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vaguely-concerned · 3 years

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So I got an anon ask a long time ago that, from sketchy memory, said something like: Who do you think had the better/worse home life growing up, Graves or TF? And I’m super sorry because it’s gotten lost somewhere on this blue hellsite and I can’t find it again anywhere I’ve looked, but I thought I’d try to write out a post as a response anyway! I’m sorry it’s so late, it took me a while to know how to answer aaand then I had to rifle through my drafts fifteen times to see if I could find it. Again, oops and sorry lol. (In general, if you’ve sent me an ask and I haven’t answered… please know that’s on my little ping pong ball of a brain bouncing erratically around in here, and absolutely not on you.) Also I’m going to mention some stuff around physical and emotional child abuse and trauma in this – nothing graphic or in depth, but just in case anyone needs the heads-up!

Okay, so my personal headcanon/what I’ve built for my fics* is that they’re both only children of single mothers. Graves has no idea who his dad is and Mama Graves possibly has only the haziest approximate idea too haha (none of the candidates would be promising long-term prospects in any case), but in Bilgewater logic he basically grew up with the idea that in having one living parent with any kind of investment in his survival (and occasionally even happiness, an embarrassment of riches here) he might as well have hit the jackpot. TF’s dad died when TF was very little and he doesn’t remember him, and that loss is partially why his mother wasn’t able to do a very good job at the parenting thing. (She probably would have done better with a dependable partner and less depression weighing her down, but there’s some underlying emotional immaturity there too that was the real problem.) Between the two of them he probably did have the safer environment around him growing up, though; child rearing among his people was a good deal more communal and tight-knit than in the gutters of Rat Town, he was raised along with a bunch of cousins/other kids. (He was seen by most of the adults as kind of a weird annoyingly precocious kid – there is a certain kind of adult who’ll get very uncomfortable around an uncannily observant and inquisitive child – and there were Family Politics at play there as well that meant he had a subtle sense of being on the outside already there.)

Graves’ mom was physically and verbally abusive (and drank too much periodically, mostly when he got a bit older) but also had some genuine care for his wellbeing and safety, especially physically, while TF grew up with a largely emotionally unavailable and neglectful mom who collapsed into helplessness and rejection whenever he needed things from her, and then was completely abandoned by her and everyone else in the family in the end. He did experience some much better and more loving connection with his (paternal) grandfather, but his grandfather also struggled with an ever worsening serious health condition that was slowly growing terminal as TF turned eleven or so – by the time he got exiled at thirteen his grandpa was barely awake for hours at a time some days and couldn’t really do anything to help him :(

And now let me try to show my work a bit around what parts of their lore I’ve extrapolated/built this from and elaborate on the long-term effects on their ways of dealing with relationships!

So to Graves being the recipient of indifference feels much worse than anger or conflict in relationships, because his primary attachment relationship taught him that interest, even in the form of anger, was a sign that he mattered to his mother; her anger (often born of fear and boy does Bilgewater offer a lot of things to fear) and insistence on being involved in his life (so he wouldn’t y’know end up being eaten by a warf rat or something while being a dumbass kid lol) were proof that she loved him and that he had some sort of importance in the dangerous violent world he was born into.

He takes TF running away from him as a sign of indifference and rejection/abandonment, which is why it just keeps escalating the rage and hurt in him during the whole chase scene in Burning Tides; to him it reads as more and more proof that TF doesn’t care about him and never really did, that he’s blowing off all the pain Graves has been through the last ten years and that he’s desperate to convey to someone (because I think that’s also part of why he feels he needs TF to listen to him before he actually does anything violent to him; he needs someone to hear and witness how much it hurts, even if that’s not the vocabulary he knows how to use. And he needs TF to listen both because he thinks he’s the one to blame but also because he’s the person he thinks would understand or that it would matter to – aside from his mother he’s the only other person he has actually had such a close relationship with. Some parts of him still know TF as ‘love, safety, home’ even while other parts are on the war path with lethal intent, and the raging parts carrying the abandonment pain go ‘well, then I’ll fucking make him feel this as much as I do one way or the other’ (sinister intent). Even that is still a bid for connection on some level.)

I really think part of Graves’ way of feeling and showing love is grounded in mutuality that way. Even in that twisted form, what he wants from TF is mutual connection. (Which is why TF disappearing into his Cool Magic Gambler Persona TM bothers him so much, because it leaves him ‘alone’ and without that back and forth flow of call and response of connection between them (look at their moment in the crate in the animated short for an example of what I mean – the way their bodies and gazes do an effortless sort of a back and forth sway of expression: TF leans in with a conspiratorial air and stays there as Graves takes in his meaning, Graves leans in eagerly as he gets it and TF smugly settles back against him, and you can see how much they BOTH enjoy it. TF could just have used the card immediately, but his first thought is to share their imminent triumph with Graves and make a moment of it, have a connection. I don’t know how clearly I’ve managed to express it with that, I just go on Vibes and that’s why I write fiction lol. See also the immediate easy back and forth they fall into at the end of Burning Tides, where so much can be left unspoken because they know each other that well, and how it makes Graves GRIN when only like fifteen minutes earlier he notes it’s been a long, long time since he laughed. Which then gets the paranoia briefly kicking in for a moment because that’s Dangerous Territory to his trauma brain, but I really do think that their safe established connection is part of how Graves has honestly been getting back on his feet with surprising speed and ease considering Everything.)

There’s an ability to fully commit to an idea of us without having the I become lost there that I think must have started very early. As lacking and harmful as she was in other ways Mama Graves did provide that sense of unflinching ‘me and you against the world you little shit’ psychological security.

(Graves is also very quick to hear criticism where it isn’t even intended because oh boy Mama Graves always had something to complain about, TF has had to do a lot of baffled ‘…Malcolm, that is NOT what I said where the fuck did that come from’ unpacking with him over the years whenever that kicks in for him)

Meanwhile TF had to learn to fashion affection from indifference growing up: he basically learned from his mom that the best thing he could do for her was to need nothing from her, to make her life as easy as possible however he could and intuiting the things that would accomplish that without troubling her, and if he did it right she would give him some superficial attention and affection, and that’s what love is. Writing it out this is… very very sad. She would also sometimes have unpredictable anger episodes where she’d snap at him instead (often rooted in repressed shame because something in her recognized this is not how it’s supposed to go) – they were rarer but did some real damage whenever they happened. This is where his ability to read people probably started getting honed to its razor sharpness.

As you see there’s a brutal lack of mutuality in this dynamic, and a reversal of how the parent/child dynamic should actually work, the kid desperately having to do their damnedest to regulate the parent to get any needs met at all and not really managing it, because that is the DEFINITION of getting set up to lose, it just can’t work. (And I do think that mutuality Graves freely offers in close relationships is a huuuuuge part of why TF is so attracted to him both initially and enduringly, it fulfills basic needs he didn’t have met as a kid. His mom set him up to give and give and get very little back, but Graves has that basic sense of fairness that he doesn’t want TF to give him something without him getting something of equal value back in return, it just seems against some sort of code haha. There’s no honor among thieves but there is between partners, sort of thing.)

It’s also why he defaults to Flight in very tense situations – when the angry dudes came for him in the incident that lead to his exile he had no one safe to go to for help, and he was one small slip of a kid against a bunch of drunk angry adults; there really wasn’t a lot else his brain knew how to do than get away, and then he’s abandoned for it on top of it all afterwards. Trauma sandwich with shame for mustard holy shit.

I am basing this heavily on the underlying theme in Burning Tides that TF thinks that by running away he’s helping Graves by making sure he won’t put them in a position that’ll invariably seriously hurt (or worse) one or both of them while he’s so angry that he’s not in his right mind, and he’s SO frustrated that Graves doesn’t see that – “Will you ever learn? Every time I try to help you – ”. No, actually, the feeling I get is more that he thinks Graves does understand it – that it’s such a self-evident part of how relationships work that he MUST know it – he’s just ignoring and devaluing it, which is what seems like rejection through TF’s eyes. He’s essentially trying to regulate Graves’ emotions for him in an (innocently instinctive, I think) manipulative way, and he’s hurt and confused as if by rejection that Graves doesn’t accept that or won’t play along with it. “I’m trying to shield you from the consequences of your actions here because I care about you; why won’t you let me???” hahaha. In the process he also can’t take Graves’ emotions seriously or meet them until he’s been chased into a corner and is forced to, because as far as he’s concerned his job is to give them an out from all that and he can’t bear doing ‘his part’ while forced to take in just how broken Graves is inside and what it means; that he’s lost him all over again. There’s no simple ‘okay okay hang on I can fix this by myself one moment please’ here, sunshine.

Interestingly Graves DOES seem to recognize this uh love language of TF’s as it were, when he’s less severely triggered:

Damn me, he’s right. I do things my way. Always have. Whenever I pushed it too far, he had my back. He was always the one with the out.

But I didn’t listen to him that day, and I haven’t since.

And now, I’ve killed us both.

And this is the exact realization that makes him believe TF is telling the truth about what happened back then, and makes him try to save him. It’s not quite forgiveness just like that, all at once, but it is a clearing of Graves’ poor trauma-battered brain’s confusion, like he can finally see both of them clearly again and that there is deep love on both sides here even after everything.

Not only does he recognize it, he even gets it deeply enough that what he returns is in the same language:

Now, at the end, I believe T.F. I know he tried everything to get me out, like he did all those times when we ran together. This time, for once, I’ve got the out. I can at least give him that.

(Which is also proof that Graves is not unheedingly ‘my way or the highway’ or incompetent in relationships, incapable of taking on another person’s point of view and seriously considering it, or cruel or particularly aggressive in close relationships when not completely torn up by trauma. And again that mutual shared sense of fairness I think is at the base of how their dynamic works. He recognizes what TF has done for him and tried to do for him and what it means, and he wants to return that in kind, not least because it’s the fair thing to do. Again, it’s about the mutuality of it all! Graves may need some time to muddle through and figure it out sometimes but y’know he gets there he gets there eventually lmao, in some ways I suspect he can actually be more mature and levelheaded about interpersonal stuff than TF, who, poor man, is just one big aching quivering abandonment issue most days)

Like when it’s finally clicking into place what’s actually going on, that the care he’d thought was there hadn’t been a lie all along after all – suddenly the world makes sense again. Which seems to be enough for him to meet death if not peacefully then at least not as broken inside as he was before that moment and realization. (TBF TF could probably have been a lot more communicative about his intentions instead of expecting Graves to understand it just from his subtle maneuverings and like Vibes haha, but well that was the unspoken deal with his mother, that it had to be seamless so neither of them had to face what was going on)

It feels like a lot of their current issues in communication comes from Graves exasperatedly being like ‘Tobias I don’t want to be managed, I want you to just talk with me like a normal human being’ and ‘chasing after’ him when he pulls away because he feels abandoned, and TF having forgotten how to like… Person during that decade when he was alone, instead just doing that ‘what does this person want from me (and how can I use that to manipulate them)’ dance he’s gotten FRIGHTENINGLY good at with other people and that doesn’t really work with someone that knows you so well and actually wants your company. It’s going to take some sinking in that Graves doesn’t want him for what he can do for him but because, y’know. He’s him and they’re Partners.

I think TF can handle the current (understandable lol) turbulence in their relationship, but his biggest fear is to be really, truly seen by someone and deemed unworthy and abandoned, having let them that close. So in a weird fucked up way he was more okay with Graves trying to hunt him down and kill him than he would have been if he had looked at him as all that he was and went ‘actually y’know what? Fuck this and fuck you you’re not worth it, I’m just leaving without you’. Truly a “TF, he wants to kill you” “*wobbly teary voice* at least someone wants me for something” “TF NO” situation.

TL;DR: their parents were both terrible and dysfunctional in their own ways, but Mama Graves would n e v e r have left her kid alone on that riverbank; she’d sooner have cursed the rest of them black and blue and flipped them off with both hands before marching off with him. Accuse her of many things and rightly so, but she was no coward and she was loyal as fuck to the few things that mattered to her, she would have tried to fight the devil himself with a frying pan for that dumb fucking kid (if she was sober enough that day ouch). In the other direction TF’s mom would never have hit him. TF had more of an experience of a safe community, but then he also had a much more brutal and complete abandonment at the end of that. There are probably very good reasons Graves left Bilgewater for the mainland when he was barely even more than a boy. …man there are so many ways to mess up a child’s brain huh thank god they found each other and mostly managed to make that work honestly

*With the caveat that there’s some wiggle room for change here as I work on my TF POV WIP and refine the ideas I’ve got in there – change more in the small details than in the big picture concepts, though, I think I’ve got that moooostly settled now? also I really want to stress that this is just my ideas and opinions, if you imagine something completely different for their backgrounds that is Valid haha

#anon I hope you see this and also that my full on psychoanalysis at the slightest provocation isn't... too over the top haha #tf x graves #twistedgraves #tfgraves meta #league of legends #writing this all out really helped me solidify some stuff I'd been struggling to put into words so thanks for the prompt!

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henlex · 3 years

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Disclaimer: I accidentally fell in love with gye so just bare with me🙏 I didnt plan for that

Another underrated pair for @bonknanab 💖💕💖💕💖

Gyechan

First thoughts holy shit all the earth. But gye cancer venus MY HEART this boy is so soft bye. A whole marshmallow. Also the amount of taurus too, this boy LOVES cuddling. But so does minchie cuz virgo AND leo = cuddles sooooo. Leo moon. Makes sense.

Suns

Gye: taurus. Earth, really steady and strong, very consistent/ dependable. They rely on their senses to experience the world. Like the care a lot about how things feel, taste, smell. Catch them wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket. They can be possessive, they love their things a lot and want to protect them. But this can carry over to people too, they like to possess their loved ones, like have ownership of them. It helps them feel secure. It's just so cute oml😭 tangent: this is why kangmin feels so comfy with the and he's his favorite. He's just a kid with a ton of emotions (scorp moon) and gye is just so stable and reliable, that "I've got you I'm not going anywhere" energy that kangmin needs. I'm a sap leave me alone. But they hardly get jealous. Can be pretty stubborn and slow moving. They dont like change and dont like changing their mind. Slow to start, especially if they're comfy, they might just lay in bed all day😂

Min: Virgo. Hardworking, love being knowledgeable about things/ learning about them. Sensitive to their surroundings. Can be shy with new people but when comfortable theyll talk forever. They love to be appreciated and useful. Prone to worry, they tend to be pretty responsible. They love to be doing something and can get restless when they arent. Can be perfectionists because they want to do things the best they can. They're very aware of their bodies. Very curious and love to explore, great observers. They can be pretty hard on themselves 😭 They can be very proud of the way they do things. Can be big sweethearts and are always ready to help.

Moon

Gye: Taurus: ay it's me🤝 So a lot of the same as the sun, but this is the core, his emotions. These people have a super calming aura, you just kind of feel wrapped in a blanket. They love consistency and home. They put down deep roots. Can be a bit oblivious and avoid messy/ chaotic displays. Can be conservative. Deep emotions, affection, sentimental. Romantic but do like taking risks with the first move. Really good instincts. Really good sense of smell?? They really stick with things, dont run when things get hard. Once they're in, they're in for the long haul. It takes a lot to actually bother them.

Min: Leo. This is why he likes being on stage even though virgos tend to be behind the scenes types. They really love entertaining those they're close too and are often a comedian. They kind of like to control their inner circle. Strong desire to create and entertain but can be a bit lazy, possibly bossy too. They need a lot of love and attention to function😭 They can be really dramatic if they get offended but they dont like public displays, they save that for home😂 Stubborn, needs time to adjust to changes. They strive for fairness and hate following orders.

Mercury

Gye: taurus. Istg what is this man

Say it with me kids stub👏born👏

Slow moving, think through decisions. They seem lazy because of just how long it takes them to decide something😂 Slow to start things... Sensual again. Slow communication, everything is deliberate. Very practical so people take them seriously. Can be pretty sarcastic and funny. Pleasant voices. Practical in learning too, they need to have real world examples or know how it affects them.

Min: virgo😂. Likes order/ control, gets uneasy when it's not. Detail oriented. LOVE when appreciate their intellect. Very good at taking care of the day to day. They can be impatient with others because they think they do things best. Helps others by taking care of the little things.

Venus

Gye: cancer. UWU. We've got a marshmallow guys.

Ok so Sensitive in love, they like commitment and dependability. Theyll give you security, comfort and care. They show their love by caring for you. They crave safety. They watch their loved ones emotions. This is a big 180 after all the Taurus. They can be moody to get attention oml. Either this is really toned down from the taurus moon or im blind. It's hard for them to forgive/ forget if you've hurt them (same with the taurus moon so☠) They can retreat/ hide to care for themselves. God this is like taurus but extra soft😭 Ok so strong attachment to family and home. Sentimental, love snuggling😭 They need to feel secure and have a strong fear of rejection/ abandonment.

Min: virgo. Good lord. Not flirty. Tries to win someone over with devotion and showing them a ton of attention. Cautious, slowly makes his way into their heart. Sensitive and insecure in love😭 They need to know feelings are mutual before they make a move..... Can childishly tease their crush💆🏼‍♀️ But they have good intentions. They arent attracted to show offs, they like understated, unnoticed people. These people love quietly helping and doing the little things. You'll win them over if you recognize their efforts, they just want to be appreciated.

Mars

Gye: libra. Out of left field fr. Oop indecisive yet again. He's so lucky theres not a ton of fire in this group or I swear people would kill him. I'm sure dongheon and hoyoung have gotten impatient before tho cuz damn. Anyway they really like to weigh all their options. Overwhelming desire for balance. They're generally optimistic, and can be defensive. Can play innocent. Passive aggressive 💆🏼‍♀️. Very good mediators.

Can be incredibly charming. The pickiest lovers and desire equality it every aspect.

Min: leo. A strong creative energy and the feeling their life has significant meaning and purpose. Very passionate. Driven and normally have a set path. They have an air of authority and power. Lol they demand loyalty and admiration in their relationships. Can get fired up when they feel wronged or defensive. But they're really kind and driven by the heart.

Eye.

*skip for s*x mentions* do like idek how to say this. But like they want to be seen as godlike, worshipped. But they also want to worship the other person. Likes an imbalance of power. Show off. Possessive + jealous but tries to hide it. But everything is laced with love and affection.

Notes:

Gye's steadiness could really help min to calm his worry.

it's great that it takes a lot to actually annoy him cuz...we all know minchie 💕

Omfg they're both kinda lazy😂 Lazy morning cuddles let's goooo.

Ok but gye could very much be oblivious to mins need for love/ compliments etc. Cue that clip gye had to compliment min and it was short but min was like that's all?? And the was like Oh! And just kept on going. So cute. Like he has to problem expressing his affection but min literally needs to physically say how much he needs😂😂

They both hate change and surprises so🤝

Ok but minchans venus is kind of perfect for gyes cuz he needs that stability. But gye would probably be thrown at first if minchan wasnt being obvious. Theyd be really cute together but the challenge would be getting together.

Honestly they seem super soft and comfy (probably mostly behind the camera rip) earth babies but also playful and precious. As the 2 earth signs in the group (and with a ron of earth placements too) they could really find solace in each other and I think that's so sweet💕

#ships #verivery #kpop astrology #gyehyeon #verivery gyehyeon #minchan #verivery minchan #gyechan #astrology #asks

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 4 years

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Land Mammal | Feeding Habits Update #7

Hello! We are back for another Feeding Habits update, but this time we’re chatting chapter 8, aka Land Mammal.

Just a reminder: This is my original work and plagiarism of any form will not be tolerated.

Scene outline & excerpts under the cut because this one is a long one! If you missed previous updates or are new to the project, check out the novel intro page (which links all the updates) HERE!

Taglist (please ask to be added or removed): @if-one-of-us-falls @qatarcookie, @chloeswords, @alicewestwater, @laughtracksonata, @ev--writes , @jaydewritesfiction, @jennawritesstories , @august-iswriting, @berinswriting

Scene A:

After Harrison enters his apartment to find his ex Lonan hanging out in his kitchen in chapter six, he nopes to his room and tends to his German Shepherd puppy, June.

His mother, Suzanna interrupts him and attempts to explain that he can’t run away from his problems, and after the two argue, Harrison exits his room to find Lonan mopping up Harrison’s tracks of seawater from chapter six.

Scene B:

Harrison brings Lonan to a kiosk for canoe rentals and rents a canoe. Harrison sets up their journey whereas Lonan refuses to enter the water after subtly announcing a new fear of it. Instead, he collects beach stones from the sand. They have their first conversation in months where Harrison eggs Lonan on until he finally gets in the canoe. They set out on the water where Harrison questions Lonan regarding his relationship with Eliza (who he presumes he’s still in a relationship with) who is not there with him. Harrison accuses Lonan of murder and subsequently capsizes the canoe so they reunite underwater.

Scene C:

Harrison wakes up alone the next day on a hay bale, having stolen Lonan’s money (and shirt tea tea tea). We can assume he’s abandoned him and has travelled to the barn mentioned in chapter six. Here, he decides he needs an excuse for why he’s there early to the homeowners. He decides, since they hired him to fix up their barn, he’ll just say he was trying to be a good worker and get a head start.

However, as he approaches the farmhouse, the door is opened for him by Sharleen Harvey, his boss’ wife. He bullshits his excuse for being there so early just as Sharleen leads him to the breakfast table where Lonan sits (lol). Everyone there knows Harrison is clearly lying.

Scene D:

Harrison eats pancakes on the porch with the Harveys’ dog when Lonan joins him.

Scene Ea:

We dive into what happened after Harrison capsized their canoe. Harrison gets a lil unhinged and things get a lil murdery oops. This leads to shenanigans!! That is all I will say!!!

Scene Eb:

A very short, poetic paragraph that collects details from sentences in scene Ea that follow a Blue [NOUN] structure.

Scene Ec:

A two-sentence nudge at the ~the shenanigans

Scene F:

Harrison notices Lonan wears the ring he and Harrison tracked Eliza down to retrieve, and questions him as to why he didn’t propose to her with it. He goes on a desperate rant on why they should’ve gotten married before Lonan insists it’s now time for him to bring him home. The end of this scene signals a very slight glimpse of Harrison finally humanizing Lonan after a chapter of demonizing him (and also Harrison’s failing mental state).

Scene Ga:

Harrison falls asleep on the car ride back to his apartment in the city and doesn’t wake up until a day later. In this time, Lonan has stayed with him. He eventually wakes up and immediately notices Lonan fiddling with the guardian angel pendant he gifted him. Harrison seems to finally realize the weight of Lonan’s humanity in this scene and allows himself to trust him once again to some extent.

Scene Gb:

A second poem paragraph that references the water shenanigans that occur in scene Ea

Can you tell I’ve been really into poetry lately the poet in me said hello!

Excerpts:

This is a ~tender excerpt that explains Harrison’s mindset!

Suzanna is prettier in bad light. The tungsten of his bedroom’s cheap lightbulb cratering her waterline so the smudge of kohl shifts, the zip of her crow’s feet, the shimmer on her cheeks, all the soft things about her. She holds a beach towel, cactus print. This new life a second try neither asked for but committed to, this move back to the east their thing. Window-shopping for kitchenware on Sundays, snatching samples of bratwurst and sauerkraut for each other at the market, sharing each other’s toothpicks, burning caramel popcorn and renting the wrong DVDs, inventing new takes on boeuf bourguinon, sending postcards to each other even though they share an address. Undeniably theirs. A life unappreciated, and yet what he says next is “Where’s Eliza?” instead of I don’t want this life to end. Harrison pets the dog.

The following is the entire scene of the boys’ first interaction in months. TW: homicide, religious content, suicide, nods to self-harm

A canoe-rental kiosk ruching the Hudson River. Harrison pays for a two-hour timeslot with the last of his savings and lugs it to the shoreline by himself. It is nearly midnight, the sky clogged with fog and moonlight.

Lonan will not enter the water. Back near the kiosk, he fiddles with a beachstone, bathing in tungsten from the streetlamp above him. He gave no reason for his rejection, just picked stones as they walked along the boardwalk, through the parking lot, to the kiosk. As if he’d polish them, feed them through a rock tumbler as if he has the patience for that, tend to them like infants, shape, polish, burnish, sell them for thirty dollars a piece and donate the money to an animal sanctuary, as if has the mind to.

Harrison shifts the canoe perpendicular to the water and steps in. The boat cranks under his weight, its coldness seeping through his jeans.

Lonan stoops for more stones. His knees luminescing in white sand. His hair oilslick, cropped to his scalp like blunt grass. His fingers arrowing through sand, a raven filching seed. He unearths the stones with urgency, a paleontologist, a gravedigger.

“You’ll never make a sale on those,” Harrison shouts from the canoe. His voice splinters the night and puffs with the sand.

Lonan nearly drops his handful of stones. It takes him a moment to look up, and when he does, he searches the treeline first, the windows of a parked SUV, the gaps between a thicket of lifejackets before reaching Harrison, and he’s so deerlike, Harrison thinks, he’s so limp, so feeble, so susceptible. His hair jutting briefly from his scalp like an accordion, badly cut probably because Eliza likes it that way. His skin nearly lilac in places, a gauntness in his face, a hunger.

“My mother tells me you like her cooking,” he continues. “That you’re here for your sister. That you’re here alone.”

Lonan reaches for another stone.

“Eliza wants you to look like a deacon.” Harrison frills a hand toward his hair, snaps his fingers like scissors. “So holy. I could ordain you right now. Make you born-again. There’s so much water.”

“I don’t swim,” Lonan says. He reaches for another stone, then another so his palms turn into one.

“You don’t? You’re a land mammal. Rhinoceros. Hippopotamus. Is it the stones? You’re afraid they’ll sink you?”

“I’m not keeping the stones.”

“Then why search for them?”

Lonan sets the pile down. They clatter into the sand and toil into new holes, a sand cloud disguising them in the minute he rises, dusts himself off, limb by limb, and walks toward the canoe.

“Is it supposed to be avant garde?” Harrison asks as he gets closer. “The hair. So avant garde. So high fashion. Everyone wants you.” And then, “You’re scared of water now. The last time I knew you that’s where you wanted to be buried. It’s a good opportunity. Take the stones with you. Company that serves a purpose.”

Lonan hikes into the canoe. He takes a seat opposite Harrison and grips the paddle as if it’s a murder weapon ready to save him.

“She might be dead,” Lonan says. They push from the shore, and Lonan scores the water with the paddle until the kiosk shrinks. His hands jitter, unsteady, but takes them through the water. “She’s not with me.”

“Are those things related?” Harrison shifts closer to him, that haunted, lilac, hungry face, the edges of him he knows, he’s touched, the nose he’s nudged, the eyelids he’s dabbed, the ears he’s breathed into and out of, the mouth he’s spoken into and spoken out of. That hunted lilac hungry face, searching for a place where he can be sustenance, a place he knows, a place of comfort. The holes all closed. Those pores no longer constellations he’s memorized. That haunted lilac hungry face no longer his. “How did you do it?” Harrison asks. He stares at Lonan’s hands, the hands he should know, nailbeds he’s scored with his own, fingers he’s matched with his own, palms he’s stamped with his own. “Asphyxiation? Death by drowning. Death by land mammal.” He tries his wrist next, tendons flexing with the paddle, that expanse of skin a flute of ivory, those veins he should know, where they conjoin, where they branch like an oakwood. Those scars he knows the stories of—accidents, non-accidents, safety pins, lighters, cigarettes, ballpoint pens. Harrison could recite those stories a year ago and now they’ve dissolved, unmemories.

“It was an accident.”

“You’re a murderer.”

“I’m sorry.”

They’ve paddled so far from the kiosk, it’s like they’re on their own planet. A planet of only water. A planet uninhabitable, where land mammals sink and never come back up. Lonan’s eyes glisten with moonlight, and his waterline should be recognizable, dampening now, cattled with wet eyelashes, should be memorable, what it felt like to touch their ledge. All foreign. He’s foreign. So foreign. His anti-hair, anti-face, anti-hands, anti-wrists. He’s crying and immemorable. He’s crying and sorry.

Harrison shuffles forward until their knees touch. He reaches. He makes contact. He touches his skin. He touches his ear. He touches cheek. He touches eyes, fingerprints his irises, wrings the tears from his waterline, pulls his face by the jaw, cradling his land mammal. He is crying. They should both cry. They are both crying. Their own lake puddling in Harrison’s palm. Theirs as Harrison dips his free hand into the water. Theirs as he hushes Lonan’s writhing. Theirs as he christens him, the water gorging his eyes, his nose, his mouth. Theirs as he promises it will be okay. Theirs as he says he will get to know this stranger. Theirs as they promise to both regrow. Theirs as Harrison jerks the canoe. Theirs as they capsize. Theirs as they reunite in fizzing tide, caught in the river, both animals trapped in amber.

Tea:

The next time he is dry, he is lying on a bale of hay, wearing the wrong shirt, a hundred dollars richer. All of these things are related. The hay only because he paid for a cab with money he only has because of the shirt, five twenties easily slipped into the breast pocket when Lonan wasn’t looking. Twenty on the cab ride to Brooklyn, and now he’s face-first in a spool of hay that is better than sleeping in his own bed.

Harrison being chaotic and embarrassing lol:

A seagull on a ceiling beam gorges on a French fry. It eats with conviction, the fry lost in its throat before he even blinks. It flies through the hole in the roof as Harrison rises off the hay bale.

He did not announce his arrival to Theodore Harvey. In fact, he entered the property like it was his own, picked the barn’s lock with the edge of one of Lonan’s beachstones—he did keep one, in the pocket with his shirt, right behind the money—and slept without worrying what his mother would think. His third life is no longer necessary—it has already been disturbed. It is more efficient to deescalate than renew.

He decides he will not tell Harvey of his stay but lie and say he arrived at the farm early, 6AM, a good man trying to start his work early. Trying to impress. He’ll lie, say he tried picking up a tray of raspberry danishes from the bakery but it was too early for anyone to have opened. He’ll lie, apologize to Harvey’s wife Sharleen for showing up empty-handed. It’s rude to bring no offering.

Harrison fixes himself in the reflection of an overturned wheelbarrow, its silver belly clouded with rust. He exits the barn dry, well-rested, a richer, more fashionable man.

Before he even finishes ascending the veranda of the Harvey house, Sharleen opens the door. Her white hair is pearled into a bun. She wears a paisley patterned apron, chartreuse.

“Raspberry Danishes,” Harrison says. “All I wanted was to bring you some fresh raspberry Danishes, but all the bakeries were closed.”

Sharleen rolls up her sleeves. Her hands are caked with flour and fat.

“I considered tulips, but realized I’ve never asked for your favourite flower. Is it tulips? Hydrangeas? Chrysanthemums?”

Sharleen juts open the screen door and holds it open for him. He enters the foyer, and it smells like cinnamon, like sugar.

“I’ve heard marigolds are helpful for warding off squirrels,” he says, taking the hand she offers for his jacket. Sharleen doesn’t jump when he runs his finger across her wedding band and pecks her knuckles with his mouth. She doesn’t even speak. “Is that true?” as they usher toward the kitchen. “Pretty and purposeful. Sounds fake.”

Sharleen dusts her hands on her apron and jars open the kitchen door.

“Could be a double whammy. Or a scam. Or an old wife’s tale,” Harrison is saying as they walk into the kitchen, so occupied with the marigolds he does not notice when Sharleen returns to the stove to flip a pancake, so occupied, when he turns to the kitchen table, expecting only Harvey but seeing Lonan, all he says is, “Sounds too good to be true.”

Lonan joining Harrison on the porch after the above:

Harrison eats his pancakes on the porch. The Harveys’ dog joins him, a golden retriever named Leila. He cuts her a rift of cake and slots it into her mouth when she whines. One bite for him, another for Leila. Him, Leila, him, Leila. The good news is since he fixed their coffee machine, he now drinks drip.

It does not take long for Lonan to follow him outside. Harrison’s known this was inevitable and has dreaded the last five minutes because of it. He slits another triangle of pancake and feeds it to the dog.

It’s too cold to be out without a jacket. Wind nips Harrison’s ears and icicles his fingertips. Lonan’s shirt, the pale blue button-up he nabbed knowing he’d have cash, brays under the breeze, barely denser than a tissue.

TW: This gets a bit murder-y!

Suspended in water, Lonan was aquatic. Blue eyes turning into blue skin into blue lips into blue throat, chest, wrist. Shards of his sheared hair slung in sheathes of bubbles, his face blissfully marred by their movement. Blue collarbones, blue earlobe, blue shoulder blade, blue pinkie finger.

Harrison pulled him by the shirtsleeve before he could swim back to the surface, contorting them under the hex of the overturned boat. Him and the water a double team as they took Lonan by the shoulders and held him underwater, an insect stilled and ready to be inspected. Saltwater burned Harrison’s eyes as he stared, but that wasn’t a deterrent. If he only had a moment to look, he wanted it to be in stillness, in a place time unravels. Blue knuckles, blue abdomen, blue forearm, blue tibia.

When Harrison dragged them toward the six-inch gap between the water’s surface and the canoe’s dome, he held them both there, sheep and shepherd, slain and slaughterer. His hands cupped around his throat like butterfly wings, holding him there for safekeeping. Blue nose-bridge, blue sclera, blue cheekbone, blue teeth. He coughed water.

Iconic dialogue (TW: this is also a bit murder-y!):

“Pull me under,” Lonan said, spitting water, his voice grating under pressure. He trembled, his limbs his betrayal, tremoloing in the waves.

And Harrison did. Dousing him by the shoulders and holding him under so only he floated in the miniscule gap of air, Lonan a sunken, thrashing speck. It was thrilling, holding a body in his hands, determining its fate. And equally as thrilling to hold it as he lulled Lonan back up and over his shoulder where he deflated, gasping. At first Lonan coughed, once twice, heaving saltwater and saliva. But then a birdlike sound, compact but jittering, the wisp of a laugh, and Harrison couldn’t help but wonder if he was thrilled, too

“Do you feel accomplished, Harrison?” Lonan asked, his teeth prattling like an accordion. His hand trailed up the tail of his jacket, scrawling along the soaked leather. Lonan shifted, his body dead weight nearly drowned. And there was the sound again, chirping, “You’re not the first person who’s tried to kill me this year. Congratulations.”

Harrison angst in its prime:

Harrison adjusted his grip around Lonan so one arm supported his torso and the other scored his jaw. His fingers pressed against the skin there so it paled, exploring along that blue skin, blue mouth. The facts were: Lonan was not there for him, or so he told Suzanna, and so he was a changed man, uncoupled, unromanced, a clean restart. They would get out of the water. Harrison would climb into the backseat of the car Lonan drove instead of the passenger’s side because he wouldn’t want to look at him, and they would return to the apartment and not speak again. Suzanna would intervene in the next morning, maybe get up early to make breakfast, French toast, or crepes, or single-serve omelettes, and they would look at each other and it would be easier to forgive Lonan for a decision Harrison made. Suzanna would say he shouldn’t feel rejected when he was the one doing the rejecting and apologize a few hours later, blame it on the side effects of her cough drops. So it would be fine. They would be friends, or whatever they were before Eliza, and Harrison would live his cyclical life with a new-old person who didn’t come searching for him. Glamorous.

This is scene Ec if you were wondering what that looked like:

After, in a wash of cattails, saltwater in their mouths. Their bodies keeling over the other’s like the matrix of a ribcage. Snowmelt turning them both blue.

I find this description v cute ok I need a Harrison flannel:

Lonan is on his fifth button. His skin crests from underneath the squares of orange and red. The fabric smelling dangerously of Harrison: cigarette smoke, cinnamon.

Harrison badgers Lonan about not marrying Eliza and then it gets PURE:

“Why won’t you marry her?” Harrison asks. “You could have children. A honeymoon.”

Lonan stuffs his free hand into his pocket. His breath fogs with every exhale, his nose pinkish with cold. Harrison doesn’t feel any of it, the breath, the cold, his hands. He doesn’t move to button up his flannel. He doesn’t want to move.

“You’re going back to her. You’re here to check on Reeve, and then you’re going back. To get married. To have children. To honeymoon forever.”

Lonan’s hair is awful. Spoking from his scalp like a raven’s wings, some sections ragged, uneven. Not a haircut, but punishment.

“You’re perfect,” Harrison says. He should being shivering, be freezing, but he feels nothing. “Why can’t you say you’re perfect?”

Lonan moves first. They could reabsorb. Go back to blue. But Lonan only reaches for the flannel with his free hand and drapes it around Harrison’s shoulders. Arm by arm, slotting them through the sleeves. Button by button, securing it up his abdomen, his chest, right up to his throat. If Harrison looks closely, one of his eyes is rimmed with scarlet, like a vessel there popped, and a pool of lilac simmers, almost undetectable, across his temple.

“You could’ve married her,” Harrison says. His voice has dropped to a whisper. Lonan swings his jacket around his shoulders, securing his arms through each loop of leather, one, two. Zipping so his exposed skin may rewarm.

“I need to take you home,” Lonan says. Lonan with the broken eye. Lonan with the blackberry skin. Lonan with the teeth-shorn shirt. Lonan with the mowed hair. Lonan with the burned palms. Lonan with the wedding ring that was never really a wedding ring. Lonan who looks as if he’s always prepared to blink, just in case something comes out to get him.

The following is from scene Ga:

Harrison sleeps in the car on his way back and doesn’t wake until the next day. In that time, Suzanna slots takeout boxes through the unrolled window, three full meals: sweet corn and tomato fusilli, beef stifado, meatless cassoulet. What she doesn’t know is they sit, untouched, under the passenger’s seat, not because Lonan is averted by her cooking, but because he’s saving them to share, just in case. She brings a vacuum sealed bag of extra comforters the first evening when flurries dot the windshield, Harrison is swathed in them all by the time the snow reaches half an inch. One lined with Sherpa closest to his skin when he stirs, the bulbs of fabric like cottage cheese. In the time he’s in the car he dreams. Of driving into the ocean. Of haircuts. Marriage.

When he opens his eyes, Lonan is nuzzled against the windowpane, his arms folded over his chest. He wears only the corduroy jacket, the layers of blankets piled over Harrison’s arms in dense tufts, like the Pasteis de Nata he and Suzanna watch the bakers laminate at the local bakery.

The only valid thing about snow is that I can get these descriptions out of it:

The snow has levelled to a healthy four inches. In sunbeams, it griddles with light, fractals picking the windshield, Lonan’s eyes. And for a few minutes, this is it: the blanket life-ring, the sun coiled in the space between them. Suzanna makes apple cider in weather like this. Cinnamon to pair with the subtle remnants of winter, cloves to warm, turmeric and ginger to surprise. Inside the apartment, Harrison imagines her stirring a saucepot bobbing with fruit and rind, skinning oranges, lemons, turning the kitchen lights on, off, on, off, until her son comes home.

And to end this update, here is the final “poem-y” paragraph:

Land mammals in the water. Spitting bubbles and rims of wave. Their mouths caverns, limbs rattlesnaking, lungs inflating. Land mammals in the water. Coasts apart now re-seamed, kicking up sand, knocking teeth, touching spines. Land mammals in the water. Eyelashes drowning, mouth to mouth. Land mammals in the water, gaping at each other’s throats.

Thank you for reading! Hope y’all enjoyed this very chaotic chapter!

--Rachel

#writing #amwriting #writeblr #writerblr #writingupdates #fostered #feedinghabits #mothwork

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poisonedapples · 5 years

Text

My Happy Ending

Summary: Roman looks back on how much Patton has changed.

Pairings: Platonic Prinxiety, Romantic Logicality, past Queerplatonic Royality

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Angst with a bittersweet ending, suicide mentions, allusions to neglect, transphobia, abandonment mentions, slight aphobia, swearing, food mentions and one mention of vomiting, deadnames being used in flashbacks. Patton is also more of the bad guy in this one. The songs used in this are “The Things We Used To Share” by Thomas Sanders, and “Change Your Mind” from Steven Universe

Note: For the second week of the @fander-pride-meetup (which is one day early, oops), I told the story of me and my first relationship. It’s not the happiest story I have (as you can see by the triggers), but it’s one that has shaped me a lot and holds a special place in my heart. So have the biggest contribution to all the things I wish I could say to someone who still holds a special place in my heart, and hopefully enjoy <3

One day, he was going to get a husband.

He wanted it more than anything else in this world. Even when his parents screamed at each other outside of his door, he wanted a husband. He wanted to break the cycle of divorce, of loveless love. He wanted to be held, loved by someone. More than anything in this world, Roman wanted love.

Although the music he blasted through his headphones didn’t muffle all the screaming, all the insults and “Fuck you!”s, all the questions of why his mom didn’t just leave his dad if she hated him so much, he could pretend the outside to his room didn’t exist. He dreamed of this hypothetical man, waiting for his prince to come.

—

One day, Roman was going to stop crying about this.

He tried his hardest, even on his loneliest nights. He kept his mind on Disney, or his homework, his job, rehearsals, anything other than being sprawled face-first in his bed and moping. But Roman was too caught in the depressing thoughts he wants to avoid to notice his steps were anything but quiet. He was stomping down his hallway, barely stopping himself from slamming his door behind him. There was a pit in his chest, a feeling he knew better than any other emotion. Loneliness.

On one hand, he wanted to bask in it. He wanted to lie in his misery, be hateful of the world and everything that had led up to this. Maybe cry for a solid forty minutes for good measure, maybe then Roman would finally calm down. Would finally stop looking at the things held inside his phone that were only hurting him more. Messages, the photo, a crystal ring on his right hand that held all the things that made him want to sleep it all away. Things that held the cold, hard truth; Patton wasn’t coming back. And Roman didn’t have the heart to accept that.

His feet carried themselves to his bedroom, plopping face first in a hoard of pillows covered in Disney. It didn’t take long to realize how hard it was to breathe with your face shoved in fabric, so Roman flipped over on his side and stared at his wall instead. He didn’t blink, only stared at the ukulele on the other side of the room like it had personally attacked him.

That photo felt like it had gone through Roman’s eyes and burned a seething hole right in his chest. A sinking, nauseous feeling with a touch of the unbearable fear of abandonment he was forced to face right now. The person who had been his only constant for the last five years left without a care in the world. Even after ten months, it still hurt. But with that, a thought so unbearably true, crossed Roman’s mind in that moment. It’s hurting you, but not him. Patton’s doing just fine. He’s already forgotten about you.

Well, just because it’s true doesn’t mean you should say it.

That wasn’t even Roman being dramatic this time, it was true. Patton just wasn’t...Patton anymore, not the sweet and kind and bubbly personality he loved. He had a different air to him. He made jokes that made Roman uneasy, hung out with all the people Roman couldn’t dare to trust, always seemed so unnaturally mature now. He wasn’t his Patton. His Patton didn’t smile like that. His smile was too different now. It wasn’t bubbly, just sheer joy and unapologetic amusement anymore, it had a different air to it. Roman couldn’t describe it, but he /knew/. Patton’s smile was different, he was sure of it.

So many thoughts. So many memories with Patton etched all over them, searching for the moment where things could have possibly gone wrong, what colossal mistake Roman must have made to cost him the most important person in his life but he didn’t want to accept that it was that moment, the moment he knew was the mistake, but dammit Roman can only take so much rejection before he snaps.

But then again, maybe he already did.

He couldn’t take it anymore. So many thoughts, way too many thoughts, he needed something to occupy his hands with and as much of his brain as his brain would cooperate with. He got up and grabbed the ukulele that he had been staring at for a solid five minutes and sat back down on his bed. At first, he just played some random notes, watching and hearing the vibrations, tuning it a little, but that in itself can only do so much. So instead, Roman decided to play a song he felt matched his present feelings as well as it could. A singer he follows online, one of his first songs ever created, that expressed the same things Roman couldn’t seem to get out without crying on the floor. As the introducing piano played in his mind, waiting for his own part with his fingers already placed, Roman’s mind drifted to the past. Old memories that leave a bitter taste in his mouth now.

Freshman year, Roman’s fourth period gym class that he was only a part of for the graduation requirement. Although the actor was an amazing dancer for the school plays, he couldn’t hit a volleyball correctly to save his life. He didn’t know how to hold a football and stood in the corner during the soccer games they had. Though, perfect for Roman, the gym teachers were so laid back that it didn’t matter how much he genuinely participated, his grade was still a 100. Even though he was embarrassed in front of his classmates, at least he was getting that credit.

But there was one problem: Group stuff. When it was time for everyone to pair up with partners, Roman was always the kid awkwardly teamed up with whoever didn’t make it to a friend in time. With all the athletic kids or the popular girls that didn’t even bother to participate, Roman felt like the outlier. No group partner he’d had managed to stick at all, and it was both annoying and hurtful. He couldn’t keep a partner for one semester class.

That is, until this specific group work.

It was the beginning of a badminton unit, so Roman stood around waiting for the inevitable person to practice the hits with until class was over. When his partner did come over, it was a person with curly blonde hair, chubby with a pair of black, thick-rimmed glasses on their face. Their smile was bright and bubbly, yet shy as they walked up to the person they had never talked with before. At first glance and a while after that, Roman thought he was a girl.

But then again, he thought he was a girl once too.

“You can have the toaster and the PC…”

“Hi!” He greeted, worn out tennis shoes walking across the gym floor to stand next to Roman. “I’m Leah, what’s your name?”

“Or even my Timothy Green DVD…”

Roman’s brain took a moment to process. “Uh, Mia. Let’s go get some rackets to get this over with.”

Patton’s laughter reassured Roman that his words had managed to come off as a joke. Good. Usually he sounded too serious when he was nervous. “I’m absolutely gonna fail at this. I can’t do any sport to save my life.”

“I feel that on a personal level. But hey, maybe this will be the secret sport you’re so gifted at you can take to the Olympics.”

“Let’s find out! ...If they even have badminton in the Olympics…”

“I’ll let you have the couch, and the PC…”

Badminton was not the miracle sport for either of them. While the other teams had managed to hit the birdie ten, fifteen times until it fell, Roman and Patton were cheering when they got to three. But honestly, they were both more focused on talking to the other than really practicing for the game. Turned out, Roman really liked Patton. He was a good person, apparently also in three of his core classes, and as bubbly and smart as a person could be. They told stories, talked about themselves, laughed and joked as if they’d been friends their whole lives. It was one of the most fun days Roman had ever had in his Freshman year.

Because that one moment in gym, he made a friend. His first best friend since elementary school. His first friend that genuinely seemed like a real friend to him. At least, at the time, but that time led to what made Roman realize what it felt like not to feel alone. To have someone by your side for five years.

Until it all came crashing down.

“Hang on to that jacket that you bought for me…” Roman couldn’t help it at this point. That memory had such a sour taste to it now, once everything was all said and done. Once he lost what he thought he never could. Never would.

“I don’t really care, you can keep the things we used to share,” Roman’s mind went to a closer memory. One that took place not even three months ago, and he felt his body tense at it. “But what did you do with my heart?”

It was the college’s LGBT group a little over two months ago, one that Roman joined because he figured it’d be a good place to make some friends, and at first, seemed like things could only get better with how he saw Patton in the corner for the first day. Excited to see his best friend, Roman ran up to him and another person he was talking with. “Patton! Hello there, my little puffball!”

Patton didn’t give much of a greeting, but he brushed it off once he noticed that he was in the middle of telling something to this other guy. Roman first noticed that he and Patton had the same glasses, but also wondered what kind of college student would ever wear a tie and polo shirt to places. But who knows, maybe he just got back from a presentation.

The night passed with Roman sticking to Patton and the other guy (Logan, he later found out) considering they were the only two people who knew there. They talked off in the corner, but Roman didn’t realize until later that really, he was listening more than he was talking. Because Patton wasn’t paying equal attention.

“What did you do with my heart?”

He doesn’t remember how they got to that topic, really. Maybe it’s because the aftermath shocked him so much, but all he really remembers was Patton’s response to something Logan had said. “I don’t have a best friend.”

Roman, in joking offense, scoffed and put a hand to his chest. “Wow. Rude.”

Apparently, Roman was the only one that was joking.

“No, really.” Patton said, turning to Roman with complete seriousness. No remorse in sight. “I mean, yeah, I’m close to you, but you’re not my best friend. I just think best friends are childish.”

Roman’s heart stopped.

“No more fireworks, no more compass,”

Childish. They were childish, according to Patton. According to the person Roman considered his best friend. According to Roman’s supposed best friend, having a best friend was childish. His lungs filled with dry ice, so cold they burned. His stomach was made of lead. Childish.

“You didn’t leave a single butterfly in my stomach, you took my spyglass, no knowing what lies ahead...”

Suddenly, the very ground Roman was standing on burned. The name tag was searing a whole through his shirt, the building’s air filled with toxin. He needed to leave. The meeting hadn’t even started yet, but he need to leave.

So he did. And he didn’t come back, not saying a single word to anyone that was there, including Patton. He just left.

And Patton never said a word about it.

“You took my warmth at night but left a dent in my bed...” That one hurt a lot. How ignorant Patton seemed to be about what Roman might feel if he said something like that. He likes to think that maybe he just didn’t know, maybe Roman made a mistake at some point, for Patton to think their friendship had no chance of surviving, so he gave up. But he searched and searched and searched...and he couldn’t find it.

“I don’t really care you can keep the things we used to share,” Four years ago, Roman never thought that he’d be here, singing a song like this and thinking of Patton. “But what did you do with my heart?”

But Roman also didn’t expect to ever be more than friends with Patton. At least, not five years ago.

Not until after that night under the stairs.

“What did you do with my heart?”

Sophomore year, fifteen minutes before Roman was getting ready for a final rehearsal before his winter orchestra concert. Patton had come over to watch since none of Roman’s family was coming, walking around with him around the school to pass the time before Roman had to go back to the orchestra room. They ended up walking down one of the wings, until Roman pulled Patton under the stairs with shaky hands. He’d been meaning to do this for a while, but he wanted to do it in person, and Patton was usually so busy…

But today, Patton was right in front of him. And he decided to take his chance. “I want to tell you something.”

Patton’s eyes widened with worry, and Roman grew a little frantic. “Nothing bad! At least, I hope it’s not bad, cause you’re my best friend and I wouldn’t want you to think I’m bad-”

“Mia,” Patton said, placing a hand on Roman’s arm. “You’re rambling.”

“Right, yeah…” A deep breath, a small smile, then the words managed to come out. “I’m gay.”

Patton’s reaction was instant, no hesitation, no thought, just an immediate smile and bouncing on his feet in joy. “Mia I’m so proud of you!”

Patton flung himself at Roman, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing as hard as he could in joy. For a moment, Roman froze. Although yes, it felt nice to have his best friend holding him...Roman can’t remember the last time he was hugged. If he ever was. He didn’t know where to put his arms, or if he was just supposed to just stand there and take it. But before Roman could figure out what he wanted to do, Patton had pulled back, smiling at him.

“You’ve stripped me of my pride, that’s for the best,”

The two talked a little more as they began to walk Roman back to the orchestra room, his high heels clicking on the floor like a principal walking down the hallways. Roman first came out as a lesbian before he knew anything else about himself. Before he knew that he was trans, and had assumed that his lack of attraction toward anyone was a lack of attraction to boys only. Although he had heard of the terms aromantic and asexual, Roman was convinced those weren’t for him. Aromantic people didn’t want to marry. Roman wanted that more than anything in the world.

So, he was convinced for three years that he was a gay cis woman. And on the first night he had ever come out, he wasn’t expecting one of Patton’s more delayed reactions.

“But you’ve also deprived me of a full night’s rest,”

Patton’s eventual confession. On that same night.

“I’m pan.” He whispered, and Roman’s eyes brightened once he realized he had a best friend in the same community as him. Although the two weren’t able to talk much about it before Roman had to go to his rehearsal, the two later talked on the phone and took solace in being openly out to one accepting person. One that was their best friend.

“So no more dreams where we pull through,”

And right before Roman went into the orchestra room, if he was paying attention…

“I’ll look for you in the crowd!”

“Break a leg! But not actually, please!”

...He would have seen the lovestruck blush on Patton’s face.

“And I can’t collect my thoughts cause they’re still with you…” Roman remembers the years after that. The confusion but the absolute certainty. The love but the debate on what kind of love. The story of the ring on Roman’s right hand.

For Valentine’s Day in Junior year, Roman had given Patton a ring identical to the one he was still wearing today. It seemed fitting, considering how badly Roman wanted Patton to be his soulmate, and for how long they were convinced that they were soulmates. It took Roman a long time, from Christmas in that Junior year, to realize that he might have a crush on Patton. He didn’t get the butterflies, the plaguing thoughts, blushes or any other feelings he had heard came from crushes, but he had no idea what else it could be. He didn’t get butterflies, but his heart jumped like an excited puppy each time he saw Patton calling him. His thoughts weren’t plagued with him, but Roman imagined his entire future living with Patton, being with him, and it seemed like almost anything could happily remind him of his best friend. He decided he must have a crush because it certainly felt stronger than best friends, but he didn’t know what else it could be.

So, Roman decided it must be a crush, since he couldn’t think of anything else. And eventually, he told Patton this, who in turn confessed his own feelings. That’s what led to the both of them calling the other their “wife”, curiously discussing spending the rest of their lives together, and what led to Roman giving Patton the ring after school on Valentine’s Day.

Even when they weren’t officially dating, the two acted like they were already long married. And Roman wanted to keep it this way forever.

Until Patton lost the ring in a public bathroom off in Indiana one day, not telling Roman until months later. Until Roman made Patton another ring and a necklace to go with it so he never lost it. Until Roman realized Patton didn’t wear the ring or the necklace.

But Roman still wore the ring to this very day, even when Patton hardly ever did. It was a special connection to him, all through Senior year and into his first year of college.

Senior year, Roman thought. The year everything started going to hell.

“I don’t really care...”

Within the first few weeks of Senior year, Patton came out as a trans man to Roman. Patton had been talking about questioning his gender for a while, but it still shocked Roman at first. But what shocked him most of all, was that despite being “gay”, Roman still loved him. He still felt the same feelings for Patton that he has for over a year now.

And Roman’s mind began to spiral.

“...You can keep the things we used to share...”

He began searching and labels all over again, and as he did so, he realized that he missed one crucial detail from the aromantic community the first time. The term squish. The term queerplatonic.

“Queerplatonic relationships are not another way to say ‘best friends’. People who are in QPRs (queerplatonic relationships) spend the rest of their lives with their partners, instead of just living separate but interweaving lives like best friends. People in QPRs can even buy houses together or platonically marry, but each QPR is different. Really, it depends on the comfort of the people involved and their own boundaries they establish.”

...Holy shit, Roman thought, holy shit holy fuck you can fucking do that!?

It seemed like every mystery of life had been solved with just one paper on the internet about the aroace community. Every feeling, every moment with Patton that didn’t seem to make sense no matter how black and white he tried to simplify it to had fallen into place before his very eyes. He no longer had an excuse to ignore being aroace. His fear of never being able to marry had been solved with a research paper.

It all fit him so much. It all fit so well.

“But what did you do with my heart?”

He was no longer afraid to ask Patton out. He was no longer afraid of being in a relationship. He found one that fit him. He found new labels that fit him. And when the time came just right, he would tell Patton. He would come out all over again, he would ask Patton to be his QPP.

But it didn’t go to plan the way he thought at all.

Because that night, he got messages from Patton.

“I came out to my parents last night.”

“Are you okay?”

Terrifying ones.

“They hate me now. Dad won’t look me in the eyes.”

“I’m so sorry, Patton.”

“I can’t live like this. I wanna die.”

Ones that made Roman’s heart skip beats.

“Patton, even with your parents not accepting you, there’s still other things to live for.”

“I don’t think I want to live to see them.”

For thirty minutes, Roman talked Patton out of suicide with shaky hands. He managed to give Patton enough little reasons to have him promise he wasn’t going to do anything, but Roman was still scared. Still scared of losing his best friend for the rest of the night, before he could even come out to him or confess. Although he wanted to come out at the right time, when he felt ready, he didn’t want to miss a chance. At the very least, he didn’t want Patton to die not knowing how Roman felt.

Which is what led to the next day, Roman frantically knocking on Patton’s front door after he didn’t respond to any of Roman’s messages for the last five hours.

And to Roman’s relief, Patton answered.

“Hi, Roman-” He couldn’t help it. Even though he didn’t know what to do during a hug, Roman tackled at Patton and basically held his entire weight on him. If Patton was to let go, Roman was sure that he’d fall and hit his head right on the concrete front step right behind him. But he didn’t care. Patton was alive.

“Are you okay!? Why haven’t you answered me any!?”

Patton’s smile looked dull. Like someone had forced out the sunshine from it. “I was fighting with my mom. Screamed a lot, cried even more, but she sent me an email from her work. She called me by my name and said she’s gonna look for a gender therapist for me. They’re both gonna try, especially since I said some...harsh things during that fight. Things I’m not gonna repeat.”

Roman smiled. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“I was only just now reading your messages. You said you wanted to tell me something?”

“...Yes. Yes, I did.”

So Roman told him. All of his confusion over the years, his denial of his identity because of the terrifying fear of never getting to do what he wanted most: to marry. How he found queerplatonic, what queerplatonic meant, and how he realized that he was mistaken with his crush on Patton. It wasn’t a crush, but a squish instead. And after so long of not knowing what to do, confused of moving forward and actually asking Patton out, he knew what he really wanted.

He put his fear of rejection behind him, for one small moment, Roman had courage he always feigned to possess. He asked Patton to be his QPP.

“I would love to, Mia!”

“What did you do with my heart?”

Roman strummed and sang, sang the little intermission between the chorus and the next part of the song with teary eyes. His voice was slightly broken, breathing getting harder to do while both singing while crying and having a binder on, but he still sang. Even as he remembered their old moments together, both good and bad.

Before new moments stopped coming with them. Before Roman got his one month of having a partner he was happy with, and it all came crumbling down.

“I wouldn’t take it back even though I feel sore…”

For good.

“I meant it when I said—”

“—What’s mine is yours!” Roman announced, opening up the door to his bedroom for Patton for the first time. “You know what they say; Mi casa es su casa!”

“I don’t, actually,” Patton had a mischievous grin on his face. “Not everyone took Spanish, you know.”

“That’s because you’re a German heathen!”

“Ich bin schuldig.” He said, Roman placing his hands on his hips in disapproval. “Precisely what I mean. Heathen.”

“You don’t even know what I said!”

“I don’t have to in order to know you’re a heathen!”

Patton laughed and sat down on Roman’s bed, never having been to his house before. Usually Roman just went over to Patton’s, but because his parents were both away for the weekend, Roman had been able to invite his new QPP over for a day. His bed was covered in Disney pillows and soft blankets, the whole room being more eclectic than having an actual theme. But it all encompassed Roman perfectly, and he loved it. “Love you too, Mia.”

Roman paused right in his tracks for a moment, processing. The words etched themselves right into Roman’s brain, even when Patton had said it multiple times before, as well as many other cute pet names and cheesy flirts. He felt his body fill with energy, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” He said, silently squealing with his hand over his mouth. “That just made me happy.”

Patton didn’t comment, just smiled as he waited for Roman to calm down and sit next to him on the bed, where they watched YouTube on Patton’s phone of some of their mutual favorite YouTubers, snacked around downstairs, and had an overall good time until the sun started to set, and Patton needed to go home.

It lasted one month.

“But I need to know,”

“You said you wanted to talk to me?”

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just don’t think I’m ready for a relationship, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do because I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You ended up making it hurt worse.

“Now that we’re apart,”

“Well...what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know what I want.”

“Okay...then how about we just...take a break. We can take a small break, and you can come back to me and tell me what you want to do, okay?”

“Alright...gotta go, bye.”

“...Bye…”

“What did you do?”

That break lasted five months, Roman being too afraid to bring it up again while Patton didn’t send him a single text message, all through summer until College was getting ready to start. In that time, Roman came out as trans to Patton over text, and Patton responded four days later. Patton texted him first to vent twice, but those were the only times. Roman didn’t have the heart to ask for Patton’s decision. Because deep down, he already knew the answer.

Five months after their break, Roman got the courage. To talk to Patton, ask him for his decision. “Sorry Ro, I’m not ready for a relationship yet.”

And it was finally over.

“I need to know,”

For good. That was the last time Roman had a conversation with Patton that lasted more than two minutes.

“Now that we’re apart,”

Daily texts turned into monthly. Monthly turned into none at all.

After a while, Roman stopped trying.

“What did you do with my heart!?”

Roman was so afraid of losing his best friend, his first partner ever, that he didn’t realize he had already lost him.

“What did you do with my…”

Roman couldn’t even call Patton his friend anymore. He was his ex-QPP. His ex-best friend. In all forms of the word, Patton was his ex.

But the worst part of it all, was what Roman had found out after.

“Heart!?”

What Roman learned not even from Patton himself.

“What did you do with my heart?”

The words that haunted his mind.

“What did you do with my heart?”

Roman strummed some more. He couldn’t see with all the tears in front of his eyes, but once the final chord of the song had been played, he could hear the slightest creak of a floorboard right in front of his bedroom door.

Words that he didn’t learn from Patton. But words he had to accidentally discover from their old, long-term friend—

“Hey dude, you doing okay?”

Virgil.

“...How long have you been standing there?” Roman frantically wiped away the tears from his eyes, placing his ukulele to the side and finally being able to see Virgil. He was leaning on the doorframe to Roman’s bedroom, his signature purple hoodie over a black tank top despite the temperatures only now getting colder. Also he tried to present himself as smug, uncaring, Roman could see into his eyes. He could see the concern.

“A while, honestly. The entire damn campus heard you slam your door and stomp like you were a fucking SWAT team coming through, so I went to check on you. You need to learn to lock your door, by the way.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Roman’s words sounded like spiteful venom, and Virgil put his hands up in surrender. Roman fell back onto the bed, occupying his hands by mindlessly strumming the strings, watching them vibrate. “I’m just joking, it’s chill. But actually, you okay dude? You look like death, and judging from the song...I have a feeling I know who this is about.”

Roman paused for a moment to stare at his roof. “...Did you see his Instagram?”

“You know I only have Tumblr, Princey.”

Roman didn’t respond. He took his phone out of his pocket, scrolling for a moment while Virgil awkwardly stood there, until he finally shoved his phone in Virgil’s hands. It took him a moment to process what was on the screen in front of him, but Roman saw the change in expression. The way his eyes opened wide, and how he mouthed a simple “...Oh.”

On the phone was a single Instagram post made by Patton_Foster2000, the picture that burned a hole right through Roman’s hand as he held his phone. The one that filled his stomach with lead. In the photo, Patton was next to a boy that both Virgil and Roman could recognize. Although his clothing was more casual than the last time Roman saw him, he was still dressed semi-formal just for the fun of it, the same black-rimmed glasses that Patton had on his own face. He was smiling slightly as he looked straight at the camera Patton’s arm was holding up for a selfie. But most of all, Patton was kissing his cheek.

Patton_Foster2000: Happy six months with this cutie! Love you Logan <3 ^-^

“...He didn’t even tell me.”

Virgil looked back at Roman at the sound of his sad voice, the crook of his elbow lying over his eyes. “Remember when me and Pat used to tell each other almost everything? Me neither!”

“I...really don’t know what to say, Roman. I mean, he doesn’t tell me anything either, but then again we weren’t ever as close as you two were, so…”

“I know I’m probably overthinking this. Maybe he just never thought to, maybe he thought I left him, I don’t know. But...six months? He got with someone he barely knew four months after we broke up? And I’m still upset over him? But he’s moved on? Does he even remember me?”

Virgil didn’t know what to do for a while. He stared at Roman on the bed with his eyes still covered, until Roman eventually felt the bed dip and someone crawl over him. Virgil fit himself between Roman and the wall, mindlessly staring up at the patterns on the ceiling. The only sounds in the room for a while was the sound of breathing and sighs, until Virgil decided to say something he hoped could be helpful. The shit he did for his friend. “Maybe he doesn’t, no one knows.”

“Wow, thank you.”

“Let me finish, bastard.” Roman sighed dramatically, but didn’t interrupt further. “Anyway, maybe he doesn’t remember you. Maybe he does but doesn’t give a shit. Maybe he remembers and gives a shit, but doesn’t know what to do. But does it really matter anymore? You two are going in different paths now. You’re gonna write and perform, he’s gonna be a therapist. You wanna get out of this dinky town, he wants to stay and settle down as soon as possible. You and I both know that shit is changing, things are different than the high school days, and people come and go. Even ones...that promise that they’ll stay.”

Roman removed his arm from his face, the crook of his elbow wet and his eyelashes sticking together. “Yes, but... I don’t know. It’s harder because it was him. He made me think I could do anything, could be anything. He was there for me when I needed him the most. He was the only person I had when mom left.”

“And then he changed.”

“He did…” It was hard to acknowledge that, but it was the truth. Patton wasn’t the bubbly personality that Roman remembered. He didn’t smile the same, his words were colder than they ever were before. Over one difficult summer, when Roman decided to take a risk, he lost it all. He wanted to show Patton the real love he felt for him. And Patton left and never returned.

And he didn’t even say the real reason why. The worst part of that summer, is what Roman had found out after.

Two months after he and Patton had officially broken up, Roman and Virgil went out for lunch during the weekend. In all honesty, he doesn’t remember how the conversation had turned to Patton. Maybe it was just by chance, maybe Virgil was asking questions. He couldn’t remember, and in truth, he didn’t know if he wanted to.

What Roman hadn’t even found out from Patton himself.

“Remember how we were in that queerplatonic relationship?”

“I think you told me, yeah.”

Roman stirred his lemonade with his straw, focusing intently on the drink in front of him. “We ended up getting on a break for a while after that. A couple of months later, that’s when he broke up with me.”

The words that haunted his mind.

“That’s shitty, dude.”

“Stop swearing when there are toddlers behind you.”

“They’re gonna say them eventually, it’s okay.”

“You’re evil.”

“Good, my aesthetic is growing.”

Words that he didn’t learn from Patton.

“But, yeah.” Roman let out an awkward laugh. “I mean, I can understand it, I just wish that he would talk to me, you know? But it’s understandable.”

“It is?”

“Well, yes. He just said it was because he wasn’t ready for a relationship.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” Virgil took a bite of a fry from the box. “I don’t know, it’s just that when he told me the fact that he said it was because ‘I don’t want a relationship that’s just friends’ just kinda...rubbed me the wrong way, you know?”

But words he had to accidentally discover from their old, long-term friend Virgil.

Roman felt his heart stop. He couldn’t breathe without putting constant effort into it. The air was freezing, and a sickening feeling blew itself right into his chest. “...He said that?”

Roman saw Virgil’s face go even whiter as his breath hitched, eyes widening. “He didn’t tell you?”

“No! No he did not!”

“Dude, I am so sorry, I thought you knew!”

“He doesn’t want a relationship that’s ‘just friends’!? So he doesn’t want to affiliate with me unless he can get into my pants!?” Virgil went silent, running a hand through his hair and rubbing at the back of his neck, but Roman was feeling everything and nothing at the same time. His chest was collapsing in on itself. Maybe he should take off his binder. “Did four years mean nothing to him if he can’t ‘get the guy’ at the end? And what’s with the ‘just’ friends? It’s not meaningful enough for him so he just drops me? And then lies about it!?”

“I mean…” Virgil sounded quiet, timid almost. Roman knew how much he hated anger. “He said he also wasn’t ready too, so he didn’t really lie, I guess…”

“...It doesn’t matter. It’s fine. I’m glad to see he cares about me so much. I��m glad everyone I care about keeps dropping me.” He felt sick, like the food he had just ate would come out in chunks from its place stuck in the bottom of his throat. He didn’t wanna cry, he wanted to hide in a hole and forget other people in the world existed, just like they did with him. “I wanna go home, now…”

“Yeah, let’s just leave, it’s fine…” Virgil picked up the tray and put the leftovers in a bag, throwing away spare wrappers into the trash before heading toward the door. Roman followed right behind him, and the car ride was silent except for the music coming out of the speakers. And all the way through that car ride and from when Virgil left Roman’s house at 10 in the afternoon, Roman couldn’t get his mind off of Patton.

“I don’t want a relationship that’s just friends.”

“I just thought that he would always support me, at the very least.” Roman fiddled with the crystal ring on his right hand, old and slightly rusted from over the years, the band so thin it might just break. “I was so confident that we would get married. We both were. I thought I had found my soulmate in my Freshman year of high school, I loved him so much. We loved each other so much. But in the span of six months it all came crashing down, just because I had decided to start accepting myself. Now, I’m not sure I feel so prideful. I never understood ace people feeling broken until now.”

“Some people are just gonna do that, even in our own community.” Virgil shrugged his shoulders. “But at the end of the day, the thing that really matters are the people who stay through it all. People are gonna leave and be bastards no matter how long you live, that’s just how people function. Some people are gonna hurt a shit ton more when they leave, cause people are shit and that’s just truth. But the thing that matters is that eventually, it leads to meeting better people, or having better experiences. Growing and all that shit, you know?”

“True...it’s just more hard to accept when for so long you think someone is one of those better people. He was my happy ending, and now my happy ending is gone. What now?”

“Find another happy ending until one sticks,” Roman stopped fiddling with his ring to look over at Virgil, still staring straight up without a care in the world. So much irony in that one sentence. “A book can end in a million different ways if you’re not a fucking coward. And goals are goals, your goal was to spend your life with Patton and it didn’t work out. That’s how most relationships work. So you mope about it when you need to, but eventually you move forward. And Patton has moved on. It’s time you do too, at least for your own sake. Be sad about Pat as much as you want, so long as you keep going.”

Virgil heard a wet laugh come from his left, and only then did he take his gaze off the ceiling to look at Roman. “You are...an excellent friend, Virgil.”

“Nope, nope nope nope, fuck this, fuck that with a ten foot pole!” He suddenly stood up and jumped over Roman off the bed, making his way to the door. “You’re not putting that sappy shit on me now, bitch! Back with that shit!”

He couldn’t help it. Roman laughed hard despite the slight choke still in his voice, Virgil making a cross with his fingers in his direction. “You are incorrigible!”

“I talked with you about too much emotion bullshit for my comfort! If you’re getting sappy on me now I’m stealing some ramen from you and nope-ing the fuck out of here!”

“How can you be so cruel to me and deny my love!?”

“Cause your love is shit and you can give it to Zac Efron instead, you whore!”

“You call me out like this in my own home!?”

“Duh,” Virgil tempted, “Massive fucking bet.”

“I will annihilate you.”

“Do it, you heard me. Big bet.”

Roman glared him down as he sat up, Virgil starting to nervously laugh the more he stared him down. He moved his foot to prepare to stand and run, and that’s when Virgil took a dart for it, running across the dorm to the couch and jumping over the back side. Before he managed to open his eyes and run again, Virgil felt a massive weight plop down right on his chest. The two took a moment to laugh, but Virgil watched Roman in concern when he heard his heavy breathing. Shit, he’s wearing his binder. “Take that off, dude, you know you shouldn’t run in it.”

“I…” He swallowed and breathed deeply once more. “I had to get you, though.”

“And now you lose your binder rights.”

Roman groaned. “I’ve only been wearing it for four hours!”

“Who cares, time to take it off!”

He groaned some more and slowly got off of Virgil’s chest, sitting up and noticing the picture of Patton from their Junior year sitting on the side table. Virgil noticed where his eyes were going and for a moment thought he was going to get upset again, but Roman instead looked in Virgil’s direction. “Could you do me one more favor, Virgil?”

“Depends. What is it?”

“I believe it’s...time to get rid of some things being held onto for far too long. I think it’s time to clean up some hurt around here.”

Virgil sighed in relief. “I’ll get as much stuff as I can find while you change.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

While Roman was in his room taking off his binder, switching into a sports bra and some pajamas while he was at it, Virgil collected all the pictures and small art projects he could find from Patton around the dorm. Empty frames were more scattered around and art walls were more bare, but it was okay. When Roman came out and saw the pile on the couch, soon to go right into the recycling bin, he remembered what Virgil said. He could put new stuff in their place. Stuff that didn’t hurt to see.

But as he trashed all of the old decorations covered in Patton, Roman saw the ring again. The crystal ring, the thing he held onto so it could remind him of Patton when he needed it. It was worn and rusted, band so thin it could almost break. It was breaking.

With a heavy heart, Roman looked at the trash can right next to the recycling bin, and he threw the ring right into some rotten leftovers. It was unsalvageable now.

“...Now my hand feels bare, I don’t like that.” Roman said, breaking the sudden silence between him and Virgil. Virgil seemed to think for a long moment, but Roman could see his eyes brighten when the lightbulb went off in his head.

“Dude, I gotta show you this thing,” He followed Virgil to the place where his laptop was sitting. “So we’re both ace, right?”

“Indeed we are, yes.”

“So clearly I know shit. Also I see a lot of Tumblr posts.” He opened the laptop and gave it to Roman for a slight moment so he could put in his password. “Basically, there’s this way to show subtle pride and to kinda show to other aces that you’re ace too. A fully black ring on your right middle finger.”

The same place his old ring went. “...You have my attention.”

“You can find them cheap as fuck too, wanna look online?”

“Bitch, yes!” Roman leaned on Virgil’s shoulder as they browsed the internet for fully black rings, some made of stretchy silicone, others just straight-up wedding bands, but after a while of scrolling and five other tabs of nothing but rings to contrast to the others, Roman’s eye caught on a specific one in particular. “No wait, wait!” He excitedly pointed at the screen. “I want a spinny one! Spinner ace ring!”

Virgil smirked. “Of course your ADHD ass wants a spinner ace ring.”

“One more comment and I’ll steal your fidget cube.”

Virgil hissed at him in response.

“Seriously, that one, I want that one, gimme!” Roman took the laptop before Virgil could react to his impatience, closing all the other tabs and entering in his information for a size 9 spinner ring. He smiled brightly once the purchase was confirmed, ready to be delivered in around two days, and Roman was proud of himself. It was a small step, but it meant so much to him.

Virgil went back to his dorm about an hour later, considering he had some work to do, but Roman appreciated his sudden visit regardless. The dorm seemed bare after all that had happened now, no noise and places on the wall where things were bare, but most of all Roman’s mind started to wander. Wander to all the things Virgil told him, wandering to his own lessons he could maybe teach himself, and wandering to thoughts of Patton. Thoughts so bittersweet it was still almost unbearable, but it was time to say goodbye. All of the times they’ve been together, for how long Roman tried so desperately to hold on, Roman needed to say goodbye.

So he did. At 5:18 PM, Roman sent him a message on his Instagram.

Royal_Highness_Roman: I hope you and Logan end up very happy together. I hope you both have a wonderful happy ending

The message was no longer to Patton. It was a message...to a certain someone.

The message was read at 9:32 PM, but would never receive a response. He had successfully said goodbye.

—

A few days later, Roman returned back to his dorm with a slight weight in his chest. He had seen Patton on his ways to class and resisting the urge to run up to him and try speaking again was one harder to fight than he thought. But he managed to continue to class with his head down, his fingers tensing to feel the ring on his right hand.

Once he got to his dorm however, Roman felt himself turning to that ukulele again, the one way he had managed to get all of this out in the open. A few test strums, maybe a little tuning as he thought of a fitting song to play, feeling the strings under the pads of his fingers.

Just like the day he found out about Logan and Patton, he strummed his song. But this time, he would not grieve for him. He would learn. “I don’t need you to respect me, I respect me.”

At least, one day he would. “I don’t need you to love me, I love me.”

He could learn. One day. “But I want you to know you could know me…”

He couldn’t help it. He got a little teary eyed. “If you change your mind...change your mind...change your mind...change your mind.”

The strumming of the last seconds of that song filled the quiet in his bedroom, his eyes seemingly fixated on the black ring on his right hand now. The old crystal ring was gone. It wasn’t coming back, now, he replaced the physical representation of their love with what had ruined it: Pride in his identity.

He would learn. Maybe one day, that ace ring could turn into a flag above his bed. Maybe he’d go to a pride parade having more than his trans stuff. One day, he would be ready for that.

But today, Roman continued with his life, even with the bittersweet taste still in his mouth. The next day, he still walked down the hallways of his college to his morning class. And as he walks by, he’ll walk right past Patton and Logan talking in the hallways.

And if you were a bystander of that pass by, you would think Roman and Patton had never talked to each other in their life.

#fanderpridemeetup2019 #thomas sanders #sanders sides #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #breakups #transphobia mention #aphobia mention #swearing #suicide mention #neglect mention #abandonment mention #food mention #deadnames #to a certain someone

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