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

[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.