#lifes stressful alongside college moving in with a relative work and a bunch of other stuff

[vilelittlecritter]

If I wasn't so busy all the damn time I'd do commissions, and also the fact I suck major ass at digital and don't have a printer/scanner.

One day, one day I'll steal people's money with mediocre art.

[aliferous-ly]

Ambitious

this was a fic long in the making.... it’s,,, pretty personal but i want to post it so lol. me in math

Summary: “Virgil, ironically, religiously completed his homework while Logan finished much of it two or one night before the test (when the homework packet was checked to gain the option of correcting a test). Logan’s approach was not at all systematic, but had worked thus far. 

Well... until, that is... calculus.”

Words: 1860

Genre: it’s angst. not like, heavy themes angst just... yeah. 

Pairing: platonic analogical ig, mainly none

Warnings: LOTs of self deprecating thoughts in here. incompetency , etc. mentions of thorns (metaphorical), sharp thorns. virgil forgets to take care of himself. it’s not a satisfying ending, and if there’s anything else please tell me!

Tags: @sassy-in-glasses @rose-gold-roman @justanotherpurplebutterfly @anxious-but-whatever @echomist13 

“You’re too ambitious for your own good.”

Logan blinked and frowned, hands curling into the fabric of his backpack. “Sorry?”

“Dude, TA? What are you even doing with your life?” Roman said, laughing and shoving grapes into his mouth at the same time. “You barely have enough time as is, I can’t imagine yet another responsibility...”

“I’m fine, I have plenty of time,” Logan said, waving his hand. He spent needed time on classes, yes, but no more than he should be.

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that,” Roman said. “You’re crazy good at managing time.”

Logan nodded uncertainly. “I keep a planner and don’t procrastinate.”

“That is such a lie and you know it,” Roman said, laughing. “How many social studies essays have you bullshitted on the last day?”

Logan sniffed. “I’d say about five.”

Roman snickered and knocked shoulders with him. “Alright, Einstein. How’s math with the Virge?”

“Calc is... fine,” Logan said. He stared at his sandwich, a gross knot of feelings tightening in his gut.

“Calculus sounds so hard,” Patton said, entering the conversation after watching their back and forth.

“It is hard.” Logan sighed, and leaned his cheek on his palm, elbow propped up on the table. “I don’t understand anything. The lessons are quick and complex, it’s hard to keep up, especially with everything else going on right now.”

“Yeah, you have a busy week,” Patton said sympathetically. “But you’ll be okay! You’re our smart Logan, you’ll get it!”

A thorn jabbed into Logan’s chest at the statement, a growing vine of sharp points twisting and squeezing. “...Yeah.”

He tapered off and took a bite of his sandwich, letting Roman take the wheel of the conversation and explain the newest drama between Remy and Nate, who everyone thought were going to get together despite Remy’s obvious infatuation with band nerd Emile Picani.

Logan listened attentively, the thorn twisting deeper and deeper.

—

“See ya after school,” Roman said, waving as he left for spanish.

“Bye,” Logan said, heading off to class. He moved around a line of girls walking on the wrong side of the hallway.

Roman’s earlier statement kept bouncing around in his head – was he too ambitious? He knew he was ambitious, yes, but...

Well, as least he wasn’t actually a TA, just a helper around his old english teacher’s class in his free period. Many times he was there to receive help from her for his new, more advanced english class.

But... he would spend more time teaching other kids, helping around a classroom, than he would studying, which cut into more time at home...

Logan mentally shook himself. No need to focus on that now.

“Hey.”

Logan glanced to the right and saw Virgil meandering alongside him, a crooked grin set on his face.

“Hi,” Logan said back, nodding his head in greeting. “Ready for calc?”

“No,” Virgil said, snorting. “Never.”

“That’s fair,” Logan said. His hands clenched a little tighter around his backpack straps. “How do you think you did on the test yesterday?”

“Dude, you should’ve seen me taking it,” Virgil said, spreading his hands in front of him, palms down, as he spoke. “My hands were clutching the pencil so hard. If he can read my equations it’s a miracle. I think I almost passed out.”

“That’s... not good,” Logan said. He frowned in thought. “Was the stress that much for you? Perhaps a different form of test could be done...”

“Nah, just a lot of little things, y’know? Didn’t eat or drink much, got maybe three hours of sleep from studying all night...”

“Oh,” Logan said, falling silent. “That’s... still not good.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, screwing up his face. “I know.”

“Did you eat breakfast this morning?”

“No.”

“Water?”

“...also no.”

“Have my water bottle,” Logan said, reaching behind himself and hooking his finger on the loop of his water bottle. “I think I have an extra in my locker from last week.”

“I...” Virgil stared at the bottle shoved into his chest and grabbed it to stop it from crashing to the ground. “I can’t take this.”

“Then throw it away,” Logan stated firmly. He walked into the calc room, cutting off the conversation for a few seconds. Virgil mumbled something, playing with the hard plastic of the bottle absentmindedly.

He and Virgil had been in the same math class since sixth grade, save the last year when they’d been devastated to learn they’d have to take pre-calculus without one another. They knew each other’s ups and downs, they knew how the other functioned in relation to math.

Virgil, ironically, religiously completed his homework while Logan finished much of it two or one night before the test (when the homework packet was checked to gain the option of correcting a test). Logan’s approach was not at all systematic, but had worked thus far.

Well... until, that is... calculus.

Calculus.

How he hated calculus.

The test had been more difficult than any test he remembered in math, and it was only the first one. His teacher was more than understanding. In fact, Logan had spent an hour and a half with him after school, working through homework problems and such, and his teacher had – on multiple occasions – mentioned that it was okay to not do well right off the bat. It was okay to not understand.

Calculus was not like other math.

“Are we getting the tests back today?” Logan said numbly, sliding his backpack off his shoulders and settling into the chair.

“God, I hope not,” Virgil mumbled, face down on the table. “I don’t want to face my failure just yet.”

“Ugh, yeah,” Logan said, wrinkling his nose. “I just want to know what I got and be done with it. I’ll be stressing all weekend otherwise.”

“Even if you get a bunch wrong?”

Logan laughed. “You mean when I get a bunch wrong?”

Virgil grinned at him. “Oh what a mood.”

Logan cracked a smile back, but before he could reply, the teacher was talking and class had begun. They exchanged a few more quips in lulls or when they were working on problems.

Only... Logan didn’t get it. He didn’t understand any of the problem... sure, he could type it into his calculator just fine, and sure, he could calculate the height and time and so forth, but he didn’t understand what his teacher was actually trying to teach – the theory behind it. The why. Normally Logan’s favorite part.

“Any questions? You’re good?” the teacher asked the class, examining everyone to make sure he’d gotten through to them.

Please repeat that entire explanation but slower and more thoroughly, Logan thought pitifully.

“Alright, then, with that...” he continued on, writing on the smartboard. Every so often he would pause and ask for the answer to a particular question and someone would shout it out. Only heaven knew how they knew the answer, because Logan felt like they could’ve asked what seven minus nine was and Logan would have to take a dozen seconds to figure it out.

He struggled through the three simple practice problems and when the teacher went through them he numbly wrote the answers and the process, trying trying trying to comprehend what it all meant, what the numbers on the page equated to and which belonged to where and how this all applied –

“Now, I won’t be giving this equation twice. This is the only time I’m giving it to you,” his teacher said, laughing a bit. Logan felt like weights were slowly attaching themselves to the vine around his lungs, dragging his heart lower and lower.

Virgil was dutifully jotting all the notes down, handwriting a little jumbled. Logan tried to focus on his paper, the lines starting to run together and his hand shaking between his fingers. I don’t understand. I don’t understand. Why don’t I understand?

Logan wrote down a few more notes, trying to make sense of the equation set before him, the equation given at the beginning of class, the equation he’d learned all about not five minutes before. I don’t understand I don’t understand I don’t understand

I’m stupid. Logan was familiar with the voice in his head and he made sure he copied everything from the teacher. Maybe he could relearn it in another hour. Maybe then he’d be okay. Why did he take this class? I’m stupid, why did I take such a hard class?

Logan considered himself relatively smart, all things considered. He managed to get into many advanced classes, shooting himself two years ahead of his peers in math. Virgil, along with other math students his age whom he’d learned to recognize relatively consistently, had also been thrown forward two years.

One semester of calculus in two semesters or two semesters of calculus in two semesters?

At the time, it’d barely been a question. Of course he’d take the most advanced class – he was Logan Sanders. He didn’t shy from a challenge, and wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he took the one in two. He needed max college credits.

I don’t understand I don’t understand I don’t understand

Too ambitious for my own good

“Ha, I barely understood any of that,” Logan said weakly as they were packing their things.

Virgil shrugged. “Yeah. It’ll make sense soon. You’ll probably learn while taking the test, knowing you.” He ended the statement with a quick burst of laughter and Logan smiled back, lips wobbly and nervous.

He had a tendency to do that in pre-calc, not quite understanding the content until the test itself, but even he could realize that calculus – at least, the one he was taking – was on a completely different level.

I don’t understand I don’t understand

Logan was crouched by his backpack, zipping everything back up, when the thought struck him like a bullet. I’m not smart enough for this class.

He’d never been not smart enough for a class. Teaching incompatibilities, perhaps, or the content needed a bit more work than instant comprehension, but never completely missing the lesson, the point of the lesson. Math built on itself; losing a lesson was like losing a vital block while building a tower, and when a great wind blows the tower must stand strong.

The thought struck him so strongly and quickly that he couldn’t move for a few long seconds. Virgil rustling around in his bag brought him back to the present and he stood, long legs shaking imperceptibly.

Logan shifted on his feet. “Ready to go?” At least his voice sounded natural.

“Yeah,” Virgil said, slinging the bag over his shoulder and stalking out the door, eye on Logan.

Logan followed but couldn’t bring himself to speak, a lump settling in his throat and refusing to budge.

They walked in silence.

Logan could barely breathe.

I’m not smart enough for this class.

A bit too late, huh?

Too bad if you drop you’ll be the utter disappointment. You want to go into a math career, and you’re going to fail calculus? What a joke.

Logan shuddered and parted from Virgil, who was headed to his chem class.

I’m not smart enough for this class.

Too ambitious.