#id confided in that one person and also subtly told the rest how i was feeling | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theokotrain · 4 years ago

Text

Vestige - Interlude: The Party

Wattpad Version

As the night fills the sky

All my fears are dissipating

'Cause I feel reassured

That I might make it through

And if all my luck should burn

Then I guess it burned for you

---

April 13th, 2012

I was sitting on my bed, back against the bed frame with my knees raised in front of me, holding up my laptop. I had been spending the last few hours writing an essay for my English class, specifically answering the topic question my teacher had given everybody: "How do our past experiences influence our decisions?". The question was simple enough, it's a pretty universally recognized idea that stuff that happens to us has an effect on our decision making. I mean, that's what it means to grow, right? You gain more knowledge as you live through life and form new memories, and that helps you make more informed decisions in the future.

I've never really been too good at writing anything analytical, especially non-fiction. Essays and research papers that required informed arguments that helped to prove your point? Those were an entirely unknown game to me, one which I had never managed to breeze through. Of course, we were supposed to use some of the books we've read this year as evidence for our arguments, so that at least made it a bit easier, even if most of the books were ones from nearly five decades ago and definitely out of touch at this point. The sound of my laptop's keys clicking as I typed away were the only sounds I could pick up in the room. I had my earphones in for a bit, but those always hurt my ears after a while, so I had taken them out.

Looking at the time in the corner of my laptop screen, it was 4:43 PM. I started writing as soon as I got home from class, so I've only been going for about an hour. Unfortunately, this essay is a non-insignificant amount of my course grade, so I needed to finish this as soon as possible.

God, it's a Friday! I could be out doing something actually fun with Shae and the other guys. Isn't that the whole point of high school? That's what it always seemed like in movies, at least, but I guess I've been a victim of false advertising.

After a bit more time passes, the sound of my phone ringing from my desk brings me out of my writing trance. I sigh, setting my laptop next to me on the bed, not wanting to get out of bed, but eventually forcing myself into maneuvering over to the desk, I grab the phone and flip it open, looking to see the Caller ID.

Shaela.

I instantly accept the call, it's almost second nature at this point. She calls me at least once a day so she can tell me about whatever person is pissing her off that day, or whatever drama she's heard from her other friends. I was never really one for gossip, or whatever, but I did appreciate talking to her.

I put the phone up to my ear, "What's up?" I say, a tinge of fatigue in my voice.

"Hey! Just warning you that I'm like five minutes from your place and you don't have a say in the matter." She replied bluntly. I can hear the sound of cars driving by on the other side of the phone, so she's obviously outside, confirming her words.

I take a deep breath before speaking, "...Why?" I said with exasperated sarcasm.

"Because! I have something to tell you, and if I say it over the phone then I seriously doubt it'll work out in the way I'm hoping it does."

"That clears up nothing, actually, and now I regret picking up."

"Even if you didn't answer, that doesn't stop your parents from letting their son's lovely goody-two-shoes of a friend stop by for a visit!" She exclaimed, a mischievous tone subtly layered in her voice.

She's not wrong.

"Wow, you make this sound like you're sneaking into a high-security building or something." I say, utterly confused at her motives. "Obviously you can come over, but I'm not exactly filled with confidence at whatever you're planning."

"Like I said, I can't tell you yet, but it's gonna be awesome!" She said. There was an unusual perkiness to her that made itself pretty clear over the phone.

Before I can say anything, I'm met with the dial tone, signalling that she had hung up. The only thing I can do at this point is wait for her to get here, I guess. She always lets herself in when she comes over, so I don't make the effort to meet her downstairs. A sudden ping sound fills the quiet room, seeming to come from my laptop. I get back into bed, looking to see where the notification came from.

It's a message from Tyler.

He's definitely the newest member of our little group, if even that. I'm the only person in the group that he's actually friends with so far, despite my efforts to bring him along on any plans we all make. I only met the Grey Wolf back in February, at the beginning of the second semester, in the school's photography class. Nobody I knew signed up for it, and due to our prestigious high school's advanced budget for technology, we were forced to be paired up for shared computer use in the Photography Room. I suppose Tyler was also fortunate enough to not know anybody in the class, as we ended up being paired together by the teacher. He was definitely someone I could only describe as uninterested, as the first week or two I spent with him in that class consisted of him either giving me one word answers or answering in the most blunt, bored tone he could manage. Though, it seemed that it took a bit of persistence on my part to push him to be more open, and since then he's grown to be a pretty great friend.

Tyler: u goin to that party tonight ive been hearin about?

Party? I wasn't made aware of anything like that, at least... not yet. Something in the back of my brain was telling me that Shae had ulterior motives about coming to my place so suddenly, but I'm still hoping that I'm wrong. I hate parties.

Jake: party? havent heard anything, are u going?

Tyler: thinkin about it

think its gonna be over at chris's place, guess his parents r gone for the weekend or somethin

Jake: chrisssss? ughh that guy is such an asshole

Tyler: yeah u dont havee to go, but itd prob be more fun to have someone u actually know there

The way he worded that was directed at me, but I could tell he didn't want to go on his own.

Jake: i guess ill think about it

Tyler: sickk, call me if u make up ur mind

Before I can type my farewells over IM, Shaela energetically bursts through the door.

"Jesus! You scared the shit outta me, don't you knock?" I said, mildly exasperated.

"Oh come on, I literally called you a few minutes ago, you had plenty of time to not make a situation where it'd be a bad idea for me to barge in," She replies, laughing, before setting her bag on the ground and dramatically falling into my bed. "Today was garbage."

"What happened?"

"Ugh, Claire decided to just not show up, I guess, on the day we're supposed to present that stupid History project? And, obviously, she didn't give me her part of the project or anything, so I had tell Mr Thomas about the situation, which was fucking embarrassing." She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. "Luckily, he said he wouldn't reduce my grade for handing it in late, since I actually had my part finished. God, what a bitch- I must've called her like thirty times before class to get her to email me her part, and every time it went straight to voicemail - and she told me last night that she'd have it ready for today!"

"Have you gotten a hold of her yet?" I asked, closing my laptop and setting it beside me.

Shae turns her head to me, shaking her head, "Nope, she's been ghosting me all day."

"Sounds like typical Claire."

"Yeah, I shouldn't have partnered with her, but apparently I can't say no to anyone, so..." I chuckle lightly in response. "Anyways! I didn't just come here to complain to you!" She says, sitting up on the bed, now facing towards me.

"Right... So what was so important that you just had to tell me in person?" I say, sarcastically.

"Like I said, if I asked you over the phone you would've definitely said no, and my ability to pressure you into doing things isn't as effective unless it's in person!" She responded.

I subtly rolled my eyes, but it's clear she noticed from the stare-down she gave me, "Okay, so what is it?"

"Soooooo..." She says, trying to find the rest of the words, "There's a party."

Wow.

"Wh- did everybody know about that party except for me?!?" I exclaimed.

Shaela's face quickly turns to an expression of shock, "Who told you?"

"Tyler did, like, not even five minutes ago." I say, bluntly.

"What? How does he know Chris?"

"Friend-of-a-friend, I'm guessing?"

"Hmm..." She hummed, thinking about something, "So, did you tell him you were going?"

"I specifically said I'd think about it, nothing definite." I made it clear in my tone that I wasn't particularly interested.

"Oh, come on, dude! It'll be fun!"

I didn't really have an interest in going, but I know it'd make Shae happy, plus it'd be nice to hang out with Tyler again even if we've only known each other for a couple months.

"...Fine. But, if Chris or any of his buddies start shit, I'm leaving."

"Awesome!"

"Lemme just call Tyler and let him know," I said as I grabbed my phone and flipped it open, finding Tyler in my contact list and dialling.

"You gonna bring him with-" The phone rings a few times before he picks up and I extend my hand out towards Shae in a shushing motion. She rolls her eyes, smirking.

"Hey? So are ya gonna go?" He said eagerly.

"Well, Shae showed up at my door literally right after you messaged me, asking the same thing!" I exclaimed in a fake-preppy voice. "So, I guess I have no choice since she'll probably just drag me there if I say no," I joked. She nods her head toward me in response.

"Oh, is she going too?" He inquired.

"Yeah, I guess so! Your place is kinda on the way to Chris', so we could probably meet you at your place and go from there."

"Yeah! Sounds good!" He quickly responded.

I laughed, "Okay, we'll call you when we get there?"

"Sure thing!"

We exchanged our farewells, and hung up. The party wasn't for at least another hour or two, so Shae and I had some time to burn, of which I was entirely out of ideas. I figured I could at least spend this time actually being productive, so I grabbed my laptop and continued on writing my English essay as Shae resumed her previous conversation topic of stuff at school that was pissing her off. It was pretty entertaining, to be fair. She was telling me about how Chris had gotten in a fight with this other kid in our grade yesterday after class, which I wasn't lucky enough to witness, but it was obviously all anyone would talk about for basically the entire day today so word spread around fast. The part I hadn't heard about was that both Chris and the other guy, Nathan, got suspended for a week because of it. Chris was generally an asshole to everybody, including myself, so I didn't feel too bad about that. Although, I didn't know Nathan all that well. Other than having a few classes together, I don't think I've ever held an actual conversation with the guy. I think it was safe to assume that Chris was the one who started it, and Shae seemed to agree with me, even though she hadn't seen the fight either.

"But, apparently Nathan's gonna show up tonight!" She exclaimed coyly.

"...Remind me again why you want me to go to this specific party?"

"You'll have a great time! It's not like we'll be involved in the drama anyway so think of it more as entertainment!"

"I think you and I have different definitions of the word 'entertainment'," I joked.

"I'm sure you can go run off somewhere with Tyler if you're not having fun," She said, her tone reminding me of my mom.

"Oh yeah? What about you?"

"I can't just leave Alex at a party with Chris, those two start shit between each other so much and I'd rather not deal with the aftermath of that today."

"I'm guessing it's safe to assume that Elliot's going too, then?"

"He's not big on parties, but he'll usually go if everyone else is, unlike somebody," She says, gesturing towards me.

"Good one," I reply, unmoving as I keep typing away at my assignment.

"Well, we should probably leave soon since we're stopping at Tyler's place on the way.

I saved the document I had been working on, closing my laptop. "Sounds good to me!"

---

"I can't believe you actually agreed to go." Tyler joked as we walked towards the road from his house.

"Yeah, me either." I replied. I definitely didn't put in any effort in dressing up for the party, opting for a snug space-themed graphic tee, along with black jeans and a white zip-up hoodie. Shae and Tyler both stand on opposite sides of me as we walk down the sidewalk.

"Luckily I learned the subtle techniques in convincing you to do things against your better judgement, so now you get to have fun for once!" Shae exclaimed.

"It's not my fault that going to a party is literally the last thing on earth I'd do for fun in any normal situation." I retorted, putting my hands in the pockets of my jacket.

"Oh yeah? And what do you consider a 'normal situation'?" Shae asks.

"Any situation where you guys aren't the ones trying to get me to go! I'm only doing this for you two, y'know." I said, looking over at both of them.

"What about Elliot and Alex?" Tyler chimed in.

"They aren't the ones asking me to go to this party." I sarcastically remarked, trying to keep the conversation light-hearted. "Speaking of the party- this is Chris we're talking about, there's gonna be beer, right?"

"Uh, duh?" Shae replied.

"Yeah, that's a definite no for me, I'm already enough of a disappointment to my parents,"

"No one's making you drink, Jake. At least you'd be safe if some old hag called the cops about the noise." Shae said.

"I think at that point we're guilty by association, so we'd just make a run for it if that happens," Tyler joked.

"Dude, the chance of me outrunning a police officer successfully is about as likely as me not wanting to punch Chris tonight."

"And the chance of you winning that fight is just as low!" Shae retorted, Tyler laughing in response.

"I specifically said 'want' because of that very reason!"

"Wow, I'd pay money to see you fight that guy." Tyler said, nudging his elbow into my side.

It isn't a secret that I'm not exactly athletic. I mean, I'm definitely not weak, but fighting basically any animal of a similar size to mine was not a situation that favoured my victory.

"That sounds more like just getting the shit kicked outta me for your entertainment." I remarked, lightly punching Tyler's shoulder in return.

"Absolutely worth every penny!" Shae exclaimed. Luckily, the place wasn't any more than ten minutes away from Tyler's place, so I didn't have to endure listening to these two talk about me getting beat up for much longer.

We finally make it to Chris' house, and I'm suddenly filled with an impending sense of regret. Obviously, my parents would never in a million years agree to me going to a party like this. As far as they know, I'm just spending the evening hanging out with Shae at Tyler's house. So yeah, this entire night had a lot of potential for disaster.

Shae can clearly see my hesitation, because she grabs my hand, leading me up the walkway, Tyler following closely behind.

"I wonder if Elliot and Alex beat us here?" She says, knocking on the front door.

"I doubt they had anything to do earlier, hell they probably came straight here after school, knowing Alex." I said, laughing.

Our conversation is cut short by the opening door, revealing the familiar black cat.

"Oh, look, the Stephenson kid brought his girlfriend!" Chris exclaimed mockingly, looking back into the house, before peering around my shoulder, "And... Tyler?" He said, inquisitively.

I lean over, blocking Tyler from his line of sight, "Yeah, hey, not dating by the way!" I said. I've known Shae since I first moved to Vestige, around the time I turned five years old, so it wasn't uncommon for rumours to go around that we were dating. I've always thought of her more as a sister, if anything.

"I asked them to come!" Tyler said. That was only partly true, but according to Tyler, they've been 'somewhat-friends' for quite a while now, so saying that would at least mean less mild-harassment from Chris for tonight.

"Oh, uh, okay... come on in! But you're on the hook for any shit they pull, Tyler!" He said, opening the door wider.

---

The party had been going on for a few hours at this point. I could recognize most of the animals here from school, but not enough to actually hold a conversation with any of them, so most of my time here had just been spent with Shae and Tyler. The place hasn't been incredibly crowded luckily, but there were easily about forty others in this part of the house alone. I'm assuming only high school grades were invited, but there were a considerable number of students to meet that requirement. The issue at hand for me, other than how crowded this place is, is that both Shae and Tyler ditched me to go... somewhere? I think Shae saw some of her friends and went somewhere with them, but Tyler was pretty secretive about where he was going, only telling me that he'd be back in a bit. So I've been standing here in this random corner of the house with a drink in hand, trying to make myself look busy and not awkward, which is exactly why I didn't want to go to this party in the first place!

"Jake!" A voice shouted from a ways away.

I turn my head in confusion, revealing Alex, walking towards me from across the room.

"Oh, Alex! Hey! What's up dude!" I finish the last bit of my soda, waving at him. Because this was Chris' party, there was obviously beer too, but I didn't feel like coming home drunk and my parents finding out.

"I didn't think you'd wanna come to something like this! Feeling the regret yet?"

"I like parties! It's the times like these when I'm standing in a corner by myself with nothing to do that I hate, which seems to happen every time I go to a party!" I exclaimed, pausing for a moment. "Okay, maybe I do hate parties- I've had to explain this so many times today I'm about ready to jump into Lake Ambuscade."

' "Wow, sounds like somebody needs to socialize instead of stewing in a corner for the rest of the night!"

"Socialize? Really? I know just about everybody here and just about none of them are worth talking-"

"Hang with me and Elliot, then? Justin set up some racing games in the other room, we were gonna join, but we could use a fourth... You in?" He said, his tone obviously trying to sound coercing.

"God, please, anything to get me out of this corner for the next three hours." I said, Alex returning my words with a laugh.

"Well, come on then! We'll have to hurry if we want to get one of the good controllers!" He exclaimed, motioning to follow him.

As we move through the various cliques, I recognize a few faces here and there, though not enough to actually want to talk to them. There's been music playing since we got here, and I have yet to recognize a single song, they all seem to be some form of drone-y bass-heavy music that I can't say I've heard in any normal situations. I'm doing my best to follow Alex, although he keeps weaving between the other animals faster than I can keep up, resulting in me having to shove past everyone near me in an effort to speed myself up. Luckily, it seems that no one notices me anyway.

When we arrive in the other room, it seems to just be another living room, but decorated with a galore of punk band posters, shelves holding more DVD cases than I would ever care to count, and even a mini-fridge. Maybe Chris is the type to have a 'man cave' or something? Just hearing that phrase almost makes me want to vomit, but there aren't any more accurate words that come to mind. The room isn't massive or anything, but the TV resting upon the wall across the room seems to challenge that idea, looking almost eighty inches in size. Luckily no randoms from the party were in here, sitting about ten feet away from the TV is Elliot, leaning back in a purple bean bag chair that seems almost three times bigger than him, and Justin, the cougar I'd only known slightly through Alex, laying down sideways on the couch directly in front of the gigantic screen.

"Whatttt! You took the bean bag chair? Lameee..." Alex whined.

"You're the one who wanted to go get Jake, you snooze you lose!" Elliot retorted, looking oddly proud of himself.

"Damn, wish I had a room like this at my house..." I mumbled, looking around the room.

"Are we gonna play or what?" Justin said, cutting through the momentary silence.

"Duh!" Alex claimed.

Justin sits up, taking the spot on the couch closest to Elliot. I opt for the leftmost seat, and Alex sits in-between the both of us. Elliot grabs the other three controllers and tosses them over at us, one by one. Luckily, there weren't any garbage third-party controllers, so at least none of us would have to deal with that. I will admit, it did feel kinda weird going to someone's party just to play games away from everybody, but I would be lying if I said I didn't prefer that, even though I rarely play games, if ever.

After Justin turns the console on, he goes through the menus, launching the game. I can't say I recognize the title, but it seems to be a pretty standard racing game. He goes into the custom mode, opting for a four-player split-screen match, choosing 'R1' as the category of cars to race in. As everyone chooses their cars, I scroll through the list, not really knowing what to pick. I've never been good with car stuff, so I pick an 'Aston Martin Lola' just based on the number-rating system the game ranks the cars with.

"You guys ready?" Justin asks.

"Oh yeah, get ready to eat my dust you guys!" Elliot exclaims, challengingly.

"Oddly prideful words for someone about to lose!" Alex replies, laughing.

The countdown begins, as the cameras slowly show the view of each car as it moves to the rear. When it starts, I somehow manage the fuckup of spinning my tires out, leaving me a few seconds behind the others as the car swerves back and forth. I curse under my breath as I try to regain control of the car, and swiftly pick up speed. The track seems like nothing I haven't seen before, a typical professional track, with rows and rows of audience seating to the side. Unfortunately, I'm now in last place. The next few moments of the track are a few quick corners, allowing me the chance to catch up, at least a little.

Unexpectedly, the track turns off of the main road, going into a forested area. The road is considerably more narrow at this point, so it takes a conscious effort to not drive into the trees by the asphalt. It looks like the road stretches on forever, as I still can't make out any upcoming turns. I guess the car I chose for the race had a better top speed than Justin's, as I'm quickly catching up to him, moving into third place. I'm gripping my controller to an uncomfortable degree, but I can't seem to relax the tension as I try to make my way into second place. I don't think I can pick up any more speed in this car, so me moving up is reliant on the road staying straight for just a bit longer. After what feels like a lifetime, the front of my car finally starts making it past Elliot's, then the midsection, and finally, I'm in second. The sound of all four car engines is drowning out any remnants of the video game music, and I feel the sudden urge to curse out whoever turned the TV volume up this high. My eyes are focused entirely on Alex's car as I make my final push into first place. If I were actually driving this fast in the real world, I'd be scared out of my fucking mind. Out of nowhere, Alex, and the others, begins to slow down considerably.

Oh fuck.

It's at that point I notice that there is a sharp right turn rapidly approaching. I've been pushing the top-speed of this car since the beginning of this stretch of road, and now I'm going too quickly to stop in time. What's the button to use the handbrake, again? I figure that the only way for me to not fuck up this race for myself is to try to drift around the corner. Considering I've never played this game before, it's going to prove to be a challenge. But, it's either that, or just ending up in dead-last again.

I hold down the A button, and pull the joystick as far to the right as possible. Suddenly, all I can hear from the game is the loud skidding sounds of my tires against the asphalt. To my surprise, I cut the corner a bit early, now going over the grass. I try to do a bit of directional-corrections and start heading back onto the track. Going over the grass definitely slowed me down a fair bit, but it definitely was a significantly better outcome over just crashing into the wall. And, to my surprise, the corner of my screen reads... first?!?

"How the fuck...?" Alex questions, seemingly in disbelief.

"I wish I could tell you." I replied, eyes wide at whatever the fuck just happened.

The distance I managed to gain on Alex isn't by a whole lot, but there's only about a quarter of the track left before we reach the finish line, so I have a chance at winning this. The track hurriedly changes from the forest as it reenters the main track. The long, straight roads seem to end as the road becomes a slow series of sharp turns, never giving me the opportunity to get back up to speed. It seems like the high top speed was my only advantage, because at every corner we take, I turn my camera around, revealing the other cars inching closer and closer to me.

I can see the finish line on the mini-map, just a few more turns away. I know that I'm not gonna be able to distance myself from Alex and the others at this point, so my only feasible strategy is to keep moving, cutting the corners as fast as I can, and getting to the finish line before they can pass me. Unfortunately, Alex's car seems to be getting too close for comfort now, meaning I might have to take some risks to ensure I can stay in first. As we approach the final turn, leading into the finish line, I realise I'm gonna have to try to drift this corner. I can feel my pointer finger practically cracking the plastic on the controller from the amount of pressure I'm putting on the right trigger. In a final plea to win, I push down on the A button, pulling the handbrake. The car starts to smoothly skid around the corner. Luckily, there are barriers on the sides of the road this time, preventing me from sliding onto the grass. To my surprise, the drift seems to work better than expected. That is, until, like the fucking idiot I am, make a slight overcorrection towards the left barriers as I exit the drift. I managed to avoid driving directly into the wall, but it did slow me down a bit.

Alex is immediately behind me, and I put all of my strength into accelerating towards the finish line. I'd be fucked if I broke the controller, cause I can't really afford the fifty dollars to buy a new one, but winning this race is more important to me at the moment. The finish line is only about five-hundred metres away, and Alex is slowly beginning to pass. All I can do at this point is push the gas as much as I can, and pray that I can cross the finish line before he can get back into first place. The finish line gets closer and closer, and it seems like it's gonna be too close for me to accurately tell the winner. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest from how stressful this fucking game has been, and now, we're about to find out whose efforts paid off. As each car makes its way over the finish line, each of our dedicated sections of the screen turns to slow motion. When it's finally over, the text fades in on each screen, revealing our place...

...

...Second?!?

"FUCK!" I shouted, realising I had been holding my breath since the final stretch of the race.

"HA! Dude, you suck!" Alex exclaimed, playfully shoving me.

"I think that was the most effort I've put into anything in my life." I said, setting my controller on the coffee table in front of me.

"Wow, that's dramatic," Justin remarked.

"Yeah, that's the usual for Jake," Elliot replied, laughing.

"You probably woulda won if you picked a better car, dude. That track was way too close-quarters so you should've gone with a car with better acceleration." Alex said.

"Wha- do you own this game?" I questioned, looking accusatory.

"...Yeah? It came out a few months ago, pretty popular right now." He replied.

"Ugh, this is what I get for playing with a bunch of gamers." I exclaimed, applying a disgusted tone to the last word.

"Not my fault you only play like one game a month!" Alex joked.

"Even then, I was like this close to beating you anyway!" I said, gesturing a minuscule distance between my thumb and pointer finger.

A voice interrupts our argument, coming from right outside the room, "Uh huh...

...

Really? That's bullshit! Come on...

...

Dude, give me a couple of days, I'll make it right!

...

Yeah, I swear."

It seems that we all stopped talking to listen in at the same time. "That sounds like Tyler... who's he arguing with?" Elliot asked. I can't make out the voice of whoever he's talking to, it just sounds like mumbling.

They seem to pause for a moment, and the sound of a single set of footsteps can be heard.

"Fuck..." Tyler says to himself, still out of view.

"...I should probably see what's up, you guys can keep playing without me." I say, getting up from my spot on the couch.

"Yeah, you do that! Less competition for me," Alex exclaims, laughing to himself.

"Hey, I can still beat your ass at this game, I know exactly which car to pick this time!" Elliot argued.

"Yeah, right! Guess we'll find out!"

I leave as the three start up another game, kind of glad I don't have to have another near-heart attack from playing again. When I get back into the dimly-lit hallway, Tyler is nowhere to be seen.

I look around, heading into the main room of the house to see if I can spot him. It's pretty difficult to see anything, because of how dim it is here, plus the sheer amount of animals crowding up the place. Despite that, I manage to spot the Grey Wolf a ways away, hurrying quickly into the bathroom.

As I shove my way through a few groups of teens, I almost fall over a few times, gaining confused stares from a few in the room. I lightly knock on the bathroom door, waiting for a response, "Hey, you okay Tyler?" After a few moments, I'm returned with no answer, "...Tyler-" Before I can finish my sentence, Tyler swiftly pulls open the bathroom door, pulling me in and shutting the door behind me, before sitting down on the side of the bathtub. As I'm about to say something, I hear the sound of him sniffling.

...Is he crying?

He's looking towards the floor, so I can't confirm it visually, but the sound definitely gives it away.

"Whoa, what's wrong? Did something happen?" I asked worriedly, not yet choosing to bring up the argument we overheard.

There's a few seconds of silence as he tries to bring himself together, not very successfully. "I- I... I don't- I don't think I can-"

"It's fine, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to," I tried to reassure him. He raises his head for a moment to look at me, trying to find words to say, instead opting to go back to crying, head in his hands. I've never been good with situations like this, so I sit down next to him, putting my hand on his upper back, softly patting.

"I'm sorry- I'm a fucking idiot. I shouldn't have asked you to come."

"Hey! I've been having fun! Don't worry about me, it seems like you're the one who shouldn't have come." I joke, in some effort to lighten the mood.

Shit, was that inconsiderate of me to say?

To my surprise, he manages to let out a light laugh, "Yeah, I'm starting to realise that."

"...Do you wanna leave, then? They know I didn't want to go here in the first place, so you could just say you're being nice and walking me home." I didn't know if he would actually take up that offer, but I know some guys have a weird thing about not wanting to seem 'uncool' and leaving a party early was definitely considered that.

He thinks for a moment, still sniffling pretty noticeably. "...okay, just- give me a minute, I don't want to go out there looking like this." He mumbles, looking towards the door.

"Yeah, that's fine." I said, continuing to rub around his neck area.

This definitely wasn't how I expected the night to go. But it was a sort of 'two-birds-with-one-stone' kind of situation. I get to help out Tyler, which is usually the other way around, I get to leave early, and hopefully Shae stops bugging me about going to parties, at least for a while.

Now that I think about it, that analogy is pretty messed up.

A few silent minutes go by as I sit next to the still-crying Tyler, waiting for him to recollect himself. Even though he hasn't actually said anything here, in the two months I've known him, this is probably the most vulnerable I've ever seen him. When I first met him, it was pretty accurate to describe him as the kind of guy who acts like he never feels emotion. Hell, even I refuse to be open about my feelings, but most of my friends see through that nowadays. Even now, I don't really understand why I do that. I guess it's just easier to not talk about shit like that? Is that why Tyler does it?

"I think I'm good now," He said, shaking his hands as he stood up.

"Okay, let's get out of this dumpster fire." I sarcastically remarked. Tyler shot me a confused look in return. "Whatever, let's just go."

I open the bathroom door, grabbing his arm as I lead him out into the main room. Almost immediately the voice of a certain black cat perks up behind us.

"Oh? And what did you two get up to in there?" Chris remarked, laughing, "I didn't know you guys were THAT kind of friends!"

God damnit. This stupid fucking feline.

"Yeah, it's too loud out here for me, I needed a break, he came with." I explained, Tyler standing closely behind me with a confused look on his face. Just roll with it, dude, I think to myself, knowing I probably shouldn't say that out loud.

"You know, I would believe that, but normal guys actually just go outside when they need a break." He replied.

"Well, hey! That's where we're going right now, so it all checks out!" I say in the bitchiest voice I can muster.

"Heh, sure thing, Jake." He said, sounding weirdly satisfied with himself. I didn't want to spend any more time in this fucking house than I needed to, especially while talking to Chris, so I continue on, pulling Tyler by the hand towards the exit. After a few moments, we make it to the front door. I promptly open it and we both head outside.

We're immediately greeted by the light of the moon and the starry sky as we head down the walkway toward the street. One of the few benefits of living in such a backwater town was the absence of any significant light pollution. I've been to Portland a few times for school field trips and such, and seeing the sheer difference in visible stars was absolutely staggering. I could only imagine what it would be like to go stargazing in the middle of nowhere.

"At least it's a nice night out." I said.

"Yeah..." Tyler replied, his mind clearly in a completely different place.

"I should probably tell Shae where we went, so she doesn't freak out trying to find us back there." I joked, pulling out my cell phone. Texting on my flip phone was an arduous task, but I didn't want to call her, so I had not much of a choice.

I send the text, and close my phone, returning it to my pocket. As we walk down the road, we stew in the silence, the only auditory sounds coming from the party still close by, and the local crickets chirping.

I won't lie, as much as I usually appreciate quiet, this is the loudest silence I've ever been stuck in. It goes on for more than five minutes. I could tell he wanted to say something, and I was eager to find out whatever was going on that started this in the first place. But, like the coward I am, I try to lighten the mood.

"Hopefully that satisfied your quota of me going to parties with you for a while, cause I do not plan on having the energy for something like that again for at least a few months." I said, awkwardly laughing. He doesn't respond, at least for a while, as he raises his hand, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "...Uhh, are you sure you don't wanna talk about it? I mean-"

"Can I tell you something?" He interrupted, his voice still cracking like it was in the bathroom.

"...Sure?" I replied, slightly confused.

"It's just that- I don't really know- like what-"

"-to say? Just think for a minute. No rush." That's what my dad always says whenever my mind spirals. I used to be really anxious, although I've been getting better at controlling my thoughts in the past few years.

When I went to text Shae a few minutes ago, my phone's clock read 9:48 PM. I'm supposed to be home at ten and we're still at least twenty minutes away, not even including the detour we'll take to get to Tyler's place. Which brings me to the realisation that, when we get to his house, I'm gonna have to walk the rest of the way home by myself, in the dark. If I get murdered by some serial killer this late at night I'm gonna fucking haunt Shae from the afterlife-

"I think I'm gay," He quickly says, his voice holding a noticeable increase in energy compared to what I've been used to tonight.

Well... can't say that's exactly what I was expecting. Was I expecting anything in particular? I honestly don't know anymore. His words took me by surprise, my brain is kind of scrambled right now. I look over at him - he's looking back at me, probably trying to gauge my reaction. I did my best to conceal any facial reaction, but it's pretty clear that my lack of a response is starting to become noticeable.

"...You... think?"

"Well, like- I don't know. I guess I've just been thinking for a while, and it makes sense... all things considered." He replied anxiously.

"That- That's great! Does anyone else know?"

"I only really realised a few weeks ago, so... no. But compared to anyone else, I probably trust you the most to not like- tell anyone?" He said, looking over at me again.

"Well, I appreciate the completely undeserved confidence you have in me," I joked, realising too late that now probably isn't the time for that, "Yeah, I promise I won't tell anyone."

"Thank you," He replies, a genuine smile strewn across his face.

A few minutes go by as we walk down the road, absorbing the positive energy we created. Having only known Tyler for a little over two months, it definitely surprised me knowing that he trusted me more than anyone else to keep a secret like that... I mean, despite the short amount of time since I met him, I'm as close to him as I've been to Shaela for the past eight years. Maybe even closer? I barely even tell Shae about my actual problems, at least the non-surface level stuff. So yeah, I guess it makes sense that he would trust me with something so important, I know I would absolutely trust him if it were me in that situation.

"...So, do you think you're gonna tell your dad?"

He didn't say anything for a moment as he stared down at the ground beneath him, "I'll probably have to tell him soon, if he has to find out from some asshole that isn't me it'd make it ten times more difficult than if I just said it myself."

I agreed, and we let the conversation cut itself off as we finally approached Tyler's house. I followed him up the walkway and stood on the patio, making sure he actually got inside. He tries the doorknob eagerly, to no avail. Realising that it was locked, he reaches into his pocket for his key - again, to no avail.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," Tyler mumbled under his breath, clearly done with tonight. All of the lights were off in the house, signalling that his dad was not awake.

"Maybe you'll wake him up if you knock? Then he can let you in."

"Nonono, he thinks I'm staying at your place! If he finds out I went to a party I'm in deep shit," He whispered.

Of course. If I had to lie to my parents, why would I expect anything different from anyone else?

"Okay, uhh... maybe we can make that lie... not a lie?" I said, sounding weirder than I'd like.

Tyler looked at me, confused for a moment, eyes widening as he realised what I meant, "I can't let you do that, I've already forced you through too much shit tonight."

"Oh, come on, of course you can sleep at my place for the night! My parents think I'm at your house right now, so I can just tell them that we both went over there early in the morning. They love you anyway, so it won't be a problem!"

He didn't move at all, still looking reluctant, "Are you sure it won't be... weird? I don't want to put you in an awkward situation cause of w- what I told you."

"Dude, that couch in my room has a hide-a-bed if you don't want to share mine. Either way, we're friends, aren't we? I trust you."

After a few moments of silence, he speaks up, "...I guess so-"

"Great, then it's settled!" I said, putting my arm around his shoulder as I led him back down the walkway.

---

Once we make it to my place, walk up the creaky wooden steps of my patio as I fish the house key out of my pocket. Tyler's standing closely behind me, looking awkward as ever, clearly not knowing what to do with his hands as he switches between putting them in his pockets and clasping them together.

I turn the key on the lock and try the door, noticing that It's completely pitch black inside the house. My parents usually go to bed at 10 PM, and it was well past that at this point. I lock the door behind us as I reach for my pocket, grabbing my phone and flipping it open to use as a barely-useful flashlight. I take Tyler's wrist as I lead him through the furniture of my living room and up the stairs. The only sounds in the house come from the soft ticking of a clock in the kitchen, the sound of which has always freaked me out whenever I'd come downstairs at three in the morning. Despite my best efforts to be as quiet as possible, the old wooden boards of the stairs prove my effort to be futile as they creak with every step. I can only hope that both of my parents have fallen asleep by now, or else they'd definitely have heard us. As I take Tyler down the hallway, walls strung with various family photos and art fit for a motel, I hear no sounds coming from the master bedroom, relaxing some of my tension.

Once we make it to my room, I breathe a sigh of relief as I turn on the overhead light, hoping my mom doesn't find out and try to lecture me in the morning, "Okay, hide-a-bed or mine, your choice!"

"Hide-a-bed." He replies.

"Sure thing, lemme show you how to set it up," I say as I remove each couch cushion one by one. The couch is sitting directly under my massive bedroom window, illuminated by the glow of the moon. Under the cushions is a black folded-up contraption, bearing a metal handle. I grab the handle and start pulling the bed out from the couch. As the first section of the bed comes out, Tyler stands next to me and helps unfold the second section, and finally the third.

I move over to open the closet door, "I have some spare pillows and blankets in here."

"So, why do you have a spare bed... thingy... in your room anyway?" He asked.

"My cousins' family came to visit from the other side of the country a few years back, so my parents made the cousins stay in my room and gave me our old couch that used to be in the living room. They were here for like two weeks, it was fucking awful," I remarked, pulling a comforter out of the closet and unfolding it out on the mattress.

"That sounds miserable," Tyler sympathized.

"It was, but hey, now I got a sick as fuck couch in my room! And it works as a great place for certain friends to sleep when they wanna spend the night," I said sarcastically, looking over at Tyler as I grabbed the pillows from the closet, tossing them to one end of the bed.

He turned his head, baffled, "Was that a dig on me?" He questioned.

"Depends on how you took it I suppose," I replied, smiling cunningly.

"You're the one who offered, dude- are you sure you didn't drink at the party? You've at least doubled your usual level of sarcasm." He retorted.

"Nope, unless somebody spiked my soda!" I joked, but the realisation slowly set in, "Oh shit- maybe someone spiked my soda?!?"

"Don't freak out, I seriously doubt someone would spike your drink,"

"God, I hope so, if my parents found out I went to that party, that'd be one thing, but if I got drunk? I doubt I'd see the outside world for months," I sighed.

"Even if you were drunk, it's not like you would still be drunk in the morning for them to find out, anyway."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," I said, letting out a yawn shortly thereafter. "Fuck, I didn't realise how tired I am." Looking at my alarm clock, it was 10:37 PM. That wasn't terribly late, I've definitely stayed up later when there was an assignment due the next day that I forgot about, but even before I met up with Alex and Elliot, that party was just wearing me down. "At least I can sleep in 'till like noon tomorrow. You sure you don't need anything before I pass out from exhaustion?"

"No, I'm okay, I think. And, thank you... Jake." He replied, smiling at me.

"No problem, dude!" I quietly exclaimed as I turned off the bedroom lights and hopped into bed. I can practically feel my muscles dissolve as I lean into the mattress, pulling the heavy blankets over me as I close my eyes.

I can't help but feel something itching in the back of my brain. I never did find out why Tyler was even crying back at the party. Was it related to what he told me after? He sounded pretty upset when he was talking to whoever it was in the hallway, too, so maybe that was why? We've already talked about so much shit tonight, though, and I definitely did not have the energy to have another huge conversation about something like that. It could definitely wait until tomorrow.

Soon, I feel my consciousness drift away, the only sound I can make out being the slow breathing of Tyler, across the room.

---

As I wake up, I'm blinded by the bright sun shining in through my windows, directly into my eyes. I glance over at my alarm clock, feeling incredibly groggy and sore, noticing that it's 11:13 AM. Usually, the latest I'd sleep in on weekends was only around ten, but I guess it took a lot of my energy yesterday to try to tune the party out. At least it's over.

I slowly sit up, yawning as I lean back against the bed frame. I glanced around the room, noticing that the hide-a-bed had been folded back into the couch, Tyler nowhere to be seen. I reach over to my bedside table to check my phone, finding an unread text from him, sent a few hours ago.

Tyler: hey

woke up early, figured youd want 2 sleep in.

will call u later, might have somthin big i wanna share, will see

A pair of oddly cryptic messages. Guess that confirms he isn't here anymore.

At least it was a Saturday, meaning that I had full permission to be a slob. I get out of bed, deciding to skip my usual shower until after breakfast. Other than the snacks that were out at the party, I ate practically nothing last night. I could almost feel my stomach turning itself inside out, so I hurried out of my room and downstairs to the kitchen to have some breakfast.

The first thing I notice when I get downstairs is my mom, sitting on the couch with a book. I head straight to the kitchen, trying not to make myself stand out.

"Jake! Finally woken up, I see." She remarked, still looking at her book.

"Hey, mom!" There's a moment of silence as I grab a bowl out of the cupboard, as well as a box of cereal, and begin to pour.

She speaks up, "Your friend, Tyler, seemed to be in a hurry to leave this morning, anything I should know about?"

"...Not that I know of? Like what?" I questioned as I poured some milk from the fridge, grabbed a spoon, and sat at the kitchen counter.

"Well, it's not like we didn't notice that you weren't home by ten like your father asked you to be, so obviously you must have a good excuse for why you didn't at least call to let us know you'd be late?" She replied. I could tell when she started talking all responsible-parent-like, it meant that she was gonna lecture me about something.

I sighed, thinking of the right thing to say. "...Well, Tyler was going through some things... so I was trying to help him with that, I guess. Time just kinda flew by and I wasn't able to get home 'till later."

"So he spent the night here? Weren't you at his house?" She asked as I ate a spoonful of cereal.

"Yeah... we went out for a bit and once I noticed how late it was I offered to let him spend the night at our house since it was closer," I said. Almost entirely a lie, but definitely preferable to the truth.

"Jake..." She said, setting her book down on the coffee table in front of the couch, walking over to me, and resting a hand on my shoulder. "You're sixteen now, obviously we don't expect you to tell us everything you're up to nowadays. But we worry about you! I worry about you. Just for future reference, please let us know if you're gonna be home late or anything like that."

"Okay, I'll keep that in mind," I said, looking up at her.

"Great! Now, I have to go meet a friend for lunch, please try not to burn the house down while I'm out!" She said as she grabbed her purse and keys off of the counter, hurring out the door.

"No promises, love you!" I said as she closed the door behind her.

Well, I guess that went... better than expected? I doubt she believed that story I made up, but I guess as long as I don't break curfew without telling them, I should be fine.

Having the house to myself wasn't totally uncommon. Considering my dad was gone during the day five days a week, and my mom would head out to go meet friends or run errands pretty often, I got some much needed alone time often enough to not go mad.

As I finish my bowl of cereal, I realise that I probably should go shower as soon as possible, considering the night I had. I put my bowl and spoon in the dishwasher and head back upstairs. I grab a towel from my room and head into the bathroom, grabbing my various fur care products out of the cabinet for after the shower. As I turn the shower on, I hear the sound of my ringtone going off in the pocket of my pants on the floor. I sigh annoyedly, walking over and trying to figure out which pocket my phone was in. When I flip open the phone, the Caller ID reads out Tyler's name.

"Tyler! What's up?" I ask eagerly, hoping to find out what the news he cryptically texted about was.

"Jake- fuck, I messed up, I shouldn't have- what am I gonna do?" He said anxiously, sounding almost out of breath.

"Hey! Slow down, what's wrong?" I questioned.

"I'm such a fucking idiot! Why did I think this would be a good idea? Jake, I'm so sorry-"

"Tyler! Calm. Down. Just take a few deep breaths," I said. After a few moments, I can hear his breathing steadying on the other side of the call. "Okay, good. Now, what's wrong?"

There's a short pause as he tries to find the right words to say. It sounds like he's been crying. What even the fuck has been the past twenty-four hours?

"Can- do you think I could crash at y- your place for a few more nights? I don't know what to do."

#story #novel #interlude #writing #novel writing #vestige #town #coming of age #lgbtq #gay #furry #wattpad

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today-only-happens-once · 7 years ago

Text

Red Light

Title: Red Light

Word count: 5083

Summary: College!AU. Logan gets a call in the middle of the night from Roman from the hospital. “Virgil… He’s…He’s in bad shape, Logan…” (Can-be-read-either-way Moxiety, Platonic LAMP/CALM. POV third limited to Logan (except for the very beginning))

Warnings: car crash, blood and injury, coma, angst, hurt/comfort, sleep deprivation, food mention, hospitals and ensuing personnel, medical things and hospital procedures might not be (definitely aren’t) accurate, borderline(?) panic attack, Roman feels guilty and insecure, Logan is just trying to keep it all together, arguing, the Sides are bad at taking care of themselves but they try to take care of one another, let me know if I forgot anything.

Prompt(s): “I know you can’t feel it, but I promise I’m holding your hand.”

A/N: What is this fic? I don’t know. I don’t even know if I like it, if I’m being honest with you, but I finished it and its long and I enjoyed the process of writing it, so I figured I might as well post it. I hope it turned out better than I feel like it did? Heh. Enjoy!

Tags: @creativenostalgiastuff, @helloisthisusernametaken, @ren-allen, @lizaelsparrow, @princelogical, @random-pianist, @ravenclawicecream, @erlenmeyertrash, @milomeepit, @at-least-seven-pretty-potatoes

…

It came out of nowhere.

That’s what most of the witnesses would say to the police when they arrived.

The dark car interior floods with a bright yellow light.

A car horn nearly shatters their eardrums. Tires scream against the pavement.

VIRGIL!

Silence.

…

Logan Sanders’ phone ringing startles the young college student out of his sleep. He squints at the too-bright screen in the dark, blinking blearily at Roman’s Caller ID photo grinning at him. He frowns and runs a hand across his eyes before answering.

“Hello?”

A rush of indecipherable noise—high and panicked but unmistakably Roman’s voice—fills Logan’s ears.

“Whoa. Roman,” Logan says, his brow knit together in worry as he reaches for his glasses and pins the phone between his ear and his shoulder. “Slow down.”

“They just plowed through the red light and there was so much blood, Logan, I didn’t see them coming and I don’t know if he’s going to be okay and they won’t let me see him and—“

Logan is on his feet in seconds. “Roman,” Logan says his name again. He sounds significantly calmer than he feels. “Where are you?”

“Valley West Hospital.”

He gives Patton’s sleeping shoulder a shove to wake him up as he speaks into the phone. “You’re in the hospital?” Those four words jolt Patton Foster to his feet almost as fast as Logan got to his.

“I’m at the hospital. Virgil… He’s…He’s in bad shape, Logan…”

“Patton and I are on our way, Ro,” Logan tells him, the rare nickname slipping out as he jams his feet into the nearest pair of shoes. “We’ll be right there. I’m gonna hand the phone to Patton so that I can drive, but I want you to stay on the line with us, okay?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, okay.”

…

“Roman.”

Roman Prince sits in the corner of the waiting area with his head in his hands. He’s got a heavy bandage on his forehead. His nose is caked with dried blood. He looks up when Logan says his name. He’s pale, disheveled, his eyes rimmed red from stale tears. Patton wastes no time in pulling him to his feet in a crushing hug.

Logan hears the sharp inhale and notices Roman’s wince. “Easy, Pat,” he says softly.

“Right, sorry.” Patton lets go, holding Roman at arm’s length. “Are you okay?”

Something crosses Roman’s eyes that Logan can’t quite decipher. “I… Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

Roman nods, then stops himself. He lifts a shoulder. “I’ve got a cracked rib or two.” His gaze seems distant. “This is all my fault.”

“Kiddo…”

Logan frowns. “Roman, you said they ran a red light. That hardly makes this your fault.”

“But I-I should’ve seen them coming. There was…” Roman takes in a shaking breath, then cuts it off with a wince. Logan sees Patton squeeze his arms for a moment before pulling back. Roman gives him a weak but appreciative smile.

Patton hesitates, then asks, “Have you heard anything about Virge?”

Roman shakes his head. “They haven’t told me anything. I’ve tried.”

Patton tries to hide his disappointment at the news. Logan sighs as he glances down at his feet. He’s still in constellation pajama pants and a faded dark blue t-shirt with the college’s logo across the front. Neither he nor Patton had changed out of their pajamas before rushing for the car. Logan hadn’t even put socks on before he’d shoved his feet into the nearest pair of sneakers.

He takes a closer look at Roman. There’s a small blood stain the edge of his long sleeves, and Logan is reasonably confident it’s not Roman’s. Virgil’s? Logan has the feeling that its best not to ask.

“Logan?” Patton asks, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he turns on his heels and heads straight for the front desk.

The nurse looks up as he approaches, giving him a soft and faintly sympathetic smile. Logan tries his best to muster a smile in return. He has no doubt that in addition to his rumpled pajamas, he probably looks like a bit of a mess. They all do.

“Hi,” the nurse says, softly and warmly. “Can I help you?”

“Hello.” Logan adjusts the frame of his glasses. “A friend of ours was admitted a few hours ago. We were wondering if we might be able to get some information.”

“What’s their name?”

“Virgil Shea.”

“Let me see what I can do.”

Then nurse taps away on her keyboard and Logan chances a glance back at his two friends. Both of them have sat down, Roman resting his head in his hands—Logan makes a note to ask if Roman might also have a concussion—and Patton is rubbing his back, saying something softly even as he has this lost look in his eyes.

“Mr. Shea is currently in surgery,” the nurse says. “I’m afraid that’s all I’m able to tell you.”

Logan turns suddenly. “He’s in surgery?”

The nurse looks sympathetic again. “Yes, honey. I’m sure that a doctor will come to update friends and family soon.”

His friends are his family, Logan wants to tell her. He holds his tongue. The nurse is just doing her job. Logan knows the flash of frustration is misplaced, and forces a smile and nod before running a hand through his hair and blowing out a breath.

It’s going to be a long night.

…

As the doctor speaks, Logan glances at Patton out of the corner of his eye. He looks like he’s about to fall over. Logan subtly places a hand on his shoulder to steady him. Patton’s light brown eyes are wide and exhausted and fearful. Roman doesn’t look much better.

“What-what do you mean?” Patton asks.

“This isn’t to say that he will never wake up,” the doctor adds, glancing at Logan. There’s a solemnity in his eyes that makes Logan’s stomach squirm uncomfortably. “Just that we don’t know for sure.”

“What can we do?” Patton is practically pleading. Roman’s jaw clenches. Logan has never felt so helpless before in his life.

“Hope and pray, I’m afraid. You can see him, if you’d like. Room 348.”

Roman doesn’t wait. He wordlessly brushes past the doctor and makes a beeline for the door. Patton pauses only long enough to say ‘thank you’ to the doctor before following Roman. Logan lingers behind.

“What are his chances, doctor?” Logan asks, steeling himself. “Really.”

The doctor gives him a long, patient look. “He’s stable. And there is always hope.”

Logan nods absently. He had been hoping for something more definitive. Something reliable. “Thank you. Really. And… I’m sorry about Roman. He’s a little… upset right now. We all are. But we appreciate everything you’ve done for our friend.”

For the first time, the doctor smiles. “I became worried when his sheet didn’t list any family. I’m glad to see he’s got you three. Gives him something to fight for.”

Logan doesn’t know how to respond to that. He just nods.

…

Virgil looks… not good.

There’s a dark, swollen bruise on his left temple, small cuts along his nose and collarbone that disappear underneath the thin hospital gown. He’s got an IV in his arm, the steady beep of the machines managing to cut through the shocked silence that had settled between the three.

“Virge…” Patton’s voice cracks. He rushes across the room to stand at the side of the hospital bed. Patton reaches a hand out towards his face, then hesitates.

“You won’t hurt him, Pat,” Logan tells him softly.

Patton glances back at him, then lets his hand gently brush the long bangs out of Virgil’s face. It’s tender. Gentle, even as Logan can see Patton bite his lip and his eyes shining with unshed tears. Wordlessly, Logan crosses deeper into the room and grabs the armchair in the corner.

With a quiet grunt of effort, Logan pushes the chair closer to the bed behind Patton. He nudges him to sit. Patton does so without taking his eyes off of Virgil, sinking into the chair.

“Thanks, Logan,” Patton says with a certain detachment. Logan doesn’t take it personally. They’re all still in shock.

Logan glances at the doorway, suddenly realizing that Roman had frozen as soon as he’d seen Virgil. He still hasn’t moved, but he looks almost as pale as Virgil does.

“Are you all right?”

The young theatre major turns a pained, horrified gaze onto Logan.

“I…”

Logan takes a step towards him but Roman has already disappeared down the hallway.

…

“Roman?”

Logan steps into the bathroom, admittedly relieved to find it empty save for his friend and himself. Roman is gripping the edge of the sink at the far end. His face is wet, the faucet is still running. At the sound of his name, Roman looks at Logan through the reflection in the mirror before turning the faucet off.

“I’m sorry, Logan.” He swallows. “I just… seeing him like that…”

“The doctor said he was stable,” Logan replies. It sounds more matter-of-fact—less comforting—than he really means it.

“He also said that they don’t know when, or if, Virgil will ever wake up,” Roman snaps, then averts his gaze. His voice softens. “And it’s not just that. I can’t… stop seeing him right after the crash. He was unconscious and half of his face was covered in blood, slumped over his seatbelt, and I couldn’t tell with the airbag whether or not he was breathing and I thought maybe he was dead, and—“

“Roman,” Logan says firmly, crossing the short distance between them. “Breathe.”

But Roman doesn’t even acknowledge him. “Someone was screaming, and maybe it was me, but I just wanted him to answer me and I could smell burnt rubber and there was glass everywhere and—“

“Hey.”

“I should have seen them coming, I should have swerved sooner, I should have—“

“Roman.” Logan grabs his friend’s shoulders. “Breathe.”

“Logan, I—,” Roman hiccups.

“Here. In for four seconds. Ready?” As Logan counts, he keeps his hands gripping his friend’s shoulders. “Hold for seven seconds.” He counts out loud again, watching Roman close his eyes and fight to obey Logan’s gentle commands. “Out for eight seconds.”

Logan walks him through the exercise a few more times, gradually relaxing his grip with each new try. After a few times, Roman’s breathing isn’t quite as shallow and he doesn’t seem to be spiraling in quite the same way he had been a minute ago. Logan feels something relax in himself too.

Roman brushes the back of his hand across his eyes, offering an embarrassed smile. Logan just squeezes his shoulders one last time before letting his arms fall. “You wanna head back?” he asks.

Roman tries to take in a deep breath. He winces—cracked ribs, Logan remembers—before nodding. “Yeah.”

…

“Patton, you really should eat something.”

“Hm?”

Logan sets the sandwich, bag of chips, and bottle of water down on the nightstand beside the arm chair. Virgil has been in the hospital for about a day and a half. Logan had offered to go back to their apartment and grab some necessities. A change of clothes for everyone but Virgil, a few board games, everyone’s homework, assorted phone chargers, et cetera.

Logan had also emailed his professors to explain his absence from class. Being an exceptional student, the professors that had responded had been very understanding so far. He’d also done enough digging to find Virgil’s professors and email them to inform them of the situation. He’d encouraged Patton and Roman to do the same.

Now to convince both Roman and Patton to eat something. Logan had scarfed down a bagel with some cream cheese about an hour ago. He’d lost track of how many cups of coffee he’d consumed at this point.

“You need to eat,” Logan repeats.

“Oh,” he says, like the thought hadn’t occurred to him. He looks at the food Logan had tossed onto the table. “Thanks, Logan.”

“Yeah,” Logan says, rubbing a hand across his eyes under his glasses. “Don’t mention it.”

Roman’s soft snoring fills the brief silence. He’s sprawled out on the too-small couch, one arm thrown over his eyes. A forgotten Communications 101 textbook lays open on his chest, an uncapped highlighter tucked between the pages. Patton follows Logan’s gaze as he watches him sleep and smiles softly.

“Poor kid,” Patton says softly. “He’s been taking this really hard.”

Logan glances at him—sees the dark circles starting to form under Patton’s eyes—and knows Roman isn’t the only one. Logan lets the comment slide. Instead, he walks over to Roman and carefully lifts the book off his chest and closes it, setting it beside his backpack.

He grabs the thin blanket off the floor and drapes it over him.

…

“We have bigger things to worry about, Logan!” Roman shouts at him.

“Guys.”

Logan isn’t sure how they ended up here. He had come into the room with a new pile of homework and had mentioned an inquiring email from his physics professor about when he could be expected back into class. Next thing Logan knew, Roman was shouting at him about his priorities.

Logan throws his hands up, his own frustration flaring. “Failing out of college isn’t going to help him, Roman, and it’s not going to help you.”

Roman shakes his head, his jaw clenched. “So we’re just supposed to go about our lives as usual? Act like everything is normal?”

“Of course not! But we can’t live our lives in this room waiting for something when we don’t know when it will happen.”

“Guys,” Patton tries again, “C’mon. Don’t do this.”

Roman turns a fiery gaze onto Logan. “Well, I’m sorry if I want to put my friends before my grades, unlike some people.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Patton’s eyes widen. “Roman, that was—“

“I think I was pretty clear, Logan,” Roman growls. “Patton and I aren’t you. You can just… turn off your emotions but—“

Logan slams the heavy Statics textbook in his lap closed and jumps to his feet. “Falsehood,” he snaps, furious. “You think this isn’t affecting me? You think not knowing isn’t—“ Logan cuts himself off abruptly as his voice wavers. His eyes burn. There’s a beat of silence.

“Logan, I—“ Roman starts, but Logan shakes his head and walks out of the room.

…

Four days. Virgil has been in the hospital for four days. In those four days, Logan has had about two and a half hours of sleep.

The apartment is too quiet now. Forgotten dishes lay piled in the sink. Shoes scattered the floor, as do half-filled notebooks and a few wrappers here and there. The only one who had been in the apartment the last few days had been Logan, always offering to be the one to run back and get laptops, books, clothes. Logan knew he’d be hard pressed to get Patton to move from Virgil’s side for long (Patton slept either in the chair or on the couch), and Roman was still understandably skittish about the idea of driving—though the young man’s ego would never let him admit as much.

It was just as well. Logan didn’t mind making the run back to the apartment too much.

Logan strides through the apartment and grabs the textbook Roman had requested off his desk—Shakespeare and Other Influential Playwrights—and is on his way quickly back out when he trips over Virgil’s backpack.

He stumbles before righting himself. His vision abruptly blurs.

He scoffs—wet and shaky—and brushes the back of his hand across his eyes. Don’t be stupid, he tells himself. All you did was trip over a backpack. That’s it.

Except that isn’t it. Because it was Virgil’s backpack. Logan had momentarily lost control when he tripped over it. Logan always had control. Over himself and over situations. Logic and reasoning allowed him predict events with relatively reliable accuracy, and therefore prepare for potential outcomes. Logan had always found comfort in it. But now…

Even though every fiber of his being is telling him that the sudden tidal wave of emotions over something so small is illogical, Logan can’t help but feel like losing control of his footing was losing the last semblance of control he had.

The tears come hard and fast and Logan stands there in the empty apartment and listens to the too-loud silence until he’s calm enough to pick the book back up and lock the door behind him.

...

“Lo?”

“Yeah?”

“When was the last time you slept?”

Logan shrugs. “Yesterday,” he says dismissively. He fiddles with the Rubix cube in his hands, glancing up from it to lock gazes with Patton.

He shakes his head. “For longer than twenty minutes at a time.”

Logan barely holds back a sigh, knowing Patton isn’t going to like the answer. He offers his friend a wry smile and tries to deflect it instead. “I appreciate the concern, Pat, but I’m fine. I’m an engineering major, remember? Used to running on no sleep.”

Patton’s frown deepens. His dark brown eyes are sad but sincere. “Logan, don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what?”

The knowing look in Patton’s eyes makes him feel suddenly exposed. “Kiddo, you can’t just run on coffee. We’ve got one of us in the hospital already. I don’t think Ro and I could take it if it was both of you.”

Logan can feel the fight bleeding out of him. “Patton, I…” He doesn’t know what to say. How to explain this to him. He sets the Rubix cube back on the table.

“What is it?”

“I’m…” Logan sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He’s exhausted. He can feel that in his bones. And yet… “I can’t.”

Something softens even more in Patton’s expression. “What do you mean?”

Logan glances at Virgil—still pale, still unconscious, his bruises have darkened, his cuts have scabbed over, his chest rises and falls with quiet routine breaths—and swallows past the lump that has started to form in his throat. He shakes his head. “It’s illogical.”

“Doesn’t mean it isn’t real, kiddo.”

He doesn’t reply right away. “I can’t… relax, Patton.”

Patton purses his lips. “Can’t because you physically can’t, or because you’re afraid to?”

Logan looks at his hands. Leave it to Patton to see right through him. He still doesn’t know how to explain this. Talking about feelings and emotions had never been something he was particularly good at. He felt like he barely understood it himself. All he really knows is that if he tries to let himself fall asleep, there’s a good chance he’s just going to fall apart instead.

He isn’t supposed to be the emotional one. He’s supposed to be the rock of the group. Especially now. Especially for Patton and Roman.

“Logan,” Patton says when Logan remains silent. “We’re here for you too, okay? We’re all going through this together.”

Logan doesn’t trust himself to speak. He just nods.

Patton gives him a small, sympathetic smile. “Please, Logan. You can sleep on the couch, if you want. You’ll be right here if anything happens, and we’ll be right here with you. When Roman comes back from the cafeteria, I’ll make sure he knows to keep quiet. But please… get some sleep before you just collapse.”

Logan hesitates, then nods again. “You’re right, Patton. I… thank you.” He pushes himself out of the chair and moves to the sofa, stretching out along the length of it and closing his eyes. Had the hospital couch always felt this comfortable?

“Don’t mention it, kiddo.”

…

The engineering major has a cup of coffee in his hands the next day when he rounds into room 348. He’d memorized the pathway from the main entrance to this room so well that he’s reasonably confident he could walk it blindfolded. He stops short in the doorway, however, when he realizes that Patton is talking.

“So anyway, I guess the moral of the story is to not eat fifteen cupcakes before accepting a challenge to run a race against your cousin. Suffice it to say that he won,” Patton says, breaking off with a faint, weak imitation of his usual laugh.

“I know we didn’t know each other then,” Patton continues, “but I’m pretty sure that if we did you would’ve convinced me that doing that was a bad idea.” Logan quietly leans against the doorway, watching as Patton squeezes Virgil’s hand. “All the more evidence that… I need ya back, kiddo.”

Patton reaches up and brushes Virgil’s long bangs out of his eyes, letting his thumb brush his cheekbone before pulling his hand back. He grabs Virgil’s hand again. “I know you can’t feel it, but I promise I’m holding your hand. I’m not letting go, so you’re not allowed to either. Okay? I’m… we’re all struggling without you.”

Logan swallows and looks at his shoes for a moment. He feels someone come up behind him, and pause. They place a hand briefly between Logan’s shoulder blades. He looks up. It’s Roman.

“He’s right, Virge,” Roman says, announcing his presence as he steps away from Logan and further into the room.

Logan adjusts the frame of his glasses before slipping his hands into his pockets and following Roman to stand on the other side of Patton. Someone squeezes his shoulder, but Logan doesn’t take his gaze off of the young man in the hospital bed. He looks smaller somehow. More fragile, even though Logan has believed for quite some time that Virgil was perhaps the strongest one of the four of them.

Logan doesn’t know if Virgil can hear them. “We need you, Virgil.”

…

There’s a quiet knock on the door. All three of the young men share a glance. They were all in the room, and the nurses and doctors usually just came in. Roman had already given his statement to the police earlier on. Appearing the in ajar doorway is an older man—Logan guessed in his early 40s—with a trimmed beard and receding hair line.

He awkwardly clears his throat and nudges the door open a bit more.

Roman makes a noise in the back of his throat that catches Logan’s attention. When he looks over, he notices the color has drained from his face. His eyes look almost murderous. It takes Logan about a second longer to figure it out. He was the other driver. The one who ran the light.

“What do you want?” Roman asks, slowly rising to his feet.

Patton frowns, looking to Logan in confusion. Logan meets his gaze for a moment before standing up as well. Patton stays sitting in the arm chair beside Virgil. Both Roman and Logan move to stand protectively at the foot of the bed, barring the man’s view of Virgil.

The man holds his hands up. “I’m sorry, I feel terrible about what happened. I just wanted to check in on the kid—“

“He’s in a coma,” Logan tells him pointedly, not buying the clearly flimsy excuse. “So if you were coming to see if he was going to press charges, he’s not the one to talk to.”

“Your light was red,” Roman says in a low voice. He’s practically shaking. “Red.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Logan sees Patton’s eyes alight with understanding. They quickly turn apprehensive. “Roman, maybe something was wrong with his car. Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

The man averts his gaze. Logan feels a swell of anger. “Is that the case, sir?” Logan already knows the answer. And perhaps it is petty of him, but he wants to make the man admit it out loud.

The man scratches the back of his neck. “Well, not… not exactly.”

Logan silently arches an eyebrow. He sees Roman clench his fists at his sides.

“Look, I’m sorry,” the man blurts out. “I didn’t mean to hit you or the kid—“

“Virgil Shea,” Roman bites back. There’s a faint tremor in his voice but Logan isn’t sure if it’s from anger or something else.

“What?”

“His name is Virgil Shea,” Logan repeats for him. “He is 20 years old. He is a junior graphic design major. His name is Virgil Shea, and we would appreciate it if you would use it.”

He glances at Roman beside him. His hands are shaking, and Logan takes a step forward, putting himself between Roman and the man standing in the doorway. The man stammers out embarrassed apologies, glances at Logan once more, and then hurries out of the room.

The door closes behind him.

…

Virgil has been in the hospital for a full week when Patton stands up so fast he nearly falls over. Logan looks up from his textbook, a crease appearing between his brows.

“Patton? Are you all right?”

“I…” Patton’s eyes are wide as he glances at the engineering major before looking back fixedly on the young man in the hospital bed. “Virgil? Honey, are you awake?”

Logan feels his own eyes widen, even as concern and doubt constricts in his chest. “Pat…”

“He squeezed my hand, Logan,” Patton tells him, with so much certainty and confidence that Logan pauses.

Logan opens his mouth but it snaps shut when he sees Virgil’s other hand twitch against the thin blanket. He’s on his feet in the next second, his book spilling from his lap and onto the floor. The heavy thud startles Roman awake from his nap.

“What?” Roman says, bolting upright. Nobody answers him, all too shocked and hesitantly hopeful to pay the question much mind. Logan crosses over to stand at the side of the hospital bed opposite Patton. Roman slowly walks to stand beside him. He looks both hopeful and afraid that the hope is misplaced. Logan understands the feeling.

Patton brushes his fingers through Virgil’s bangs. “Virgil? Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?”

Logan sees his fingers twitch again and grabs his hand. He watches the faint, steady rise and fall of his chest with each breath. It makes Logan realize that he’s holding his. In fact, Logan is pretty sure that—for just a moment—Virgil is the only one breathing in the room.

Virgil’s breath catches before he takes in a much deeper breath.

Logan can feel his heart in his throat. Roman looks like he’s either going break out in song or collapse entirely. Patton bites his lip.

And then Virgil’s eyelashes flutter open. Patton releases a sound that sounds like something between a sob and a laugh. Virgil squints at the bright fluorescent hospital lights. Logan rushes over to the wall and flips the switch. Only the lamp in the corner and the late afternoon sun streaming in through the blinds keeps the room from being plunged into darkness.

“Virgil?” Roman asks.

Virgil looks confused for a moment before his light brown gaze finds Patton, then Roman, then Logan as the latter comes to stand beside the bed again. Logan presses the call button on the wall.

“What…?” Virgil says, his voice like sandpaper.

“Sssh,” Patton soothes. “Easy, Virge. You’re in the hospital. We’re here. It’ll be okay.”

There’s a soft knock on the door as a nurse hurries in. Logan steps back from the bed to let the nurse have easier access to the machines and vitals she needed to take from Virgil. For the first time in a week, Logan feels like maybe Patton is right.

It’ll be okay.

…

A little over a week later, Virgil sits on the edge of the hospital bed in his classic purple shirt and hoodie. He’s nodding along as the doctor gives him instructions about the various medications he needs to take, when his next follow up appointment is, how he shouldn’t rush into anything strenuous just yet, to take it easy mentally given his relatively serious concussion, and so on.

Logan listens carefully as well, taking mental note of dates of appointments and amount of medication just in case Virgil forgets (because Logan knows he isn’t going to want to call the doctor’s to double check, but those details are important). Patton hovers worriedly. Roman leans against the wall with his hands in his pockets but Logan can tell he’s just as anxious to get out of the room as Virgil evidently is.

“You know,” the doctor says at the conclusion of his instructions, “I think some of the nurses are going to miss seeing you all around. They got used to it these past couple of weeks. Not that we aren’t glad you’re well enough to leave, Virgil.”

“Well, of course!” Patton interjects, practically beaming. Logan shakes his head, even though a small part of him has to admit that he’d missed Patton’s brightness. It was nice to see it back in full force.

The corner of Roman’s mouth twitches. “This room was basically our home away from home these past few weeks. But I am hardly saddened to bid it adieu.”

“Likewise,” Logan adds, shifting his glasses further up his nose. “As grateful as I am for everything the staff here was able to do for Virgil and to accommodate us, I also hope to not be back for any extended period of time soon.”

Virgil scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I, um… sorry, guys.”

“Nonsense,” Logan replies. “None of what happened was your fault. Any of you,” he adds, throwing a pointed look to Roman. The young theatre major looks away.

Virgil shrugs, then grimaces slightly. “Yeah, but still. I’m sorry I worried you. I’m… not really worth all the trouble you went through.”

“Falsehood.”

“You’re our best friend, Virge,” Roman speaks up emphatically. “We’d do it all again if we had to. Not that we’re trying to do this again,” he adds in a rush.

Patton jabs a finger at Virgil. “If you keep being self-deprecating, I will physically fight you, Virgil Shea.”

The doctor chuckles. “I’m not sure I would advise that course of action, Mr. Foster.” There’s an amused twinkle in his eye before he nods back at Virgil. “Make sure you follow my directions, and you should be back to normal before you know it. Just don’t rush anything. Let your friends help you. You’re in good hands, it seems.”

“Yeah,” Virgil says with a small, shy smile as he glances around at the three of them. “I am.”

…

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #logan sanders #logan angst #hurt/comfort #car crash #blood #injury #coma #angst #hospitals #doctors #panic attack #arguing #yikes this fic is long and I don't even know what im doing with it but here it is friends #aaaaaaaaaaa why is always scary to post fanfics #*covers my eyes and hits post*

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