#i also make a really easy tomato tortellini soup that always crowd pleases

[anxious-gnome-cryptid]

Hey Little Jitterbug

Summary: I am alone and scared until He came and brought some light back to my soul. 

Warning for like... a brief alcohol use mention.

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I shrink in on myself in an attempt to not be noticed in this crowded, busy bar packed with horny people looking to find pleasure. People down alcohol left and right like there is no tomorrow in this world, and after they are done with their fourth shot of vodka they walk over to other equally drunk people and begin to flirt. I bite my lip and take a long sip of my water from my place behind the bar, eyes flickering around to find my constant. She is in the corner, deep in discussion with another woman, her face lit up with a smile. A lump forms in my throat, not out of jealousy I knows, but out of sadness. She had promised to be there for me, and while yes, of course I want her to be happy, I also would like to not feel alone in the lion’s den that is this club. The words of That Woman flash through my head and I wince. I truly am selfish after all. Andrea just got off work at this bar, I should allow her to have some fun.

“Hey, Jitterbug, what’s up?” Virgil drawls, appearing next to me and leaning against the bar. He is shouting to be heard over the loud noise, but I find that this does not bother me, perhaps because Virgil only shouts with good reason. I simply shrug in response to his question and fidget with my glass. He sighs, eyes closing for the briefest of instants, and leans forward. The light catches the glitter laced through his eyeshadow, making his eyes glow as if he were magical. His eyeliner is winged sharply, accentuating his high cheekbones and large doe-like eyes even more. His soft black curls fall perfectly into his face; I have an inexplicable urge to run my hands through those curls and kiss him until the world vanished and all he could think about was Us.

Virgil’s lips purse, his dark red lipstick smudging slightly. “You know you can talk to me about anything, yeah Jitterbug?” I blink, still focused on his hair and his lips and his big, liquid eyes.

“You needn’t be concerned, Virgil. I am perfectly well. This is merely not my ‘scene’, as you say,” I murmur in return, staring at my hands. Virgil describes them as pianist hands. I describe them as the hands of a clockmaker. The nail polish Avery had placed upon my nails a few days ago is slowly chipping off, leaving patches of peach in the sea of emerald green. My hands are a constant in my life, unlike this crowded place filled with light and noise and sweat.

“I’m calling bullshit. Need to leave?” Virgil asks, voice somehow soft even while shouting. I shake my head and contemplate drinking something a bit stronger. Perhaps that will steel my nerves and allow me to function like a normal human being. A bottle of Scotch sits nearby, and I reach for it to pour myself a glass, only to have my hand gently slapped away by the other bartender.

“Nope, no, not happening. No alcohol for you, Jitterbug. You know how you get when drunk.” I sigh and finish my water, setting the glass in the sink to be washed out later. I cannot argue with Virgil’s logic, not after he saw me drunk a couple weeks ago.

“Then what do you suggest? Andrea will be angry if I leave, but I do not wish to interrupt her flirting,” I sigh. Virgil bit his lip, getting traces of maroon lipstick on his pearly white teeth. He laces his fingers together, his black and purple nail polish catching the light for the briefest of instants. His tight black turtleneck inches upwards slightly as he leans forward.

“You could come back with me. Andy can’t argue with me taking you, now can she?” Virgil offers, voice lilting and teasing at the end. I chuckle and stand, pulling my large sweater closer around me.

“Do we have anyone else to tend the bar, though?” I ask, desperate to take Virgil up on his offer yet unwilling to leave the post unfilled.

Virgil laughed. “Yeah. Aves is here, he’s just been giving us space all night.” I bite my lip, still concerned, and Virgil leans over to ruffle my hair. “Gideon, relax, Andy will be fine. And you’ll feel better getting out of here, I just know it.”

“I suppose. Shall we?” Like the gentleman I am, I extend my arm for him to take. Virgil just laughs and grabs my hand, dragging me out from behind the counter with merely a comment towards Avery about how we were heading home early. Avery nods and grins, telling us to take it easy so we won’t be too sore tomorrow. Virgil merely rolls his perfect eyes and drags me away, heading off towards his apartment with me, my face as red as a tomato.

We quickly reach Virgil’s apartment, since it is within a few blocks of the club. Virgil traipses up the stairs and throws the door open, tossing his keys into the dish by the door. “Aurora! Cathair! Quinn! You here?”

“I am. Aurora is with her latest paramour and Cath is working late,” another person announces, walking into the room with their nose buried in a book. Virgil sighs and allows himself to fall dramatically onto the nearby sofa, much to the obvious annoyance of his roommate. “Virgil, I was about to sit there,” they continue, but Virgil ignores them, sitting up with his trademark smirk affixed on his face.

“Live a little, Q! Mix it up, sit somewhere else for once.” I shift, a tad uncomfortable, and Virgil seems to remember that I am there. “Oh, also, Quinn, this is Gideon, my coworker. Gideon, Quinn, one of my roommates.”

“A pleasure, Gideon,” Quinn intones, sitting on a nearby chair. “Please keep the noise down, as some of us wish to read in peace.” I frown, puzzled, while Virgil’s cheeks flush bright red.

“Q! It’s not like that!” Virgil hisses. “Gideon and I are just friends! One, he’s not interested in sex, and two, he’s already taken!” Quinn blinks, cocking their head to the side (I assume that this is the ‘gender non-conforming’ roommate Virgil has told me about, as the description matches) in obvious confusion.

“I see. In that case, my apologies.” Virgil nods, beaming, before bolting upright and dashing into the kitchen. I blink in confusion and glance over at Quinn to find them staring at me. Chills race down my spine and I curl into a tighter ball, attempting to vanish into my sweater. Now that I thought about it, this was Virgil’s sweater, if the size and colour purple was anything to go on. This sweater is not helping my argument about not being in a relationship with Virgil. I really should return it soon.

“Do you have feelings for Virgil?” Quinn asks, voice blunt and matter-of-fact. I gulp, staring down at my hands as I contemplate my answer. I know my… attraction to men… is more accepted in this time period, especially around this group of people, but admitting it out loud is still a challenge for me.  

“... perhaps,” I murmur, biting my nails. Quinn sighs and gives me a look I would almost read as sympathy if I did not know better before they return to their novel, leaving me to stew in my thoughts. The living room descends into silence for at least an hour as Quinn and I try to acclimatize to each other’s presence, interrupted only by Quinn handing me a puzzle and murmuring advice on how to finish it. After that, we descend back into silence, broken now only by the clicks of the puzzle pieces fitting together.

“I made soup!” Virgil calls, sashaying into the living room with a tray laden with three large bowls of steaming liquid. “I hope you like tortellini soup, Jitterbug, because I have way too much of it.”

“And whose fault is that?” Quinn asks, delicately taking a bowl and sipping at it, finally putting their book down. Virgil snorts and sits down on the floor, legs crossed.

“You got me, Q you genius,” Virgil laughs. I giggle a bit and sip at the bowl of soup Virgil hands me, happiness bubbling in my stomach. I hadn’t felt this kind of peace and friendship in… ever, I realize with a start. I smile softly as I take in the atmosphere, Quinn and Virgil bickering around a table lit with far too many candles in an apartment that smells like garlic and home. Perhaps I should come over more often. After all, Virgil has far too much soup, and someone needs to help him eat it all.

The peaceful atmosphere did not last for long, as Virgil as Quinn’s discussion quickly devolved into a debate over the sexuality of Star Trek characters, with Virgil firmly believing Kirk and Spock were married and Quinn insisting Spock was not interested in any romantic or sexual relationships. I smile and settle back to watch, admiring the fiery passion burning in Virgil’s eyes as he rants. I had not seen a more beautiful sight for a while, and I was content to sit back and absorb this perfection all night. Well, I was content until Virgil tried to pull me into the debate, at which point I had to focus my energy on lying about my knowledge of this new television programme. My life could never be peaceful for long, but I found that this time, I did not quite mind. Perhaps it had to do with Virgil’s company. It was most likely the soup, however. I had always felt better when soup was present.