#sparrow joins because above all he just wants normal to be safe

[kaseyskat]

do you guys think any of the kiddads will join the teens eventually

[undeadsnorlax]

Cumbersome and Heavy

Archive of our Own link

@badthingshappenbingo​

Prompt: Big Brother Instinct

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy (TV Series)

Warnings: hurt/comfort, nightmare sequence (involving temporary character death and blood+gore), referenced self-harm and child abuse

Wordcount: 2514

Big Brother Instinct - where a character has an instinctive desire to act as protector for a younger or smaller siblings. Luther feels he's failed this aspect of his personality too many times over. He's scared of it happening again. And the subconscious sure loves playing with those fears.

Luther was aware, the moment his eyes opened, that he was dreaming. Of course he was – he was back in the Umbrella Academy, the one he remembers, stood in the hallway near their childhood bedrooms, in the same dumb uniform he wore every day until he was eighteen and grew too tall to logically wear it. Except he’s…

He flexed a hand in front of his face. Not the mottled grey skin he’d grown to know, but tan and calloused palms instead. He strokes his face, feeling a scar over one brow and across a cheek, soft long hair…

“What the fuck?” Diego’s voice came out as he spoke.

Yeah. Definitely a dream. Right?

Luther looked around the corridor, a shiver running down his spine. It was…practically demolished. The doors of the rooms either shattered into splinters or hanging off the hinges. Peering in, he saw only wreckage. Toppled bookshelves and desks shattered in half…large sticky red smears on the walls and floor.

His nostrils flared. Blood.

“Shit.”

Luther kept moving, every step feeling as heavy as it did in his normal body, despite now possessing Diego’s. The whole house was dark, not even the faintest of light coming through the windows. It reminded him too much of the days he spent alone here. Every so often he’d recognise something belonging to his siblings, tossed about with disregard on the ground. Dog tags, a ripped up uniform, a snapped bowstring, shreds of a leather jacket.

Now he was in the entrance hall, how it was last time in their timeline – the chandelier that had fell on him smashed in the middle of the room, torn fabric stuck to it.

“Such a disappointment, isn’t he?”

A lump caught in Luther’s throat.

Just a dream he reminded himself, turning his head slowly to see Reginald stood at the top of the stairs.

“Perhaps you would have been the better Number One.”

No more numbers, Luther thought, clenching his fists shakily. But right now, he felt like a child again, like he had back at the supper in the 60s, unable to speak up. How many times had he let the threat of being demoted motivate him growing up? Had Diego heard similar? How he’d never be leader, never be held in the same regard Luther was, but maybe, just maybe if he pushed himself more, he could be?

His attention was drawn towards the living room. Grunts and growls and horrible snaps that made something deep in his stomach churn. Looking up towards the staircase again, Reginald had vanished.

He didn’t want to, but slowly Luther opened the living room door. There was some light in here, a flickering bulb swinging back and forth.

The smell of blood was strong.

And in the corner was…him. His actual body. He wasn’t wearing his shirt, his fur was thick and creating the most unsettling silhouette as he hunched over…something.

Luther felt that churning in his gut again, as if on some reflex as a knife flicked out into his palm.

Allison’s head was limp, staring up at him from the ground with glassy eyes. Vanya was a crushed pile, Klaus and Five’s mangled bodies tossed on top of each other.

His actual self turned his head, tilting it slightly. His eyes were black, his face smeared with blood…he stood, towering.

Luther gulped, taking a step back. Was this what his siblings saw every time he was near them? This hulking form that could block the light, muscles twitching and tensed with even the slightest movement.

His body smirked, showing blood in his teeth. Twitched stained fingers.

And suddenly he was that body, looking down at Diego in the stupid fucking uniform, pointing a single dagger in his direction.

“Luther. This isn’t you,” his brother said, voice shaking.

Luther licked his lips, letting out a soft growl. Inside he was screaming, stop, stop it, he’s right, it isn’t.

Stop being the monster you think you are.

He looked back at the shattered forms of his other four siblings. No, five siblings, because now leaned up against the smashed remains of the bar was Ben, head slumped to his chest and a gaping wound in his stomach.

Oh, all his life he’d been worried about this, wondering just how far his strength could go.

No, he didn’t need to wonder. Because he already knew, with the scars along his skin where he’d tried to carve himself back to normal after his accident, how it started as simple scratches but turned into chunks of gore that stuck under his nails. As long as he kept that damage to himself…

Watching Diego stand his ground, he knew he could tear him apart if he wanted. Snap his neck and rip his arms from his body. Crush his skull with the pressure of one hand, easily. Bite into his shoulder and come back with a mouthful of raw flesh. All manner of horrific acts with barely any effort.

As much as he tried to force himself to stay back, it was like Luther was in the passenger seat and this…beast was driving. He lunged forward, fingers wrapping around Diego’s throat and pinning him several feet above the ground as his knife fell to the floor with a clatter.

Diego struggled, gripping at Luther’s arm and kicking his legs out but he barely felt it.

Stop it, stop it, you’re not-

They were eleven years old and holding this same position. Luther wasn’t as big and Diego didn’t have his scars, and he could hear Ben’s voice yelling near him to calm down, Diego hadn’t meant whatever comment he’d said.

It’s how they found out Diego could hold his breath for so long. He ended up having a hand shaped bruise on his neck for two weeks straight.

Because that’s all Luther could do. He just hurt those he loved. And when he didn’t hurt them, he couldn’t protect them, so they still got hurt, like Ben and Elliot.

“Useless, Number One.”

Back to their adult bodies. Reginald stood in the doorway, shaking his head as Luther strangled his brother.

“You know you’re able to. Why hold back?”

“Because…I…” Luther took a laboured breath, every word being said through gritted teeth as he watched Diego’s eyes dim slightly. His grip loosened. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Yet here we are.” Reginald scoffed, shaking his head in the way that had made Luther’s heart sink for twenty-nine years. “If you truly don’t, you’d let go.”

He wanted to let go, he wanted this scene to shift and his siblings not be dead in a pile at his own hand and for this taunting form of his father to go away, he wanted to wake up-

Luther?

His grip tensed again.

Luther, what’s wrong? Wake up!

Diego looked at him, and it seemed like understanding on his face.

Is he okay?

I don’t know. Hey, hey, Luther, please, wake up. It’s fine.

Sn-a-p.

Christ, hang on.

What are you-

Diego fell limp.

The scene went dark.

…

Luther woke with a gasp as he felt water splash over his face, spluttering as he flailed about.

“Diego!” Vanya’s voice hissed, and in the gloom there was a gentle slap.

“Hey!” Diego whispered back, “Sorry, but I didn’t know what else to do!”

Luther’s eyes adjusted a little, feeling the dull ache in his chest from whatever kind of attack he’d been having whilst he slept.

Back in the motel room, where the springs of the bed dug into his spine. Back in the world the six of them didn’t quite belong in with no Umbrella Academy, a world where their father had formed the Sparrow Academy instead, with brand new children.

Safe. Everyone was alive. Even Ben, even if he wasn’t their Ben.

“Hey. Luther.”

Vanya gently took Luther’s hand, just about visible as she gestured her head towards the bathroom. Luther gulped and let her guide him to his feet, taking him there. The gentle padding of feet just behind told him Diego was following, but he wasn’t sure quite yet if he could look him in the eye.

He shut the door as they crammed into the small bathroom, Vanya sitting on the side of the bathtub as Diego jumped up on the counter. Luther, unsure of where else to put himself, just sat himself down on the floor with his head between his legs. He wanted to feel small.

“You were whimpering in your sleep bro,” Diego said, letting his voice carry a little louder now they were out of the main room, “Thrashing about like crazy.”

“Nearly kicked me out of bed,” Vanya said with a light-hearted smile, getting a towel to rub dry the parts of Luther’s face and hair that had been hit in the water throwing, “Thought I was through with that after Five forced me off the pull-out.”

“Would not have had him down for such a blanket hog,” Diego chuckled, tilting his head to see if that got any response, “…Luther?”

Luther gulped, allowing himself to flop back against the wall, looking up at them. He could feel his hands shaking, his chest starting to tighten once more. “Just a dream,” he said, his voice strained. He paused, swallowed, and corrected himself. “A nightmare.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Vanya asked, now sitting down next to him, reaching out a hand that he flinched away from.

Luther tightened his own hand into a fist, feeling his nails dig into his palm. “I…I hurt you. All of you. Badly.”

“…how badly?” Diego joined them, keeping in a crouched position as his usually scowling face softened.

Luther felt like he could still smell blood when he flared his nostrils. “I’d…I’d killed you all. Torn you to shreds, crushed you up.” He gulped heavily. “I might’ve…I think I ate some of you? There was just…a lot going on. Like a horror movie. And Dad was there, taunting me into finishing you off.”

A moment of silence as Diego and Vanya gave each other a look. It was surprise, Luther was sure of that, but he didn’t know if it was a good way or a bad way.

“But you wouldn’t do that,” Diego said firmly, “You wouldn’t hurt us like that, you know you wouldn’t.”

“But I could.” Luther winced, unfurling his fingers and looking at his palm, though hiding it from view. He hadn’t broken the skin enough to draw blood, thankfully, but enough to leave several red crescent moon shapes. “I-I always manage to hurt you guys. What I did to you, Vanya. What I did to Klaus, and I still don’t remember it happening properly. Ben-“

“You can’t keep blaming yourself for that,” Diego growled, shifting to sit on his knees, “We all messed up there, but even then, there’s nothing we could have done to prevent it. It just happened.”

“But Ben’s alive here. A world without me as leader, and Ben lived.”

“Yeah, and guess what? He’s also a colossal dickhead.”

Vanya reached out and took Luther’s hand again, forcing the palm upwards and showing the marks there. Her expression made him cringe, look in the other direction. Most of his siblings had pieced together his self-destructive tendencies by now, but Vanya had been the one to bare witness to some of them, like that fight he threw back in ’63. “Diego’s right, you know,” she said, turning his hand back over to rub his knuckles, “It wasn’t your fault. It was nobody’s fault.”

“It was Dad’s fault for pushing Ben against his will,” Diego added, getting a smug little glow from being told he was right for once.

“Easy to blame him for everything,” Luther mumbled, staring at the strands of fur poking out from the cuff of his long-sleeved t-shirt, “What did he not fuck us over with?”

“I know we’re having a serious heart-to-heart right now, but I love this bitter Luther who hates Dad.”

He glanced up at Diego then scoffed, shrugging a shoulder. “I love it too. I’m jealous of you guys for realising it sooner.”

His brother and sister both gave him a smile, glad he was calming down. Still, Luther rested his head back against the wall, staring at the flickering light until he saw shapes.

“I wasn’t me at the start of the dream. I was…I was in your body, Diego. And I saw me from your point of view.” He swallowed heavily, turning his fingers so he could give Vanya’s hand the softest squeeze. “I’m…terrifying.”

“Remember when we were kids?” Vanya asked, squeezing his hand back with all her might, “Whenever I found a spider in my bedroom. I’d come to you for help. You know why?”

Luther’s face contorted as he gave it genuine thought but gave up with a huff. “No.”

“Because you were always the gentlest. Klaus and Diego always managed to kill it and Allison and Ben hated them, and Five never managed to catch it properly, but you would get a cup and a piece of paper and release it out your window without hurting it.”

Luther just huffed again, wrinkling his nose. “It’s not like it’s hard…”

“You always made those model kits with all those little bits that snap super easy,” Diego added, sliding up to lean against the wall next to him, “And I’ve never seen a record collection in such perfect condition. Face it, for a guy with super strength, you’re very delicate.”

“…I hate you guys.” It came out dry and sarcastic, through a shy grin. “Okay, I know. I wouldn’t hurt anyone to that extent on purpose, but I still could.”

“And hopefully when you do, it’ll be on the old bastard himself,” Diego said, punching his arm, which got another scoff of laughter.

“I wasn’t the only one whose powers he was holding back,” Vanya said. She reached over to get some toilet paper, not letting go of Luther’s hand as she did, before handing the wad to him. “If he’d just…bothered a little more, you wouldn’t have to be so worried about hurting people.”

“To be fair, that’s all we were taught to do.” Luther blew his nose into the tissue, sighing slowly. “…thanks you guys. For hearing me out.”

Diego threw an arm over his shoulder, pulling his head in close to bump their foreheads together. “Hey. Don’t mention it Lu, okay? We got your back, like we know you got ours.”

“Let’s get back to bed now, huh?” Vanya added softly, awkwardly wiggling closer to give Luther a hug, arms barely reaching around his chest, “Then in the morning, we could…go to that diner on the next block! The one with all those different juice machines?”

Luther closed his eyes, wanting to savour this moment for a little longer as he placed one hand on Vanya’s side and the other at the back of Diego’s head. He was far away from that nightmare now, and that’s all it had been, and all it would ever be. A bad dream.

[razorblade180]

OC test:Speech!

[everyone shall be put in front of crowd and say something. Think of it like rallying troops, orientation, declaring war, whatever. The crowd is 500 strong.]

All the characters stand on a stage, overlooking the wave of people. Jacquelyn stands behind a podium with a microphone while everyone waits their turn.

Jacquelyn:Ummmm, sup? Not much for speeches so I’ll keep this brief. I don’t know what problems you all have, your background, or where you’re heading. What I do know is I’m down to listen to all of it. A traveler loves a good story, so make it your best.

The crowd of people seem a bit caught off gaurd, yet enlightened. They lightly clap and nod as she bows before letting Sienna take the spotlight.

Jacquelyn:Good luck!

Sienna:(How the hell do I follow that up!?)

Sienna:*clears throat* Yo, my name is Sienna Frost. The lovely lady before me was my mother if anyone was wondering. I might have two sets of ears but I assure you, story time isn’t my favorite thing. You wanna show me who you are, then do it instead. As far as mine goes, don’t worry where I’ve been. Just watch where I’m headed. I just might surprise you.

She held up a peace sign and made her exit, leaving the crowd with nothing to say. It would’ve felt like going against her words. Jael came up next. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. The girl chose to back away then began to float up to draw everyone’s direction.

Jael:Remember, on the ground or in the air, look up to me.

That’s all she said before leaving. All the characters were absolutely stunned. Even Carmine. She was sure she’d be the only one to say something wild. Yujin awkwardly walked up next. People immediately started to smile and seem pleasantly surprised.

Yujin:By the looks of some of you, I take it you see my mother’s face in me? That’s fine, it’ll make this easier. Yujin Xiao Long, the girl that’ll be in future text books. Until then, watch me do my thang!

She gave the crowd a prideful smile and a fist bump into the air to hype them up. The crowd did it back and cheered. Tenzen used that energy and added it to his own charisma, choosing to stand on the podium.

Tenzen:Yeah! That’s what I’m talking about. Those with heart of fire and wild dreams, stick around! We’ll have the time of our lives! Never stop doing what you want!

The crowd got even more hyped as him and Yujin high fived before running off stage into the crowd itself. Everybody was given a high five and watched both leave as they laughed. Nick was next to go up. To get their attention, Nick made a glyph in the sky that made it snow. A quick change in the crowds attitude was immediately noticed as they stared at the dignified young man show his usual charming smile and kind eyes that made the women blush and most of the men jealous.

Nick:Good evening, I’m glad to see everyone so lively. As heir to a company you would think I’d be good a speeches. To be honest, I’m panicking inside right now. I made it snow, who just does that!?

The question got the crowd to laugh a little. Jealous faces unknowingly got a little softer.

Nick:Anyways, I just wanna tell everyone here that no matter the situation, lean on me. If not, then those you care about and have better spending habits. Hehe, I think I’ve said enough. Thanks and I hope you all have a good time listening to everyone else.

Crowd:(He’s so polite...)

Snowflakes crew:(There he goes, charming the masses like usual.)

Summer walked up next. Much like her twin brother, a glyph formed in her hand that quickly mixed with fire dust in her clothing. The warm of brace of embers flew out of it like a flicker camp fire that was drawn toward the snow. The gentle blend of fire and iced danced in air around the crowd, leaving them amazed. Summer was no stranger to a crowd or a stage. This might be her easiest test yet. The girl sung a simple word that enchanted everyone like a siren spell. “Mirror~”

Summer:I hope you all enjoyed that little tease. I typically like to warm my voice before addressing an audience so I though of that on the fly. Anyways-

The crowd interrupted her with applause. She hadn’t even spoken what was on her mind and they were hooked! Summer chose to accept it and made her way off the stage. It was even easier than she thought. She turned to Veronica and stuck her tongue out. The faunus responsed by flipping her off and walking away.

Eliza:You’re not making a speech?

Veronica:No, I hate people and do this sort of thing too much. I’m goons go draw or some shit. (Summer can’t say she had a better speech if I never do one.)

Valerie:Wait, this is optional? Guess I’ll leave too.

Eliza:At least day a sentence you two!

Both girls rolled their eyes and walked up together.

Veronica:Sometimes being the change you want and the change the world needs are two different things entirely; acknowledge way and take the step forward, not backwards.

Valerie:A jack of all trades is an ace to no one. Not that it’s a bad thing. Just find the other playing card.

The girls waved to the crowd and went off. Valerie started thinking, which card was she? Nick clapped for the two of them like he always does. Eliza took the opportunity to step forward. A snap of her fingers negated all the semblances still at play. Eliza took a running start to hop off the stage and land with a mighty thump that started a wave of sprouting flowers. This was beginning to be more of a talent show then a public speaking test. What was once winter had turned into spring!

Eliza:Sorry, but I think being eye level and warm with you all is far more appealing. I doubt many of you have heard of the a Marigolds but that’s fine. All you have to know is I’m the one who will elevate their status. Playing nice with others isn’t my strongest quality but fairness is. If by any miracle fate comes to join us together for a purpose, I promise I’ll stand by to the very end and pull out all the stops. I simply ask to put in all the effort you can as well.

A gust of wind came by and swept petals into the air as Eliza did a curtsy. As far as theatrics go, it was show, but more than that. It was the truth. A fair and honest truth. Like a gentle breeze on a spring day. Sparrow stood up to go next.

Sparrow:I....do not care about outcomes.

Crowd:.....What?

OCs:Yeah, what?

Sparrow:Good, bad, surprising, or boring; those concepts don’t apply whenever I’m sailing across the seas with passengers and crew mates. Everything that happens is apart of epic journey. Now I’m not gonna stand here and act like I’m anything special, because I’m not. All the same I am a captain and a damn good one at that. For those who passing through life with ambition in their hearts and freedom through their veins, sail with me. You might just be surprised. Thank you for your time.

The ex-military man put on his captain’s hat and walked away, never looking back at the crowds faces. All he heard were the footsteps of those who dared to follow him. The allure of his words reached some of the young men and women. 500 became 450. Kovu felt nervous, but a bit more confident as he went up to go next. All the women, children, sons and daughters, he looked at them in a different light because of Sparrow.

Kovu:Before Sparrow went up here I had the idea of talking about my family and how they motivate me to do my best. While that is true, now I can’t help but sing a different tune. This isn’t my first time with a microphone in front of my face and it probably won’t be the last. It’s what happens when you’re a Belladonna and your other mom is a top rate huntress. Still, it doesn’t feel real that I should get a microphone and a podium because of that; I’m just a regular guy. Being down there feels more comfortable to me than being up here ever will. Average strength, intelligence, normal qualities, but I guess that last one is debatable.

Carmine:Yeah, you dork!

The crowd and Kovu chuckled at the call out. Carmine didn’t know people too well, but she knew Kovu well enough to know when he’s being hard on himself. She spoke up more for his benefit than anybody else.

Kovu:The point is I’m stunned that despite me just being some normal person, I’m very thankful for the fact that you all stand before me to listen. That’s what motivates me most. Thanks, I’ll keep doing my best.

The crowd happily applauded for him. No fancy tricks or even something to leave the biggest impression. Just a boy who made a speech. On a stage full of giants in their own right, having Kovu being so relatable was a breath of fresh air in its own way. Carmine gave him a thumbs up and finally stepped forward. She ignored the podium entirely, choosing to project her voice to all who looked. The commanding yet calm presence she gave off was already at play.

Carmine: Once upon a time my mother Ruby Rose saved the world. She did it with strength, intelligence, and kindness above all. Her dream to protect others fueled her keep striving towards a happy ending. That same compassion wasn’t paid forward unfortunately and my mother suffered a loss some time later that nearly broke her. My mother wasn’t a very religious person until that incident from what people tell me, but it helped give her peace of my. Everyday she prayed to her god for the strength to press and breathe new life into her symbolically. Until one day it became literal. She asked her god for strength and he gave her me. I’m hopes and dreams given flesh. Not just hers, but I’m yours too. *points to the crowd* To all of you good people wanting peace and needing a defender of your normal life, pick whatever god you worship and thank him for me. To those who decide to rot the world they live in with hate and malice, choose a god and make your peace when you meet me. My name is Carmine Arc Rose, the greatest huntress, no, the greatest huntsman in general to ever walk Remnant. I’ll move forward first to keep you all safe. See you at the finish line, eventually.

Her body faded away into rose petals that were carried into the wind. She was never there to begin with. Carmine had more important things to do. The crowd once again fell silent as the petals kept scattering. All the other testers were at a loss for words themselves, except Kovu.

Kovu:Oh boy, as blunt as ever. To think she’d declare her standing among them like that? She might’ve just told them out right how far away they are compared to her.

Yujin:That was badass!

Sienna:More like cocky. She said she’s the greatest huntsman ever. What does that make her mom?

Kovu:The greatest hero. There’s a difference between the two in Carmine’s eyes. Try not to bring it up though. It’s a can of worms she won’t answer. Ruby is no doubt a Great huntsman but....Carmine has feelings about that title.

A petal gently fell into his hand before taking flight again. Aero still silently resting in the question tree with Carmine sleeping under it. Her little brother fast asleep in her lap. An exceptional huntsman yes, but an even better big sister.

[today-only-happens-once]

Acoustic

Title: Acoustic

Word count: 2129

Summary: Pop star sensation Roman Prince drops by a familiar coffee shop on amateur night, doing his best to avoid being recognized. He certainly didn’t expect the stranger in a hoodie with an acoustic guitar to capture his attention. Musician and Coffeeshop AU rolled into one. Romantic Prinxiety.

Warnings: cursing, singing, duets, crowds. Mostly its just kinda sweet/fluffy. 

A/N:  If you saw my post earlier today about writing a lot of words about a nonsense idea out of nowhere when sometimes I struggle to write 100 words of carefully planned, in-progress chapters, well. This is that nonsense idea. I wrote this in one sitting. Just kind of a fun idea that popped in my head. Hope you enjoy this quick little diddy! ^u^ 

Tags: @creativenostalgiastuff​, @helloisthisusernametaken​, @ren-allen​, @quoth-the-sparrow​, @princelogical​, @random-pianist​, @ravenclawicecream​, @erlenmeyertrash​, @milomeepit​, @at-least-seven-pretty-potatoes​, @rileyfirstname​, @pinkeasteregg​, @sassy-in-glasses​, @vigilantvirgil​, @generalfandomfabulousness​, @lacrimosathedark​, @thepoolofthedead​, @monikastec​, @heir-of-the-founders​, @yourworstnightmare999​, @artistictaurean​, @kanejandkruge​, @cdragontogacotar​, @candiukas, @damienswifeolicitydallysgirl​, @angst-patton, @savingshae​, @noneed4thistbh, @awesomelissawho, @unikornavenger, @bopthesnoz, @spiralofsilencetheory, @finger-gunsss, @crownswriter123, @swlotakulady34

…

Roman Prince tucks his nose into his thick scarf as he ducks into the coffee shop, the small bell above the door signaling the pop star’s appearance. His white beanie is pulled low over his messy flop of brown hair, and he keeps half of his face tucked into the scarf in an attempt to avoid being recognized. In many ways, he feels like Thomas’s Coffeeshop is the last safe haven he really has in this city. He’d been coming here for years, and though he knew his manager Remy would probably ream him out for sneaking out so much… Roman wouldn’t give it up for anything. He felt like a normal person here.

The far corner of the shop already has speakers set up. Thursday nights were Roman’s favorite, because it was amateur night. People of all ages would sign up during the week to come in and perform for around 15 minutes, just to get exposure and practice. When he was in high school—before he caught his big break thanks largely to a viral video—he used to come and play once in a while.

At the moment, a guy looking around Roman’s age is sitting on a stool in front of the speakers and the piano in the corner. He’s working on tuning an acoustic guitar. The guy’s purple-plaid-patched hoodie fits with his sweep of fading purple bangs. Roman eyes him as he steps up to the counter, tugging the scarf down from his mouth.

“Hey, welcome to Thomas’s! What can I get for ya?” says a warm, familiar voice that makes Roman smile. Patton Foster looks up at him, a spark of recognition in his eyes. Patton is about a year older than Roman, and had started working at the coffeeshop as a teenager around the time Roman started performing here. Patton knows better than to say anything, but the sincerity of his grin reminds Roman why this shop always felt a little bit like coming home.

“Large mocha with an extra pump of chocolate,” Roman replies with a smile of his own as he digs his wallet out. “The usual.”

Patton shakes his head slightly. “I don’t know why I still ask,” he says, still smiling. “Logan’ll get that for ya in a minute.”

Roman pays and steps out of the way for the person behind him, sliding onto a stool by the counter. He checks his phone for the time, hearing the stranger on the stool strum a few chords before adjusting the strings again. It’s almost ten o’clock.

Roman looks at the stranger about to perform. He’s got dark eyeshadow smudged under eyes and there’s something unexpected at seeing him holding an acoustic guitar when it seems like everything about his whole aesthetic would hint at hard rock or punk music. The light brown wooden instrument softens the look slightly. Logan calls out his order and hands it to him over the glass barrier and Roman takes a sip of it. He sighs softly, relaxing a bit at the familiar taste.

“He’s good,” Patton says, startling him. The barista is wiping the counter down, and he nods in the direction of the stranger who was now adjusting the mike.

Roman hums. “Yeah?”

Patton tosses the towel onto his shoulder. “Yeah. But don’t take my word for it,” he says before the stranger speaks into the mike.

“Hey, guys,” he says. His voice is low with a little bit of gravel to it. “I’m, uh, Virgil Shea. I thought I’d do a cover or two before trying out a new song I finished Tuesday. Sound good?”

Patton cheers from behind the counter along with a few patrons. Virgil glances at Patton, the corner of his mouth quirking slightly before he ducks his head. He starts strumming, and Roman swivels around on the stool to face him, tugging the scarf back up over his nose as he watches. Virgil seems to take a deep breath as he plays the intro. It’s not until he starts to sing, his eyes drifting closed for a moment, that Roman recognizes the song.

“Some days, things just take way too much of my energy. I look up and the whole room’s spinning…”

As he sings and plays, Roman can’t help but feel entranced by him. Virgil doesn’t have a large stage presence—he stays on the stool the entire time—but his melodic voice floats through the coffeeshop and he fills the space around him anyway. Roman watches, impressed and a little moved by the way he seems to put all of himself into the song without making a show of it. There’s a vulnerability to Virgil in this moment, and Roman can’t look away.

And his riffs. Damn, Roman thinks as he listens to Virgil sing. Virgil’s gaze drifts around the room, but Roman swears it settles squarely on him as he riffs on the last note. A beautiful, crystal clear high note.

Holy shit, I think I’m in love a little bit.

The song ends and Virgil’s mouth curls up into a small smile as the coffeeshop erupts into applause and a couple of cheers. It’s a small room, but it’s certainly packed. Virgil nods his head in thanks, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

“Thank you,” he says into the mic as he adjusts the guitar strap around his shoulders. “Next, I… well, are there any requests?”

There’s a brief moment before someone towards the back calls out, “Falling Slowly!” Roman raises his eyebrows at the suggestion, even as it’s followed with a few other people repeating it in enthusiasm.

Virgil laughs slightly and rubs the back of his neck. “You mean from Once? Isn’t that a duet? And it kind of needs piano, right?” He glances at the piano behind him, then looks back out at the crowded room. “Any of you want to join in?”

“He does,” says a familiar voice and Roman feels a hand close over his wrist and pull his hand into the air. Roman whirls with wide eyes to see Patton looking back at him. His eyes are wide with an innocence that Roman doesn’t buy for one second.

What are you doing? Roman mouths. Patton gives him an encouraging nudge and small grin. Roman looks back at Virgil, his eyes still wide. This was not what he had intended to happen.

“It’s up to you, dude,” Virgil tells him, and Roman breathes a faint breath of relief that nobody seems to have recognized him yet. Roman did tend to wear a lot of stage make-up and costumes when he performed, which made it easier to blend in when he was out and about in the general public.

And singing a duet with a voice like that…

Roman sighs a little and shrugs. “I can’t resist a good showtune,” he answers finally. A few people cheer enthusiastically. He slides off the stool and sets his mocha down on the counter behind him. He looks back at Virgil. “You sure you don’t mind?”

Virgil shrugs a shoulder and jerks his head towards the piano. “It’s chill, man.”

Roman doesn’t know for sure why he feels suddenly nervous. He’s performed in front of stadiums full of people before. He’s even sung duets before. But something about this small, enclosed space… something about Virgil… sets Roman’s heart racing like it did the first night he performed on this very make-shift stage.

Roman tries not to flush slightly as brushes past Virgil who gives him a small, encouraging smile. He takes a seat on the piano bench brushes his fingers over the keys, adjusts the mic slightly, and then looks at Virgil. For the briefest moment, when they lock eyes, Roman thinks that the entire coffeeshop melts away.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Virgil tells him, pulling his mic stand back towards the piano and slightly to the side so that they can look at one another. He adjusts the strap of his guitar.

Roman takes a breath, places his fingers on the keys, and begins to play. The careful arpeggiated chords drift softly through the coffee shop, and the few patrons who’d been chatting quietly to one another fall silent.

Virgil leans into the mic a bit. “I don’t know you, but I want you all the more for that.”

Roman finds himself smiling softly at he continues to play and joins in with the harmony. “Words fall through me and always fool me and I can’t react.”  

Roman swears he sees Virgil smile a little as he comes in with the guitar. “And games that never amount to more than they’re meant will play themselves out.”

He can feel butterflies in his stomach and he can’t help the way his lips curl up in a smile as he lets the piano swell with the guitar a bit as they both enter the chorus. “Take this sinking boat and point it home. We’ve still got time. Raise your hopeful voice, you have a choice. You’ve made it now.”

As the song progresses, Roman realizes that he’s only ever looking at either his hands on the piano or at Virgil. He’s almost forgotten that they have an audience, the faces blending into the background in favor of the person with the guitar standing a few feet in front of him. His messy hair falls into his dark eyes, but every time he looks back at Roman as they sing the pop star swears there’s a spark of something in them. A curiosity, but also something else. He just can’t be sure of what.

Roman hopes Virgil doesn’t mind too much when he steals Virgil’s part and sing, “You have suffered enough and warred with yourself. It’s time that you won.” From the look in his eyes and the faint smile he offers, Roman’s pretty sure he didn’t mind.

“Falling slowly, sing your melody,” they both sing as they lock eyes and Roman swears his heart does a little flip. “I’ll sing it now.”

They layer over one another with soft melodic riffs. Roman lets his eyes drift closed for a moment as they play and improv off one another a little bit. He feels his lips tug into a smile as the song starts to slow.

Virgil counts the beats quietly into the mic as they both hold a chord. They circle back to the ways the song had begun, with the gentle arpeggiated chords. Roman holds the other musicians gaze as it slows before they hold the final chord.

Roman gives him a soft smile. Thank you, he mouths. Virgil still has that look in his eyes that is both soft and curious. The coffeehouse erupts into applause again, several cheers and a few whistles.

And then everything comes to a screeching halt as someone shouts over the cheers, “Wait, are you Roman Prince?!” Before Roman can even try to play it off, someone else chimes in, “I knew that voice sounded familiar!”

As questions and shouting rise up, Roman fishes a business card out of his pocket, grabs a pencil sitting on the piano, and scribbles down his phone number. He can hear Patton trying to shout over the crowd but he doesn’t try to follow the conversation. He needs to get out of here ASAP. He can already see people pulling up their phones. Flashes of light indicate pictures getting taken. Remy’s gonna kill him…

Roman is mentally cursing himself. Virgil probably hates him now. He hadn’t wanted to upstage him, steal his spotlight… Roman is afraid of what the expression Virgil’s face might be. In his peripheral, he can see Patton pushing out from behind the counter and making his way towards the stage, probably to use a mic.

Roman stands up and crosses over towards Virgil. His eyes are wide, but Roman can’t quite read the expression in them with all the flashing lights, movement of people pressing closer towards them, his racing heart clouding his thoughts. Roman presses the card with his cellphone number on it into Virgil’s hands.

“I’m so sorry,” Roman is telling him quickly, straining to be heard over the sudden pandemonium of people asking for selfies, autographs, taking videos… “But that—”

“Roman,” comes Logan’s urgent voice right beside him. “You gotta go.”

“I know, I know,” Roman tells him, then looks back at Virgil earnestly. “Look, Virgil, you’re—”

“Now,” Logan insists, grabbing his arm and pulling him through the crowd. The last thing Roman sees before he ducks out the door and into the cold night air is Virgil standing on the stage, glancing down at the card in his hand and meeting Roman’s eyes one last time before the door swings shut and Roman makes a run for his car.

…