted. First thing in the morning I'll make some calls and get you on a plane back ASAP, then I can finally relax and enjoy time with my favorite person in the world, my grandfather. Or maybe I'll go out and meet someone new, someone who really appreciates me, who won't berate me, who wants to have sex with me and not give me lame excuses not to for weeks.”

Great job, Leon. You're a loser who was lucky enough to get a millionaire rockstar boyfriend, and you lost him because you got sick and then started picking fights with him instead of even trying to enjoy your Spain vacation and earn the approval of said rockstar's family.

He can't be upset with Luis for this, because he doesn't feel like the person he was before this trip. That wasn't where the trouble started– for weeks, Leon's been a pretty shitty boyfriend. He's had a short fuse, snapping at Luis for things he normally wouldn't care about. He's wanted more space from Luis, a lot more alone time than he wanted previously. He went from being alright with sex at least every other day, to wanting it less than every week. But things still felt salvageable. Luis didn't complain. There was a sort of unspoken understanding that Leon was just stressed and their trip to Spain would help him relax and get their relationship back on track. Even on the days Leon felt particularly irritable, he would be excited for the trip. For a chance to have family.

Having no (accepting) parental figures of his own, he'd been a mix of excited and anxious about meeting Luis's grandfather. He wanted his approval so much, he felt like he would have done anything to earn it. Then he actually got to Spain and suddenly stopped caring about everything. He didn't even look around the room he was in, and it's Luis's childhood bedroom, he could be learning more about Luis if he gave a single shit. He ruined everything.

Maybe Leon isn't supposed to be with men who are nice and treat him like Luis does. He was never a shitty boyfriend to Krauser. Krauser got sex every day that he wanted it (which was every day) no matter how Leon felt. He never dared to raise his voice to Krauser. He was afraid of Krauser, that kept him in line. He loves Luis but isn't afraid of him, that means he's a shitty boyfriend.

…

Leon hasn't had a single good night in Spain. But this night is by far the worst. All the other times he woke up in the middle of the night nauseous, Luis would wake up too and follow him to the bathroom, and hold his hair back if he actually started throwing up and rub his back and kiss the top of his head and whisper soothing words and–

Leon doesn't even bother getting up to go to the bathroom when he wakes up sick this time. Luis is asleep on the couch, Leon would have to walk past him and probably accidentally wake him up, and he's already pissed, Leon doesn't want to upset him even more. But maybe Luis doesn't completely hate him, there's some crackers and a glass of water on the nightstand that Luis must have brought in after Leon fell asleep. But that doesn't mean that Luis still loves him, it just means he doesn't want Leon dying in his childhood bedroom. He tries taking a sip of water, but it doesn't stay down. Hopefully he'll wake up before Luis so he can sneak out and wash the bile out of the sheets so Luis doesn't have to deal with any more of his crap.

…

When Leon wakes up, he isn't alone like he should be. Luis is sitting on the edge of the bed, gently petting his hair. Something isn't real. Either Leon didn't actually yell at Luis and just dreamed it, or he's dreaming right now. But he doesn't feel like he's dreaming, and last night didn't feel like a dream either.

“You awake, mi amor?” Luis asks softly, having noticed Leon's breathing change and his body tense slightly as he realized Luis was touching him. Leon opens his eyes a crack, and sees Luis is gazing at him like he used to, like when he thought Leon was so perfect and had never done anything wrong. “How are you feeling this morning? Still nauseous? I went out and got you some different drinks, sodas and gatorade, you should drink something. You should maybe try eating something easy too, might perk you up a little bit? I haven't been taking good care of you, I should have been doing this sooner, not just trying to feed you my cooking.”

“Fucking actors. You hate me now, want to throw me out, you being nice now, just an act. Cut the crap, stop trying to take care of me. I'll let you take me back to the airport and won't complain or argue, just don't make it harder by pretending you still care about me. You'll never forgive me for what I said last night, our relationship is over. I tried packing like you said, but I just felt too sick and dizzy. Still feel a little dizzy. Just help me pack, let me call Claire and see if she'll pick me up, then all you have to do is drop me off at the airport and forget about me and upgrade to someone better who treats you better. Fuck, almost forgot, I need help changing the sheets too, threw up in the middle of the night, didn't make it to the bathroom. I hoped I'd wake up before you and not feel like shit so I could clean up and pack and stop being your problem…”

“Shh, baby. I want to pretend that last night didn't happen and start fresh. I'm not mad at you. I don't want to kick you out, make you get on a plane, for a fight that was basically just my fault. I wanted to come in and talk to you and apologize last night when I realized what an idiot I was, but you were already–”

“No. I want to pretend it didn't happen, but we can't. It's over. The shit I said isn't stuff someone can forgive and forget. How could you? Every time you look at me you're just going to be thinking about me yelling that I hate you and your family, I fucked everything up.”

“I fucked everything up by being self absorbed and taking far too long to notice something incredibly obvious about my boyfriend. Leon, can you please look at me?” Leon does finally lift his head back up, and sees Luis already noticed the mess and threw a towel over it, having been unable to actually change any bedding without waking Leon. “I can forgive and forget, because that wasn't really you last night. It was so out of character. It isn't Leon, I know you're not like this. You sometimes find me annoying and like to tease me and make fun of me, but normally you have more boundaries, lines you won't cross. You're never cruel, you never want to cut me so deep. Now you're yelling at me, you're insulting things that you'd normally think are crossing the line. Something is making you act like this. And, after talking to my grandfather, I realized that something is possibly my fault. Probably my fault, even.”

“Shut up. You didn't get me sick, you haven't been sick. And I know I blamed your food, but I was just being stupid, I was sick before getting here. Remember, I threw up a couple days before leaving. You wanted to postpone the whole trip, but I felt better after and said we should still go. You said it yourself last night, being sick doesn't excuse what I said.”

“I agree that I didn't get you sick… This didn't start with your upset stomach. It started before that first time you threw up. You were exhausted and napping all the time. You started eating more too, I even had to start adjusting how much food I'd make to keep up with your appetite. You started getting a bit moodier, snapping at me for small things once in a while. Of course there's the dry spell too. I didn't really think much about it though… But now that you're also throwing up and constantly completely pissed off at me for no reason, things are starting to look more obvious,” Luis thought it might click for Leon then, but he still just looks confused. “Think! Pregnancy! I got you pregnant! I was venting to my grandfather last night, he joked that you were acting just like my grandmother and mother acted while pregnant. I felt like such a piece of shit, seriously, he clocked that you were pregnant before me and he didn't even know it was physically possible for you to be, he just thought he was making a joke. What kind of a boyfriend am I for not noticing what all your symptoms pointed to, when I'm well aware that you're capable of getting pregnant and came inside you a couple months ago?”

“Jesus Christ. No. I got back on the pill before we did that, when we decided we wanted to wait a year.”

“Pills can fail, mi amor. You being pregnant explains everything. I wish I put the pieces together sooner, I wouldn't have dragged you out here. Your symptoms got so much worse since coming here. I think the stress of being away from home is making you worse, stress can affect the body.”

“I'm not pregnant! I'm just a shitty boyfriend that got food poisoning at a bad time. Just go back to being mad at me, send me home so I don't ruin more of your trip.”

“I didn't go to the store just to buy you drinks, I bought pregnancy tests. Take them. If I'm wrong and they're negative, I'll break up with you and send you home. I'm right and they're positive… Well, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Deal?”

“I'll take the stupid tests. But they're going to be negative. So then you're going to admit I'm just a bad person and send me home,” Leon pauses. “Am I going to have to do a walk of shame past your grandpa?”

“He's still in his room, I said we needed privacy.”

Leon shuffles off to the bathroom and Luis starts following him in.

“What the hell are you doing? Into watching me piss?”

“The instructions are in Spanish, you need help.”

“Don't need instructions or help, done enough of them to have it memorized,” Luis gives him a look. “Never been pregnant if you're worrying about that. Just had scares with my ex.”

“Okay, okay, sorry, I'll leave you to it. They take a couple hours? You want to go back to sleep after and I'll wake you up when the result is ready?”

“Fine.”

…

While he was too stubborn to admit it, Leon had started to believe that Luis was actually onto something. Pills aren't silver bullets, and pregnancy did explain literally everything that was wrong. And it excused it. Luis was so mad at him. He was cold, wanted to kick him out, break up with him, wouldn't sleep in the same bed. But once he started thinking Leon was pregnant, he was right back to being the perfect, doting boyfriend who looked at Leon like he was the most beautiful person in the whole world who had never done anything wrong in his life. Pregnancy was his only hope, his get out of jail free card. There was no other scenario that would make Luis forgive him for shit talking his grandfather and complaining about visiting him. Well, maybe if he had a brain tumor, that might get him a pass. But that's not on the table. Either he was pregnant or he inherited his father's issues.

So Leon's heart sinks when he gets woken up by the sounds of Luis rummaging around and opens his eyes to see him packing his suitcase. He doesn't get to use hormones as an excuse. “I'm really fucking sorry for treating you like this for no reason at all” just doesn't hit as strongly as “I'm really fucking sorry, I love you and I know you love me, my body is just being flooded with absurd amounts of hormones and they're making me completely irrational” does.

He's the problem. By the time Luis notices Leon's awake, he's bawling his eyes out. He wishes he'd been able to keep himself together, because the sobbing makes Luis feel guilty enough to forget he's mad and come hug Leon.

“Hey, what's wrong, do you–”

“What's wrong? Where the fuck do I start? I've been puking up my guts for days, I'm a piece of shit that's pushing my perfect boyfriend away for no reason, said things that can never be unsaid, and I'm not pregnant so he's packing my shit to kick me out because he won't feel guilty now that he knows there's no baby.”

“Leon. You're not being thrown out. You're not a piece of shit. You are pregnant. Both tests gave positives, even quicker than the box said they're supposed to take. I'm not mad at you. As far as I'm concerned, last night's fight didn't happen. You said horrible things, but horrible things you don't actually believe. I said horrible things too. It's all water under the bridge now.”

“Then why’re you packing? You said if it was negative, you'd–”

“I wasn't just packing your things, I was packing my own too. Your body is doing the most difficult thing the human body is capable of. You need to be at home, comfortable, in your own bed, resting and relaxing. Not in a foreign country, in my childhood bedroom, an unfamiliar place. With me not paying enough attention to you because I was distracted by time with my grandfather, if I was more attentive, I would have realized what your symptoms pointed to and had you take a test before things got to a point where you blew up, but I was only briefly checking in on you, spending most of my time with him… You needed me more, I let you down. We're going back today, both of us, together. You'll feel better being home, and… we do have more options at home. I mean, we both said we wanted kids but not this soon. Termination isn't legal here, and, uh, I did the math, you have to be getting close to the cutoff…”

“You want me to get an abortion so badly that you're willing to cut this trip short just to make it happen. That's what you want? Me having your baby is so fucking awful to you that you want to cut your important trip short just to avoid that!”

“No, Leon, no,” Luis pauses for a second and looks up at the ceiling. This conversation is walking across a field of landmines. “The way I was raised, the only person who gets a say is the one who's pregnant. When my mother got pregnant with me, my grandfather immediately started making arrangements to take her out of the country for an abortion because he thought it was the correct thing to do, her boyfriend left her, she was in nursing school, she wasn't ready for a baby. But I exist, so obviously that didn't happen. Because he stopped as soon as he realized it wasn't what she wanted. He still thought she was making a mistake, but it was her decision. All I want is whatever you want. I didn't think you'd want to keep it, I mean, the last time we talked about this you said you were going to get back on the pill because you weren't ready for a baby. But my grandfather thought my mother wasn't ready and wouldn't want to keep the pregnancy…”

“It doesn't work like that. You can't just not have an opinion about something so life altering. You're just pretending you don't care.”

“Of course I care. Of course there's an option I like more. But it doesn't matter. Your body, your decision to make. I made my choice the moment I decided to have unprotected sex with you, after that it was out of my hands. I promise you, I will be supportive either way.”

“Easier said than done. If I say I want to keep it, you'll say you're okay with that, you'll even do the supportive stuff. But deep down, you'll resent me. For keeping it and fucking up your whole career because I couldn't just stick to the plan and wait a year when it would be easier.”

“Okay. What I'm getting out of this is that you do want to keep it? Correct me if I'm wrong.”

“I don't know. I don't know what I want. I've been through so many feelings the past few hours. I wanted to be pregnant because then nothing would be my fault and you'd still love me. I thought I wanted a baby, even though it's sooner. But now I think you don't want a baby now, so I don't want one right now, because I want to be with you and it's not worth jeopardizing that. Plus being this exhausted and throwing everything up and hating you for no reason and crying over everything… I don't know why I wanted to be pregnant and why I still want to be. This shit sucks. I knew I'd throw up and get fat, didn't expect me to feel like the world is ending every 5 minutes. Maybe this isn't normal, maybe something else is wrong with me.”

“I wish I could tell you that it isn't normal and you could take a pill and feel better. But it is normal. I also wish I could tell you I understand how you're feeling, but I can't do that either because I don't know. I don't know how it feels suddenly being full of hormones that mess with your head and make you feel crazy, and I never will understand because biology isn't fair. But I can at least tell you that I know what you're going through is real, even if I can't understand it so personally. Supposedly my grandmother went from sweetest woman to raging bitch overnight when she got pregnant. Absolutely hated my grandfather. Just his smell pissed her off and she'd want to strangle him. My mother wasn't that bad, but she was still overly emotional. It isn't all bad though. You get to have a special bond with the baby I'll never experience. The very first thing the baby will hear after growing ears is your heartbeat. You'll be able to feel the kicks inside weeks before I can feel anything from the outside. I won't be able to rock the baby to sleep until they're born, you'll be able to rock them in a couple months just walking around, every move you make the baby will feel…”

“Your smell doesn't piss me off. I think I like it more than I did before,” Leon says, completely ignoring Luis's sappier sentences. Because they were almost sounding like Luis wants this. But he doesn't, there's no reason for him to, it just doesn't make sense. “God, can you just tell me what you want?”

“I want this now. I want us to have a baby now, not wait another year. And, even though I don't really believe in all the destiny and everything happens for a reason stuff, I have to admit that the timing feels special. Like it was meant to be. I didn't realize before, but after thinking, it hit me that I got you pregnant the very first try. There was only one time we did something that could result in pregnancy. I think we both know that I rarely do things right the first time. But the world doesn't revolve around me. If the timing for you feels wrong, then it is, I'll be patient and wait until you're ready and we can try again. Actually, it doesn't even need to be the old fashioned way. I've heard they can do a lot with surrogacy nowadays, we could have a baby that's biologically both of ours but carried by a surrogate instead of you. Then you wouldn't have to deal with all those horrible symptoms.”

“God. I don't know. That sounds like a dream come true on paper. None of the physical symptoms, won't have to worry about how the hell I'll hide an obvious baby bump… But something just doesn't feel right. You got me feeling all stupid and sappy with that talk about the silver linings. Probably would have been on board with surrogacy before you said that crap, but not anymore. Maybe it's just hormones fucking with my judgment, but I don't like the thought of some random woman we don't know being the first person to start bonding with our baby.”

“I don't like it very much either. If it's you, I also still get to start bonding sooner,” Luis starts to reach out to stroke Leon's stomach, but stops short, his hand hovering awkwardly because he's not sure how welcome that kind of touch will be. Leon looks down at his hand and nods, giving Luis permission to set his hand there. He smiles when his hand feels the unusually firm spot. “Of course I don't get to have the really special that you do, but I'll be able to talk to your belly, feel the kicks, eventually. Every night. Not something I could do with a surrogate. I'll do as much as I can to make it easier on you. We'll hide it as long as possible. Baggy clothes will probably do it for a good while. Even when you can't hide it at all anymore, I highly doubt anyone will look at you and think pregnancy. You pass so well, they'll think beer belly or something else first. God, how the hell did I not notice?! This doesn't feel like normal weight gain…”

“Didn't get a chance to notice. I've been so bitchy and hormonal, didn't let you touch me enough. The real question is how I didn't notice.”

“Because you're a tough guy who doesn't like being vulnerable and dependent, so you keep your head buried in the sand and pretend nothing is ever wrong so you can live in blissful denial.”

“Shut up. You're a rockstar, not a shrink. Don't psychoanalyze me.”

“But am I wrong? You're just proving my point, mi amor. Don't deflect, this is important. You need to learn to admit that you need my help if we want this to go smoothly.”

“Your ego's massive. You're not that important. I'm not dying, I'm just pregnant! I'm tired, I eat more, I throw up a lot, big fucking deal. I don't need you. I could do this without you. I didn't have you when I was sick last night and I survived. I can take care of myself,” Luis knows that Leon is wrong. In so many different ways. Objectively. He absolutely does need Luis, if for no other reason than the financials. But he also knows that attempting to argue with Leon when he's like this will be futile. He sighs and gets up and starts heading for the door. He'll give Leon some space and wait for him to cool off a bit, then come back and try to gently talk some– “Christ, don't go. Please. You can't just leave me. I was lying, I do need you. Just don't– please, you can't–”

“Hey, hey, deep breaths. I was going to come back. I was just going to give you a little bit of space to calm down. But if you don't want space, I'm not leaving.”

[the-pigeon]

wishing well

summary: After the events of Selfishness vs Selflessness Redux, Roman finds himself back at a wishing well he and his brother made when they were younger. He has a few things to wish for

warnings: talk of blood, murder, death etc all from remus, roman and remus are sympathetic but whether everyone else is is up to interpretation i guess, crying, i have two betas and yet this has absolutely no beta

ao3

(this was just meant to be 500 words and now its 3804 how did this happen)

Before everything went wrong, Roman remembered he used to go to the wishing well.

 There were lots of wishing wells in the Imagination. There were lots of towns, lots of people. It made sense. But this wishing well sat far away from any fake people, surrounded by trees and vibrant wildflowers that were constantly in bloom and mushroom circles that Roman swore weren’t there before, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if his brother had come here just to set up some fae circles.

 The wishing well was smaller than he remembered. That or he’d grown taller. It was also much more damaged, in disrepair. Chipped stone, overgrown moss, the remnants of what looked like blood stained some of the grass near the base, confirming his suspicion that Remus had been here before him.

 He stood in front of it. The water at the bottom smelt just plain bad. With a flick of his hand, the well filled up, this time with much more fresh, clear water. For good measure, he fixed the crumbling stones it was made of. When he tried to clean the blood up, it didn’t leave. He decided to ignore it.

 Now with the clear water, he was forced to face his reflection. His hair was sticking up left, right and centre, and even though he wanted to say it was the wind’s fault, he had nothing to blame for it other than his nervous hands, no matter how much he wanted to blame the trek here. His eyes were slightly red. He hadn’t cried yet. That, he was proud of. He wouldn’t cry. He shouldn’t cry.

 Slowly, he dipped the tips of his fingers into the water. It rippled out softly, destroying the perfect image of his reflection. Hah, perfect. As if anything about him was perfect. No, no, he had messed everything up, and it was all his fault. If only he wasn’t so stupid, and impulsive, then he wouldn’t be in this mess.

 It was a low blow, making fun of his name, but he just couldn’t help it because he was stupid and mean, and nothing like what Morality said he was supposed to be.

 Sighing, he fished one of the coins out of his pocket. When he and Remus were kids and made this wishing well, they made certain coins that could be used, and only those coins. Roman only had three left. A part of him told him that the wishing well wasn’t real; it wouldn't actually make any of his wishes come true more than him simply summoning something in the Imagination would make it real, but there was something about the ritual of tossing the coin and watching it sink that was different. Whether it was different in a good way or a bad way was still up for debate in his mind. Did the difference between the two even matter?

 He held the coin above the water. What would he even wish for? Nothing material, that was for sure. He could just summon it. No, he had to wish for something more important. Something he couldn’t easily get.

 He hated that ‘a hug’ was the first thing coming to his mind.

 Maybe he could wish to be a better person. It was pretty open ended, but it was more or less the exact solution to his current problem. He was bad. And he wasn’t meant to be. He was meant to be the good one. So why was he so… bad? He was just bad.

 He let the coin drop into the water. It barely splashed. And then it started to sink.

 “I wish I was good,” Roman said. The words felt almost out of place as they echoed softly around him. A nearby bird squawked at him before taking flight towards his brother’s side of the Imagination. No doubt going to tell him all about Roman’s disgusting display of weakness.

 He should probably head back to his room before he has to face Remus again. But Patton was probably outside his room, trying to get in. Trying to ‘comfort’ him, as Patton would try for everyone, because Patton is amazing and wonderful like that. Or maybe he’d just leave Roman, going to instead comfort Janus. It wasn’t like either of them deserved Patton’s kind words, but at least Janus was more important. Everyone else was more important. Except maybe his brother.

 Wow, there he goes again, being just horrid and impudent. Maybe his brother was better than him. Maybe Janus had a point. Maybe Roman really was the evil twin.

 Something splashed in the water in front of him. He opened his eyes. Ah, his eyes. He was crying.

 He quickly scrubbed the tears away. He refused to cry. He had a standard to live up to. To be perfect. Perfect people don’t cry.

 Perfect people don’t have such horrible thoughts.

 He sighed, wiping away the last of the tears.

 Something croaked behind him. He turned to face a small frog perched on one of the nearby rocks. Of course. Just another way for the Imagination to punish him. He should’ve been nicer to Patton, to avoid everything that happened. He tried to be nice to Patton; it’s what he deserved. After all, Patton was the one that gave him—him—the job of being the good one. He had to live up to that.

 He looked back at the water, staring at his reflection and watching as it started to look less and less like himself.

 “What’d you wish for?”

 Roman startled, nearly jumping forwards into the water. He spun around to face none other than his brother, giving him a surprisingly blank look with his morning star resting by his legs.

 “Pardon?” he said, trying his best to regain his composure.

 “I said what did you wish for?” Remus repeated, gesturing to the well behind him. “I doubt you’re here just to look at old stone or whatever. So you must’ve wished for something. What’d you wish for?”

 “It’s not important,” he snapped, turning back to the water. Of course his brother had come here. It was probably that stupid bird. “Go away.”

 “No, I don’t think I will.” He came up behind him, giving a quick kick to the back of his knees and chuckling when he stumbled forwards a bit.

 “What do you want, Remus?” he said.

 “To bother you. It’s fun. Hey, do you think we could’ve bought a bomb into the wedding? Dee didn’t let me throw the cake, but we could’ve at least blown it up.”

 “That cake was delicious, how dare you.”

 Remus shrugged, dipping his whole hand in the well water and watching as it slowly turned a dark shade of gray around it. “Could’ve still eaten the explosion cake. If you’re not a coward.”

 “I’m not a coward,” he scoffed.

 “Then why’d you run away from Morality, of all people?”

 He didn’t say anything to that. Instead, he fished out his second coin, fiddling with it in his hands. Remus stared at it for a few seconds before going back to swirling the water around, now with two hands.

 “Do you want my advice?” he said, flicking some water at Roman.

 “Not really, no.”

 “Too bad. If Patton ever starts to annoy you, just hit him over the head until his brain falls out and splats against the floor. And then for good measure you should remember to remove his heart, because most of his thought processes come from there instead.” He took a moment to laugh at that. “And then you get to stab his dead body all you want.”

 He shook his head. It was his brother’s job to think of… those thoughts. He had no obligation to do that. Patton doesn’t deserve to be thought of like that. Especially not by Roman.

 “I’ve always dreamed of doing that,” Remus continued. “Of just splitting his skull open. Oh, or standing on his spine. Or pulling his eyes out. Or-”

 “Please shut up,” Roman mumbled into his hands, covering his face.

 “Tell me why you’re here of all places and I will,” he shot back. Roman could swear that he sounded almost… angry. “You haven’t been here for years. Why now?”

 “It’s not important,” he said.

 “Oh? Well, anyway, Patton’s boring. What if I set Virgil’s hair on fire? He’d get all jittery. Maybe he’d set the house on fire in the process. And the fire would smoke Logan out, and I could stab him too, and Patton would be there too and I could stab him again. Heh. That’d be fun. I could stab you too. And then I could rip everyone’s hearts-”

 “Do you know his name?” Roman said. A part of him wanted to be comforted, even if by his brother, but mostly he just wanted to shut him up. Those were Patton-deemed Bad Thoughts, and he wasn’t bad. So therefore, he couldn’t think about those Thoughts… Right? Yeah, that made sense.

 “Deceit’s?” Remus asked.

 He nodded.

 “No. Believe it or not, he’s super secretive. Always told me he’d only share his name if he had no other choice, which I think is stupid.”

 Oh. No other choice? Was that really how he felt? Oh, God, what did Roman do this time? No wonder Janus was so mad at him.

 “I mean, it’s a name,” he continued, completely unaware of his brother’s breath speeding up. “It’s not like it’s gonna kill you or anything. Actually, if you yelled it loud enough it could explode your brains. Or some cake. Exploded wedding cake.”

 But Janus wasn’t trustworthy! That was the thing, wasn’t it? That was what he was always told. He was good, everyone else, all of the ones that were forced to hide in the dark, that lurked behind closed doors, they were bad. Janus was bad. He lied. And lying was bad.

 “I wonder if you yelled at the cake loud enough, would it explode? And then it could explode into Deceit’s ears. And if you put a bomb in the cake, then put the cake in his ears, it would explode his ears!”

 But by that logic, then Remus was good. He never lied. If lying was wrong, then that would mean honesty was good. And Remus was honest. So he would be the good one. And where would that leave Roman?

 “He’d definitely go deaf. And he’d probably die too. He doesn’t like it when I kill him, so I probably shouldn’t do it again. But it’s always so much fun licking his blood off the floor! Tasty. And covered in dirt. The best mix.”

 Roman was an actor. He was constantly on a stage, constantly performing, constantly lying. Lying and lying about everything. About how he’s feeling, about how much motivation he has to write, about how much he trusts himself. And if Remus was his metaphorical narrative foil, then wouldn’t he, by default, be bad if Remus was good?

 “Dirt and blood, dirt and blood, dirt and blood. Put it in a mixing bowl and put in some eggs. Beat it together and what do you get? Salmonella. Sally, sally, salmonella-”

 “Deceit told us his name,” Roman said. Truthfully. He had to be the good one, and honesty was good, so he had to be honest. No other choice. “And Thomas hates me. And Patton is trusting Deceit now. More than he trusts me, I think.”

 “Oh,” Remus said. “Sucks to be you.”

 Ugh, why did the truth hurt? Why was it blurring his vision? Why did the well water in front of him suddenly look like the best place to put his head for at least ten minutes?

 “Have you tried hitting them over the head?”

 “Can’t say I have,” he sighed.

 “You should.”

 Roman wanted to say something else, but the truth hurt, and he couldn’t say anymore.

 “Well!” Remus said, pulling his hands out of the well and shaking them off like an excited dog. “I’ll keep my end of the deal and leave you alone now.”

 He turned around, jumping on the wildflowers to kill them as he walked away. Away. Away, and leaving Roman alone again. Wasn’t that what he wanted?

 Be truthful, Roman, he told himself.

 “Please don’t leave me alone,” he whispered.

 God, what was he doing?

 Remus paused mid-air, turning around and staring at Roman. He quickly lowered his eyes. Looking at his brother was unbelievably difficult. 

 He made a noise reminiscent of a laugh. “Fine, okay then,” he said, dropping to his feet and sitting on the other side of the wishing well to stare at the outskirts of the trees around them.

 Roman sat down opposite, leaning on the well and closing his eyes. He decided not to speak. Remus made no such decision.

 He was talking. About something Roman didn’t want to listen to. And yet he listened. He told himself it was because he had nothing else to listen to, but he knew he would be lying again. In a sick, twisted way it was calming to listen to him ramble and rant. Which he hated to think about, but it was either that or admit that he really was that desperate for company. It was either that or actually pay full attention to what he was saying. It was something about rat poison and giving Virgil an ‘I’m sorry’ cake.

 It was disgusting. Remus was disgusting. That was decided years ago, before high school. Remus was disgusting, and Roman wasn’t. Morality decided that—Patton decided that. And today Patton was wrong. If Patton could be wrong about Janus, then what if he was wrong about…

 “Do you think Patton was wrong?” Roman said, cutting Remus off before he could finish his description of how he would make Virgil eat his apology cake.

 He scoffed. “About what?”

 “About saying you were bad and I was good?”

 For the first time in what felt like forever, Remus didn’t speak. A whole minute passed. He had left, hadn’t he? Of course he did. He left, and Roman was alone again, as he so deserved. Even Remus couldn’t stand him.

 Soon enough, he was crying. He didn’t want to. He wanted to be perfect. He tried to stop himself, but he was so tired and now he was alone so what did it matter? Only he could see his failures now, and he already hated himself. What did it matter? What mattered? He was alone.

 “I don’t know what Patton said to make you think that, but I can assure you he’s wrong.”

 Oh God, oh no, Goddammit. Now his brother, of all people, was seeing him cry. Of course he wouldn’t leave now. He was probably ecstatic to see Roman cry. 

 “I mean, you’re amazing!” Remus continued. Roman could feel his presence above him, could feel the shadow cast over him by his brother. It was strangely comforting. “And I’m disgusting. I’m purposefully disgusting, and yet people still put up with me. And it would seem to me that you being so perfect is just an accident, so I’d say you’re the good twin.”

 He wanted to speak, wanted to argue that Remus was wrong, wanted to convince him that he was terrible, that he didn’t deserve to be spoken of like this, but hearing Remus say that? He couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

 “Hey, stop crying,” Remus demanded. “Stop crying so you can agree with me.”

 “But you’re wrong,” he choked out through a sob.

 “Then fight me.”

 That managed to get a small, not-happy but not-sad laugh out of him. “I’m not- I’m not going to fight y-you.”

 “Why not? I’m always down to hit you over the head. It’s the one thing I’m good at.”

 Another laugh, this time much sadder.

 “Tell me I’m wrong! Stop crying, stand up, and fight me! Or keep crying, I don’t know.”

 Well, if keep crying was an option.

 Roman pushed the tears out of his eyes, not bothering to stop crying, and forced himself to his feet. Through his blurry vision, he could see Remus standing ominously close, with a Look on his face that Roman couldn’t begin to explain.

 He still had that coin in his hand.

 “Fight me,” Remus said again, putting his hands on his hips.

 He dropped the second coin in the water, watching it sink to the bottom before turning back to face Remus. Waiting. Expectant.

 “I wish some- someone would give me a- a hug,” Roman said, feeling his shame cloying and tugging in his stomach, telling him to stop, telling him to take it back, telling him to run before Remus could do anything. But he was stupid, and God, did he want a hug.

 He wiped more of his tears away, forcing his eyes down. He couldn’t look him in the eyes. He just couldn’t.

 “That’s not fighting,” Remus said. Why did he sound so… whiny?

 “I’m sorry…”

 “Hey, apologising is Patton’s job, shut up.”

 And then Roman suddenly felt a whole lot warmer. A lot more solid. A lot more real.

 Remus was taller than him. He noticed that now, as he placed his head on top of Roman’s. It was a surprise he hadn’t noticed it sooner. It wasn’t that much of a difference, but it felt so much better than the few hugs he’d gotten from Patton.

 His hands were warm. When had Roman taken his overshirt off? Who knows. What he does know, is that the feeling of his brother’s hands against his back was the nicest thing he had ever felt in his entire life. It's grounded. It's warm. It’s… strangely soft. Strangely delicate. As if someone actually cares about Roman.

 He lets out another sob, shaking slightly as he returns the hug, desperately clinging to Remus’s shirt and crying into his shoulder. For a moment, he worried he would be mad for getting his shirt wet, but it only took a few seconds for him to realise that Remus probably wouldn’t care at all. So he lets himself cry. Lets the sobs rack through his body, lets the tears soak into Remus’s shirt, lets it out. It’s cathartic.

 A lot more solid. A lot more real. A lot more loved.

 “I’m gonna kill whoever hurt you,” Remus muttered.

 Roman laughed, burying his head in his green sash. “You shouldn’t.”

 “Telling me I shouldn’t do something just makes me want to do it more, you know that right?”

 "I know."

 They stood wordlessly for a little longer, the only sound between them being Roman's occasional sniffle, almost always accompanied by Remus saying something under his breath that Roman was sure he wouldn't want to hear. Despite that, it really was so much more comforting than absolute silence.

 "Remus, can I… ask you something?" he said, doing his best to keep up his voice steady.

 "Sure."

 "Do you think I should, uh, duck out?"

 "No," he said quickly, almost immediately. "No, absolutely not."

 Despite what his mind was screaming about, Roman pushed Remus away. God, was he always this cold? A part of him wanted to pull his brother back into the hug, but he knew he shouldn't. He just shouldn't.

 "Roman, look me in the eyes, you coward."

 Coward. It was strange that that didn't hurt. It should've hurt more. And yet it didn't. He wished he was smart enough to understand why that was, but like always, he was just stupid.

 "You're not stupid," Remus said.

 He spoke out loud, didn't he? He laughed again, sadly, before finally looking him in the eyes. He knew his face was red, knew his eyes would be puffy and wet, yet he didn't have the motivation to care.

 "I'm not?" he said. "I beg to differ."

 "Then beg, because you're definitely smarter than me."

 "What, like it's difficult?"

 Remus laughed—no, cackled, playfully pushing Roman's shoulder just a little bit too forcibly. He stumbled back a bit.

 Other than Remus’s soft laughing, they fell back into silence.

 Roman sighed. “It’s just… I’m not necessary, am I?”

 That made Remus stop laughing. “Why’d you say that?”

 “Because you exist! Just by you being here means that even if I duck out, Thomas would still have his creativity!”

 “You do realise that that is the dumbest thing you’ve ever said?”

 Roman began to speak, but Remus cut him off. “As much as I’d love full creative control, you’re still incredibly important! I mean, I’m gross! It’s probably help if Thomas liked his creativity, lol.”

 “Did you just say ‘lol’ out loud?”

 “I did, yes.”

 “You disgust me.”

 “That’s kind of my job.”

 “At least you’re good at yours.”

 Remus nodded, as if he was thinking, which Roman doubted. Eventually, he shrugged. “Sucks to be you, I guess.”

 Would it be worth it to spend his last coin on another hug?

 “Either way,” Remus continued. “You shouldn’t duck out. Because people like you, and they’d be sad.”

 “Either way? What either way?”

 “Whether you’re good at your job or not. People still like you.”

 “I find that hard to believe,” Roman muttered under his breath.

 “I don’t.”

 It was worthless, wasn’t it? Remus was incredibly stubborn, not as much as Roman, but still very stubborn. He couldn’t change his mind.

 And change his mind to what? To thinking he was terrible? That he was bad? Here was someone saying he was wrong in thinking those things about himself, and he was trying to argue with them? Isn’t this what he wanted?

 “RoRo? You good?”

 But did he deserve it? Did he? Did he deserve anything?

 “Oh no, you’re crying again.”

 This was Remus, his brother, the person who should hate him the most, and he was saying he was wrong. He didn’t lie. He said what he meant and he meant what he said. Did Roman want to be admired by Remus?

 “Come here, you big baby.”

 If he was honest (and he tried to be, he did, but it was difficult), he didn’t want to be admired by Remus. Not when he had spent so long trying to separate himself from his brother, trying to show that they weren’t the same anymore, but he didn’t care about that right now, because right now he was being hugged again, and god, it felt so good.

 “You really need to work on talking about your feelings,” Remus said, running his hand through Roman’s hair. It wasn’t gentle, and it was barely comfortable, but it was definitely comforting.

 Roman said nothing in response.

 Remus lowered them to the ground. “We’ll talk about this later. When you’re not crying. But you can cry right now. I’ll stay right here.”

 True to his words, he did stay there.

 It was the nicest hug Roman had ever received.